Of Silk and Steam
Page 79
“Don’t get yourself killed,” Mina said.
Recognizing her nervousness for what it was, he forced a smile. “Isn’t that my line?”
A roll of the eyes. “I was waiting for it.”
The straps of the leather harness bit into his shoulders as he shrugged. It was so damned close in here, the weight of the metal seeming to loom against his skin. Heat bloomed along his spine where the boilers sat. “I make a habit of not irritating women who could set me on fire. Besides, logic dictates you’re more competent in this thing than I am.”
A long considering look. “Watch my back then.” A concession he’d earned by not trying to keep her out of the fighting.
“Always,” he replied and then worked the lever that set his Cyclops into motion.
Fire spewed over houses outside the walls as Leo strode forth with his contingent. Spitfires were going insane, marching on their own metaljackets as Blade’s rookery lads protected the base of the wall. A golden carriage stood in the midst of a dozen metaljackets, with Morioch on top of it shouting for order. Several handlers furiously worked their controls.
Leo’s eyes narrowed on the duke. Advancing through the tide of metaljackets, he smashed several of them out of his way with his enormous metal fists. The Cyclops was hard work; he jerked on the controls and gritted his teeth as metaljackets swarmed him. An enormous steel boot came up into his field of vision, kicking one of the clinging metaljackets in the head. A flash of Charlie’s eyes caught his through the eye slit, and Leo could tell the lad was grinning.
The wave of Cyclops joining the fight crushed the Echelon’s metaljackets. Flame spewed across the square, though both sides were careful not to overuse it. Greek fire burned like the fires of hell once it hit anything and was notoriously uncontrollable.
Morioch was screaming, his gaunt face wide with horror as he looked at the tide of Cyclops. Leo waved on the men behind him as he set his shoulder into the side of the carriage and tried to push it over.
It rocked from side to side as they joined him. Morioch danced on top of it, trying to keep his balance. The entire thing tipped on edge…and went down with a resounding crash. Morioch tumbled through the fallen carcasses of his metaljackets.
Stomping forward, Leo grabbed him by the throat. He hauled the duke up until his feet dangled, then pressed the button that kept his helmet sealed. It opened with a hiss, steam curling the hair at his temples. “Surprise,” he told the duke.
“Barrons!” Morioch gritted his teeth and kicked at him. “You treacherous snake!” A knife appeared in his hand and Leo smashed it away with his metal fist. The duke screamed in pain. “What have you done?” he howled, wild eyes looking at the carnage surrounding them.
“Not me, Your Grace.”
Mina clanked up beside him, releasing her own helm. Morioch’s eyes widened when he saw her.
“Me,” she said. “Are you going to kill him?”
“No.” Blade strode out of the clinging pall of smoke, the pair of razors in his hands. “I am. Put ’im down. I’ll give ’im a fightin’ chance, at least.”
“Is that wise?” Mina asked.
“I ain’t a murderer,” Blade shot back. His eyes focused on Morioch as Leo dropped him. “Now, what was that you were sayin’ ’bout me wife?”
* * *
Soot and ash stained the air, the houses lit by the glare of fire. Most of the handlers had been killed or captured. Metaljackets stood in silent rows or littered the square.
They’d won, though they couldn’t have done it alone. One Cyclops was worth four of the metaljackets, it was true, but at this stage they’d been vastly outnumbered and untrained. Only Lena’s frequency-altering device working in conjunction with the Cyclops had won them the day.
Leo kept his helm open, breathing in the hot, smoky air. Better than being trapped inside his helmet, his own breath blowing back into his face. “Roughly eight hundred metaljackets,” he announced, returning from his count. “Which means a good number of the Echelon’s forces.”
The little group huddled on the top of Morioch’s splayed carriage made up the war council; Blade, Rip, Will, Lena, Kincaid, and the duchess.
“They’ll still have the ceremonial automatons,” Mina replied, staring at the map someone had brought from the rookeries. She stabbed a finger into the heart of it. “And the walls guarding the Ivory Tower are immense. Nobody’s ever brought them down. They’re impenetrable, and no doubt any hidden access routes were blocked after our escape.”
Blade scowled. “So we ’it the gates? Smash ’em to pieces?”
“Spoken like a true brute.” Mina looked up at him, her eyes alight. “A good way to lose half your men. There are cannons mounted on the wall. You wouldn’t make it within a hundred feet.” She tipped her head toward the rookery walls. “And this time, we’ll be in Morioch’s position.”
“Then what do you propose?” Lena asked.
“We need more men—more of the Cyclops in action,” she replied. “We’ve called on the extent of Kincaid’s enclaves, but there are three other secret factories storing Cyclops.”
“Funny thing, luv,” Blade replied. “All the men we got to pilot them is right ’ere.”
Leo released the breastplate of the Cyclops and undid the harness. Hot air washed over his skin, but at least it was clean. A breeze of some description. “Mina’s contacted Sir Gideon Scott. We can only assume he’s spreading the word among the humanist forces in the city and outfitting humanists at the Ironmonger enclaves.”
“A mob.” Kincaid scratched at his roughened jaw. “Send them in first and let the Coldrush Guards on the walls focus on them.”
“No,” Mina snapped. “I won’t countenance useless deaths. Here.” She pointed to a spot on the map. “What we need is here.”
“The Nighthawks Guild.” Leo hauled himself on top of the carriage and peered at the map. “A whole army of blue bloods.”
She shot him a grateful look. “Our plan of attack is to march on the Ivory Tower—Blade can lead that force, keep their attention. Take Kincaid and his mechs with you. Then another group attacks the Coldrush Guards pinning the Nighthawks down, and then the Nighthawks go to the Moorgate and Cripplegate enclaves—they’re the closest to the guild. They arm themselves with the Cyclops there and assault the Ivory Tower from the south.”
Recognizing her nervousness for what it was, he forced a smile. “Isn’t that my line?”
A roll of the eyes. “I was waiting for it.”
The straps of the leather harness bit into his shoulders as he shrugged. It was so damned close in here, the weight of the metal seeming to loom against his skin. Heat bloomed along his spine where the boilers sat. “I make a habit of not irritating women who could set me on fire. Besides, logic dictates you’re more competent in this thing than I am.”
A long considering look. “Watch my back then.” A concession he’d earned by not trying to keep her out of the fighting.
“Always,” he replied and then worked the lever that set his Cyclops into motion.
Fire spewed over houses outside the walls as Leo strode forth with his contingent. Spitfires were going insane, marching on their own metaljackets as Blade’s rookery lads protected the base of the wall. A golden carriage stood in the midst of a dozen metaljackets, with Morioch on top of it shouting for order. Several handlers furiously worked their controls.
Leo’s eyes narrowed on the duke. Advancing through the tide of metaljackets, he smashed several of them out of his way with his enormous metal fists. The Cyclops was hard work; he jerked on the controls and gritted his teeth as metaljackets swarmed him. An enormous steel boot came up into his field of vision, kicking one of the clinging metaljackets in the head. A flash of Charlie’s eyes caught his through the eye slit, and Leo could tell the lad was grinning.
The wave of Cyclops joining the fight crushed the Echelon’s metaljackets. Flame spewed across the square, though both sides were careful not to overuse it. Greek fire burned like the fires of hell once it hit anything and was notoriously uncontrollable.
Morioch was screaming, his gaunt face wide with horror as he looked at the tide of Cyclops. Leo waved on the men behind him as he set his shoulder into the side of the carriage and tried to push it over.
It rocked from side to side as they joined him. Morioch danced on top of it, trying to keep his balance. The entire thing tipped on edge…and went down with a resounding crash. Morioch tumbled through the fallen carcasses of his metaljackets.
Stomping forward, Leo grabbed him by the throat. He hauled the duke up until his feet dangled, then pressed the button that kept his helmet sealed. It opened with a hiss, steam curling the hair at his temples. “Surprise,” he told the duke.
“Barrons!” Morioch gritted his teeth and kicked at him. “You treacherous snake!” A knife appeared in his hand and Leo smashed it away with his metal fist. The duke screamed in pain. “What have you done?” he howled, wild eyes looking at the carnage surrounding them.
“Not me, Your Grace.”
Mina clanked up beside him, releasing her own helm. Morioch’s eyes widened when he saw her.
“Me,” she said. “Are you going to kill him?”
“No.” Blade strode out of the clinging pall of smoke, the pair of razors in his hands. “I am. Put ’im down. I’ll give ’im a fightin’ chance, at least.”
“Is that wise?” Mina asked.
“I ain’t a murderer,” Blade shot back. His eyes focused on Morioch as Leo dropped him. “Now, what was that you were sayin’ ’bout me wife?”
* * *
Soot and ash stained the air, the houses lit by the glare of fire. Most of the handlers had been killed or captured. Metaljackets stood in silent rows or littered the square.
They’d won, though they couldn’t have done it alone. One Cyclops was worth four of the metaljackets, it was true, but at this stage they’d been vastly outnumbered and untrained. Only Lena’s frequency-altering device working in conjunction with the Cyclops had won them the day.
Leo kept his helm open, breathing in the hot, smoky air. Better than being trapped inside his helmet, his own breath blowing back into his face. “Roughly eight hundred metaljackets,” he announced, returning from his count. “Which means a good number of the Echelon’s forces.”
The little group huddled on the top of Morioch’s splayed carriage made up the war council; Blade, Rip, Will, Lena, Kincaid, and the duchess.
“They’ll still have the ceremonial automatons,” Mina replied, staring at the map someone had brought from the rookeries. She stabbed a finger into the heart of it. “And the walls guarding the Ivory Tower are immense. Nobody’s ever brought them down. They’re impenetrable, and no doubt any hidden access routes were blocked after our escape.”
Blade scowled. “So we ’it the gates? Smash ’em to pieces?”
“Spoken like a true brute.” Mina looked up at him, her eyes alight. “A good way to lose half your men. There are cannons mounted on the wall. You wouldn’t make it within a hundred feet.” She tipped her head toward the rookery walls. “And this time, we’ll be in Morioch’s position.”
“Then what do you propose?” Lena asked.
“We need more men—more of the Cyclops in action,” she replied. “We’ve called on the extent of Kincaid’s enclaves, but there are three other secret factories storing Cyclops.”
“Funny thing, luv,” Blade replied. “All the men we got to pilot them is right ’ere.”
Leo released the breastplate of the Cyclops and undid the harness. Hot air washed over his skin, but at least it was clean. A breeze of some description. “Mina’s contacted Sir Gideon Scott. We can only assume he’s spreading the word among the humanist forces in the city and outfitting humanists at the Ironmonger enclaves.”
“A mob.” Kincaid scratched at his roughened jaw. “Send them in first and let the Coldrush Guards on the walls focus on them.”
“No,” Mina snapped. “I won’t countenance useless deaths. Here.” She pointed to a spot on the map. “What we need is here.”
“The Nighthawks Guild.” Leo hauled himself on top of the carriage and peered at the map. “A whole army of blue bloods.”
She shot him a grateful look. “Our plan of attack is to march on the Ivory Tower—Blade can lead that force, keep their attention. Take Kincaid and his mechs with you. Then another group attacks the Coldrush Guards pinning the Nighthawks down, and then the Nighthawks go to the Moorgate and Cripplegate enclaves—they’re the closest to the guild. They arm themselves with the Cyclops there and assault the Ivory Tower from the south.”
