Engines & Demons - The Undestined

Chapter 37ii

The second cargo basket was approaching the end of the gantry, falling slowly beneath its deck, and Tahlia ran towards it, her ears straining for the sounds of angry shouting from above. No sounds came, and she concentrated on running, focussing on the basket in front of her. Each basket was wide and flat, almost the width of the carriage, and half its length. They were secured at each corner by wood and metal gimbals, so they could not tilt and spill their precious loads. She aimed for the gap at the side of the rear most basket, between the gantry and the bottom of the carriage, but it was shrinking too quickly as the carriage started its downward journey. That left the back of the basket, which was not impeded by the gantry's edge, but to get over to it she would have to jump out across open space.

Fortunately, she did not have time to think about this as she hurtled across the dock and leapt head first across the gap. The carriage had been moving faster than she had expected, the basket was further away than she thought, and the wind was knocked painfully out of her as her stomach hit its edge. She kicked her legs instinctively, but there was no purchase for them, and the momentum of their kicking tipped her backwards over the basket's lip. She lunged forward into the darkness under the carriage and felt her fingers brush the thick weave of the basket's bottom. They slid over its surface as her weight pulled her backwards, but then she clenched her fists, pushing her fingers into the basket's weave. She lay there with her eyes tight shut, the weight of her body hanging over the drop pulling painfully at her fingers. Her collision had caused the basket to rock back and forth, but the gimbals at each of its corners kept it mercifully level. Only once the rocking had slowed, did she dare to pull her leg up and over the basket's side, and roll herself into the darkness beneath the carriage. She lay still, panting to get her breath back. When a few seconds had passed, she eased herself towards the back of the basket, just enough to allow her to see up towards the slowly dwindling station. The two platforms, and the loading docks beneath, were all brightly lit. She could see the figures of soldiers there, but none of them were running to raise an alarm, or pointing at her and shouting, which was normally what happened when she was seen doing something that she should not have been doing.

She gave a deep sigh. She had escaped from the fortress. Now all she had to do was to find her father.

* * * * *

When Grifford left the carriage with Master Tzarren, the battle-grounds appeared to be in complete chaos. The scene was lit by the glow-lights from the chain-carriage station and the oservation-tower's terrace, and by the countless small lights carried by the squads and units of soldiers being assembled in the arena-field.

The place was also filled with madriel as the Enclosure's Masters, Mistresses and Field-hands, brought them in from the great-bailey. Some of the males were being led through to the tents of the knights where squires waited to saddle them. Those already prepared were gathered in a mass around the Arbiter's tent. The beasts gave deep throated growls, and struck the ground with their horns to vent their annoyance at being woken in the dark, and at the close proximity of their pride rivals. The females, already fitted with their light hunting saddles, were being assembled on the far side of the station to the arena-field. Though they made less commotion, some of the younger ones were clearly agitated by the scent of the males, and their own loud growls added to the noise, their breath clouding with the morning mist.

Lady Mandassa and the other ladies left the carriage first and went swiftly down the station steps to the terrace, whose tables, not long since cleared of the previous night's feast, had been pushed hastily aside. Field-hands waited at the terrace's steps to guide the ladies to their waiting steeds.

As Grifford left the station, a group of females and their riders detached themselves from the larger group and sped away across the fortress hub, skirting the tents of the Encampment before plunging into the moonlit grass of the territories. Their departure revealed three mounted Madriel-mistresses, dressed in riding gear, though Grifford thought the tall lady in the centre of the group looked a little old to be riding a madriel.