Episode 15. Disembarking

PREVIOUSLY ON SAGA OF THE JEWELS:

Seventeen year old RYN’s hometown is attacked by General VORR of the Empire and everyone he has ever known is killed. Just before he dies, Ryn’s father gives him a ruby, which causes him to project fire. Ryn is captured by the Empire and meets another captive, Princess NUTHEA, who has the ability to project lightning. Nuthea explains to him that the Empire have learned of the existence of twelve Primeval Jewels which grant the ability to manipulate different elements, and are searching for them. The Imperial vessel where they are being held is in turn attacked by a pirate airship, and the pirates capture Ryn and Nuthea. The lead pirate, Captain SAGAR, agrees to escort Nuthea back to her homeland, and to spare Ryn’s life, in exchange for the promise of gold, gemstones and beautiful women upon her safe delivery. They land in the port city of Ast and recruit an engineer called ELRANN. Ast is then attacked by the Empire, who are using the Fire Ruby to invade the continent and search for more of the Jewels. Ryn, Nuthea, Sagar and Elrann flee the city together, but are then attacked by a bounty hunter, VISH. They manage to subdue the bounty hunter but Nuthea is gravely wounded in the process. Ryn beats Sagar to the hunter’s mount and rushes Nuthea to the nearest town where he finds a healer, CID, a mysterious old man who saves the princess’s life with his arts and asks to join the traveling party, saying that he believes it is the purpose of ‘the One’, the god that he and Nuthea each worship. On leaving the town the party is pursued by an enormous dog-like monster driven by a troop of Imperial soldiers. The party manage to escape with the help of Vish, who fights on their side in exchange for Cid supplying his poppy-seed habit. Cid reveals that he was once a member of another adventuring party who set out to find the twelve Primeval Jewels, but failed. The party press on the capital city of Sirra, where they ambush some Imperial soldiers and steal their uniforms in order to sneak onto a sleeper train bound for Nuthea’s homeland. They make it aboard successfully, then go to sleep for the night…

---

“Wake up, men! Out of your bunks! Sun’s up! We’ll make Manolia in two hours!”

          Ryn opened his eyes to the grubby underside of the bunk above him which he saw through the visor of the helmet he was wearing. It took him a few moments to remember that he was posing as an Imperial soldier on a train bound for Manolia. In the instant after he registered all this, he realised he had slept without having a nightmare for the first time in many days.

          “Come on, up you get, maggots!” yelled the man outside again, outside their own compartment door now, banging on it so that it rattled noisily.

Hold on a moment, thought Ryn. I recognise that voice. Deep. Commanding. Superior.

Ryn got up and opened the door.

The General stood in his black armour, his flame-red hair on display, his gauntleted hand still suspended in the air from knocking on their door.

He hadn’t needed to have a nightmare in his sleep. His nightmare had come to his waking day.

Ryn just stood staring at him for a moment in surprise. 

Vorr raised an eyebrow in brazen nonchalance. “Good to see you up already, soldier.” A pause. “What is it? What do you want?”

Hot fury filled Ryn’s lungs. “To see you dead!” he shouted, and punched the general in the face.

Vorr staggered back and crashed into the wall behind him, clutching his nose. He was so big the whole carriage shook.

At the same moment Ryn became aware of what he had done, he also became aware that he didn’t care. He had acted purely on impulse, and blown their cover. But it didn’t matter. This was the reason he was on this journey. To find this man. To kill this man. No matter what Nuthea says about forgiveness...

Vorr was upright again, his hand away from his face. He had the beginnings of a bruise coming through under his eye, but no burn marks. Ryn’s hand had lit on fire when he had punched the general, but that hadn’t done anything. That’s right. He’s immune to fire.

The general stared at him, apoplectic. “Dissenter! Treachery!”

Ryn drew his sword and leapt at Vorr, swinging it wildly at his head.

Vorr got his arm up and the sword smashed into the black metal plate of the man’s armour, sending painful reverberations down Ryn’s arms.

Undeterred, Ryn drew back and threw strike after strike at the general, trying to catch him in the head.

But the huge man was also fast. Again and again, he got his arms up in the way of Ryn’s blows and they deflected uselessly off the black carapace, only making loud clangs and lighting a few sparks off them. 

And then Vorr caught Ryn’s hand.

Ryn yelped as pain lanced through his arm. The general twisted it down and around into an odd position. His sword clattered on the ground.

Ryn tried to light another fireball in his left hand, but the pain in his right arm was so great he couldn't focus properly to do it. He just ended up banging his left arm uselessly into Vorr’s side. The general didn’t even seem to notice.

“What are you doing, soldier?” Vorr snarled in Ryn’s face, so close now that Ryn could see the blood-red of his irises. “Are you a dissenter, or just a really terrible assassin?”

There were shouts coming from the compartment behind Ryn but he couldn’t make them out. Footsteps all around too--other soldiers flocking to the general’s side.

Ryn shut his eyes as Vorr shoved the fingers of his free hand into his visor-slit and yanked upwards. The helmet came off Ryn’s head.

Ryn opened his eyes and stared hatred at Vorr’s horrible round face.

“You again!” said Vorr. “The mongrel from Efstan, who turned up in Ast too! You are becoming very irritating. How did you infiltrate this train? Are there others with you?”

          Hatred prickled in Ryn’s lungs. The only thing he was afraid of was that he would die now without first being able to take revenge on this man who had killed his parents.

Instead of answering, he spat in Vorr’s face.

          Vorr saw it coming, and merely tilted his head to one side so that the globule of saliva went over his shoulder.

“You miserable little piece of poodoo,” said Vorr.

Ryn’s stomach flared with pain and the air rushed out of him. He fell backwards onto the floor as Vorr let go of him and curled up at once. Vorr had punched him hard in the gut. It hurt like all the hells, even through his armour. The general was so strong...

Vorr stood over him and his voice boomed out. “Everyone in this carriage, remove your helmets!”

From his place on the floor Ryn could only see Vorr’s black steel-capped boots, but he grimaced and scrunched his eyes up in expectation all the same. What have I done? I’ve given my friends away, and I didn’t even kill Vorr in the process...

“Come on!” Vorr bellowed into the compartment. “Do it! All of you!”

This is it…

Ryn was expecting a noise of surprise or rage from the general, but none came.

“Good,” said Vorr.

What?

Ryn dared to open his eyes and twist around a bit. Cid and Elrann had taken off their helmets. So had the two soldiers who had shared their compartment the night before. But Nuthea, Sagar and Vish were nowhere to be seen.

“If there are more of them and they are intelligent,” said Vorr, “they will have spread themselves throughout the train to avoid detection. I don’t know why this one gave himself away. I can’t imagine he really thought he could harm me. I am beginning to think he must be soft in the head.”

A tremendous pain bloomed in Ryn’s back and he skidded across the compartment wall, crashing into the far wall. This time Vorr had kicked him across the room. He moaned and lay prone, spasms of pain shooting up and down his spine.

“General, sir?” said one of the soldiers quiveringly. Tilbrook, from last night.

“What?” Vorr growled.

“There were two more soldiers in the compartment with us last night...and they...they never took off their helmets either…”

“WHAT? Why didn’t you challenge them?”

“I...I don’t know, sir… There was a Shadowfinger with them…”

“A Shadowfinger? Which one?”

“Shadowfinger Vish, general…”

Vorr went silent for a moment.

After a while he said, “You,” to someone. “I don’t recognise you. You’re a bit old to be serving with the 66th division, aren’t you?”

“No sir,” said Cid’s voice, remarkably calm. “Name’s Tarn. I’ve seen a good few tours in my time, and I’ve been transfered to the 66th because I wanted to see some more action in this one before I leave service. Beg your pardon, sir, but I’m not that much older than Valun here--”

“Shut up,” said Vorr, “I didn’t ask for your life story. Seargent Dirk!” Vorr called.

Hurried footsteps. “Yes sir?” A new voice.

“There are at least two interlopers aboard this train with bounties on their heads, and Shadowfinger Vish is here too. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I want them all found. Order all units to remove their helmets. I want these vermin rounded up now.”

“Sir yes sir!”

“GO!”

More hurried footsteps, that faded.

“You,” Vorr said to Cid, “with me, now. Bring the mongrel.”

          “Yes, sir,” said Cid.

          Cid drew his sword and gestured with it for Ryn to follow Vorr. “Walk, scumbag,” he said with convincing animosity, playing his part well. Gods, I hope he is playing a part. All of a sudden Ryn had a flash of doubt as to whether he could really trust Cid or not. Could he really trust any of his traveling companions? But no...Cid had healed him when he had nearly died. Cid had told them an elaborate story about trying to track down the Jewels with other people once before, with too many corroborating details for it be made up. Cid had been training him in swordfighting. Cid was on his side.

          Sure enough, as Cid marched him at swordpoint down the length of the train behind Vorr, who bellowed into each compartment they came to for everyone to take their helmets off, at one point he walked a little closer to Ryn and whispered, “Don’t worry; you had a momentary lapse in judgment, but we can get out of this. I’m sure the others will be back for us soon.”

Will they, or will they just leave me for being so stupid? Sagar won’t want to come back for me. Will Nuthea…?

“Just try to stay calm, and don’t say anything. If the general does you any serious damage, I can heal you later.”

          Serious damage? What did he mean by that?

Butterflies darted about manically in Ryn’s stomach and he began to tremble.

They went through a door into another carriage.

This one was different, open plan, not separated into compartments, and had red carpet and purple curtains. Inside, a number of the black-armoured soldiers sat on leather cushioned chairs, much more comfortable-looking than the benches in the other carriages. None of these soldiers were wearing their helmets, and they generally looked older--and larger--than the regular soldiers Ryn had encountered. Other officers, Ryn realised. Through the windows on either side of the carriage the landscape of Imfis--was it still Imfis?--streamed by in the brightening morning sunlight, now becoming increasingly hilly and mountainous.

“Ten-SHUN!” Vorr yelled to the assembled officers.

To a man, they all stopped whatever they were doing, shot up out of their seats and snapped into salutes, barely hiding confused frowns.

“At ease,” Vorr said. “Listen closely. I’ve found a rebel infiltrator on this train.” He inclined his head briefly towards Ryn. “He is jewel-touched, but only by the ruby, so he will not be able to hurt any of you. There was a bounty on his head because he challenged me once before in Imfis, and he was working with a Manolian girl and an Imfisi pirate, both jewel-touched too, by lightning and wind respectively.” More frowns rippled across the officers’ faces. “They may be on this train too.” The frowns deepened. “Sergeant Entra!”

“Yes sir!” said one of the nearest officers, snapping out another quick salute. This man had a sadistic glint in his eyes and a thick grey mustache.

“Take Fell and Buntz and search the train. Command all personnel to remove their helmets and join you in the search. The Manolian is undisguisably female. The Imfisi is blind in one eye, and has an air of moronic indolence. If they are on this train, they will not be able to conceal themselves for very long. If anyone runs, you will know you have found them. Bring me them alive, if you can.”

“Yes sir!” Sergeant Entra barked, and hurried off out of the carriage with two other men.

“Shadowfinger Elpis!” said Vorr.

“Yes sir!”

Even amidst his growing terror Ryn’s head rocked back with surprise at hearing the voice of a woman. From near the back of the carriage a figure stepped forward who he had not noticed until now, a figure wrapped all in black as Vish was, only shorter than Vish, and unmistakably a woman from her hips and bust. Her face did not give her away as such because she wore a mask, a mask with a grotesque feminine face painted on it--a wide-smiling caricature of a woman with rosy red cheeks and exaggerated eyelashes on a white enamel backdrop.

“I have been informed that Shadowfinger Vish is aboard this train as well,” Vorr said to the woman. “What he is doing here, I do not know. Find him and liase with him at once to find out what is going on. I suspect that he may have tracked the interlopers here undercover, only I found them first, but I need to be certain. Go now.”

“Yes, General Vorr,” said the woman. She picked up a rolled-up length of chain that had been on the floor next to where she had been sitting and walked out of the carriage the same way the three other officers had. As the Shadowfinger walked past Ryn, the air seemed to grow momentarily colder. A shiver ran up his spine.

That left about seven men in the carriage, looking at Vorr like a litter of nervous puppies.

“The rest of you, while I interrogate this whelp I want you to go over the Manolian invasion plan again and ensure that you have perfectly memorised every detail.” Ryn gulped. “We will no doubt find any remaining interlopers soon, and the operation will go ahead as planned. Be ready.”

“Yes, General Vorr!” the remaining officers chanted as one, giving him yet another flurry of salutes.

“Good,” said Vorr. “Get to it.” He signalled to Cid. “You. With me.”

Cid gently pushed Ryn after Vorr as the two of them followed him down the rest of the length of the carriage and through yet another door. This carriage was plush and comfortable like the previous one, with the same fancy carpet and curtains, but instead of seats or bunks it contained a series of small beds alongside each wall. There was another exit at the far end of this carriage.

As soon as the door had closed behind them Vorr grabbed Ryn by the arm and threw him onto the floor in the middle of the carriage. Ryn stumbled from the force of the throw and went down with a grunt, falling face-down on the carpet. His hand, his head and his back already all ached, but somehow he knew that the worst was yet to come. A cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach as he stared at the red carpet beneath him.

“You, soldier, stand guard outside the door,” Vorr said to Cid. “Don’t admit anyone unless they have news of the Shadowfinger or any other rebels being discovered.”

“Yes sir,” Ryn heard Cid say, before the sound of the door clicking open and shut again.

Vorr said nothing for a moment.

Chukkachukkachukkachukkachukka.

Then Ryn became aware of the sound of Vorr’s breathing. It was deep, coming from the general’s nostrils, and so loud that he could even hear it over the sound of the traveling train. The breaths were getting louder still, and slightly faster, and now closer, as Vorr stepped nearer and stood over Ryn.

“I’m going to ask you again,” Vorr said slowly and deliberately, like he was holding back strong emotion. “Are you alone, or are your companions from Ast with you?”

What do I tell him? Ryn thought as he stared into the red carpet. I don’t even know where they are now. They might have run away. But should I admit that they were on the train at all? He as good as knows that already... But no...if there’s a chance they can get away I shouldn’t confirm that for him. Mother. Father. Hometown. Nuthea. I found Vorr. I tried to kill Vorr. I failed. Damn him.

Ryn flipped himself round and sat up. He looked up at the huge, looming figure of Vorr, this man who had killed his parents and destroyed his hometown, the man whom he hated so much. The general was still breathing heavily, but his massive jaw was set in a tight line in his stupid round face underneath his bright red hair. There was something burning in his eyes--anger, maybe, or hatred, or...lust of some kind? Ryn wavered for a moment.

But then he said “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” with a defiant smile.

“ARGH--!” 

Ryn lost a brief moment of consciousness. Then he became aware that he was now lying a couple of paces away on his back. The shout he had just heard caught up to him, and at first he thought it had been his own, but then he realised it had been a shout of fury from Vorr.

Then the pain set in. He had been numb with shock for a moment, but now a terrible pain screamed from his mouth and nose. He instinctively felt for his front teeth with his tongue. A couple were missing, and others were broken.

Vorr must have kicked him in the face so hard that he had blacked out for a moment...the pain was so bad he could barely think over it…

Vorr was crouching over him. “Did you come alone or with others?” he said calmly and deliberately again. “How did you get on board this train? Tell me now or I will break your fingers one by one.”

Ryn could barely hear his own terrified thoughts through the agony of his mouth and nose. I should just give in… Tell him…

When he hesitated, Ryn felt Vorr pull off one of his Imperial gloves and take hold of one of his fingers.

“No, please!” Ryn just had time to squeal.

A snapping sound.

An ecstasy of white-hot pain flooded Ryn’s being, flowing up from his finger and joining with the wells of pain already leaking from his mouth, nose, and back. He heard himself screaming somewhere, but he heard it as something happening to someone far away, on the other side of the pain.

The initial flash of pain receded just a little, quietening ever so slightly, and Ryn heard himself pleading with Vorr in a manic squeal.

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell you! Please don’t break any more of my fingers! I know as much as you! My two friends were with me in the carriage, but they got away when I attacked you! I don’t know where though! I don’t know where they’ve gone!”

“Good,” said Vorr. “That is more like it. I may consider stopping torturing you now. If you keep talking.”

Oh thank the gods, Ryn managed to think in the sea of pain. Thank Imkala. Thank Edres. Thank Yntrik. Thank all the gods. Thank the One!

“On the other hand, I’m rather enjoying myself, and we’ve started now, so why not carry on?”

Snap.

The whole world was pain. Ryn screamed again, and kept on screaming.   

“Tell me more,” said Vorr’s voice somewhere in the pain. “That’s not enough. How did you join up with the jewel-touched pirate? Are there any more of you? Where would the wench and the pirate have gone? Tell me! Tell me now!”

Snap.

Pain, pain, so much pain. Pain like a tidal wave crashing over him; almost enough pain to make him pass out.

Just tell him, just speak, say something, maybe he will stop breaking your fingers!

“We just found him!” Ryn squeaked when the first wave had passed over him. “We landed on his ship when we fell out of yours! Nuthea says it was the One, but it could have just been pure luck! And I don’t know where they’ve gone! I wasn’t meant to attack you, I just did it on impulse, so they’ve probably run away! They could be anywhere; they could have jumped off the train by now and left me!”

“Unlikely,” said Vorr’s voice from somewhere. “They would injure themselves jumping onto land from a moving train. Though the pirate does have wind-projection... What about others? Are there any others with you?”

In the storm of pain, Ryn searched through his mind for something to cling to. Could he afford to tell the general about Elrann, Vish and Cid? Anything that might have the smallest chance of stopping this pain, or slowing it down… Cid was jewel-touched too. That might be important… And Vish seemed to have turned traitor to the Empire… Was it worth revealing that?

When he hesitated again, Vorr snapped another one of his fingers.

“Aaaaaarggggghhh!”

“Are there others with you?” Vorr bellowed. “Are there others? Tell me!”

Ryn broke his limit.

A strange tingling sensation joined the pain for a moment, mixing with it, spreading from his heart out through his whole body, to his head, to his feet, to the tips of his mangled fingers.

He opened his eyes, which had been scrunched shut in agony, and realised that he was on fire.

In his desperation, he had somehow inadvertently lit his whole body on fire.

He looked up at Vorr through his new aura of flickering orange. The general was still crouched over him, holding one of his hands.

“FIREBURST!” Ryn shouted, and this time flames leapt straight from his mouth.

The flames flew into Vorr’s face…

...but merely dissipated when they hit it, without any effect.

Vorr blinked a couple of times and leaned in closer so they were face to face.

“You stupid mutt,” Vorr said right in his face. “I can see you’ve been practicing. But that’s not going to work on me, remember? How many times do you need to be reminded of thiis? I am ruby-touched too, as are all my officers now. I have fire-projection just like you, and fire cannot harm me.”

As if Ryn thought that it would. As if Ryn was acting rationally, out of anything other than primal survival instinct.

Vorr’s face receded, and then he kicked Ryn in the stomach again, sending him skidding across the floor and into the side of one of the beds.

Something in Ryn’s chest stuck out at a weird angle and his fingers raged at him when he automatically put them out to steady himself. The pain had reached a new intensity he had never imagined possible. He felt his attention starting to move in and out of focus--he was going to pass out. Either that or Vorr was going to kill him first.

“Are there others with you?” Vorr shouted again, emphasising every other word like Ryn was an idiot. “Do you know of the locations of any more of the Jewels? Why are you on a train bound for Manolia? Tell me, you pathetic piece of poodoo! Tell me or I will break every single one of your fingers and toes! Tell me or I will cut them off and make you eat them!”

Just pain. And the fear of even more of it. And the shame that he knew he couldn’t hold out for much longer and that soon he would tell the general everything.

“WHAT IS IT?” Ryn heard Vorr yell.

Vorr was striding over to the door of the carriage. Someone had knocked on it. He heard Vorr open the door. Ryn could just about make out their conversation through the noise of his pain.

“What? I am busy.”

“My apologies, general, but you said to let you know if there were any developments.”

Cid? 

“Well, what is it? Spit it out, godsdamn you, soldier.”

“It’s the Shadowfingers, sir. They’ve caught the other infiltrators.”

No...

“Already? Why didn’t you say so straight away? Let them in, you fool!”

“Yes sir.”

Even though it hurt to move, Ryn managed to roll over a little onto his side so that he could look at the door.

Cid stood aside, and in came Vish and the other lady Shadowfinger followed by an un-helmeted Sagar and Nuthea. Ryn’s tired, overworked heart still leapt a little in his chest when he saw her. Sagar and Nuthea were marched in by two more soldiers who held swordpoints to the back of their necks to stop them trying anything--the younger of the two they had met last night and...Elrann.

What in all the hells? Has Elrann betrayed us now too? Or is Vish planning something?

          “Shut the door, solider,” Vorr commanded, and Cid did so, still on this side of it.

          The new arrivals walked in and fanned out in front of Vorr in what space there was between the beds. They were somewhat obscured by Vorr himself, but Ryn saw Nuthea’s eyes flick down to him in concern, then back up to Vorr, whom she regarded with tight-lipped rigidity. Sagar, unusually, wore nearly the same tense expression. They didn’t look like they had a plan, Ryn had to think amidst the terrible pain. Maybe he should just give up and die now.

“General Vorr.” Vish was the first to speak, in his exotic, guttural tones.

“Shadowfinger Vish,” acknowledged Vorr. He and Vish addressed each other almost as...equals? “Congratulations. I see that you have made good on your latest bounty...with a little help from me, it would seem.” He gestured with a hand towards Ryn. “You will be rewarded accordingly with poppy seed.”

Vish’s eyes stretched in size for the briefest of instants. Ryn had to close his own eyes again for a moment in response to a particularly strong throb of pain from his fingers. He didn’t want to whimper in front of Nuthea, so he bit down on his tongue.

“Thank you, General,” said Vish.

“I must say though, Shadowfinger,” Vorr went on, “that I am a little confused as to why it is only here and now that you have managed to unmask and bring in these rebels.” There was something off about Vorr’s voice, but Ryn couldn’t place it. It had taken on a sinister note, even more so than usual. Was he really confused, like he said, or was there something else going on?

“Oh?” said Vish. Ryn couldn’t read his expression underneath his headscarf, but this time his grey eyes stayed level. “What are you confused about, General?”

“If you knew that the rebels were on this train, why did you not inform me, either of this, or that you were on it too?”

The briefest of hesitations. Then Vish said, “Simple, General. I had tracked the three targets to Sirra, but temporarily lost them when they disguised themselves and infiltrated this train. I was fairly sure I had the right people, but I was biding my time to make absolutely sure, and to see what they were up to. When that boy over there revealed himself, I knew I had them. So here they are for you.”

“Ingenious,” said Vorr, lingering over the word. “Well, your story makes sense. Congratulations, again, Shadowfinger.” His hand went to one of a number of small pouches affixed to his belt, popped it open, and drew something out, holding it up in front of himself.

Vish’s eyes went wide again, and stayed that way.

“Here’s your poppy seed in reward,” said Vorr. “One now, and two more later, seeing as you brought in three targets. Although really I was the one who apprehended the first one, so I’m being more than generous.”

Ryn could see the longing in Vish’s eyes.

Come on Vish! he willed through his pain. He hadn’t seen this coming. Cid has plenty of poppy! We can give you poppy! If you’re planning something, don’t give in now!

“I…” said Vish. “I am grateful, General.”

The Shadowfinger stepped forwards to take the poppy.

No!

When he stepped within reach, Vorr grabbed Vish by the throat with one hand. Nuthea and Sagar gasped.

Vish’s hands flew to his neck at once to try to prise Vorr’s hand off. But it was no use; the gauntleted fingers fixed tightly around his throat. Vorr lifted him off the ground with one hand and held him aloft. Vish started to wheeze and choke, his legs kicking frantically as he pulled at Vorr’s hand with no success.

“Pitiful darkie,” Vorr said. “I don’t know why the Emperor values you so much. How did they get you? Did they offer you a better poppy supply, somehow? Nobody has more poppy than us. The seeds are always your weakness.” He looked past Vish. “Soldiers, kill the hostages.”

“N-now!” Vish managed to croak from within Vorr’s grip. “Do it now!”

Chaos erupted.

A gust of air billowed through the carriage. Sagar, Ryn thought briefly, before he was flipped over onto his front. He screamed as the pain in his hand and back spiked again.

Shouts and battle cries and the sound of pistols discharging and the ring of steel on steel.

And then he was on his back again, another flare of pain exploding through his body.

Cid’s face swam into his failing vision amidst dancing white spots.

“...is bad,” Cid was saying, kneeling next to him. “Really bad. I’m going to have to use a lot of mana to heal you. Hold on.”

Cid placed one hand on Ryn’s chest, cradled Ryn’s broken fingers with the other, and closed his eyes. Another shock of pain, and Ryn screamed again. He was sure that this one was going to tip him over into unconsciousness, or worse--

“Cura!”

--but then the heat of the pain transformed all of a sudden, and became a cool, soothing sensation that started in his hand and chest and spread slowly through the rest of him. Ryn’s fingers moved back into joint and went straight and normal again. He felt his teeth regrow and move back into place.

The pain departed.

He sighed, freed from the agony he had been trapped in, utterly relieved, and opened his eyes.

Cid was panting. “Come on lad,” he said. “You’re needed.”

Ryn wasted no time. He let Cid pull him up, then looked around at the battle that had begun.

Vorr had been blown to the far end of the carriage, but was back on his feet and had his huge sword drawn, shouting in fury and swinging it in massive deadly arcs at Sagar, who had his twin cutlasses out, and Nuthea, who knew how to handle the Imperial sword she carried too, Ryn was surprised to see.

On the other side of them, near the entrance of the carriage, Vish and Elrann were locked in a similar dance with the female Shadowfinger. Vish’s black sword flashed this way and that, and Elrann flicked her whip out in vicious snaps, but the Shadowfinger dodged and jumped and twirled to avoid each blow, and each time brought her chained mace of spikes around in reply, forcing Vish and Elrann to dodge out of the way themselves.

On the floor next to them lay Tilbrook, eyes staring at nothing, blood leaking from his mouth. He was only a boy. Barely older than me.

Ryn made his choice, and pelted towards the far end of the carriage where Sagar and Nuthea were fighting Vorr, familiar hatred for the Empire and the General spreading like heat from his chest. It wasn’t really a choice at all. Kill Vorr.

He saw a gap in the melee as Sagar used another smaller gust of wind to push Vorr back again and, his reserves replenished by Cid’s magic, flung a fireball directly at the general.

It hit him in the chest, but then dissipated into nothing.

“Get back, pup!” Sagar said. “We don’t need you here! Go help the girl and the scumsucker! Don’t you remember he’s impervious to fire attacks?”

Oh yeah. In his sudden thrill at being healed by Cid and back on his feet again, Ryn had completely forgotten that for a moment. Again. Stupid…

“Elpis!” roared Vorr all of a sudden through the momentary lull in the fighting. “Call for reinforcements, damn you!”

Ryn spun to see the lady Shadowfinger leap away from Vish and Elrann in two elegant hops, twisting in the air as she did so, and land by the door. She dashed through it, and the opened door bounced off the wall and shut again with a clang.

Distant shouts.

They all stood blankly watching the door for a moment, blinking in surprise at what had just happened. She had moved so fast.

A rumble.

And then the door to the carriage burst open, and in flew the Shadowfinger again, followed by the armoured Imperial officers Ryn had seen earlier, followed by soldier after soldier after soldier, swarming into the carriage like a stampede of giant ants.

“Poodoo!” yelled Sagar, still trading strikes with Vorr. “Run!”

Vish and Elrann didn’t need telling twice.

But Ryn did, frozen as he was in place by shock and his desire to see Vorr dead.

“Come on, Ryn!” Nuthea said, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him after her, away from the oncoming soldiers.

Sagar motioned with his hand and yelled something, and another massive gust of wind pushed Vorr out of their path, slamming him into a window, leaving a spiderweb of cracks. Elrann unloaded a shot at him as she passed, and sparks flew from his chestplate. It wouldn’t have wounded him, Ryn knew, but it kept him there a little longer as they dashed past.

Ryn felt a pang of regret that he was running away from Vorr again as he forced himself to look away. But he had realised at last that he wasn’t going to kill the General today. Run Ryn, run away, live to fight another day, live to find Vorr again and make him pay.

Thank the gods there was another door at the other end of the carriage. Sagar got to it first and kicked it open.

They piled after him out of it. But where Ryn had expected the door to lead straight into another carriage, instead it opened up to a small exterior platform built onto the outside of the train.

They skidded to a halt on the miniature platform, stumbling and holding onto each other to stop themselves falling off it with their momentum. Rushing air and green hills lit by morning sunshine greeted them.

Elrann, last out, slammed the door behind her and shoved her sheathed Imperial sword through its handle to prevent it from being opened.

Almost immediately something slammed into the door from the other side and it came open slightly, but stopped when it met the resistance of the weapon.

Shouting. It would probably hold for a little while, but not long.

“What now?” said Ryn desperately.

A few feet in front of them, on the other side of the platform was another carriage, only this one was smaller, and round, with a big pipe coming out of it blowing steam into the air.

“In there?” said Nuthea.

“That’s the driver’s carriage,” said Cid.

“No,” said Sagar, “we’ll just be cornered in there. Up.”

He pointed.

Behind them, next to the door that Elrann had wedged shut, a ladder.

Sagar shoved Nuthea forwards so that she went up first, then he followed, then Cid, then Elrann, then Ryn with Vish behind him.

It was even windier on top of the train. The rushing air made Ryn’s hair fly around his head. The roofs of the box-like carriages were flat, though, so they could walk on them.

As Ryn stepped out onto the roof of the carriage they had just been inside he heard snapping metal below, and shouts.

“Where have they gone?”

“Up there! Up on the roof!”

Ryn ran along the top of the carriage with the others. He could hear soldiers calling after them already.

When they got to the first gap between the roof they were on and the roof of the next carriage, only a couple of metres, they jumped it, and kept running. They kept on like this, dashing across the train-top and vaulting the spaces between the carriages.

But, Ryn thought, what’s our end game here? How are we going to get off this train?

And then he saw the black-armoured soldiers in front of them climbing up onto the roof of the rearmost carriage of the train about eight carriages away in the distance.

They were going to be caught from both sides.

“Halt!” yelled Vish to everyone. “Form up! Stand ground!”

He had used unfamiliar language, but everyone seemed to instinctively understand what he meant and obeyed him. They all stopped in the middle of the roof of the carriage they were currently on and intuitively arranged themselves so that they were back to back in pairs, three of them facing the back of the train, three of them the front.

Ryn stood back to back with Vish, alongside Nuthea and Sagar facing the same way to either side of him, who were back to back with Elrann and Cid respectively, and watched the approaching stream of helmet-less soldiers coming towards them over the top of the train. They were three carriages away.

Swordless, he clenched his fists, readying himself to throw fire. Have the regular soldiers been ruby-touched as well, or just the officers? There’s only one way to find out…

“I’m not sure we can win this,” he thought aloud.

“Quiet, pup!” Sagar snapped. The soldiers were two carriages away now; Ryn could see their snarls and the battlelust in their eyes. “We’re going to try anyway. Don’t forget, we’ve still got our elemental projection, and old timer back there can heal us if we need it.”

“And now that we’re outside, I can use my lightning,” said Nuthea.

A crackle, and the hair on the back of Ryn’s stood on end.

The oncoming soldiers cleared the gap onto their carriage. They charged the last steps towards the party, swords drawn, shouting curses and battlecries. Ryn could see the spittle flying from their mouths.

Here goes nothing.

The closest one had his blade raised to strike.

“FIRA!” shouted Ryn, thrusting out his palms and willing the flames forwards.

Burning orange leapt from his hands in a blast that engulfed the charging soldiers. Their shouts turned to screams.

In the same moment, Sagar shouted “WINDARA!” next to him.

An instant after the flames appeared, a huge gust of wind blew from the side across the top of the carriage with a howling shriek, making Ryn wobble even though he hadn’t caught the full force of it.

The gust blew Ryn’s flames away and to the side, off the top of the train, and they dissipated into nothing.

At the same time, the gust took most of the soldiers with it, knocking them off the train.

They flew off the roof, still screaming, some still on fire from Ryn’s attack, like crumbs being brushed from a tablecloth.

Ryn winced as the screams were cut short by the crunches of the soldiers hitting the passing landscape beneath them.

He turned, panting, to Sagar. “Hey, what are you doing?! Your attack got in the way of mine!”

The pirate was panting too. He scowled at Ryn with his good eye. “Well it worked, didn’t it? I didn’t know if your fire was going to have any effect on the soldiers--it doesn’t on Vorr.”

Behind them Ryn heard the sound of Elrann’s pistols discharging as she, Vish and Cid met the wave of soldiers that crashed on them from the other direction.

“Well it clearly does,” Ryn snapped back, irritated. “It must be just the Officers that they’ve touched with the ruby, not the common soldiers.”

“Um, boys…” said Nuthea.

Ryn and Sagar looked up from their argument, ignoring the sounds of Elrann, Vish and Cid still fighting behind them.

In front of them, at the other end of the carriage roof, stood four helmet-less Imperial officers and the lady Shadowfinger, all flanking, at their head, General Vorr.

Ryn’s heart skipped a beat.

He needed to kill this man, but for the moment he was depleted, and he had realised that he still wasn’t strong enough to kill him yet. He needed more time. That meant he needed to survive this battle somehow. He also wanted his friends to survive. Even Sagar.

“Ok, we need to coordinate our attacks this time…” he said quietly to Sagar and Nuthea, hoping that Vorr couldn’t hear.

“I’m not sure how much mana I’ve got left,” said Sagar. A sliding of metal as he drew his twin blades.

Ryn wished he hadn’t lost his Imperial sword.

“Don’t worry,” said Nuthea unexpectedly. “I’ve still got my lightning projection. I’m not sure Vorr’s remembered that.”

“I’m not sure that’s the sort of thing he would forget…” said Ryn.

Something was wrong. Vorr had his own huge blade drawn too, but he wasn’t coming forwards to use it. Yet. His jaw was set and his brows creased in a deep frown. He looked thoroughly pissed off.

“Rebel filth,” Vorr said calmly, as if he was addressing them by a formal title. “I don’t know how you managed to turn a Shadowfinger to your cause, or why you keep popping up at inopportune moments, but I’ve had enough of you. By killing you I’ll be ridding myself of a nuisance and saving the Empire the money we would have had to pay out for your bounty.”

He took a step towards them.

“Stop right there, Vorr!” yelled Nuthea, and he did. “We’re outside now, and I can use my gift!” Why is she telling him that? Oh right, her stupid ‘no killing’ rule… She wants to give him a chance…. “One step closer and I’ll electrocute you all where you stand!”

There was some shuffling behind them, but Ryn kept his eyes forwards, on Vorr.

“Right,” said Elrann from behind, “we’ve taken care of the soldiers on our side. Well, Vish took care of them, mainly. What did we miss? Oh…”

Vorr was still frowning at them grimly, moving his teeth from side to side like he was pondering something. But then his frown cracked and became a menacing smile. “Don’t threaten me, witch!” he called back to Nuthea. “You don’t know as much as you think you do. You’ve served your purpose and helped the Empire enough already by betraying your homeland.” What? “It’s time for you to die now.”

His words were threatening, but he stayed where he was for the moment. Beyond him and to either side of the train, the green hills of whatever country they were currently traveling through rolled by. What did he mean Nuthea ‘betrayed her homeland’?

“He’s bluffing…” said Sagar, quietly enough so that only they could hear. At least Ryn hoped that Vorr and the officers couldn’t hear him over the rush of the train and the wind.

“I’m not so sure…” said Cid from behind them.

“Er, guys, what’s the plan here?” said Elrann nervously.

“If he takes one step,” said Sagar, “hit him with everything you’ve got, princess.”

“No,” said Cid. “Listen to me, there’s no time to explain now, but that’s really not a good plan. We need a different one. Look, in the distance: the train’s about to pass alongside a fast-flowing river. When I give the signal, everybody jump.”

“What?” said Sagar. “Are you mad, old timer?”

I don’t know how to swim, Ryn just had time to think.

“Enough stalling!” shouted Vorr.

He ran towards them with a battle roar, the officers and Shadowfinger following fast.

“BOLTAGA!” shouted Nuthea at the top of her lungs.

A crack, and bright white lightning leapt from her outstretched fingertips, lancing into the Imperials. More lightning than Ryn had ever seen her summon before danced from her hands for a heartbeat, two, three, crackling and shifting and jumping between the Imperial officers, lighting up their faces, wide-eyed with shock. They cried out, presumably in pain.

And then the lightning subsided.

Steam hissed from the officers and Shadowfinger and their shouts died away.

But they were all still standing.

“How…?” murmured Nuthea.

Vorr looked down at himself, apparently as surprised as she was.

“Ha,” he chortled, sounding half-disbelieving. And then another chortle came, and another, and his laughter grew and grew until it poured forth freely. “Ha. Haha. Hahahahahahaha!”

He looked up at them again, and stopped laughing.

“KILL THEM!” he roared.

Vorr and the officers came on, swords raised high to strike.

Just beyond them, Ryn glimpsed a ribbon of blue that the train was coming towards.

“Now!” shouted Cid. “Quick, jump!”

Without thinking, Ryn grabbed Nuthea’s hand and jumped with her over the side of the carriage.

Rushing free-fall and a fluttering stomach.

They hit the water with a chilling splash.