When the humans built the Railway, the dwarves of the Great Northern Distillery petitioned to have their own dedicated branch line constructed to facilitate more efficient distribution. The products of the Distillery were very popular with the Men Folk, and thus the petition was approved.
Early locomotives were not powerful enough, however, to navigate the difficult route with a full load. The “Water Run”, as it became known, was therefore subcontracted out to Oblecs: powerful land dragons, and their riders, which utilized the special armor known as D-Machines, which allowed the beasts to function as locomotive power. These dragons and their riders became collectively known by their machine code: D-Shunts.
Ilin had arrived earlier than scheduled, and loading was not yet finished on his 30-car train. The old rider was no stranger to the Distillery however, and he nudged his Oblec over to the sheds to wait until their services were required. The dragon’s armor clanked noisily as it settled down on its haunches; Ilin dismounting with a practiced ease.
“I’ll be back in a moment, Meilyr,” he told the Oblec.
The dragon, a blunt-nosed beast which stood 4 meters tall with powerful limbs and a stubby tail, grunted in response It made its way to the food trough, its belly fire glowing in anticipation.
The air was thick with falling snow and with great clouds of steam emanating from the various stacks that dotted the mountain. Ilin tramped through the fresh powder to the Yard Master’s office, shaking clear his padded leather rider’s overcoat as he pushed open the old wooden door.
“Cold enough for ye, eh?” Gneiss, the yard master, stared up at him from behind thick-rimmed spectacles.
“Actually, these are perfect conditions,” Ilin replied, stroking his grizzled beard in self-conscious envy of the dwarf’s magnificent facial hair. “Oblecs generate a ton of heat when they’re hauling, and it all gets trapped in the D-Shunt armor. Great in the winter, but it’s hell in the summer.”
Gneiss nodded. “So I guess ye won’t be wanting a little summat to keep ye warm on the journey back?”
Ilin grinned. “Now, I didn’t say that. What you got?”
Gneiss set an earthenware jug down on the counter. It was a proclivity of his to have a sample of the latest offerings to hand, and he enjoyed sharing with the D-Shunt riders when they checked in to pick up their train.
The Water Run was never in want for Shunters.
“A little summat they’re working on up at the tertiary still.” He held up one gnarled hand. “It’s not finished, mark ye. It’s a little strong for man-folk. But I know ye,” he continued as he poured a shot of dark liquid into a small glass. “Ye pride y’self on holding yer fire water.”
Ilin picked up the glass and went to swig, but Gneiss stopped him with an iron grip on his arm.
“One more thing: Don’t chase the rabbit.”
“Come again?” Ilin cocked an eyebrow, but dwarves were never one to repeat themselves. Ilin shrugged and downed the spirit.
It was like being hit in the head with a smithy’s hammer. His vision swam and he gasped for breath.
“By Y Ddraig Goch, that’s strong!” He looked at Gneiss, who appeared to have grown two extra heads from his jerkin. “What’s it made of?!”
“Well, we learned that Qin Wayfinders; D- Scouts, don’t always digest all the fruits they consume on their flights, and it ferments into this potent brew in the beast’s gizzard. We found a way to extract…”
The high-pitched ringing in Ilin’s ears made it hard to focus on the old dwarf’s words, and he was struggling to keep his eyes steady.
His wandering gaze landed on a small white rabbit sitting on the desk, calmly grooming itself. Ilin wondered why he hadn’t noticed it before. He reached out his hand to touch it, but it jumped off the desk and slipped through an open door.
He pushed through the door after it and…
…and his father was saying you can’t just ride dragons your whole life boy but he’d show him, the new dragon machines are going to revolutionize industry and he was flying higher and faster and falling, FALLING and he was laying on his back and the rabbit looked down on him and said in his father’s voice there’s more gravy than grave about you boy and, affronted, he replied well there’s more spirit than spirit about you spirit and the rabbit was growing, dragon-sized! no, not growing, he was falling, into the earth and…
He sat up spluttering, the water that had just been dumped on his face already starting to freeze.
“Easy boy. I told ye, di’nt I?” Gneiss stood over Ilin, sitting in the snow outside the office, a wooden bucket in his hands.
He fell back, gasping for breath, the cold slush beneath his head sobering.
He stared up at the old dwarf. “Not finished, you say?”
Gneiss shrugged. “Needs a little work.” He offered a hand, and Ilin took it, rising unsteadily to his feet.
“You knew…why a rabbit?” Ilin asked, head pounding.
Gneiss shrugged again. “No idea. Everyone see’s it. Everyone says the same thing: Don’t follow the rabbit.”
A loud horn blasted in the yard, signaling the train was loaded and ready to depart. Ilin winced.
“You better get a move on. The D-Frigates leave Cymru at first light. Here,” he handed Ilin the transfer papers and a small flask. “For the headache.”
Ilin thanked him shakily and headed over to the head of the train. Meilyr was already there being hooked up; trained to respond to the yard horn.
As they pulled out of the yard, the Oblec straining to pick up momentum, Ilin noticed a white rabbit crouched low by the main gate, almost invisible against the snow.
By the time the last car departed the facility, the flames dancing on the rabbit’s conflagrated corpse had almost been extinguished.
romaincrisis
