Eternal Winter

Halting Impression: Part IV

Within the tunnel, the wind was replaced by the squeals and rush of our passage amplified, as such, our voices were loud, still, but audible. "I can't seem to find the latch," Julian said. "It's too flush with door."

"Forewarning," I quickly called, right before I snapped my fingers and fire spilled forth.

Julian, lit by the flickering warm glow, instantly went rigid. The flame reflected intensely in his wide, dark eyes as he stared down at it. His mouth was set in a hard line, but his face, otherwise, was cast in shadow. He gingerly slid away, cautious of his footing, but quick in his movement, and pressed his back firmly against the train wall opposite me.

I passed the flame to the hand farthest from him. With one eye wary of Julian, the other roamed across the dark alcove for the train door's latch. I pointed it out next to Julian's tightly curled fist, still shaking with cold and fear, but he moved enough to grasp it and pull.

An outpouring of light from the interior and my flame winked out as I pulled my fingers into my palm. There was an audible sigh of relief from Julian. It was no longer than a moment, as he was slipping inside, then. On the balls of his feet, he inched towards the carriage door in near silence. One hand held up for me as he peered through the window—then, three of his fingers remained up. I traded my staff for my shortsword at my belt as Julian reached to slide the door open.

With one last breath, he threw it open and rushed in. I was close behind with eyes wide as they flicked from one lax, surprised face to the next. And one by one, by the flash of a sword or a kick to the face, they were felled until only Julian and I remained standing.

Breath still tight in my chest, I did a once over of the carriage. Given by the lack of passengers and excess of scattered and rummaged through supplies, Julian reprised we were in the baggage car. There were two other carriages between us and the engine, yet—the staff quarters and fuel storage.

Stepping into the interchange, we could not see any further. The curtains were drawn across the window leading into the next carriage. Julian leaned in close, his ear nearly pressed straight up against the door. He took a step back and shook his head, "No good. I can only hear the train's rumbling when I push too close."

I stepped forward and crouched beside the door. "Let me try something," I murmured. I let out a slow breath, feeling the air flow within the space. The tapered breathing of the subdued bandits, the chill slipping through the cracks in the windows, the soft swishing of Julian's nervous movements. Then, I felt for the gaps around the door, the air in the next carriage—the stagnant, stuffy air bare of movement stippled with frantic, stifled huffs and constricted, breathy sobs.

Giving the all-clear, I reached for the handle and we slipped into the dark, curtained carriage. Julian flicked back the curtain behind us, letting in the meager light to break the dimness. A few bodies flinched back from the sudden change. With one side dedicated to secured shelves and storage, the other had bunks of beds lining its entirety, with five people seated in some. They were dressed in uniform with bindings on their hands and gags stuffed into their mouths.

The two of us began to go around to each of them, cutting open their ties and slipping the rags from their faces leaving red against their skin from where they had rubbed. Some of them who had been sobbing quietly, now cried more openly without the gag. Julian was knelt in front of one woman, whose wrists were scrapped raw and bleeding. He began murmuring to her in a soft voice as he quickly wrapped them, but, though her eyes were red, she was not crying. She nodded every so often and cleared her throat just as many times.

"—just the three came through here," she said, her eyes flicking up to me as I approached. "And they haven't come back yet."

"There will be two more of us coming through to help you," Julian replied as he tucked in the end of the wrapping. "We'll take care of the ones up front."

The woman nodded once and then she was gingerly moving to her coworkers, telling them the same. I stepped up beside Julian, who peeked through the drawn curtain, this one on the opposite side we had entered. He quickly stepped back, straight into me, dropping the curtain. Moments later the door slammed open, bringing frigid, rushing air and another bandit with a knife in hand.

"What are you doing up here?" he hissed, stepping into the dim carriage with red cheeks and windswept hair. "Didn't they tell you to sit still?"

"Well, I am afraid that is not my nature," Julian replied with a crooked grin. "As I am sure you understand."

Before the bandit could say anything else, I slipped from behind Julian and lashed out with my fist, connecting with his chin. His eyes rolled back just before he dropped heavily to the floor. Julian stepped over him without any delicacy, and onto the next carriage—darker and louder than the last, as this one had a single walkway half open to the wind. Chutes of fuel ferried into the next, the engine.

We hurried to its door, and pulled...and pulled. It wouldn't open. Barely a sliver of a window as set within the door, where two eyes stared out at us, narrowed and dark.

Julian crouched down, feeling along the edges for some other mechanism to open. This one wasn't set into tracks, but had hinges. He barked up to me, his voice hard to hear over the drone of the wind, "Couldn't you do something with this?"

"Metal's harder to deal with than other earth," I replied sharply.

"What? No fancy spell or help with the staff?" he snapped.

I breathed hard through my nose. Grabbing him by the back of his collar, I yanked him away roughly. Before he had the chance to resist, he saw the fire flare in the palm of my hand and instantly went quiet, landing back heavily onto the metal grate flooring. Ignoring the heat that built within me, I pressed my hand flat against the metal door and watched as the black slowly turned to red as it glowed and burned and melted away.

The eyes had quickly moved away, and now their torso was visible through the hole in the door. A hand snaked out for mine and clamped down hard. Julian snapped down on it, breaking the connection. He jabbed his sword and scabbard through immediately after, eliciting a pained oof from the other side. With Julian's hand just on the other side, he dropped the sword's hilt and reached for the door handle. He turned it swiftly and the door swung open just a crack.

Before either of us could move, Julian was yanked forward by his arm, and his head rammed straight against the door. His knees wobbled, but he gritted his teeth and, with his free hand propped up firmly against the wall, he pulled back. Then, with a sudden jerk, he was falling back, freed, and I was lunging for the door. A black blur from the other side dove to beat me, but I had already opened it. 

Only to greet Julian's own unsheathed sword pointed at me.