Queen's Peril

by Darin Kennedy

  “Bullets are going to fly.” Emilio let out a sigh. “Just like Baltimore.”

  Steven’s mind skipped back through a cavalcade of memories: his pursuit of Emilio and Lena through the streets of Maryland’s largest city, the gang war that claimed Emilio’s brother, Carlos, and the four-way battle that nearly ended Steven’s quest to gather the White before it had even begun.

  Kiku stepped inside the railcar and into Sakura and Ume’s waiting arms. Shifting into their native Japanese, her sisters took turns addressing her, their tone alternating between sweet relief and stern admonishment. Her features dark with appropriate contrition, she took the tongue-lashing in stride, though Steven caught more than one flash of mischief in the young woman’s eyes.

  “Enough stalling.” Post holstered his six-shooter and pulled the shotgun from inside his duster. “Step outside, Brenin, so we can talk.”

  “I think not, Sheriff.” Brenin held the microphone to his lips like a rock star. “I’m quite comfortable in my little home away from home, and it appears to be quite cold where you’re standing.” He shot Steven a knowing glance. “In fact, I suggest you and your men put away your weapons, as much for your own protection as for ours.”

  Post considered for a moment and then lowered his shotgun, motioning for Ndure and the three deputized townsfolk to holster their pistols as well. “Done.” His breath steamed in the cold. “Lucky for you, I’m just curious enough to play along with whatever game it is you think you’re playing. But know that, in the end, we’re not leaving without Bauer and Zamek.”

  “And why would you wish to take them, Sheriff?” The surprise in Brenin’s voice sounded almost authentic. “They’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Nothing?” Post paced in the snow. “Two men are dead just hours after a very public argument with the men I have no doubt are standing just out of sight inside your car, men you claim as being in your employ. Believe me, Mr. Brenin, you’d be better served divorcing yourself from suspicion rather than breaking suspected murderers out of jail and harboring them from justice.”

  “While it is arguably regrettable that the two men in question shuffled off this mortal coil before their time, you have likely already deduced they are the pair responsible for destroying the fine locomotive that was transporting me and the rest of the refugees now residing in your town east in the midst of this bitter winter. Dozens could have perished if things had gone differently and all due to their malfeasance, not to mention the difficulties both your community and region now face with this rail line currently out of operation. Is the demise of two such reprobates truly such a tragedy?”

  “Spoken like a true king,” Archie muttered under his breath.

  “Or politician,” Niklaus added.

  “Quiet,” Ume whispered. “Regardless of your feelings about him or the current situation, Mr. Brenin is negotiating for both of your lives.”

  All of them remained quiet as Post responded to Brenin’s eloquent oration.

  “Very pretty words, and yet nowhere in there was a denial that Bauer and Zamek acted as judge, jury, and executioner for those two men, and all, it would seem, under your direction.”

  “Were they, in fact, guilty, I’d think they’d be met with reward and gratitude rather than the threat of imprisonment. Still, it doesn’t matter, as, and let me make myself clear this time, Mr. Bauer and Mr. Zamek had nothing whatsoever to do with the deaths of those two men.”

  “That’s for a court to decide, Mr. Brenin.” Post adjusted his hat. “And since you seem to know so much about what happened, perhaps you should come with us as well.”

  Brenin laughed. “A novel thought, Sheriff, but I won’t be going anywhere with anyone.”

  “You can’t stay in there forever.” Post shook his head in mock sadness. “Your little black box on wheels may contain every amenity a man could desire, but I’m guessing food and water for eight is more than you were likely prepared for.”

  Brenin’s smile evaporated. “You have no idea what I’m prepared for, little man.”

  “Enough.” Post bristled visibly at the dig, bringing the shotgun back up and directing it at Brenin’s midsection. “Come out of that car, or we start shooting.”

  Brenin sighed. “I’d hoped we could talk about this as men of logic, but your short-sightedness is making such discourse impossible. Please understand you will not be taking anyone from my railcar this day, nor will you threaten me or any of my associates again, lest you suffer the consequences.”

  “Consequences?” Post sneered. “Brave words from a man trapped in a box with two fugitives and a bunch of women.” His hearty laugh steamed in the cold. “Next you’ll be telling me it was one of your girls who strung up those two men.”

  “Sheriff Post.” Ndure, who had remained silent for most of the conversation, narrowed his eyes at the crowd gathered in the railcar’s doorway. “Something you may wish to consider.” He whispered in Post’s ear, and understanding blossomed on the sheriff’s face.

  “All of you.” Post brought up his shotgun. “Out of that car. Now.”

  “Very well.” Brenin cracked his knuckles. “When diplomacy fails…” He wrapped his fingers around a lever in the wall that Steven had dismissed as a simple lighting fixture and gave it a gentle pull. The resulting click led to a deafening grinding of gears that echoed in the space. Moments later, the business end of a multi-barreled gun blossomed above the open door, directed at the spot where Post and his posse stood. In answer, the sheriff dove to the snow-covered ground as the rest of his posse fled. John Ndure, alone, stood his ground without flinching.

  “A Gatling gun,” Archie whispered from his hiding place just inside the door. “Ensconced within the walls. Incredible.”

  “Not an inexpensive modification, I assure you.” Brenin’s finger stroked what appeared to be the gun’s trigger at the upper limit of the ornately carved lamp/lever. “God willing, there will be no need to fire it.” He let out a weary laugh. “Cleaning such a weapon is far from easy.”

  “Like you’d be doing the cleaning,” Ume muttered.

  Brenin gave the middle sister in his charge a sharp look and brought the microphone again to his lips. “Gentlemen, I brought you here to talk, but make no mistake, I can answer your gentle rain of bullets with a thunderstorm the likes of which you will not soon forget.”

  “Mr. Brenin.” Ndure took a step forward. “No need for a standoff. We merely wish to—”

  “This is no standoff.” Brenin shouted directly into the microphone, the reverberation shaking the entire car. “This is a discussion between men.”

  Post pulled himself up from the ground and swept the snow from his battered duster. “Mr. Brenin, please stand down so we can talk about this.”

  “The time for talk is over.” Brenin grasped the edge of the door and slid it half shut. “Strangely, I’ve changed my mind. About all of this.” His voice dropped a few decibels. “A rare occurrence indeed.”

  “This is your last chance, Brenin.” Post and Ndure sprinted for the railcar.

  “Excellent speaking with you, Sheriff Post. Thank you for your kind visit.” And with that, Brenin closed the door, the already familiar hiss of the steam seal locking them in.

  A moment later, Post pounded at the door. “The new locomotive doesn’t arrive for another day, Brenin. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Perhaps.” Brenin spoke one last time into the microphone before returning it to its sconce. “Perhaps not.” He glanced at the oldest sister. “Sakura?”

  Her lips curled up into an obedient smile. “With pleasure.”

  And with that, the elegantly dressed woman stepped into the room she had previously shared with the Black King and closed the door behind her. At first, nothing happened, but as the entire car shook with a rhythmic pulse, Steven dropped into a low crouch.

  “What’s happening?” he asked. “What’s that sound?”

  “You will see.” Brenin moved to the other side of the car and dropped
into the most luxurious chair in the room. “Suffice to say that sound amplification and superior firepower aren’t the only tricks my—what did he call it—‘little black box on wheels’ can perform.”

  A moment later, the entire railcar lurched in the direction opposite the destroyed locomotive. Archie nearly fell over, but Emilio caught him with a quick assist from Ume.

  Niklaus’ eyes grew wide. “Your railcar. It can move under its own power?”

  “Welcome to the future, Mr. Zamek.” Brenin smiled smugly. “Why depend on someone else’s engine to provide your locomotion when you have the means to move all on your own?”

  Steven rested his hand on the floor. “An internal steam engine?”

  “You have an engineer’s mind, Mr. Bauer.”

  Steven tilted his head to one side. “And you are years ahead of your time, Mr. Brenin.”

  “Fortune has shined on me for years, and I have chosen to invest my money wisely in pursuit of the American Dream. Life. Liberty.” His eyes shot to Sakura as she reentered the room. “The pursuit of happiness.”

  Sakura gave Brenin a gentle bow. “The belly of the Dragon is hot, Victor.”

  “Excellent.” He flipped open one of his armrests and pulled a lever hidden there. “Full steam ahead, then.”

  The car lurched again and with each passing second, accelerated all the more. A loud crash hit the door from outside followed by several loud reports.

  “They’re firing on the car.” Ume groaned. “More maintenance.”

  “Maintenance?” Niklaus asked. “What if one of those bullets gets through?”

  “You needn’t worry,” Brenin announced from his chair. “This car is designed to withstand a stray cannonball.” The Black King reclined in his makeshift throne. “I think it can withstand the good sheriff’s buckshot.”

  “I don’t understand.” Steven worked to keep the incredulity from his voice. “You’re not going to return fire?”

  “Mr. Bauer, I maintain that weapon mostly as a deterrent and revealed it simply to buy us time to negotiate our exit from the situation.”

  “But it works, right?” Steven grabbed one of the lamps to steady himself as the car accelerated again, careful to avoid the one with the ornately carved trigger. “The Gatling gun?”

  Brenin’s face darkened. “Of course it works. To threaten violence without both the capacity and willingness to follow through as needed would be the height of cowardice.”

  “But you’ve shown no issue with killing. Even today.” Steven’s gaze darted to Ume. “What’s different now?”

  “Mr. Bauer, I have no idea what you might think you know of me, but please understand. Above all, I am an honorable man. Sometimes in this grand game of existence, lives must be taken, some for the common good, and others, honestly, to advance whatever agenda I happen to be working toward at the time. The death of the two men who destroyed our locomotive fell well within both those parameters, and while I don’t relish their shared demise, I believe fully that their deaths were necessary. Never think for a moment that killing is something I take lightly or enjoy.” He leaned forward and grasped one of the white pieces from the chessboard.

  “This pawn, for instance.” Brenin placed the piece on the center of the board. “In any particular game, this lowly foot soldier can defend a square, protect another piece, provide a necessary barrier from enemy incursion, or even advance to the opposite end of the board and become far more than its humble origins would seem to allow.” He then picked up the pawn and rested it on its side at the edge of the table. “Sacrificing such a piece is, at times, a necessary tactic to bring victory.” Brenin peered down pitifully at the tiny hunk of white marble. “Once removed from the board, however, it is gone forever.” He looked up at Steven through his dark eyebrows. “Do you understand?”

  “I understand.” Heat rose in Steven’s cheeks, even as his heart threatened to pound out of his chest. “So, we’re escaping for the moment, but there’s one problem. Post and the rest of the world knows exactly where these tracks lead. What’s to keep them from telegraphing ahead and having the next town block the tracks?”

  “Very astute, Mr. Bauer, but there is no need to fear. As you might guess, I am prepared for even this contingency, though the nature of my plan is nothing any of you would believe.”

  Emilio, who’d been silent for some time, laughed. “Try us.”

  “Very well.” Brenin cleared his throat. “All along the globe, there are places where certain energies exist that are beyond the ken of mankind as a whole. Much like the geysers in the American West or the hundreds of volcanoes that make up the Ring of Fire surrounding the Pacific Ocean, these nexuses of power may lie dormant for centuries, unseen, unheard, unfelt.” His eyes closed in rapture. “But they are there. Ancient and arcane and filled with unmitigated power, all just waiting for someone who knows how to manipulate those energies to accomplish the impossible.”

  Archie cleared his throat. “You speak of crossings.”

  Brenin’s gaze shot to Archie. “What do you know of crossings?”

  “More than you might expect.” Steven stepped in front of Archie. “Is there one nearby?”

  Brenin paused, clearly flummoxed for the first time since they’d encountered him this century. “A few miles to the west.” He peered out the window at the rushing trees. “This section of track is new to me, as even I haven’t traveled every inch of this continent yet. I did, however, make a point of marking the locations of the various fonts of power along the way.” His eyes narrowed at Steven. “One never knows when one might encounter something…unexpected.”

  “How much farther?” Archie asked.

  Brenin turned to Sakura, whose eyes danced left and right in concentration.

  “Just over four miles to the nearest one,” she said, her eyes focusing on Kiku as if studying her, “but the spot thirty-seven miles farther down the track remains the strongest we’ve encountered in the last couple of days. For what you’re proposing, I suggest we continue on.”

  “So be it.” The Black King, still sitting upon his makeshift throne, crossed his arms and let out a haughty sigh. “Bring us to the crossing and pity anyone who attempts to get in our way.”

  The next half hour proceeded in near silence. Brenin sat at one end of the room atop the posh chair, his trio of associates surrounding him, begging the question of whether Brenin defended them or the three sisters, Brenin. Steven sat opposite the Black King with Niklaus, Archie, and Emilio as his opposite entourage. Between them, the table containing the sixty-four alternating squares of the chessboard rested, the pieces occasionally shifting with movement of the railcar, two barely restrained armies rattling their sabers in preparation for war.

  Several minutes into their trip, Brenin broke the silence.

  “It is no mere coincidence that brings us together, is it, Mr. Bauer?”

  “I no longer believe in coincidence.” Steven leaned forward in his chair. “I suspect you don’t either.”

  “And yet,” Brenin continued, “my gut tells me you are not the one responsible for the ruse that lured me to Wolf’s Bend.” He pulled the telegraph from his pocket. “Someone led me down quite a cherry path to get me to leave the warmth of my home in the dead of winter.” He glanced around his posh sanctum on wheels. “Our current lack of want notwithstanding.”

  “Perhaps if you hadn’t ordered the two men who destroyed the locomotive killed, we could’ve found out who hired them and put this mystery to rest.” Steven interlaced his fingers. “Two pieces taken off the board too soon, Mr. Brenin?”

  “They would not talk.” Ume pursed her lips. “Whoever put them up to the task had instilled in them the fear of God.”

  “And we still don’t know who shot that U.S. Marshal.” Niklaus rested his chin in his palm and stared out the window. “Or why.”

  “Maybe it’s unrelated?” Emilio raised an eyebrow.

  “Your leader has already made it clear he doesn’t believe in coi
ncidence.” Brenin locked gazes with Emilio. “I would suggest you follow his lead, young man.”

  “May God have mercy on all their souls,” Archie interrupted, lowering his head in prayer. “And ours as well, for whatever part we played in their deaths.”

  Emilio crossed himself, an odd sentiment from the angry young man Steven met a year or so before. Niklaus didn’t say a word, wisely opting to keep his trademark wit to himself for once. Even Steven allowed a moment of silence before continuing.

  “I still don’t understand why you brought Post to the train station,” he asked. “If you intended to literally ‘get the hell out of Dodge’ with us in tow, why announce your plan?”

  Brenin smiled. “My reasons are my own, Mr. Bauer, but suffice to say Sheriff Post and his collection of upstanding townsfolk and deputies are now looking for you and Mr. Zamek in a black railcar armed with a mysterious cannon and moving under its own power along a section of track that will soon be empty. A tall tale indeed, would you not say?”

  “He knows what he saw.” Emilio’s grip went white on the arm of his chair. “Why wouldn’t the world believe him?”

  “The West is full of myth and folklore.” Brenin set to straightening the chessboard, the various pieces displaced from their squares as the car lurched to one side. “Would you not prefer to be spoken of in the same breath with the likes of Paul Bunyan and John Henry rather than Billy the Kid or Jesse James?”

  “Perhaps.” Steven’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “Wait. You said the track would be empty. What do you intend to do with your railcar when you reach the crossing?”

  “Do with it?” Brenin laughed. “Why, I plan to take it with me.” He gestured around the luxurious space. “Do you think I would leave this luxury-on-rails for someone else to enjoy?”