into the rye now; Alek could hear its flanks parting the high stalks. The tall, gaudy plume of the rider’s helmet rose into view, and Alek dropped lower. The man was probably standing up in his stirrups to peer down into the grass.
Alek was on the horse’s left side, where the rider’s saber would be hanging. Not as good as a rifle, but better than nothing.
“Don’t waste my time, lad. Show yourself!”
Alek watched the plume of the horseman’s helmet, realizing that the curve of its tall feathers betrayed the direction he was facing. Standing up like that, he couldn’t be too steady.
Alek crawled closer, staying low, waiting for the right moment …
“I’m warning you, boy. Whatever you stole, it’s not worth getting shot for!”
He drew closer and closer to the horse, and at last the rider’s head turned the other away. Alek rose from the ground and ran a few steps, leaping at the man, grabbing his left arm and pulling hard. The horseman swore—then his carbine fired straight into the air. The explosion of noise startled the horse, which thrashed ahead through the rye, yanking Alek’s feet up into the air. Alek held on to the man’s arm with one hand, the other grabbing for the saber swinging wildly in its scabbard.
The rider twisted, trying to keep his feet in the stirrups. His elbow smashed down into Alek’s face like a hammer. Alek tasted blood, but ignored the pain, his fingers scrambling.
“I’ll kill you, boy!” the man shouted, one hand twisted in the reins, the other trying to bring the butt of the rifle down onto Alek’s head.
At last Alek’s hand closed on the hilt of the saber. He let go of the rider’s arm and dropped back to the ground, the steel singing as it drew. He landed beside the still-thrashing horse and spun on one foot, slapping the flat of the sword against the horse’s backside.
It reared up on its hind legs, the horseman crying out as he finally tumbled from his perch. The carbine flew from his grasp into the tall grass, and he landed with a heavy thud.
Alek slashed his way through the rye until he stood beside the fallen horseman. He lowered the saber’s point to the man’s throat.
“Surrender, sir.”
The man said nothing.
His eyes were half open, his face pale. He wasn’t much older than Alek, his beard wispy, his splayed arms thin. The expression on his face was so still… .
Alek took a step back. “Are you hurt, sir?”
Something large and warm nudged him softly from behind—the horse, suddenly calm. Its nuzzle pushed against the back of Alek’s neck, sending a cold shiver down his spine.
The man didn’t respond.
In the distance, shots rang out. Volger and Klopp needed his help, now . Alek turned from the fallen rider and pulled himself up into the saddle. The reins were tangled and twisted, the horse unsteady beneath him.
Alek leaned down and whispered in its ear. “It’s all right. Everything’s going to be okay.”
He prodded his heels into its flanks, and the horse shuddered into motion, leaving its former rider behind in the grass.
The Stormwalker’s engines were already rumbling.
The horse didn’t hesitate when Alek urged it between the huge steel legs. It must have trained alongside walkers— it was an Austrian horse, after all.
Alek had just killed an Austrian soldier.
He forced the thought away and grabbed the dangling chain ladder, sending the horse clear with a shout and a kick.
Bauer met him at the hatch. “We heard shots and started up, sir.”
“Good man,” Alek said. “We’ll need the cannon loaded too. Volger and Klopp are a kilometer from here, holding off a troop of horses.”
“Right away, sir.” Bauer offered a hand, and pulled him inside.
As Alek scrambled through the belly and up into the pilot’s cabin, more shots sounded in the distance. At least the fight hadn’t ended yet.
“Do you need help, sir?” Hoffman asked. He was halfway up through the hatch, a look of concern on his bearded
Alek was on the horse’s left side, where the rider’s saber would be hanging. Not as good as a rifle, but better than nothing.
“Don’t waste my time, lad. Show yourself!”
Alek watched the plume of the horseman’s helmet, realizing that the curve of its tall feathers betrayed the direction he was facing. Standing up like that, he couldn’t be too steady.
Alek crawled closer, staying low, waiting for the right moment …
“I’m warning you, boy. Whatever you stole, it’s not worth getting shot for!”
He drew closer and closer to the horse, and at last the rider’s head turned the other away. Alek rose from the ground and ran a few steps, leaping at the man, grabbing his left arm and pulling hard. The horseman swore—then his carbine fired straight into the air. The explosion of noise startled the horse, which thrashed ahead through the rye, yanking Alek’s feet up into the air. Alek held on to the man’s arm with one hand, the other grabbing for the saber swinging wildly in its scabbard.
The rider twisted, trying to keep his feet in the stirrups. His elbow smashed down into Alek’s face like a hammer. Alek tasted blood, but ignored the pain, his fingers scrambling.
“I’ll kill you, boy!” the man shouted, one hand twisted in the reins, the other trying to bring the butt of the rifle down onto Alek’s head.
At last Alek’s hand closed on the hilt of the saber. He let go of the rider’s arm and dropped back to the ground, the steel singing as it drew. He landed beside the still-thrashing horse and spun on one foot, slapping the flat of the sword against the horse’s backside.
It reared up on its hind legs, the horseman crying out as he finally tumbled from his perch. The carbine flew from his grasp into the tall grass, and he landed with a heavy thud.
Alek slashed his way through the rye until he stood beside the fallen horseman. He lowered the saber’s point to the man’s throat.
“Surrender, sir.”
The man said nothing.
His eyes were half open, his face pale. He wasn’t much older than Alek, his beard wispy, his splayed arms thin. The expression on his face was so still… .
Alek took a step back. “Are you hurt, sir?”
Something large and warm nudged him softly from behind—the horse, suddenly calm. Its nuzzle pushed against the back of Alek’s neck, sending a cold shiver down his spine.
The man didn’t respond.
In the distance, shots rang out. Volger and Klopp needed his help, now . Alek turned from the fallen rider and pulled himself up into the saddle. The reins were tangled and twisted, the horse unsteady beneath him.
Alek leaned down and whispered in its ear. “It’s all right. Everything’s going to be okay.”
He prodded his heels into its flanks, and the horse shuddered into motion, leaving its former rider behind in the grass.
The Stormwalker’s engines were already rumbling.
The horse didn’t hesitate when Alek urged it between the huge steel legs. It must have trained alongside walkers— it was an Austrian horse, after all.
Alek had just killed an Austrian soldier.
He forced the thought away and grabbed the dangling chain ladder, sending the horse clear with a shout and a kick.
Bauer met him at the hatch. “We heard shots and started up, sir.”
“Good man,” Alek said. “We’ll need the cannon loaded too. Volger and Klopp are a kilometer from here, holding off a troop of horses.”
“Right away, sir.” Bauer offered a hand, and pulled him inside.
As Alek scrambled through the belly and up into the pilot’s cabin, more shots sounded in the distance. At least the fight hadn’t ended yet.
“Do you need help, sir?” Hoffman asked. He was halfway up through the hatch, a look of concern on his bearded
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