The gas rifle weighed heavily in Klara’s hands. Elana, Mikhail and Yeger all watched her as she studied it, aiming down the barrel at the wall of the armoury. It felt good. Heavy, but good.

  “I attached another gas cylinder,” Elana said, pointing to a second foot-long cylinder mounted on the right side of the stock, opposite the original gas cylinder. “I also reinforced the explosion chamber and replaced the damper spring. And I upgraded the capacity so it can now hold six bolts instead of the regular four. All said it should deliver a far more deadly shot.”

  Klara lowered the weapon. “This is great—but why do we need it to collect some plants?”

  Elana and Mikhail shared a look. “We-ell…” Elana said. “See, in the wild, winter blister only grows in underground reservoirs—where it’s warm and damp—but the only reservoir which I’m certain has winter blister is also home to a nest of venvir.”

  “Fantastic.” Klara shook her head. “So we’re going to be paralysed and eaten alive—slowly—before we can even begin our mission.”

  Elana shrugged. “Think of it this way: if you don’t collect any winter blister, only one person can risk a serious injury. Unless you’re all far better at avoiding injuries than I’ve been led to believe, you’ll need all the healing extracts you can get to survive walking into the uzhas mine.”

  Though she hated to admit it, they really weren’t good at avoiding injuries. Every skirmish Klara had led 24th on had resulted in a severe injury or death. Or both. But only death because Voronina had turned traitor and started murdering her Sentinel family.

  Klara returned the gas rifle to the island bench in the middle of the room. “All right. How much of this winter blister do you need?”

  “As much as you can carry,” Elana said.

  Bang!

  The door slammed open and Yuri and Nika burst into the armoury, their faces grim.

  “What happened?” Klara asked, trepidation rising.

  Yuri glanced sideways at Nika and gave her a nod.

  “Caught a light tower communique from the Alchemists,” Nika said, lifting a sheet of paper. “It’s bad.”

  “Don’t keep us waiting then!” Yeger said, pushing off from the table he lounged against.

  Nika looked at the paper. “ ‘Prepare for arrival of final MZ143 at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow. Grand Master to inspect before Borovsk assault.’ ”

  “MZ143?” Yeger asked.

  “Machtvoll Zeppelin model 143,” Yuri said. “And the time is…” He reached into his coat and pulled out a pocket watch. “Currently seventeen-thirty, which means we have approximately sixteen and a half hours to cripple the Alchemists’ production at the mine before they launch a full attack on Borovsk.”

  Silence filled the armoury following Yuri’s proclamation.

  Klara raked her hand through her hair and took a long breath. “All right. Sixteen hours. We can still do this.”

  “How the depths are we supposed to finish planning and begin an assault in sixteen hours?” Yeger demanded.

  “By not panicking,” Klara said.

  “Um,” Mikhail said, “am I the only one who picked up on the fact that Voronin is also at the mine? And if he’s there, we know who else will be…”

  Klara blinked. Judging by the expressions on others’ faces, Mikhail was the only one who’d noticed. Her hearts sped up. Voronina would be there too. Would she get the chance to end the evil woman? No, she couldn’t dwell on that, she had to focus on the task at hand. “We’ll deal with them if we need to.” She turned to Elana. “How’s the coal chute going?”

  Elana and Mikhail glanced at each other. “Yes,” Elana said, “we have a way to slow the fall. It’ll be risky though. Only one person can go, and they need to remain above the coal. And they need ironhide. We think Yeger would be best to go.”

  Klara shook her head. “No, we’ll need Yeger with us for muscle. Send Matvei down.”

  “This is my plan,” Yeger said, canting his head to one side and eying Klara.

  “Yes, but I’m not wasting our strongest fighter by sending him to lay some explosives.” Klara turned back to Elana. “Now, can you make any ironhide in time?”

  Elana pursed her lips and tugged at her fingers, each knuckle popping one at a time. “Yes.”

  “Good,” Klara said. “Uncle Yuri, is there a faster way to the mine?”

  “With night falling? Yes. The only way over the range unseen by light towers is at night without lights—which for most people is suicide over those peaks. But with nightsight, I can slip over. I can get us to where we were this morning in less than half the time by going straight over. The bigger concern is trekking down to the mine without light. I’ll only have two nightsights left and I need one spare. So that leaves one available for the trek. Unless…” he glanced at Elana.

  Elana shook her head. “I don’t know the recipe for it. They developed it in Machtvoll and are guarding it with jealousy.”

  “All right,” Klara said, “so we need to navigate the mountains in the dark. Do you have anything that could help us do that better?”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “I may,” Yuri said. “I should have a few pairs of slavock boot soles somewhere around here—relics from my days trading on foot.”

  “Slavock boot soles?” Mikhail asked.

  “A sole—which has metal serrations like those on a slavock hoof—that you strap onto your boot. Gives extra grip on the ice coated rocks.”

  “Ooh. That’s handy,” Mikhail said.

  Klara drummed her fingers on the bench behind her. “Nika, how are you going with the light towers? You think you can operate one?”

  “I should be able to. But we need two operators.”

  “Well, we have a few hours to work that out.” Klara raked her fingers through her hair, aware of the gazes on her. Her chest tightened and heat rose on her cheeks. Half a plan. That was all she had, half a plan. Now, instead of having several days to work out the rest, she had hours. Add to which, Adamov would be apoplectic when he discovered that instead of returning him to Kosgrad, they’d be dragging him back to the depths…

  “All right!” Klara snapped, dropping the gas rifle on the table and stalking to the door. “Get the extract done and let Matvei know he’ll be jumping down the shaft.” Before anyone could respond, she slammed the door shut behind her.

  She didn’t know where she was going. Away. Alone. A minute later she found herself in the mainframe, stalking down the dark and empty catwalk to the rear of the airship. The hydrogen cells closed in above her, suffocating her. Finally she reached the tail and walked clear of the hydrogen cells. The walls of the mainframe tapered down to a blunt point. Light filtered up from an opening below the catwalk.

  Klara walked all the way to the railing at the end of the catwalk and sat, dangling her legs off the end of the catwalk and leaning against the railing, staring down void beneath her. A ladder ran off the side of the catwalk down to an open hatch below. She’d heard some of the crew mention a maintenance hatch to access the tail fins. It being open was strange, though.

  That thought lost itself amongst the thousand others crashing through her mind. Why was she pushing this assault so hard? Was it really to protect Serovnya? Maybe Yeger was right, she did want revenge.

  No. Of course he was wrong. She was a Sentinel, ready to swear to put her life on the line to protect her country. That’s all this was, protecting her country.

  Klara let her head sink forwards and bang against the railing. The cool metal felt good against her flushed skin. She shut her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing.

  She lost track of how long she sat there listening to the wind slap against the canvas mainframe, and the creak of the catwalk behind her.

  “Got too much, eh?”

  Klara jerked upright, standing and smacking her knee into the bar she’d been leaning on. She cursed and glared at the newcomer. “I want to be alone, Adamov.”

  Adamov chuckled and eased himself down beside her. “Leading is hard.”

  “And nights are cold. Tell me what I don’t know.”

  “You want to hear something you don’t know?”

  “Sure,” Klara said with a sigh and dropped her head again onto the railing.

  “The first man I killed was my closest friend, Artyom.”

  Klara rolled her head sideways to stare at him. He looked back at her, his pain only just visible in the dim light.

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asked, brow furrowed.

  He was silent a minute, then said, “We trained as Warriors years ago under Chernov Commander.”

  Great. Klara rolled her eyes. Story time with Adamov. He seemed to be waiting for a response, so she said, “I know of Chernov Commander.”

  “Then you know his methods were… unethical.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I was his favoured recruit—I suppose he saw the core of darkness in me. It felt good to have the favour of Chernov. The recruits that survived his training all had powerful positions within the Warrior Guild and Sentinels. Anyway, Chernov’s final training exercise was always in the wilds. Not once did an entire squad return from the exercise. Always stories of accidents, monster attacks…”

  Klara studied Adamov as he stared ahead, his powerful jaw working.

  After a minute of silence he continued, his baritone voice quiet, barely audible above the creak of canvas and metal and the rush of wind, “Those stories were lies.” He turned to Klara. “It was a test of faithfulness—would we follow him?

  “Several of the squad were there purely as sacrifices. They were weak, Chernov said. They didn’t deserve to be called Warriors, or Serovnyans. We were born strong, and only the strong deserved to live. It was our duty to ensure that the Warrior Guild remained pure, unspoiled by those with compassion and love. The duty of a Warrior was to kill no matter the cost. If we obeyed Chernov, he promised power and whatever we desired. Any who refused were added to the number of sacrifices.” Adamov took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Artyom refused, and I…” His voice caught. “I dragged the knife across his throat.”

  They lapsed into silence, Klara too stunned to respond. How could she respond to that? She shuddered. “I still don’t know why you’re telling me this.”

  Adamov studied her, his intense grey eyes reflecting the dim light. “Because I recognise the same darkness in you, Klara Koskova.”

  “You see nothing,” Klara said, grabbing the railing and pulling herself to her feet. “I would never murder a friend.”

  Adamov rose. “Yet you long to end the life of a friend.”

  “Voronina is not my friend.”

  “You could say that Artyom was not my friend when I killed him.”

  “But you betrayed that friendship,” Klara said, jabbing a finger into Adamov’s chest. “Voronina betrayed our friendship.”

  “It doesn’t matter who betrayed who. You two were as close as sisters. If you end her life out of anger and hate, there is no return from that. You will carry that burden until you die. Trust me.”

  “Why should I trust a man who willingly murdered his closest friend?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Adamov asked. “Because I know what it’s like to have a comrade’s blood on my hands. If you kill her out of hate and that hate fades, the guilt can tear you apart—”

  “You seem fine.”

  “Hah! Perhaps I am, but if so, not by my doing.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I would never feel guilty about killing Voronina. My hate for her will never end.”

  Adamov rubbed his forehead. “That’s what I’m concerned about. But, Koskova, hate will destroy you. The more you feed it, the more it will consume you.”

  Klara clenched her fists to stop them shaking. She didn’t have to listen to this. She turned on her heel and stomped away, the catwalk shuddering beneath her pounding boots. A few steps later, she spun on her heel. “By the way, you’re coming with us to the depths,” she yelled.

  Adamov offered no response as she resumed her march, but she could just imagine his annoyance.

  The encroaching hydrogen cells offered comfort now. A smothering blanket that seemed to ease Klara’s anger. She reached the ladder to the gondola and slid down it, landing with a thud on the wooden deck. A minute later she barged into the armoury. Everyone still stood in there, and conversation died as she entered.

  “All right,” she said, “this is what’s going to happen…”