The Ethereal Squadron: A Wartime Fantasy (The Sorcerers of Verdun)

by Shami Stovall

  But that didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.

  The headlights of the car shone on her back. Geist redoubled her efforts, squeezing her eyes shut and focusing on her sorcery. The vehicle got close, and its engine had a terrible roar, but she could still hear the fence. The popping stopped. The rain passed through it without making contact.

  And the motorcar passed through as well. Geist shuddered. It felt odd—like not being part of the world—and for a brief second, Geist thought she might lose her focus because of it. She calmed herself, however, and held her concentration until the vehicle made it to the other side of the fence. When her comrades were safe, she opened her eyes and stepped through the wire herself. The powerful current of magical power that traveled the barbed wire gave her a jolt almost as bad as the electricity itself, but she shrugged it off and shouldered through.

  They had made it to the Netherlands. Neutral territory.

  Freedom was just beyond the horizon.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  THE NEW

  SCHIEFFEN PLAN

  NOTHING MATCHED THE BEAUTY OF a moon reflected on the sea.

  Something was different in the air when they arrived back at the Evening Rose. Captain Madison didn’t hassle Battery for being British, nor did he make his usual jokes around Vergess. He and Shell allowed Geist and her team a space on the ship separate from others, letting them recover in peace.

  She rubbed at her leg as the ship rocked back and forth on the English Channel. She hoped Cross would be able to save the limb before it was too late. I don’t need any other problems, Geist thought, staring at her corrupted arm. She pulled her sleeve down and covered the black spots so she wouldn’t have to look at them anymore.

  Every minute they spent traveling was one minute too many. Only a few more hours and they would arrive in Le Havre and take a train back to Verdun. Vergess sat next to her on the deck of the ship, his vacant gaze set on the horizon. Only Blick remained with them, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the ship’s railing. The silence between them was comfortable, and it was nice to see Blick and Vergess getting along for once.

  “How long has he known?” Blick asked, seemingly from nowhere.

  “Well, er, since I rescued him. From the Verdun trenches.”

  “That isn’t that long ago.” He huffed and kicked one boot over the other. “Battery made it sound as though Vergess had known for years or something.”

  “No,” Geist said. “Not that long.”

  “Did he figure it out or was this all a big accident?”

  “An accident,” Geist said, remembering how she had to remove her tunic to deal with the bullet injury. She touched her side where Cross had healed her. “But he’s conducted himself like a gentleman.”

  “That’s good. I’d hate to have another reason to hate him.”

  Vergess glared.

  “Don’t give me that look. I’m putting one and two together now. All that time you two are giving each other odd glances? Yeah, I noticed. Nothing gets by these eyes.” Then he turned his gold gaze to Geist. “Hey. You don’t have to settle for the first man that discovers your secret.”

  “I’m—” Geist stopped herself for a second, considering his words. “He’s a good man. I’m not settling.”

  Vergess huffed. “Do you have something to say, Blick?”

  “No.” He held his hands up and pushed away from the railing. “But, Geist… if you ever realize you’ve made a mistake, you’ll let me know, right?”

  “Get out of here!”

  Blick chuckled as he strolled away, heading straight for the ship’s wheelhouse.

  Vergess scooted closer, muttering curses under his breath. Geist let herself enjoy the moment. It could be fun, thinking about something not quite so dire as war. Soon they would have one more battle. Soon they could all die in service to their cause. But for right now, Geist would enjoy the comforts only a jealous lover could provide.

  Geist had thought, at several points during her journey, that she might never see Fort Belleville again. Seeing its silhouette rising in the distance and knowing she was safe in ally territory took a weight from her heart.

  They were home.

  The French midmorning air, sweet with the scent of flowers, coupled with the familiar hoofbeats of their horses lifted everyone’s spirits. Geist sat at the front of the cart, Vergess by her side, her mind on the future. Victory and Dreamer had recovered enough to move without difficulty, and they both sat in the back, chatting animatedly. Blick and Battery walked along the outside, and Heinrich sat off to the side.

  The moment they reached the outer wall, Geist leapt from the cart, stumbling on her injured leg in the haste, motioning for Heinrich to follow. The stone walls, clouds of gunpowder, and the sweat of men had never been as welcoming to Geist as when she passed beyond the front gates. The soldiers at the gate checked her identification tags before allowing her in.

  “Second E Squadron?” they said. “Welcome back.”

  She nodded, but didn’t stop to offer them the same pleasantries.

  With Heinrich in tow, Geist headed straight into the main building and down the southern hall to Major Reese’s office. She knocked on his door, her eyes lingering on Buttons’s blood stains, which still remained in faint traces on the dark wood. Black memories lurked beneath her thoughts like a shark beneath the surface of the water, but she took a breath and pushed them down. Not now. Not when she was so close.

  “Enter!” she heard the major shout.

  Geist opened the door and stepped into the narrow office. The major’s desk sat at the far end of the room, and he stood behind it, his back to the door and his eyes locked on the map of Europe. Red lines had been drawn from Luxembourg to Paris.

  “Sir,” she said, saluting.

  Major Reese turned around, his gut hitting part of the desk in his haste. “Geist,” he replied in disbelief. “You’re back.”

  “Sir, I’ve completed my operation. I’m here to give my report.”

  “Then give it, man, give it.”

  Geist refused the offered chair, her legs restless. She motioned Heinrich forward.

  “This is the first German Magic-Technology General, Heinrich von Veltheim. He’s one of the original magi-tech researchers. He’s cooperated with me in escaping German-occupied Belgium, and I believe we have a mutual goal of ending this conflict as soon as possible. He may know more than anything physical I could have brought back.”

  Major Reese glowered at Heinrich. When he spoke, he did so in a deliberate manner, as though the words pained him with each syllable. “You’re the son of Karl von Veltheim?”

  “He’s my uncle,” Heinrich replied, unfazed.

  “Our old intelligence said that Karl would be the first magic-technology general. Where is he now?”

  “He’s… indisposed. I was forced to accept the position on his behalf.”

  “House von Veltheim would never share their secrets unless they were forced to.”

  “And I’m sure I won’t be welcomed back after this.” Heinrich exhaled and shook his head. For a moment it looked as though he would laugh, but instead he said, “This war needs to stop, and I’m not clever enough to think up a better way than helping my uncle’s enemies. I tried speaking to the emperor of Austria, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s only concerned with ensuring his many sons and nephews will be empowered by Germany’s research. And Kaiser Wilhelm has ears only for his generals. They see the products of my research as weapons and nothing else.”

  “I’m surprised,” Major Reese grunted. “I can’t believe I’ve lived to see the day a von Veltheim has come to the world with his secrets in hand. I guess the source of magi-tech makes sense now. Only a von Veltheim could be so inventive.”

  “Sir, there’s more,” Geist said. “It’s about the New Schieffen Plan.”

  “Don’t worry, son. We’ve got intelligence on the attack. Our sorcerers will be—”

  “Your information is wrong,”
Heinrich cut in. “The attack will begin in a few days. I know the information you’ve been given. You’re expecting zeppelins, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right. They’ll be carrying the GH Gas.”

  “No. They won’t. That was a deliberate ploy by the Germans to throw you off the scent. The zeppelins will be carrying false bombs to distract the Ethereal Squadron. The real gas bombs will be fired from superguns behind fortified lines.”

  “Superguns?”

  Heinrich gave a cut nod. “They call them the Paris Guns. Six in total to fire gas shells into the city proper.”

  “And the Germans are using the gas to steal sorcery from dead soldiers,” Geist continued. “They’re going to take the blood of every sorcerer they kill on the battlefield and fuse it into themselves with the gas. They’re going to gain access to other family’s schools of sorcery and use it against the Triple Entente.”

  Major Reese listened, his eyes darting and his face growing redder with every word. He made no comment as Geist walked up to his desk and spread her hands on the surface.

  Then she remembered Amalgam.

  “They’re altering sorcerers with their magi-tech, sir,” she said. “They’re making monsters, and they’re giving them to the Royal House Habsburg-Lorraine. If we don’t stop this soon, he might have his own army of abominations by the time we get to Austria-Hungary.”

  “You’re sure of this?” Major Reese asked. “This information will need to be heard by the highest orders of the Entente. It’ll change everything, do you understand? So you’ve got to be certain.”

  “I’m certain,” Geist replied.

  Major Reese ran a hand over his gut, his gaze lowered. “We’ll have to evacuate. We’ve got no counter to the GH Gas.”

  “I can help,” Heinrich said.

  “No offense, but the word of a traitor isn’t much to go on.”

  “I decided long ago that this is worth being branded a traitor.”

  Major Reese replied with a curt nod. “I see.” He returned his attention to Geist. “Then I’ll send this forward to all our generals in the area. Thank you, son. This may have saved us all.” He walked to his office door and threw it open. He bellowed down the long hall, his boisterous voice carrying to every inch of the fort. “Caveat! Big Wick! I have an assignment for your two!”

  Within moments, the two men appeared at the door, huffing and puffing. Big Wick, ducking to enter the room, glanced over to Geist and offered her a half-smile. Then he returned his attention to the major. “You called, sir?”

  “Take our guest to Tinker in the arms room.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you’re both to keep an eye on him.”

  “Sir?”

  “That’s an order,” Major Reese stated. “Now, off with you.”

  Both Caveat and Big Wick nodded. They escorted Heinrich from the room, and when the door closed behind them, Geist turned to face the major.

  “Charles,” Major Reese said. “I know you’ve just got back, but can I count on you to help with the attack? Even if this Heinrich dreams up a way to counter the gas, the fighting could still get brutal. Can you handle that on such short turnaround?”

  She held herself as straight as possible. “I can, sir.”

  “Good. We need every man we can get.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  ANTI-GAS

  “WAKE UP. WAKE UP.”

  Geist snapped awake, her body tense and adrenaline dumping into her veins. She jerked up and threw the blankets off her cot, ready to fight.

  Tinker stared back at her, his face lit by the dim oil lantern he held in his hand. The odd half-smile on his face told her they weren’t under attack. She groaned and rolled her eyes. The enemy forces could move out at any moment, and they would need to be ready to meet them. She didn’t have time for Tinker’s shenanigans.

  “Tinker,” she said, her voice groggy. “What’re you—”

  “Come with me,” he whispered. “And be quiet. People are trying to sleep.”

  Geist held back a string of rebukes as she pulled her uniform on over her long johns in the dark. “What’s this about?” she asked

  “Shh!” someone a cot over hissed.

  Tinker put a finger to his lips and winked. Geist rolled her eyes. Then, much to her surprise, Vergess rolled off his cot and stood.

  “What’re you two doing?” Vergess demanded.

  Geist stared. Vergess slept shirtless, and his drawers were rather tight, evident even in darkness. She averted her eyes, blushing furiously.

  “This doesn’t concern you,” Tinker replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  “It does when it wakes me in the middle of the night.”

  “We’ve got business,” Tinker said, motioning to Geist. “Go back to sleep.”

  Vergess turned to her, his expression questioning. Geist smirked.

  “We’re fine,” she said. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “All right,” he replied with a groan. He walked back to his cot, giving Tinker a deadly glare. Tinker lifted an eyebrow.

  Once Geist and Tinker had left the barracks, Tinker snorted. “That guy. I’m surprised you managed to suffer his company for so long.”

  Geist shrugged. “Maybe I know him better than you do.”

  “Too serious, that one. Did you see the way he walked over? Like he was going to thrash me right then and there.”

  “Tinker. What is this about?”

  “Oh, right. Our traitor German.”

  Geist stared up at him, narrowing her eyes. “You mean Heinrich?”

  “Yeah, that Hun you brought back. I’ve been working with him—we made a breakthrough, but he keeps mumbling to himself in German. Anyway, you need to see what we’ve made.”

  “What is it?”

  “An anti-gas. It neutralizes the GH Gas completely on contact. It’s a kind of opal mist—I guess it’s a kind of magi-tech, too. Never thought I’d get to work on something like this.”

  Geist almost tripped over her feet. She came to a halt and grabbed Tinker by the arm. “You’ve done it, then?” Please! Please don’t be joking!

  Tinker glanced at her grip and then back to her. “Yeah. I wanted to show you.”

  “H-how? What did you do it?”

  “I don’t know,” Tinker muttered. “That’s why I need you. Someone has to talk to Heinrich and get him to cooperate. We made some of this anti-gas, but it’s nowhere near enough to save all of Paris. We need to make more, and this boche asshole isn’t talking.”

  “Take me to him.”

  They picked up their pace and half-ran to the storage rooms under Fort Belleville. Geist relished the feeling of movement on a healthy leg. Cross and her miracles.

  Cross.

  Geist hadn’t spoken to her friend for longer than thirty seconds since returning, and it looked as though they might not have time until after the fighting was over.

  I hope she’s okay, Geist thought. I hope she’s gotten to talk to Victory, at least.

  Tinker led her down the stairs to the arms room and motioned her in. The underground facility once housed cannons and ammunition, and at another point, had functioned as a hideaway for sorcerers fleeing the war before the real fighting started. Geist could see the history on the walls from the stacks of Napoleonic era weapons to the tally marks engraved on the wall that indicated the passage of time. Someone had been stuck in the cramped room for over thirty days. Geist didn’t envy them.

  Tinker nudged Geist, motioned to Heinrich with a jut of his chin. The German researcher stood by a table, hunched over with his face as close to the surface as possible. He was grinding opal fragments into dust using an old-fashioned mortar and pestle. Geist couldn’t help but notice how pale the man looked, far more sickly than he’d been at the OHL. If Geist didn’t know better, she’d think Heinrich was dying.

  “Heinrich?” Geist asked.

  The man didn’t look up from his work. He grabbed at his face as if to adjust h
is glasses, but when his fingers met nothing, he sighed and squinted. “What is it?” he asked in German.

  “See what I’m talking about?” Tinker muttered under his breath.

  Geist walked up to the table. A handful of opals littered the surface. Most were white, but a few came in other colors: grays, reds, oranges, blues, and a few magentas. Geist touched a few, curious as to how they felt, and was surprised by the chill of power contained deep within.

  “Careful with those,” Heinrich snapped. “The Ethereal Squadron doesn’t keep many in stock.”

  Geist snatched her hand back. “What’s going on? Tinker says you have some breakthroughs, that you can counter the GH Gas.”

  “That’s right. We’ve been testing them on the supplies that were seized from Fort Douaumont.” Heinrich waved his hand to the side, motioning to another table on the opposite end of the room.

  Geist’s whole body tensed the moment she got a good look at the supplies atop the table. GH Gas grenades. At least twenty. She shook her head. “What are those doing here? They could kill us all!”

  “It’s okay.” Tinker shrugged. “We have everything under control. Here, let me show you.” He walked over, set his lantern down, and picked up a grenade. Geist watched as Tinker grabbed a second container, this one smaller and carrying all the trademarks of his own craftsmanship, and carried them both to the center of the room.

  “What’re you going to—”

  Tinker threw down the grenade and his own homemade device at the same time. A terrible hiss filled the room. Geist jumped for the door, but stopped at the staircase, watching in amazement as the second canister spewed black vapor that instantly consumed the GH Gas. The yellow-greenish cloud swirled with the black, transforming both into a dull gray mist that hung in the air like smoke.

  Tinker reached down and touched both grenades, his sorcery switching them off before they deposited their full contents. He stood and laced his hands atop his head. “See? We’re safe.”

  “Would you keep what little anti-gas I’ve made secure?” Heinrich said, switching back to angry English. “We’ll need all we can get!”