Tinker's War (The Tinkerer's Daughter Book 2) by Jamie Sedgwick

almost mistook for an insect. Then, as the noise grew louder, I turned to locate the source of the sound. In the distance, I saw some sort of flying machine zipping across the sky. A trail of black smoke blossomed out in its wake. “That’s strange,” I murmured.
    The general followed my gaze, squinting with his good eye. “What is that thing? I can hardly see it.”
    “It’s not a plane,” I said. “Not one of ours, but it’s definitely a machine.”
    The general’s face fell. “It’s one of them,” he said in a disgusted voice. “It’s a scout. The moment he sees this farm, he’ll report back to the ship. They’ll be all over us like flies on-”
    He bit off the curse, turning back to face the cabin and shouted, “Robie! Move, now!”
    I hardly had time to digest what was happening before we were off, bouncing across the plains as fast as that old steamwagon could carry us. I kept a wary eye on the pressure gauge, knowing that a weak pipe could spell disaster for us all. I used my sight to keep track of the wagon and the engine to the best of my ability, reaching out with my mind to sense the tension and weaknesses, but I was out of practice and the rickety old machine was a disaster waiting to happen. The old metal frame was rusted and weak in several spots, and the wood was cracked and rotting everywhere. After my minor repairs, the engine was probably the soundest part of the entire vehicle, and that wasn’t saying much.
    General Corsan guided the old rig towards the mountains as fast as it would go. I sat behind him, monitoring the engine and keeping a wary eye on the Vangars as they approached from the south. It wasn’t long before I could make out shapes here and there of the ferocious warriors riding on some sort of steeds. Their horses were larger than any I’d ever seen before. These creatures were massive, their bodies rippling with muscles. They had broad, hairy hooves the size of a man’s head that hit the ground like thunderclaps.
    The horsemen were racing at full tilt across the plains. Behind them, I saw the shape of a dragon ship mounted on wheels rolling across the plains. It moved with surprising speed. Though the vessel had full sails, I could tell that it was driven by more than just the wind. The cloud of thick black smoke that rose behind it was not the work of nature. Whatever technology the Vangars had harnessed, they had found a way of using it to power wheels just as it did a propeller. Their technology was surprisingly powerful, if it could move a ship like that.
    I did my best to describe all of this to Robie and Corsan because their human eyes couldn’t discern the shapes yet. I was staring into the distance, trying to relay what I had seen when two Vangar horsemen appeared out of the darkness just ahead of us. The general let out a shout as he adjusted the steering to swerve around them. The steamwagon groaned against the sudden change of direction. The two inside wheels lifted off the ground, and I thought we were going to roll. The chassis made an awful creaking sound, and bits of the floorboards wrenched off, scattering across the plains behind us.
    Then, with a crash, the wheels settled back down. The end of the bench seat snapped in two and fell, dropping Robie roughly on the floorboards. He fell sideways and his arm punched through the floor. I bent forward and caught him by the belt, struggling to pull him upright.
    The Vangars’ mounts danced back as we glided between them. Apparently, they were as shocked by our sudden appearance as we were by theirs. As we passed by, one of the warriors let out a shout and raised a massive spear. He let it fly and it whizzed by us, embedding firmly in the ground off to our right.
    Corsan made a beeline for the hills and the Vangars spurred their mounts in pursuit, shouting at us in their coarse foreign tongue. The space between us grew. For a few moments, it looked like we might outrun them. Then a second spear came hurtling out