No Land for Heroes

THE NIGHT’S STEADY DRIZZLE didn’t bother the stolen horse or its rider. The weather had been hot for the last two weeks and it hadn’t rained in three, leaving the prairie in near-drought conditions. The rolling ocean of tall grasses around them had gone brittle, turning the Prairie’s usual whisper into a dry rattle. Rain would be good, the elven rider thought. Both for reviving the land and for washing away any traces of the crime she was about to commit. 

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Mildred Berry pulled her wide brimmed-hat low to cover her white hair. It would be a dead giveaway if she was spotted: there weren’t any other albinistic elves running around this part of the Prairie. Her long ears twitched against the hat’s brim as she tried not to think about the consequences if she was caught.

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Previously, she’d mixed coal dust with fat to colour her hair, but it had melted from the heat of her scalp, oozing black rivulets down her face and neck. Effective at terrorizing guards, but messier than the makeshift dye was worth.

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Adjusting her poncho to keep out the rain, Millie gave the horse a solid pat on the neck. Max, a mustang gelding, was a frequent and willing accomplice to her crimes. He was always happy to stretch his legs, took payment in carrots, and would never snitch. This late at night, the local lawman—Max’s owner—would be too drunk to notice the horse was gone.

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Plainfield’s lanterns glowed on the horizon. It was a weed of a town, springing out of the dirt with the arrival of the railroad. Half its buildings were built from wood that had yet to turn silver, and the other half were whitewashed to look presentable. It was a town hoping to become a city, and Millie hated it. 

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Plainfield was little more than a stopover for travellers. Most headed further west to Stonecreek’s mines or south to the swampy rice fields. The north was dominated by thick forests and the fur trade. Very few travellers from Plainfield went east. East led to actual cities, where people called themselves ‘civilized’ and ‘respectable’ and looked down on people like Millie. Cities stank.

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The new railroad brought more settlers to the Frontier, making it a little less wild, a little less free with each homestead established. 

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“How upset would you be if I burnt down your town?” Millie asked the horse.

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Max snorted and flicked an ear.

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“Relax, I was only asking,” she said. She blew a drop of rain from the brim of her hat with a sharp puff of air. The town would be too wet after the rain. Besides, Millie planned to avoid killing anyone on the job tonight. Missing cargo was easily forgiven by Plainfield’s drunkard Sheriff, but dead bodies would draw the attention of more competent lawmen.

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A shrill whistle cut through the steady drizzle. The train was finally leaving, and soon it would chug into sight.

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“Ready, Max?” she asked the horse, nudging him to trot in a little circle to warm up his legs. She’d kept both of them warm and limber, ready for work. Max snorted and pawed at the ground. He was ready to give this new train a run for its money.

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Fresh off the West-Colfield train yard, the Blue Bullet was said to be the fastest locomotive in the west. The rumours were that it could outrun a dragon itself, but Millie doubted it. She’d watched the famous train come and go over the last two weeks. While it was faster than the old clunker that used to run this route, the mustang should be able to keep pace with it.

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The train whistled a second time and Millie watched the white dot of its headlamp pull away from the orange glow of Plainfield. Soon the blue locomotive chugged past, picking up speed. She pulled her bandana up over her nose and pulled on a set of buckskin gloves she’d kept dry inside her vest.

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Millie clicked her tongue, and with the slightest nudge, Max took off. Plainfield’s sheriff no longer galloped the mustang, but Millie made sure to whenever she was in town. They pulled alongside the train easily. Max’s thundering hooves masked by the clanking of steel wheels and the steady chug of the locomotive. One wrong move and she could be thrown under the train. Its wheels would cut her in half in an instant. 

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Millie grinned under her bandana. Few things could compare to the rush of chasing down a train.

Looping Max’s reins in a knot so he wouldn’t step on them, Millie placed her hands on his withers and pushed herself up to get her moccasined feet onto his back. Max’s gait held steady on the smooth ground. Millie held the crouch for a heartbeat, for two, waiting for the cargo car behind them to pull far enough ahead. When the one that followed came into reach, she leapt from Max’s back to catch the iron rungs of the train car’s service ladder.

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Her gloves gripped the wet iron and held fast. The dry buckskin absorbed the water that made the rungs treacherous. Millie scrambled up the ladder and pulled herself up onto the roof of the boxcar. From her new vantage point, Millie could see that Max was still racing alongside the train, though the Blue Bullet was gaining speed and pulling ahead. She threw Max a thumbs-up. He’d wander back to town once he got tired, and find some tasty carrots waiting in his stall for his work.

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Millie adjusted her hat against the rain and counted how many cars were ahead of her. Even at night, Millie didn’t need a lantern. Much like a cat, her eyes could see the train just fine in the low light, a legacy of her long-dead father. Millie was crouched on the sixth, not including the locomotive and its twin coal cars. Turning, Millie scanned the rest of the train for guards but found none. On the caboose, the signal lantern swayed in time with the train, its shutters set to the ‘all clear’ position.

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Keeping her weight low, Millie crept along the length of the car and leapt the gap to her target. While the locomotive was brand new, the boxcar was worn and familiar, just like every other car she’d broken into over the years. Swinging herself over the edge of the car’s roof, Millie clambered down its side door. She unlatched it, and bracing one foot against the vertical beam of the doorway, shoved the door to one side.

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It stuck. Millie grunted and shoved again. After a moment the door gave way and a human guard squinted out into the rain. Spotting Millie, the guard nodded and motioned Millie to get inside with a tilt of her head. The elf didn’t need a second invitation, ducking under the tall woman’s arm, she climbed into the car and out of the rain.

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“Everything go alright?” Millie asked, helping her partner push the boxcar door closed and latch it in place. No wonder she hadn’t been able to open it.

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“Yes ma’am,” Ryan Collins said, stepping to one side to avoid getting wet as Millie peeled off her poncho and hat, shaking the worst of the wet from them. Ryan’s long, dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid that she’d tucked under the collar of her stolen uniform. She looked stoic, but Millie knew the tiny furrow on Ryan’s brow meant she was worried. “The train was late leaving Plainfield. Coal delivery put them behind schedule. Max didn’t have trouble catching us?” 

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“Caught it without breaking a sweat,” Millie said with a tiny swell of pride. “I left some extra carrots in his stall for whenever he wanders home.”

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Ryan’s worry disappeared, and she tried to cover a smile with a cough, but Millie caught the way Ryan’s hazel eyes crinkled up in amusement. Tall, powerfully built, Ryan was many things, but a skilled actress she was not. Even after years of practice, she still held herself with a certain poise that demanded people’s respect.

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Millie frowned, playing at being grumpy. Ryan wasn’t used to train robbery, and if pretending to sulk helped her friend relax, so be it. People made terrible decisions when anxious. Ryan had wanted this job to be bloodless, and Millie wasn’t about to let her friend make a mistake because of nerves.

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“Don’t look at me like that,” Millie muttered, stepping into the narrow walkway between stacked cargo crates. “I’m not going soft.” Pulling a tomahawk from her belt, Millie slipped the narrow axe blade in between the crate and its lid. Leaning on the long handle, the elf pried the lid up with a dry crack as the nails gave way.

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“I never said you were.” Ryan said, suddenly the picture of innocence. She held her lantern over the crate and leaned in, just as eager as Millie was to confirm the crate had what they needed.

“You were thinking it.“ Millie shifted her axe and pried the lid again until she could pull it off completely. Golden straw gleamed under the lantern, but what they were after was beneath that. Reaching inside, Millie shoved the straw aside to reveal neatly packed boxes of bullets that gently rattled with the motion of the train.

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“One day you’re going to take Max home for real, and we’ll have to explain that,” Ryan warned. The faux argument died the moment Millie pulled out a handful of bullets. “Thank the Messiah,” Ryan said, making the sign of the wheel over her chest.

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Spotting it, Millie frowned. Ryan must be more anxious than she’d let on.

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“I’ll just say Max likes us better,” Millie said gently, handing the bullets to her partner. They were rifle calibre, and wouldn’t fit her revolvers. She’d left her rifle at home. Trying to climb around a train with a long gun was difficult, and Millie had no interest in repeating that experience in the rain.

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“You remember the rest of the plan, right?” Millie asked quietly. “No last-minute change of heart?” 

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“Distract the guards. Stop to unload. We get what we need. No one hurt, no more hungry bellies back home.” Ryan nodded and letting out a slow, deep breath. She straightened her shoulders and slipped the bullets into her pocket. “No change of heart. I set up the distraction on the caboose before we left the station. We should have another hour before it goes off.”

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A distant thud—followed by a whoosh.

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The women unlatched the car door and yanked it open. Rain spattered onto them as the bandits watched the caboose go up in orange flames. The distraction had fired early, splashing burning oil out over the caboose’s roof. The alchemical flames devoured everything in their path despite the rain. A fire-wreathed figure leapt from the caboose into the darkness with a scream.

Millie grimaced. So much for ‘no one gets hurt’.

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“Okay, so. We’re a bit early, but otherwise, the plan stays the same,” she said, throwing her pack over her shoulders. “Send the guards to the back of the train; I’ll set those cars loose.”

“Do you think that guard will survive?” Ryan asked, pulling the rifle off her shoulder.

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“Well.” Millie cleared her throat awkwardly. She didn’t want to make Ryan feel any worse. She had been the one to plant the device, and it would be too easy for her to feel guilty that it ignited early. Millie might not bat an eye, but Ryan was different. She had morals. “He could.”

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Millie pulled her bandana up and shoved her hat back into place to cover her telltale pale hair. “Stay safe.” 

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Climbed out of the boxcar, Millie climbed along the sides of train cars toward the caboose. She’d have to be careful: the wetter her gloves and moccasins got, the less they’d grip the slick iron ladders. Jogging across the roofs of the cars would be faster, and keep her gloves drier, but the guards crawling out of the train like ants would spot her easily. Best to leave the high road to Ryan and take the lower one.

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The train was curved along a bend in the track, giving Millie a better view of the mess they had made. The orange flames engulfed the caboose entirely and licked at the lumber car linked to it. If left unchecked, the fire would consume the whole train and anyone left inside it.

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“All hands: put that fire out!” Ryan’s commanding voice cut through the chaos of guards yelling and the growing roar of flames. “Keep it from spreading!” 

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Reaching the last car, Millie tucked herself into the space just above the coupling between it and the first of the flatbeds carrying lumber. In the car behind her, Millie could hear horses shift and snort in fear as they heard the crackle of flames. Above, guards leapt from the stockcar onto the stacked lumber lashed to flatbeds. Someone was shouting a spell while others beat at the flames with their thick wool coats.

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Ryan peeked over the edge of the boxcar and gave Millie a thumbs up. Returning it, the elf pulled out her tomahawk and slid the spiked end through the lynch-pin’s ring. She braced herself as best she could on the narrow coupling and levered the axe until a jostle in the cars gave her the slack to pull the pin free.

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Tucking her axe back into her belt, Millie tossed the lynch-pin out into the darkness, watching the lumber cars fall behind. When the abandoned cars drifted far enough back, Millie climbed the ladder to join Ryan on the stockcar’s roof. She stretched, cracking her back. The burning caboose was fading into the distance and below them, the nervous horses grew calm once more.

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Millie looked around to get her bearings. Patches of scrub now interrupted the tall prairie grasses and, off to the train’s right, a massive boulder rose out of the plains.

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“I’m sorry about the bomb,” Ryan said. “I should have—“

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“Don’t do that to yourself.” Millie reached out and took her friend by the shoulders, looking up into her eyes. “The train was late; we couldn’t account for that. West-Colfield always runs on time. We had no way to know tonight would be the one time they ran late.“ Under her hands, Ryan’s muscles were knotted tight. The job wasn’t over, they had to stay level-headed to make sure the rest of the plan went off without a hitch.

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“I suppose,” Ryan muttered, looking down. Her shoulders relaxed and Ryan took a breath, about to say something. She looked at Millie and flinched.

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“Eyeshine?” Millie asked, glancing down at the lantern that hung from Ryan’s belt. Her father’s gift: new world elves could see in low light, but their eyes reflected light at certain angles like draconids and cats. Most elf eyes shone green. Millie’s shone red.

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“Sorry,” Ryan said, embarrassed. “You think I’d be used to it by now.”

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Millie shrugged and squeezed Ryan’s shoulder before letting her go. Ry wasn’t the first person to react like that and wouldn’t be the last. Reaching into her vest, the elf pulled out a flask and held it out with a little shake. Liquid sloshed inside, long cold but still effective.

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“Coffee?”