Up ahead, I see a straight line of earth that’s been tilled and made into a road. Near it, a human settlement bustles with activity, illuminated by lanterns hanging on either side of the doors. Shadows move from inside, and when the door swings open, the sound of laughter carries from within.

I look out onto the plains. The inky black of the rails spills into the distance, cutting a straighter path than I remember seeing last time. This isn’t the same train, but it is headed the right way. Next to the outpost is another building left open to the air. I breathe in deeply, and recognize the smell. Hay and dust. Another barn, but this one is massive. We must be on the edge of a farmer’s property, one with animals to till the land.

The whistle of the approaching train sounds again, much louder this time. A group of humans exits the outpost and shouts at one another, rallying one another. A line of donkeys bray and protest as they’re pulled from the shelter of the barn.

The train comes into view. Smoke screams out from the front as the machine resists breaking, squeaking and wheezing with effort. Finally, the machine stops, and the humans on board hop off, greeting the others. Unlike the first train, the metal of this one still shines. It’s either new or at least better maintained than the other. One of the humans steps into the light, and I see the same silver sigil that General Marchess wore back in Ramsgate. It seems all the humans on this train are under his spell, or at least under his coin. This train is his, which tells me that wherever it’s headed must be part of his strategy.

The train cars open, and the line of animals is moved forward.

“We move when the last of the animals is loaded on,” Io says. “Stay low, and don’t take any chances.”

When the line of donkeys dwindles and fresh smoke starts billowing from the front of the train, Io signals us to move. I follow the others, and we run as quietly as we can down the rocky bluff, the sound of stones tumbling masked by the sound of the train whistle.

Sethran lifts Io onto a short platform jutting out on the car behind the one the donkeys were loaded into. The animals’ smell permeates the air, earthy and thick. I start at the sound of Io jamming her sword hilt into the door of the car, the Leonodai metal scraping against the lock. After a couple of pushes comes a resounding clang of the lock breaking.

“Got it,” she says. Sethran steps back and motions with his hand for us to get on.