gunner. Two weeks ago he'd been on his way to commanding a machine of his own. Master Hoffman had been the Hapsburg Guards' best engineer. But now the two were nothing more than fugitives.
Chapter 8
Alek had slowly come to understand everything his men had given up for him: their ranks, families, and futures. If they were caught, the other four would hang as deserters. Prince Aleksandar himself would disappear more quietly, of course, for the good of the empire. The last thing a nation at war needed was uncertainty about who was heir to the throne.
He eased the Stormwalker toward the barn's open doors, using the shuffling step that Klopp had taught him. It erased the machine's massive footprints, along with any other signs that someone had hidden here.
"Ready for your first run, young master?" Klopp asked.
Alek nodded, flexing his fingers. He was nervous, but glad to be piloting in daylight for once, instead of the dead of night.
And really, walker falls weren't so bad. They'd all be bruised and battered, but Master Klopp could get the machine back on its feet again.
As the engines pulsed faster, the smell of their exhaust mixed with dust and hay. Alek eased the machine forward, wood creaking as the walker pushed through the doors and out into the fresh air.
"Smoothly done, young master!" Klopp said.
There was no time to answer. They were in the open now. Alek brought the Stormwalker to its full height, its engines cycling to their maximum. He urged it forward, stretching the metal legs farther with every step. Then came the moment when walking turned to running: both feet in the air at once, the cabin shuddering with every impact against the ground.
Alek heard rye being shredded underfoot. The Storm-walker's trail would be easy to spot from an aeroplane, but by night the harvesting combine would turn back and erase the huge footprints.
He kept his eyes on the goal, a streambed covered with sheltering trees.
This was the fastest he had ever traveled, faster than any horse, even faster than the express train to Berlin. Each ten-meter stride seemed to stretch out over endless seconds, graceful in the vast scale of the machine. The thundering pace felt glorious after long nights spent creeping through the forest.
But as the streambed approached, Alek wondered if the walker was moving too fast. How was he supposed to bring them to a halt?
He eased back on the saunters a bit - and suddenly everything went wrong. The right foot planted too soon ... and the machine began to tip forward.
Alek brought the left leg down, but the walker's momentum carried it forward. He was forced to take another step, like a careening drunk, unable to stop.
"Young master - ," Otto began.
"Take it!" Alek shouted.
Klopp seized the saunters and twisted the walker, stretching one leg out, tipping the whole craft back. The pilot's chair spun, and Volger swung wildly from the hand straps overhead, but somehow Klopp stayed glued to the controls.
The Stormwalker skidded onward, one leg outstretched, its front foot ripping through soil and stalks of rye. Dust spilled into the cabin, and Alek glimpsed the streambed hurtling toward them.
Gradually the machine slowed, a last bit of momentum lifting it upright ... and then it was standing on two legs, hidden among the trees, its huge feet soaking in the stream.
Alek watched dust and torn rye swirl across the viewport. A moment later his hands began to shake.
"Well done, young master!" Klopp said, clapping him on the back.
"But I almost fell!"
"Of course you did!" Klopp laughed. "Everyone falls the first time they try to run."
"Everyone what?"
"Everyone falls. But you did the right thing and let me take the controls in time."
Volger flicked sprigs of rye from his jacket. "It seems that humility was the rather tiresome point of today's lesson. Along with making sure we look like proper commoners."
"Humility?" Alek bunched his fists. "You mean you knew I would fall?"
"Of course," Klopp said. "As I said, everyone does at first. But you gave up the saunters in time. That's a lesson too!"
Alek scowled. Klopp was positively beaming at him, as if Alek had just mastered a somersault in a six-legged cutter. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or give the man a good thrashing.
He settled for coughing some of the dust out of his lungs, then taking back the controls. The Stormwalker responded normally. It seemed nothing more important than his pride had been damaged.
"You did better than I expected," Klopp said. "Especially with