Six of Crows (Six of Crows #1)(130)

Behind her, she heard the door in the walkway burst open, gunfire. Hold them off, Jesper. Buy me time.

She swung back and forth, building momentum. A bullet zinged past her. Accident? Or had someone made it past Wylan and Jesper to shoot at her through the hole?

When she had enough momentum, she let go. She hit the wall hard. There was no graceful way around it, but her hands clung to the lip of the stone ledge where the ancient axes were displayed.

From there it was easy: ledge to beam to lower ledge, and down with a dull clang as her bare feet struck the roof of a massive tank. She slid into the metal dome at its centre.

She turned one knob then the next, trying to find the right controls. Finally one of the guns rolled upwards. She pulled on the trigger, and her whole body shook as bullets rattled against the enclosure glass like hail, pinging off in all directions. It was the best warning she could offer Jesper and Wylan.

Inej could only hope she could get the big gun working. She wriggled down in the cockpit of the tank. She rotated the only visible handle, and the nose of the long gun tilted into place. The lever was there, just as Jesper had said it would be. She gave it a hard pull. There was a surprisingly small click.

Then, for a long horrible moment, nothing happened. What if it isn’t loaded?  she thought. If Jesper’s right about this gun, then the Fjerdans would be fools to keep this much firepower just lying around.

A thunk sounded from somewhere in the tank. She heard something rolling towards her and had the terrifying thought that she’d done it wrong. The mortar was going to roll right down that long barrel and explode in her lap. Instead there was a hissing sound and a shriek like metal grinding against metal. The big gun vibrated. A skull-rattling boom split the air with a puff of dark grey smoke.

The mortar struck the glass, shattering it into thousands of glittering pieces. Prettier than diamonds, Inej marvelled, hoping that Wylan and Jesper had found time and space to take cover.

She waited for the dust to clear, her ears ringing badly. The glass wall was gone. All was still. Then two ropes attached to the walkway rail swung down, and Wylan and Jesper followed: Jesper like a limber insect, Wylan in stops and starts, wiggling like a caterpillar trying to make its way out of a cocoon.

“Ajor! ” Inej shouted in Fjerdan. Nina would be proud.

She cranked the gun around. On the other side of the remaining glass wall, men were shouting from the walkway. As the barrel swivelled in their direction, they scattered.

Inej heard footsteps and clanging as Jesper and Wylan climbed onto the tank. Jesper ’s head appeared, hanging down from the dome. “You letting me drive?”

“If you insist.”

She moved aside so he could climb behind the controls.

“Oh, hello, darling,” he said happily. He pulled another lever, and the armoured wagon seemed to shudder to life around them, belching black smoke. What kind of monster is this?  Inej wondered.

“That noise!” she cried.

“That engine!” cackled Jesper.

Then they were moving – and not a horse in sight.

Gunfire sounded from above. Apparently, Wylan had found the controls.

“For Saints’ sake,” Jesper said to Inej. “Help him aim!”

She squeezed in next to Wylan in the domed turret and aimed the second small gun, helping to lay down cover as guards burst into the enclosure.

Jesper was turning the tank, backing up as far as possible. He fired the big gun once. The mortar smashed the enclosure glass, sailed past the walkway, and struck the ringwall behind it. White dust and shards of stone scattered everywhere. He fired again. The second mortar hit hard, cracks splintering through the rock of the wall. Jesper had made a dent in the ringwall – a sizeable one – but not a hole.

“Ready?” he called.

“Ready,” Inej and Wylan replied in unison. They ducked beneath the gun turret. Wylan had scratches from the glass all over his cheeks and neck. He was beaming. Inej grabbed his hands and squeezed. They’d come to the Ice Court scurrying like rats. Live or die, they were going out like an army.

Inej heard a loud thunk, the plunk and clang of gears turning. The tank roared; the sound was thunder trapped in a metal drum, clamouring to be let out. It rolled back on its treads, then surged forwards. They charged ahead, building momentum, faster and faster. The tank jounced – they must be out of the enclosure.

“Hold tight!” shouted Jesper and they slammed into the Ice Court’s legendary, impenetrable wall with a jaw-shattering crash. Inej and Wylan flew back against the cockpit.

They were through. They rumbled over the road, the smatter and pop of rifle fire fading behind them.

Inej heard a chuffing noise. She righted herself and looked up. Wylan was laughing.

He’d pushed out of the niche of the dome and was looking back at the Ice Court. When she joined him, she saw the hole in the ringwall – a dark blot in all that white stone, men running through, firing futilely at the tank’s dusty wake.

Wylan clutched his middle, still snorting laughter, and pointed downwards. Trailing behind them was a banner, caught in the tank’s treads. Despite the smears of mud and gunpowder burns, Inej could still make out the words: STRYMAKTFJERDAN. Fjerdan might.



They emerged from the darkness, soaked, bruised, and gasping in the bright light of the moon.

Nina’s entire body felt as if it had been pummelled. The remnants of the baleen clustered in sticky gobs at the corners of her mouth. Her dress had frayed to nearly nothing, and if she hadn’t been so desperately, giddily happy to be alive and breathing, she might have worried about the fact that she was standing barefoot and practically naked in the gorge of a northern river, still a mile and a half from the harbour and safety. In the distance, she could hear the bells of the Ice Court ringing.