Book 3 - Chapter 126 (Patreon)

The train rattled forward with its only cart. A lonely operator shuffled coals in the front while the empty cargo space held only four people. The Professor and his two students, along with Dalynja clutching her crossbow in a clamp-like grip.

In the corner of the space, a dead vermin shivered as it died. Yet the group stared at it in fear.

None spoke for several seconds. The train rumbled with a low pitch and the smell of burning coals lingered in the air. Finally, one of the apprentices broke the silence. “He can’t catch up to a moving train. There’s no way... right?”

Dalynja perched up suddenly and ran to the circular window. Outside, snow blurred past and beyond, the night reigned.

The Professor clicked his tongue. “This is excellent, Dalynja. This will really rile him up further. But I’d prefer to not argue with him at this particular moment.”

Dalynja, the traitor, squinted her eyes into the night. In the distance, the burning Voska still lit the sky. If Wretch was behind them, the darkness obscured him. “My hound, Lukka, is on our heels. He hasn’t sent me any warnings yet. We should be safe.”

“That’s a relief,” the Professor said with a sly smile. “Operator! Full steam ahead. Spare no fuel, even if you have to throw yourself in the fire.”

An older man peeked back from the locomotive further down the room, the engine shining behind him. “Sorry, is something the matter? Fuel restrictions have us with just enough to reach Sternthal.”

A distant scream rattled then. Almost too low to be noticed under the vibrating wagon.

Dalynja ripped the cloak off her shoulders. “All you carry. Burn it now!” She ran over the metal floor, pushed the operator to the side, slammed open the hatch to the fiery engine, and threw her coat inside. She glanced back, the flames casting long shadows on a face seeped in fear. “Get moving!”

The other shook off the shock and joined her in the engine room. The Professor folded his apron neatly before giving it to the flames. The operator was stripped bare of everything but his underpants.

The engine answered the scream from the dark with one of its own, and pistons pumped with newfound strength. Dalynja untied her shoelaces but suddenly froze.

The Professor unwhirled the bandages of his hands, revealing palms so raw from unceasing work they were stark red and covered in blisters. He glanced up at Dalynja and his eyes narrowed. “Miss spy, you appear to have frozen in place?”

“Lukka reached out just now...”

She straightened and gazed with wide eyes towards the back of the train cart. The speed made the transport sway from side to side. The back was a gate, giving easy access to any potential goods.

“And?” the Professor asked.

Dalynja rushed down the cart and grabbed the door handle. With a screech she ripped it open, and the two doors pulled apart. Snow blurred past and the air drag pulled at her hair. The night beyond was a mass of gray and black, the landscape marked by cut trees and snow-covered rocks. “It was quick. Not a warning, more... surprise.”

The Professor tapped his chin. “Mr. Operator, come. The engine isn’t safe and I need your eyes!”

The group of four hurried to the back, staring into the dark night. The operator wiped sweat from his brow. “What am I looking for, sir? I only see snow and—”

A gentle push from the Professor sent the man tumbling out the back with a gasp. A moment later the man was gone, leaving only four in the rumbling train.

“That should slow him down for a while. Don’t look at me like that, Miss Spy. You of all people should know sacrifice.”

Dalynja bit her lip and stared into the night. “You do it so casually.”

“Wait! I see something,” called one of the apprentices. “There!” The young man pointed with his free hand, paperwork still clutched to his chest. In the moonlight, a shadow darted from the hazy snowfall on four limbs. It stopped by a blob on the ground and stood on its hind legs. Its head turned. Two fiery orbs shone through the dark, a flash of killing intent so raw as to make the shadows flicker. And then it was gone, the train having taken a turn.

“Father be praised,” mumbled one apprentice.

“He’s fast,” Dalynja whispered beneath her breath.

The Professor didn’t seem all too worried, or his features didn’t betray it. He smiled and put one hand on each of his apprentices. “Gentlemen. Remind me what happens when a Gulschak dies for the Father's will?”

“You become a ghost in his machine,” the pair responded in unison.

“That’s true. Alas, these blistered hands haven’t given enough yet, but yours, you’ve both done plenty.” He pulled a ball of intricate gears from his pocket and a glowing coal from another. “I understand that this is sudden, but unfortunately, only one of you will be a martyr this day. Whom shall have the honor?”

The two younglings of similar height and build looked at each other, then back to the dark night. Another roar and something shot through the snow behind them, a beast of gray on their heels.

“I’ll do it!” they both exclaimed suddenly.

The Professor's smile turned just a little wider. He fell to one knee by one of them, the icy gust ruffling his hair. “Keep this close, Maxim. Try and not let the light show. The snow will cushion your fall, and then you’ll blink. And the next moment you’ll be with the Father for a new purpose. Wait for us then, Maxim. Wait for us by his side.”

The youngling nodded but a continuous shiver rattled through the adolescent body. He looked up, eyes glued to the thing behind them, barely visible through the snow. The Professor placed the coal into the orb of gears, and a tick grew from within.

Gently, the Professor placed the device in Maxim’s inner pocket and turned him to the open entrance. “Just one step, and a bat of an eye, Maxim. No pain.”

The ticking grew faster, but still the youngling stood as if glued to the floor, his lips turning blue.

The burning eyes grew closer.

Maxim spoke. “I... I can't do—”

Another gentle push from the Professor sent the apprentice into the dark. And so they were three.

“Cover your ears,” Dalynja hissed.

The trio did as instructed. A few moments later, a white pulse of light flashed. For a moment, all was revealed. The snow-covered trees, the jutting rocks, and the tracks ripped into splinters, and a monster running on four claws along the tracks. A shockwave boomed against the metal of the train, the loose bolts shivering.

For a long while the trio just stared, blinded by the light. Then, the Professor moved to close the door. A singed claw shot from the dark. For a split second, the light of the train shone on the thing hunting them. A creature stripped of skin from the explosion, exposed muscles squirming as its flesh grew anew. Its claw barely reached the door, passing a few inches from the Professor's head. The beast hit the snow with a thud, and it was gone.

With a jolt the Professor closed the gate. “I have only one explosive.”

“And only one apprentice,” Dalynja said through gritted teeth.

“Watch the door, will you dears, and pray to the Father. Demand he speed this decrepit transport!” the Professor said as he hurried to the engine, boots tapping against the metal floor. With a jank he ripped open the hatch and threw a handful of papers into the shrieking flames. The notes flew from the open fire, filling the room with half-burned sketches.

Another roar, this time so close as to echo in the cabin. The Professor licked his lips and cast a glance at Dalynja and his apprentice. The former hunter met his eyes as she bound the door closed.

“I’m not that easily caught, child. Oh no,” the Professor whispered as he pulled something from his pocket. An effigy of black clay depicting a skeleton crouched in a fire. A Blessed item, no doubt. An ace in the sleeve.

The Professor held the object to his chest and reached for a knife in his belt.

A sudden hand snapped around his wrist. His eyes shot wide. Dalynja wrung the item from his grasp, catching it in one hand while the other whipped a dagger under his chin.

“Miss spy, what are you doing!” the Professor said loudly, eyes flicking to the remaining apprentice. In the back of the train something scratched at the metal, claws not quite finding purchase.

“Oh please, you think I'm as easily fooled as the others.” Dalynja looked at the effigy, no doubt reading the information it held. “Cover it in the blood of a fireling or lower and burn it. They too will burn, then be reborn at the grave of the creator. A curious item, even if the burns are permanent. The creator rests in the Furnace of the Gulschaks, I presume?”

The Professor reached for the effigy but Dalynja angled the blade, drawing a droplet of blood from his throat. “ROMAN, GET HER NOW!”

The apprentice looked over in confusion, then blinked. And charged.

Dalynja kicked. A hunter’s boot landing squarely in the Professor's abdomen. He was sent to the floor in a heap. The youngling yelled and ran with outstretched hands. Dalynja was a traitor, but she had been a hunter. And one did not survive in such a trade without mettle. A backhanded fist cracked against the youngling's temple.

Another scratch at the door.

Dalynja seized the moment, slicing her own arm with a quick and deep cut. Blood sprayed onto the black effigy as she spoke. “I would have gladly died for the cause, but that you would discard me so easily. After all I’ve done. After all I’ve sacrificed. Decades of lies to keep your gruesome work hidden. No.”

“Miss spy, listen to me,” the Professor roared. “Only I am indispensable!”

A set of claws punched through the back door, leaving a set of claw marks in the metal.

Dalynja threw the effigy into the roaring fire of the engine and met the Professor’s gaze. The black clay cracked and squirmed in the fire, filling the interior with the stench of rot. “You’ll have the decency to at least meet your own creation.”

The Professor gasped and Dalynja smiled, sweat breaking from her forehead. A moment later her smile vanished. Flames burst from her skin. She fell to her knees, clutching her chest in an effort not to scream. She failed. The flames blistered and scorched her skin as a wail ripped from her throat.

She crawled towards the Professor, who quickly threw himself to the side, away from the living torch. Dalynja's scream grew coarse before flames burst from her very mouth, the skin cracking as it charred black. She reached without eyes, hands grasping up the wall. A few moments later, she finally grew still, and the flames settled. The former hunter burned to a blackened corpse. That left only two living souls in the train.

The Professor was still seated, having crawled backwards. For several breaths of time, the scholar and his apprentice only stared at the burned body.

“What do we do?” Roman said with a quivering voice, looking over his shoulder towards the back.

The Professor stood up and brushed off his knees in a casual motion. “Roman, we seem to find ourselves in a somewhat difficult situation. Please stay by the engine and continue your prayers. I have some arguments to prepare.”

The youngling did as instructed, walking over a bloody floor filled with half-burned notes and sketches.

The scholar himself took a stand squarely in the middle. Hands behind his back and eyes in the distance as he mumbled to himself.

A thud against the metal. The apprentice fell silent. A weight, and the train shifted.

The duo grew quiet. Listening. A thud, and a screech, and the engine wheezed as its mechanism broke.

“Professor, do I still pray—”

Crack.

A claw punched through the glass window. A claw hooked the youngling in a flash of black fur. And he was gone. Pulled from the glowing light of the train.

The Professor stared at the space where his last comrade had been. Now, only he remained.

From above came a sound akin to that of tearing cloth. And blood flowed from the loose bolts and haphazard craftsmanship.

The Professor took a careful breath and closed his eyes as he adjusted the tie around his neck and pulled his hair back. The train slowed, and the rumble died down.

A series of claws scratching against metal, then quiet.

Screech.

The metal door bent. Thick sheets of steel folded like burning paper. A tear, and the barred doors came free, ripping away a piece of the wall and several gas lamps with it. The dark crawled forward, reaching for the last man in the cabin.

Singed sketches of the Professor's sins twirled from the sudden gust, flowing across the metal floor into the night. Each depicted scenes of men being flayed and reassembled into horrors. They flew into the dark, and two burning eyes hovered there.

Claws tapped against metal as the dark beast grew closer, almost filling the narrow space. A gruesome and twisted voice hissed through a snout filled with sharp teeth as raw as a bleeding wound. “Professor...”

The man opened his eyes, meeting the gaze of the two burning orbs above. A killing intent thrummed then. The shadows, twitching as if alive, all whispering of a name.

Wretch, Omen of Misfortune

The man answered with a voice, cold and sharp as the edge of a surgeon's saw.

“Wretch, my child.”