Chapter 11: Ch. 011 – (Then) Emergency Brakes

Jonathan scampered down the embankment as he heard the first whistle, his heart pounding in his chest. Moving faster was more important than  trying to keep his trousers clean and untorn. That sound meant the train would be leaving in another ten minutes or so. He didn’t have much more time to reach his brother before all this happened. He said they would be in the forest near the tunnel, and that’s where he was. He saw no sign of them, but he had to find them. He had to get there in time to stop them or there would be hell to pay. Boriv had told him as much. That he wouldn’t lift a finger to stop the miscreants from going through with their foolishness, but that if actually tried to rob his train, they wouldn’t live to regret it.

He felt sick for spilling his guts to Boriv, but less sick than he’d felt at the idea of planting a shard that would blow up the engine. If anyone died in this version of events, then it would still be sad, but it would be their own fault. It wasn’t quite as bad as killing poor innocent engineers who were just in the way on the wrong day. Jonathan didn’t see why anyone had to die though. They could just prevent the robbery, and see that everyone involved was taught a harsh lesson. Surely lashes or a couple seasons of hard labor would be enough, he’d argued, but Boriv said that in matters like this dwarven law superseded the laws of men and that there was no mercy for traitors or thieves. No - all Jonathan could do was stop this from happening somehow without giving it away that he’d ratted on them. If they knew that then he’d be the one to—

His train of thought was derailed as suddenly as the train would have been if he’d done as he was told when he was snatched off his feet by the scruff of his neck and yanked into the underbrush by a pair of unseen hands. Before he could utter a word or cry out he felt the cold edge of a knife against his throat. 

“It’s a thrice damned spy,” an unfamiliar voice hissed. “Should we off ‘em or see what the shorties know first?”

“Hold up, Rodo, hold up - I think that’s - yeah, that’s the little lord’s kid brother.” Another voice said as Cristig stepped into view, looking at him suspiciously, “Don’t know what he’s doin here, but you definitely can’t off him without Shaw’s say so.”

For a tense moment Jonathan was worried that whoever this Rodo guy was, was going to off him anyway. As suddenly as it had appeared the shadow of death disappeared and he could breathe again though. 

“Now tell us what you’re doing here boy,” Christig continued. “We’re just about to steal us a fortune, and as I recall the plan you aint supposed to be here.”

“I know, I know,” Jonathan answered, with his hands raised to show he meant no harm while he tried to figure out what he could possibly say. “But I need to see my brother - there might be a-a… complication.” It was lame, but in this moment it was all he could do not to piss himself so a four syllable word was the best he could do in place of an actual argument. 

“Well, best hurry then,” Cristig said finally, turning and leading them both deeper into the woods. “Train should be here any minute.” Jonathan quickly followed, a few steps behind, racking his brain to try to find an excuse to help him stop this from happening. They wouldn’t listen to anything he said on that front though. He knew that. All any of them saw was the gold if this went well, not the nooses if they were caught. The only way they would give up is if he had failed to do his part, and if he had failed, well - they’d probably just gut him like a fish, Jonathan realized, swallowing hard. His mouth was dry and his thoughts were spinning in circles as he realized he might just be marching to his death with nothing to say that could save everyone in time… The weight of the world was crashing down on him. He knew he was the cause of all of this, even though he’d done nothing wrong. The only mistake he’d made was in not avoiding the tavern that night and going straight home.

Then suddenly it was too late for recriminations. Suddenly they spilled into a clearing that had a halfway decent view of the tunnel mouth and his brother was standing there, with the millers boy and a couple of toughs he didn’t recognize. 

“What the hell are you doing here Jon?” Marcus demanded, gesturing at him with the sword he already had in hand. “This wasn’t the gods damned plan was it? You’re supposed to be at home pretending to be sick while we’re out here doing the hard work of getting rich? You got rocks in your head!?”

Jonathan stood there quietly for a long moment until finally Cristig spoke up. “Looked like the boy ran all the way here from the village. Said something about Complete catons I think? I thought you’d best decide what’s next. You know, after our talk earlier about loose ends?”

“They only complication I see here is my brother,” Marcus scowled, “and as for loose ends—”

“No one saw me Marcus. I took the long way round,” Jonathan lied, relying on his fear and exhaustion to take the place of earnestness. “I did just what you said this morning. I planted the shard. I faked being sick and I went home, but…” Jonathan paused, playing for time. 

“But the train - it got to the depot early. It was hours ahead of schedule” he continued. It was a ridiculous lie. Trains were sometimes late or even canceled entirely if there was a problem with the tracks somewhere up the line, but showing up early was simply a waste of fuel according to the stone men. It didn’t happen. 

“So?” Marcus asked, apparently believing his obvious lie, “Why would a train arriving too early be a problem? Does that mean it’s going to leave to early too?” 

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“No - it will still leave on time,” Jonathan clarified, “It’s just - I don’t think the shard got on board. I watched them refuel it and think I might have put it up too high. So maybe we just give up on this now and tomorrow I’ll go and—” 

“Give up on this, you little turd? Give up!?” Marcus advanced on him menacingly and grabbed him by the collar “Do you have any idea how many Emperors one of those costs? That thing was worth more than your bloody life! If you’ve thrown it away I’ll—”

“I can get it back,” Jonathan pleaded, suddenly afraid that Marcus really might hurt him. “I’ll—” 

“Quiet, everyone,” Cristig called out over the argument, “Trains coming.”

“Fine,” Marcus spat, releasing his brother. “We’ll see what happens and make a new plan if it doesn't stop. The rest can wait for later.” Something about the way he said the rest shot a jolt of fear straight through Jonathan. His brother had been rough on him most of Jonathan’s life, but he’d never looked at him so coldly before. He didn’t say anything though. Instead, with some difficulty he pulled his eyes away from Marcus’s sword and turned them towards the tracks as the distant sound of the engine steadily got louder. 

Today’s train was a shorter one. Only 25 or 30 cars. They were dropping off coal in Dalmarin and picking up whatever they had space for - wool and flour mostly, before heading on to larger cities. It had never been an interesting train until yesterday, but now here he was, waiting to rob it. No - he’d lost that opportunity, he realized. He was waiting to find out if his brother was going to kill him or not. That’s why he stared at the hole in the trees while he waited for the train to arrive. Not because this freight train would be any more interesting than any of the others he’d ever seen, but because if he did anything else he would probably start crying. He’d done what he thought was right, he decided. If that meant he had to die because the train’s engine didn’t blow, well then so be it. 

That’s when the train emerged, trundling down the tracks at about half speed. Every second a car and a half passed, just like it always did. It would take another 10 miles to get the whole thing up to something like full speed, but that didn’t matter. Jonathan realized he might not live to see another train as this vanished into the mouth of the tunnel one car at a time. For almost half a minute each time a car disappeared a new car appeared to replace it, but eventually the last car came into view. When the last one vanished, there was only the fading clickity clack of the wheels as the train got further and further away underground. Once that sound had faded entirely Jonathan hung his head in sorrow. He knew what came next.

“I can’t believe you failed me like this,” Marcus said coldly behind him. “You had one job. The easiest job of all of us.” 

“I told you,” Jonathan lied, not trusting himself to turn around. “I can get it back. I can fix this. Next time I’ll—.” 

“There are no ‘next times’ in the big leagues, Jon. You’ve been a disappointment since the day of your birth and today was the last straw!” Marcus raged. What had started out as cold anger had boiled over into full throated rage. Jonathan could feel him raising his sword to strike him down, but reminding him that he’d hated him since the day mother died had taken all his will to fight out of him. If his older brother wanted to kill him for something, that was a reason he’d actually accept.

The blow never fell though, and by the time Jonathan had the courage to turn back around the sword was at Marcus’ side, so he’d never really know if that moment had been real or imagined, but one moment he stood there ready to die, and the next he heard the sound of an explosion coming from the tunnel. He hadn’t imagined it either, because everyone else had stopped what they were doing and were looking expectantly to Marcus. He looked back at them dumbly for several long seconds before his rage calmed down enough for him to put everything together himself. 

“Well, what are you louts waiting for?” he demanded, “We’ve got a train to rob. Move it people, move it!” Then his whole gang was in motion. 

“You too Jon. We’ll talk about this later. Don’t think I’ll forget.” The last thing Jonathan wanted to do was participate in this scheme. He couldn’t help but think about who might be hurt and dying up there, and how this had happened anyway, even after he’d given Boriv the shard. Still, he didn’t let his doubts or worries stop him. He’d done his best to keep this from happening, and after what had just happened the last thing he needed was to give his brother any more doubts. There would be hell to pay as soon he got home anyway, and Jonathan didn’t want to make it worse. 

So like almost everyone else Jonathan charged up the slope to the tunnel only the Morley brothers lagged behind as they led a pair of mules up the slope to help carry away any ill gotten gains. Everyone else had their weapons out even though their plan didn’t call for any fighting and was charging hard into the darkness. 

When Jonathan finally reached the tunnel he could see the last car several hundred feet inside the tunnel, and even then he could only see any detail by its rear lanterns. The rest of the train’s massive bulk was lost in the shadow and the billowing smoke.

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