The Radiant War

Chapter 20b

     A few feet away, unnoticed by the others, Darniss found herself pinned to the carriage wall by a middle aged woman with blood streaming from a cut to her head. She was holding a small dagger in her hand, for self defence, but seemed dazed by her injury and was staring blankly at the other passengers as if she'd forgotten where she was.

     Darniss glanced at Ardria and the soldiers to confirm that none of them were looking in her direction, then grabbed the woman's wrist and twisted it until she dropped the knife. Darniss snatched it up before it hit the floor and plunged it into the other woman's chest. She died instantly, dropped to lie on the carriage floor and Darniss shoved the corpse with her foot until her bloodied face was uppermost. It looked as though she had been knocked unconscious by the blow to her head, and she wouldn’t be able to tell anyone that her knife had been taken.

     Darniss hid the dagger in her boot, point uppermost. It was small enough to be completely hidden there. As she rose again, she felt real confidence returning for the first time since her arrest by the Helberion palace guards. She had a weapon! She was no longer a helpless pawn of others. She had taken the first step to regaining real power.

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     “Captain! Captain!” It was Shackell, holding Tamwell's sidearm in his hand. He and Silva tried to fight their way towards each other. A man bumped heavily against Shackell, throwing him back against the door, and the gun fell out of his hand, sliding under the rearmost seat. Silva and Tamwell both dropped to the floor, running the gauntlet of panicked, trampling feet, and reached under the seat at the same time.

     The piping of Radiants was heard above the tumult, rising in pitch as they prepared to cast more curses. “Do something!” someone demanded. “Why are they doing this? Do something!” People fought with the soldiers for their weapons, a shot went off and a soldier cried out, blood pouring from the wound in his side. The triumphant passenger pointed his pistol through the connecting door, fired off several more shots, most of which hit more passengers desperately trying to escape from the Radiant ahead.

     Tamwell's fingers brushed against the barrel of his gun just a second before Silva grasped hold of the handle. Tamwell felt it pulled from his grasp, and then the Carrow Captain was pointing it at the Helberion Captain, a look of fury on his face.

     “I was trying to save us!” cried Tamwell desperately. “I wasn't going to...” A passenger tripped over Silva’s crouching body and fell heavily across him. Tamwell jumped back to his feet, then helped pull the cursing and swearing passenger from his counterpart. Silva brought the gun to bear on Tamwell again as he regained his feet, but the look of fury was gone.

     “There are only eight rounds in that gun,” said Tamwell. “You can't waste one on me. If you’re going to kill me, use your own gun. Kill me if you’re going to, but save the Princess. Promise me you'll save her!”

     Silva stared at the other Captain. “This incendiary ammunition,” he said. “Does it handle differently from regular ammunition? Does it need special training to use?”

     “I’m led to believe it has slightly less recoil. I've never used it, but I've been briefed by those who have.”

     “Then you save the Princess.” He handed the gun across. Tamwell stared at him, then nodded and took it.

     The tumult in the carriage was lessening as the passengers realised that there was nowhere to go, that their only chance for survival lay with the soldiers. Tamwell squeezed past them to the windows. The smaller window at the top would open, but the main window wouldn't so he smashed it with the gun and cleared the shards of broken glass from the frame with a sweep of the barrel. Then he climbed into the opening and leaned out.