Steamsworn (Steamborn Series Book 3) by Eric Asher Page A

ready to kill.
    Clark almost growled. “They built pyres behind the building too. They burned the most ‘vile’ writings before they boarded up the library. Everything here about Bollwerk and the Steamsworn is gone. Every page about Midstream and the genocide of their people is burned and buried. They took it all.”
    Jacob turned to Charles. Charles adjusted his glasses and said, “Yes, I knew, and yes, it’s terrible.”
    “We have to stop them,” Jacob said.
    “That’s why we’re here. Don’t forget it.”
    Jacob nodded and pulled at his pant leg. He hadn’t thought about his leg much, but if the invaders were burning books about the Steamsworn, what the hell would they do if they saw someone with a biomech leg?
    “Drakkar is at the safe house?” Charles said.
    “Yes,” Morgan said. “He’ll keep the transmitter guarded.”
    Morgan lifted a false panel in the back of one of the tallest bookcases. His hand vanished into the darkness before a metallic snap echoed through the room. The bookcase swung forward as easily as a hinged door. Morgan clicked the igniter on a lantern hanging within.
    Darkness became shadowed stairs, dancing in the light of the dusty lantern. Jacob stepped closer and leaned over the top landing. “How far down does that go?”
    “Very far,” Morgan said, “but you two need to go left at the second landing. That will drop you onto the supports. From there, you’ll have an escape hatch every block or so.”
    “Escape hatch?”
    “Remember the access points to the underground in Ancora?” Charles asked.
    Jacob nodded.
    “Same kind of thing.
    Morgan held out a small brass box. It had a speaker on it, much like the one Mary had on the Skysworn, and a button on the side. “You’ll be shallow, just below the street. We should be able to reach you if there’s an emergency.”
    Charles took it and slid it into a pocket high on his vest. “I’ll be lucky if my knees don’t give out on these damn stairs with all these damn bombs.” He stepped into the stairwell. “But this is a blow I want to strike myself.”
    “You’re a legend to the Steamsworn, Charles von Atlier.”
    Jacob wasn’t sure who was speaking as the bookcase door closed behind them. It was a trio of voices that said, “Fist in hand, we strike together.”
    Jacob shivered at the quiet chant.
    Charles sighed, pulled the lantern off the wall, and started down the stone stairway.
    “It’s … it’s inspiring,” Jacob said. “It makes you not want to let them down. I mean, I didn’t want to let them down anyway.”
    “That’s the biggest trick when it comes to war. Keeping people motivated and willing to die for a cause that they probably don’t need to die for. I hate war, kid.”
    Jacob wanted to say something about how he thought Charles was great at it, and everyone they met seemed to respect Charles’s thoughts and strategies, but the old tinker’s words stayed with him. Charles hated war. How could you be so good at something you hated? Why would you be so good at it?
    “To keep my friends and family safe.”
    “Did I say all that out loud?” Jacob asked.
    Charles let out a quiet chuckle as they hit the second landing. “Enough for me to hear your questions, yes.” He swung the lantern to the left and nodded.
    “It’s musty,” Jacob said. “And … and something’s moving.”
    “That’s the smaller river,” Charles said. “Not nearly so large as the river below Ancora, or even the main river below Dauschen, but far deadlier. This one travels through miles of stone before resurfacing. If you fall in, you’re dead. Simple as that.
    “We’re not going near it though, right?” Jacob couldn’t keep his voice steady.
    Charles didn’t answer.
    The back of Jacob’s hand brushed the rough stone wall and came away damp. There was either a concentration of groundwater here, or they were closing in on the river.
    Charles fumbled at his vest pocket and pulled out the little brass box. He