Keira Ashborne's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Two days south meant one town in the way. Silas reined up on the ridge above it and spat. A tall wooden watch tower leaned over the road, rifles glinting on every platform. Red flags snapped in the wind. "Word's out on you," he said. "They're watching the gate." Keira slid the clockwork key deep into her coat. She counted four men on the tower, more in the windows below. Every stranger who passed got a long look and a runner sent down the steps. Her face was worth coin here. Riding straight through would end her hunt before it started. They circled wide and tied the steam horse in a dry wash. Silas pointed to a squat stone building at the town's edge, lanterns burning under a carved sign. "Cantina. Hunters drink there. Informants too. I'll go in alone, buy a round, learn who's looking and where they sit." Keira pulled her hat low and waited in the rocks while he walked in empty-handed. He came back at dusk, pale. "Six hunters inside. Two more on the roof. They've got a sketch of you nailed by the door." He spat again. "We don't go through. We go around — half a day extra, dry country, no water." Keira nodded once and climbed back into the saddle. The town shrank behind them. The key still pointed south. But now they were running, and the bandits knew exactly where she was headed.