The road out of Ashmark went northeast. It started in low marsh, then gradually climbed into the rocky scrub that marked the Badlands' drier middle ground. The convoy kept to cart speed, slow enough that Beorn could separate the sounds of iron rims striking stone, harness straps pulling under load, and the steady rhythm of fifty militia walking in formation.
He and Aestrith rode ahead of the main column, positioned between the forward scouts and the engine carts. The boiler sat secured on the first heavy cart, bound tight with chain to prevent shift.
The cylinder followed on the second. The beam assembly, broken into sections, filled the third cart to its limits. A man rode beside it, watching the lashings at every turn, ready to correct tension if anything slipped.
"Walk me through it again," Aestrith said.
"We set the engine at the shaft mouth," Beorn said.
