Behemoth

THIRTY-EIGHT

“Are the others anywhere about?” Alek asked.

Deryn leaned out the viewport, looking backward. There was nothing on the horizon but the silhouettes of short salt-sheered trees along the cliff tops. Then she spotted them—a trio of smoke trails against the starlight, no more than two miles away.

“Aye, all of them! Three kilometers or so behind us.” She glanced at the pressure gauge, which was only now beginning to climb again. “And a good thing too. It’ll be a few minutes before we can throw again.”

“We don’t have that much time. Give us some cover while I shake this wire off.”

As Deryn reached for the steam cannon lever, one of the war elephants fired. The shell landed short, but close, and Deryn was thrown backward from the controls. Gravel and dirt spat through the viewport, leaving a scratch on her goggles.

“If you please, Mr. Sharp?” Alek asked.

“Mr. Sharp,” Bovril repeated with a chuckle.

Deryn scrambled up from the floor to pull the lever, and hissing filled her ears. The pilot’s cabin was suddenly as hot and humid as a greenhouse.

Outside the viewport the world disappeared behind a veil of white.

Alek worked the pedals and saunters, blindly tearing at the tangle of barbed wire. More gunfire boomed beyond the steam cloud, but the answering explosions sounded in the distance.

“They’re shooting at the others,” Deryn said.

“Then now’s the time to attack! Get me some pressure in my throwing arm.”

“I’d be happy to, Your Highness.” Deryn pulled the engine stokers again. “But we’ve emptied the boilers to make this steam, and now you’re dancing about like a loon, which is taking even more power!”

“Fine, then,” Alek said, bringing the djinn into a crouched halt. As the engines idled, the ranging gauge began to climb again.

Through the whiteness came the clatter of machine guns—the Ottomans were firing into the bank of steam clouds, listening to see where their bullets hit metal.

“They’ll find us soon enough,” Alek said. He pulled the release, and Deryn heard a third spice bomb rattle into place.

She wiped condensation from the ranging gauge. “Three hundred meters and climbing.”

“That’s enough—if we charge them!”

“Are you daft? There’s three of them and one of us!”

“Yes, but we haven’t much time. Listen to your beast.”

Deryn stared at the loris. Its wee eyes were closed, as if it had decided to take a nap. But a soft noise came from its lips—a hum and crackle, like the static on Klopp’s wireless. She’d heard the sound before …

“Barking spiders,” she breathed.

“Indeed.” Alek pushed at the pedals. As the djinn thundered forward, the hot clouds parted around them.

The Tesla cannon stood tall on the cliffs, its frame glimmering against the dark sky. Faint sparkles traveled along its lower struts, like fabricated fireflies flitting about on Guy Fawkes Day. Its shimmer spilled across the battlefield.

She leaned forward to squint up at the stars. No dark silhouette moved among them, but if the Ottomans were charging up their cannon, they must have spotted the Leviathan approaching.

The war elephants were still firing at the other walkers, their mortars elevated high. But as Alek charged ahead, one of the turrets began to spin about.…

Moments later its main gun billowed flame and smoke. The shell struck close enough to send the djinn staggering. The needle on the ranging gauge trembled, then fell—pressure was leaking somewhere.

“We’re hit!” Deryn cried.

“The trigger is yours, Mr. Sharp,” Alek said calmly, his hands white-knuckled on the saunters. The djinn was limping now, the whole pilot’s cabin lurching from side to side.

Deryn grasped the release trigger, her eyes flicking back and forth between the ranging gauge and the three steel elephants ahead. The needle had stopped at four hundred meters, trembling uncertainly, and the distance to the elephants was lessening with every step.

The nearest elephant swung its trunk toward the djinn, its machine gun blazing. Bullets struck armor with a sound like coins shaken in a tin. One bullet slipped in through the viewport, a sliver of hot metal striking sparks around their heads.

“Are you hit?” Alek asked.

“Not me!” Deryn said.

“Not me!” Bovril repeated, then filled the cabin with its maniacal laughter.

Another of the elephants’ big guns was taking aim …

The ranging needle sputtered again, then climbed, and finally they were close enough. Deryn pulled the trigger, and the walker’s throwing arm swung overhead as they ran, like a charging fast bowler unleashing a cricket ball at a batsman.

The spice bomb went straight into the closest elephant, exploding into a swirl of fiery red. The machine staggered, but the cloud moved hastily away, spreading through the shimmering lower struts of the Tesla cannon.

“Blisters!” Deryn cried. “The wind’s too strong up here!”

Of course, the wind always blew hard against seaside cliffs. She’d been a Dummkopf not to realize it!

But Alek didn’t falter, barreling straight at the elephant. The direct hit had done some damage, at least. The Ottoman machine was stumbling about like a newborn calf.

But just before they collided, the elephant’s great head rolled on its neck, raising the two barbed tusks.…

Alek twisted at the saunters, but the walker was moving too fast to turn. With an awful metal shriek the djinn impaled itself upon one tusk, a white blast of steam shooting from the boilers in its chest.

The air in the pilot’s cabin turned wet and scalding, every valve hissing like a teakettle. The elephant shook its head, tossing the djinn madly and throwing Deryn from her seat. She screamed as her hands splayed against the burning metal floor and the beastie’s claws went deep into her shoulder.

“We’re done for!” she shouted. “Abandon ship!”

“Not yet.” Alek pulled a saunter back with one hand, hitting the bomb release with another, and with the djinn’s last squick of strength brought its throwing arm down.

Deryn stood, squinting through her goggles to watch the remaining spice bombs—almost a dozen of them—rattle down the magazine to burst against the elephant’s back.

“Barking spiders,” said the perspicacious loris.

“Open us up,” Deryn said, unstrapping herself. “In another moment we won’t be able to breathe!”

While Alek spun the hand crank furiously, she kicked open the locker in the back of the cabin, pulling a mass of rope from it.

“Aren’t you glad we practiced belaying?” she shouted over the din of steam and gunfire.

“I’d rather not know what’s coming,” Alek said.

“Nonsense. This is easy compared with a sliding escape from a Huxley! I’ll tell you about that some time.”

As the djinn’s head opened, Deryn tied the rope off and flung it over the back of the walker. Stepping up onto the cabin’s edge, she peered down into the nebulous white cloud beneath them. The last steam from the djinn’s boilers was still billowing from the tusk protruding from its back.

“I’ll go first,” she said. “So if you slide too fast, I’ll break your fall.”

“Won’t that hurt a bit?”

“Aye. So don’t slide too fast!”

Deryn clipped herself to the rope, taking one last look at the battle spread out around them. Another of the war elephants had been hit—it was stumbling in a circle, red dust splattered across its glittering steel armor. Lilit’s Minotaur was charging forward while the iron golem stood back, its huge right arm launching spice bombs at the remaining elephant. Even with the sea breeze at her back, the smells of spices and gunfire were choking.

Then she saw it—Şahmeran lying on her belly half a mile from the tower, pouring out black smoke and burning oil.

“Zaven’s been hit!” she cried.

“And that’s not all.” Alek pointed toward the city, where a new column of smoke was rising in the distance.

“Blisters! Enemy reinforcements!”

“Don’t worry. That walker’s ten kilometers away, and the Ottomans don’t have anything fast.”

“Fast,” Bovril said.

Deryn gave it a hard look. “What in blazes are you saying, beastie?”

“Fast,” it said again.

A giant crash rolled across the battlefield—Lilit’s Minotaur had charged straight into the last undamaged war elephant. Both machines went down, tumbling over each other like cats in a fight. A vast red cloud billowed out in all directions, driven by the steam from the two machines’ broken boilers, turning the stars in the sky blood red.

The two walkers’ tumbling came to a halt in the center of a swirling tower of dust and engine smoke, neither of them moving.

“Lilit …,” Deryn said hoarsely.

The Minotaur was down, but its head seemed to be undamaged. Maybe the girl was safe inside her metal shell.

“Look,” Alek said. “She’s opened the way for Klopp!”

Only one elephant remained standing, and it was covered with red dust, barely moving. The iron golem was lumbering steadily forward, with nothing between it and the Tesla cannon.

But Klopp didn’t veer toward the wounded elephant or the cannon—he was headed straight toward them.

“What’s he doing?” Deryn asked. “Why’s he coming here?”

Alek swore. “Klopp and Bauer are following Volger’s orders. They’re coming to rescue me!”

“Blisters, this is what you get for being a barking prince!”

“An archduke, technically.”

“Whatever you are, we have to show him you don’t need rescuing. Come on!”

Deryn lifted the rope, and felt Bovril tighten its grip on her shoulder.

“Abandon ship,” the beastie said.

She jumped, sliding down through hot clouds of vapor.