Chapter 14: Race Against Night
Dawn painted Steelwatch in shades of rust and amber, the early light catching on metal spires and steam vents that punctured the skyline like ancient spears. Hannah stood at the market stall, counting out her last quill for dried meat and fresh water, each coin a precious fragment of their dwindling resources. Beside her, Thomas clutched Sebastian, his mechanical mouse whirring softly against his chest. The morning air carried the mingled scents of coal smoke and spices, the last fragments of civilization they would smell for hours to come.
“Will it be enough, Mama?” he whispered, eyes fixed on the leather water skins she was examining. The merchant had assured her they were treated with desert-seal, guaranteed to keep water cool even under the wastes’ merciless sun. His small fingers traced Sebastian’s copper whiskers, a nervous habit he’d developed since leaving Coghaven.
Hannah ran her fingers along the stitching, remembering James’s lessons about quality leather work. The memory rose unbidden – his callused hands guiding hers, teaching her the difference between true craftsmanship and rushed work that would fail when it was needed most. “It has to be,” she murmured, more to herself than Thomas. The Iron Mountains loomed in the distance, a jagged promise cutting into the dawn sky. James’s map, worn soft at the creases from constant handling, marked their destination clearly. A day’s journey there and back – if everything went perfectly.
Nothing ever went perfectly in the Wastes.
They boarded the sand skiff waiting at the city’s edge, its antiquated engine humming with barely contained power. The sound reminded Hannah of a sleeping beast, one that could either carry them to salvation or break down and leave them stranded in the endless sea of sand. She secured their supplies, double-checking every strap and fastening while Thomas arranged Sebastian in his special viewing spot next to him. The mechanical mouse’s copper whiskers twitched in the morning breeze, its gears clicking in what almost sounded like anticipation.
“Remember what Papa said about the mountains?” Hannah asked as she helped Thomas into his seat, adjusting his desert-weave scarf against the rising wind. The fabric was rough against her fingers, but it would protect him from the worst of the Waste’s bitter winds and stinging sand.
Thomas nodded; his eyes bright despite the early hour. “That they’re older than all the cities, older than even the old-world machines. That they remember everything.” His voice carried that familiar mix of wonder and solemnity that always reminded her so powerfully of James. In these moments, the resemblance between father and son pierced her heart like a needle – sharp, precise, and leaving an ache that lingered.
The sand skiff’s engine roared to life, sending vibrations through the deck plates that Hannah felt in her bones. She took her position at the controls, feeling the familiar surge of power as the vessel hummed like a cat’s purr. The Wastes stretched before them, an ocean of sand painted gold by the climbing sun. Somewhere in those distant peaks waited James’s legacy – enough power crystals to change their lives forever.
They glided out past Steelwatch’s shadow, the city’s protective walls falling away behind them like a receding tide. The Iron Mountains grew steadily larger, their ancient faces reflecting the morning light like polished metal. Hannah kept one hand steady on the controls, the other occasionally reaching to touch Thomas’s shoulder, reassuring herself of his presence. Each time she touched him, she could feel his slight frame through the desert-weave, reminding her of everything at stake.
The journey seemed to stretch time itself, minutes bleeding into hours as the sun climbed higher. Thomas dozed intermittently, his breathing thankfully steady in the clean morning air, while Hannah divided her attention between the approaching mountains and the sun’s inexorable arc across the sky. They needed to find the crystals and return before darkness fell. The Wastes were dangerous enough in daylight – she didn’t want to imagine what horrors might emerge under cover of night.
The skiff’s shadow raced beneath them, a dark companion on their journey across the endless sand. Hannah found herself watching it, remembering how James used to say you could navigate by your shadow’s length if you lost your way. Another lesson she’d tucked away, never knowing when it might mean the difference between life and death.
When they finally reached the mountain’s foothills, the sun had passed its zenith but still rode high. Hannah allowed herself a small measure of hope as she guided the skiff into a natural harbor between two rust-colored cliffs. They were making good time. James’s map suggested the cave was less than an hour’s climb from here.
As they secured the sand skiff, Thomas pointed excitedly at the mountain peaks, their massive bulk now towering above them. “They really do look like metal, Mama! Like giant machines sleeping under all that rock!” His voice echoed slightly against the cliff faces, coming back to them like distant memories.
Hannah smiled, though her eyes never stopped scanning their surroundings. “Your father used to say the same thing.” She shouldered their light pack, keeping Thomas close as they began their ascent. “Stay alert, love. We’ll need to be quick.”
The mountains watched their progress with ancient, silent patience as mother and son began their climb, their footsteps stirring tiny cascades of loose stone that glittered like fallen stars in the bright afternoon light. Above them, the vast sky stretched endless and blue, a reminder of how small they were against this timeless landscape.
The sun hung high and fierce, casting sharp-edged shadows beneath every ridge and outcropping, each one a silent marker counting down their precious hours of daylight. The wind whispered through hidden valleys and crevices, carrying with it the weight of countless stories – some told, some forgotten, and some, like their own, still being written into the mountain’s memory.