Dragonfly Warrior

by Jay Noel

  “Yes,” Anton whispered. “I know him well. We are competitors. He handles large international orders while I'm only a small arms dealer. I sell only to locals and passersby. Still, I have to pay a non-competition fee to Mr. Olaf Geller. If not, I fear my livelihood would easily go up in smoke.”

  “That sounds fair,” said DePaul, allowing his sarcasm to hang in the air. “Geller is holding a young boy captive at his palace, and I fear he intends to sell the child to the one with the most gold in his pockets.”

  Anton frowned. “Yes, oftentimes, Geller returns from Agrios with several young boys to fight in the arena. Grotesque, but wildly popular down here.”

  “Pitting children against one another to the death for sport is deplorable,” DePaul said. “There is one boy in particular I want to rescue. The child belongs to another old friend. I made a promise to him, which I intend to keep.”

  “Promises to friends. The strongest of bonds. What do you need from me, Lionel?”

  “I need a map or blueprints of Geller's estate. I must know the layout and deduce where he's potentially keeping the boy so I can devise a strategy of rescue.”

  Anton's strong jaw line pulsed. He suddenly looked twenty years younger, and he resembled the young soldier DePaul once knew. “I know someone who will have this information. Geller purchased the estate from another well-known businessman who still lives here in Caru. He's but ten minutes from here. He carries a line of credit with me, and I'm sure he'd be interested in doing a deal to lessen his debt. I will have one of my people fetch him immediately, as he never does businesses at his residence.”

  “Thank you, Anton. I am grateful.” DePaul wiped his brow. Even in the dim office protecting them from the blazing sun, the air was thick and sweltering.

  His friend got up and walked over to a metallic horn attached to the wall. He pulled it to his mouth, allowing the flexible metal tube to pull taut from its base. He spoke his orders into the horn and returned it to its place after finishing.

  “You are all welcome to remain here as long as you need. My building has an underground level, which provides relief from Azincaya's merciless sun. Down below, I have a swimming pool.”

  Anton opened the door and allowed the cooler air of the hallway to stream into the office.

  DePaul stood, more sweat pooling at the small of his back. “How do you stand it here? It's not even high noon yet and the heat is already unbearable.”

  “You get used to it,” answered Anton as he led DePaul and the others back into the main corridor. “Besides, I don't have to worry about the Iberian Empire down here. Even they are not stupid enough to try to conquer these lands. Their naval fleet is afraid of the pirates swarming these coastal waters. In fact, I'm relieved to see you were able to navigate around our coast safely and without incident.”

  DePaul smiled to himself. “Yes. Well, I've been able to employ a little ingenuity in order to avoid trouble. Miracle of science, you could say.”

  A GUARD BROUGHT MARCEL'S BREAKFAST into his room. The radiant sunlight beamed from the open door and illuminated the entire chamber. It took Marcel several moments for his eyes to adjust to the light. The wooden tray was full of apple slices, grapes, and a giant omelet. Kamau stepped inside, his dark face even and calm. Any trace of their temporary friendship gone.

  “It's going to be a long day,” said Kamau, his deep voice echoing throughout the room. “I learned you will be tasked with doing more than repairing a broken steam car. You must somehow improve upon its original design using only spare parts and other junk.”

  His words were meant to be a warning, but it only intrigued Marcel.

  “Fill your belly and be ready to come with me in thirty minutes.”

  Marcel slid his legs to the edge of his massive bed. His stomach rumbled as he stared at the food in front of him. “Are you mad at me?”

  Kamau stepped back, and his intense eyes softened for a moment. “No, child. I remember when I was separated from my own mother. I understand what you're feeling. Remember who you are, what you are capable of doing. You are destined to do great things with your power. Be proud.”

  It was difficult to not think of his mother every moment, but knowing a strong warrior like Kamau survived being separated from his own family gave Marcel some hope. Maybe he too could be strong someday.

  “If you perform like you did in Mexihco with the metal spider, you will surely impress the audience today. When they bring you to their native country, you will be treated like a king. Like their savior.”

  Kamau seemed sincere, and Marcel found comfort in that.

  “After you've served your new masters well, perhaps they will reward you with helping you find your mother and allowing her to stay with you. Wouldn't that be nice?”

  Hope rose from Marcel's belly. “Yes.”

  Marcel hopped off the bed and grabbed the purple grapes. He stuffed them into his mouth. The burst of flavor made him wince and his tongue tingled from the tart fruit. Kamau laughed before leaving the chamber, and Marcel was relieved to hear his guard's hearty chuckle again. He still had a friend in this place, and it would make it easier to face whatever fate held for him in the coming days.

  ANTON'S CUSTOMER BROUGHT MORE THAN enough sketches and maps of his old estate. For a fleeting moment, DePaul hesitated leaving the cool waters of the underground swimming pool, but he was eager to study the blueprints.

  After a warm goodbye, they left Anton's building and walked back out into the heavy sun. With sluggish strides, they began their three mile journey back to the docks where the Triton lay partially underwater. The massive rocks on the shore provided more than enough cover for his boat as only a portion of the single conning tower penetrated the ocean's surface.

  They came to the eastern edge of the marketplace when DePaul nearly fainted from what he saw. First, he caught a glimpse of a stunning woman with auburn hair, followed by a small boy of the Orient. Emerging from between the two was the native young man he had taken in years ago. Enapay still walked with confidence many mistook for insolence, but DePaul knew better than to think that of his old apprentice.

  A split second before calling out his name, Enapay spotted DePaul.

  “Professor?” The Nabeho's dark eyes grew wide with recognition as he ran over and threw his long arms around him.

  “Enapay,” DePaul cried, his breath pushed from his lungs from the native's powerful embrace. “What are you doing here?”

  After a quick scan of their surroundings, Enapay moved in closely. “We are here to rescue a child.”

  DePaul felt his breath leave his chest again, and he wasn't able to speak for a moment. Luckily, Simon stepped forward to react on his behalf.

  “We too are here for that same reason,” said Simon, his voice low yet full of determined intent.

  The woman and the young boy seemed alert, their hands near their holstered pistols. Enapay motioned for all of them to put some distance between themselves and curious people hovering about from the busy market. Without saying a word, Enapay led them to a more private spot behind a towering dead tree.

  “What do you want with my son?” the female asked, her tone sharp and on the edge.

  “Your son?” DePaul studied her face.

  The woman must be Geneva Bouvier, Marcel's mother. Without warning, her revolver's barrel was pressed against DePaul's forehead. Her face was flushed with rage when she cocked her pistol's hammer.

  DePaul's crew gasped behind him, and Simon began to reach for his own weapon when the young man with the wild black hair side rushed in. The youngster left Enapay's side and moved like lightning when he ripped the pistol from Simon's belt, leveling the gun at his nephew's chest. Orsini and Lopez raised their weapons.

  “Now hold on here!” Enapay threw his arms up in the air. “This is not necessary. This is Lionel DePaul, the man who taught me...everything.” He turned to Geneva and bent his body to look her straight in the eyes. “DePaul is an honorable man. He's here for your Machine
Boy too, and I'm sure that's a good thing. Right Professor?”

  Geneva jabbed her gun against DePaul's head. “Tell your two men behind you to throw their weapons down, or I will kill you where you stand.”

  DePaul had no doubt she was ready to pull her trigger.

  “Neva, there is no need for this,” Enapay pleaded.

  DePaul heard Lopez and Orsini toss their sidearms onto the sandy ground, but he dared not even take a breath. He now felt foolish for ever having dismissed Little Marcel's mother. He assumed she had run away after killing her second husband. The woman was on a mission to save her son after all.

  “Answer my question, Monsieur DePaul.” Neva's pistol remained steady.

  It took a moment for DePaul to gather his thoughts before replying, “I am here to rescue your son and keep a promise I made to the boy's father.” Her eyes softened, to his relief. “Marcel Senior was my friend.”

  Neva blinked before removing the revolver from his head. The exotic boy looked at her for assurance before handing the gun back to Simon. DePaul finally took a deep breath and relaxed his body, followed by the rest of his crew doing likewise.

  Enapay took hold of DePaul's shoulder. “Sounds honorable to me. Let's bring this boy back to his mother.”

  They all agreed with quiet murmurs, but DePaul remained a bit on edge. He still felt the sting on his forehead where Geneva Bouvier's pistol had been, although the ferocity had vanished from her lovely face.

  “I was able to get our hands on detailed drawings of Geller's entire estate and palace,” DePaul whispered. “Let's get out of here and study the prints in private. I don't like being out in the open like this. Geller has eyes everywhere throughout the city.”

  The foreign boy stepped forward. “Our vehicle is down the road, hidden in the brush.”

  DePaul shook his head. “I have someplace better. More private. Let's go to the docks. The Triton is there. We'll be quite safe.”

  Enapay's black eyebrows crinkled. “Triton? What's that?”

  WHEN THEY REACHED THE EDGE of the dock, Zen spotted the long, metallic boat partially submerged in the ocean. He was at a loss for words, and he wondered how such a craft could stay underwater for that long. Enapay said something about air tanks and was about to explain how they worked when the old man revealed a small metal box in the palm of his hand. He turned a tiny crank on the gadget's side with his bony fingers several times and pressed the small brass button on top three times.

  A tall rectangular structure emerged from the water like a whale coming up for air, and the gigantic boat seemed to be slowly rising up. The water crashed all around the hulking transport. Zen wondered if the hand held device DePaul manipulated actually commanded the boat to rise, but Enapay explained that it was called a tele-relay. With it, the old man was able to transmit and receive a coded signal to the pilot of the Triton.

  The water continued to chop and bubble as the ship surfaced. Eventually, a small circular hatch in the center of what the old man referred to as the boat's conning tower opened. A dark haired woman poked her head out from the opening and disappeared again. DePaul and his crew crawled into the tower's open door hatch and led the way into the Triton's main cockpit. One by one, they descended down a narrow ladder into the belly of the craft.

  The chamber was a tight fit with all eight of them gathered around the small center table. The front of the cockpit housed all of the Triton's main controls, but other foreign instruments lined the entire space. Zen gazed at the hundreds of levers, small wheels, and buttons surrounding him. He noticed Enapay hovering around the front control panel until the female pilot shooed him away with her glaring eyes.

  DePaul went through quick introductions. The intense woman at the controls was named McMillan. The two dark-featured men with mustaches that looked like brothers were Orsini and Lopez. Simon, the old man's nephew, was tall with pale skin and had a quiet demeanor.

  Neva handled her end of the introductions while asking to see the layout of Geller's estate in the same breath. Without hesitation, DePaul unrolled the various blueprints and drawings onto the tiny table. Neva grabbed a few of them, holding them up to one of the strange orange glowing orbs lighting up the ship's interior.

  Zen bent over the large blueprint on the table and traced the perimeter of the entire property with his finger. He came to a stop at the architectural drawing of what looked to be a castle. It held two jutting towers from the facade of the fortress, and the main body of palace was rectangular and spacious. From studying two other prints, Zen confirmed the center section of the castle held three levels with various open chambers. The two towers each contained six levels.

  “My guess is Marcel is being kept in one of the towers,” Zen said, breaking the silence. He held up a large map showing a side view diagram of one of the tall structures. “The chambers are closed off, easy to defend.”

  Enapay took the same parchment and glossed over the drawing. “I agree. There's a winding staircase and six full floors in each tower. This one has at least three or four separate chambers on every level. If you were to keep the boy safe from greedy hands, you'd put him in one of the towers and place guards on every single floor and a dozen outside the room. There's only one way in and one way out, and you'd have to get through all of those guards.”

  Neva placed one of the scrolls on top of the others on the table. “I don't see any other points of entry except for the front gate.”

  Enapay put his hand to his chin. “That's impossible. There has to be an underground level of sorts. Aristocrats don't like servants parading in and out of the front gates.”

  Each person picked a map and studied it in silence. Several minutes ticked away until Enapay clapped his hands in celebration, making them all jump. He turned his scroll over and revealed the reverse side of the thin paper. On it, a crude drawing had been etched onto the parchment.

  “This is underneath the castle,” said Enapay. “It's a tunnel system. Most likely made for servants. It'd also make an easy way to smuggle things in and out of the castle without detection.”

  DePaul patted him on the back. “Brilliant, my boy. You were always one of my brightest apprentices.”

  Enapay's smile evaporated, and he stepped away from the old man. “What happened, Professor? Why did you abandon your workshop? Why did you abandon all of us? We came into work one morning, and you were gone. Everything was gone.”

  DePaul looked embarrassed. His cheeks flushed, and his eyes fluttered. “I had received a warning from one of my associates in Europa that Iberia planned to take me back to their capital and work for them. Create new weapons. They were going to steal all of my work. I had to go.”

  “Why didn't you tell me?” asked Enapay. “Why didn't you at least bring me with you?”

  DePaul exhaled deeply before answering, “Because I wanted to protect you. That's why I kept all of you in the dark about the work you were doing that made the Triton possible. The less you knew, the less of a threat you were to Iberia.”

  “If you trusted me enough, I could have helped you. Helped you put this boat together, for example. I didn't need your protection. We were doing such important work with you.” Enapay's shoulders slumped. “You shouldn't have left us like that.”

  Zen saw the anguish in Enapay's eyes, and he could feel the unresolved pain underneath his usual flamboyant and jovial manner. Fate had brought him full circle with his old teacher.

  “All of you would have paid for my sins,” DePaul said. “After my homeland was crushed by Iberia, they forced me to make new weapons for their kingdom. When they were satisfied with the weapons I designed for them, they let me go. When I came to Agrios, I wanted a new life. I was done with building instruments of destruction. When Iberia came for me again, I had to run away.”

  Enapay stood in silence, the ember glow of anger disappearing from his eyes. The mood in the room was awkward, and Zen felt the group needed to focus on devising a strategy for saving the Machine Boy. He started to spea
k, and he wanted to remind everyone of their mission when Neva slammed her fist on the metal table.

  “How do we access this underground passage?” she asked the group. “I'm sorry Enapay, but time is of the essence here.”

  Enapay looked unable to focus, so Zen slid the hand drawn map towards himself. He followed the winding path leading to the tunnel's entrance with his finger. “It looks like it comes from a small building in the rear courtyard.”

  “There is a small building, towards the rear of the estate,” Simon said, holding up the largest blueprint. “Servants' quarters. Inside, there must be a door or gate leading to the passage straight to the western tower.”

  Either Orsini or Lopez, Zen wasn't sure which, spoke up. “We can't go searching for the boy without knowing exactly where they're keeping him. We'll walk right into Geller's soldiers.”

  Zen did a swift scan of all the maps while the group pondered in another round of silence. “That is why I must go and find him.”

  DePaul objected with arms crossed and mouth agape. “Nonsense.”

  “No way.” Simon reached over and snatched the scroll from Zen's hands.

  “I'm not sending another boy into Geller's castle. I will most certainly not,” the old man said while shaking his finger.

  There wasn't any time for debate, and Zen felt his face flush. To DePaul and his crew, he was only a child after all.

  “Zen can do this,” Enapay said, tearing the map from Simon's grasp. “Don't underestimate my friend.”

  It looked as if both Orsini and Lopez were going to intervene, but the sound of Neva's gun being drawn stopped them before they could even take a step. Enapay flashed his signature grin when he handed Zen the small drawing.

  DePaul put his hands up. “Please, let us all take a deep breath.”

  Neva dropped her pistol back into her holster. “I appreciate all of you being here.” She turned to DePaul. “I am especially grateful you made a promise to Marcel's father and aim to keep your word. This is a dangerous mission, and I am thankful you are willing to help. But I trust Zen with my life, and my son's.”