by Adam Dreece
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Eorthe
Chapter One - Crumbled Plans
Chapter Two - The Man in the Crimson Coat
Chapter Three - A Letter of Warning
Chapter Four - Tale of the Mountain Man
Chapter Five - Hounding the Watts
Chapter Six - Merry Solstice
Chapter Seven - Bakon & Eg's Breakfast
Chapter Eight - Meet the Maucher
Chapter Nine - Spirits of the Red Forest
Chapter Ten - The Road from Augusto
Chapter Eleven - Driven by the Seaside
Chapter Twelve - Gingerly Lost
Chapter Thirteen - Grooming the Hound
Chapter Fourteen - Makings of a Hood
Chapter Fifteen - Difficult Decisions
Chapter Sixteen - A Family, a Fare
Chapter Seventeen - Initiation
Chapter Eighteen - A Ginger Offer
Chapter Nineteen - Watt to Come
Chapter Twenty - Of Spice and Substance
Chapter Twenty-One - The Abbot of Costello
Chapter Twenty-Two - Clutches of the Ginger Lady
Chapter Twenty-Three - Escaping the Ginger
Chapter Twenty-Four - The Canopy Trail
Chapter Twenty-Five - The Fare of Failure
Chapter Twenty-Six - Lost Boys
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Maucher of Plans
Chapter Twenty-Eight - The Visitor
Chapter Twenty-Nine - Jammed Thoughts
Chapter Thirty - Intercepted
Chapter Thirty-One - Crumbling Plans
Chapter Thirty-Two - Allies Old and New
Chapter Thirty-Three - Battle of the Hoods
Chapter Thirty-Four - The Yellow Hood
Chapter Thirty-Five - Fall of the Mountain Stone
Chapter Thirty-Six - Rocketing Ahead
Chapter Thirty-Seven - Foreign Element
Chapter Thirty-Eight - Ginger Secrets
Chapter Thirty-Nine - Knock, Knock
Chapter Forty - Second Chance
Thank You
About the Author
Other Books in the Series
The Wizard Killer
The Man of Cloud 9
Copyright © 2014 by Adam Dreece.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at [email protected].
ADZO Publishing Inc.
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
www.adzopublishing.com
Edited by: Jennifer Zouak, Chris W. Rea
Printed in Canada, United States, and China
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Dreece, Adam, 1972-, author
Breadcrumb trail / by Adam Dreece.
(Book 2 of the Yellow Hoods : an emergent steampunk series)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-0-9881013-3-3 (pbk.).--ISBN 978-0-9881013-5-7 (pdf)
I. Title. II. Series: Dreece, Adam, 1972-. Yellow Hoods ; bk. 2.
PS8607.R39B74 2014
C813'.6
C2014-905593-5
C2014-905594-3
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 4/12/16 66,444
DEDICATION
To my daughter, who is my muse,
To my sons, who remind me what raw, simple, awesome imagination is about,
To my wife, whose support continues to make these books possible,
and
To the fans of Book 1 and Twitter supporters of @AdamDreece,
who make me
smile, laugh and feel appreciated.
EORTHE
Cartographer: Driss of Zouak, 1793
Created at the behest of the Council of Southern Kingdoms
CHAPTER ONE
Crumbled Plans
The Hound stood back up and rubbed his head as a dark April rainstorm beat down. He’d landed hard on the slick stone rampart, yet had managed not to slip off or black out. Rain poured off his brown and beige leather long-coat.
For a moment, he looked concerned. He glanced at the control boxes on his forearms and the connections to his oversized, metallic, gear-covered gloves. He hoped rain wasn’t getting in. Satisfied, he turned up the dial on each forearm’s control box. Electricity started to jump and crackle between his fingers. He then turned his attention back to the Yellow Hood at his feet.
The yellow-hooded Tee dangled below the half-built rampart, desperately clutching her slingshot. When she’d slipped, its leather strap had caught between two of the moss-covered stones. She could feel her hands slipping as the rain wormed its way between her fingers to moisten the slingshot’s wooden handle. She looked down and swallowed hard.
The plan sounded bad from the start, but they had trusted the leader of the Tub. It was bad enough to be asked to go deep into the Red Forest, to an open area with an unfinished, crumbling castle tower and half-built rampart wall—never mind the leader’s unwillingness to tell them why they were going there in the first place. Once the opposing secret society’s coach had arrived and the representative for the Fare had stepped out, the plan fell apart.
Tee shot a glance around to look for her fellow Yellow Hoods. Elly, with her gray metal shock-sticks in hand, was dodging and blocking a red-hooded swordsman’s thin blade. Richy couldn’t be seen.
“Lights out, kid,” said the Hound. His gloves crackled and electricity danced from finger to finger.
Tee took a deep breath. She could only think of one option, and it was risky. She freed one hand to delve into her yellow cloak’s hidden pockets. Pulling out a shock-stick, she pressed its activation button while staring into the Hound’s eyes. He hesitated.
“You’ve enjoyed this before, haven’t you? Care to do so again?” Tee said menacingly. She wasn’t sure if she was willing to risk the fall to the cobblestone below.
Suddenly, Tee’s pinky finger slipped off the end of her slingshot. She could feel the other fingers slipping, too. Then, a glint of steel from an arrow aimed at her from less than twenty feet away caught her eye.
The red-hooded archer smiled and said, “Goodbye, little yellow birdy!”
CHAPTER TWO
The Man in the Crimson Coat
Four months earlier, Nikolas Klaus buried his hands in the comfortable pockets of his crimson, full-length coat. Enjoying a deep breath of crisp air, he looked around at the newly fallen snow. He loved December. There was something honest, something innocent about December. Perhaps it was the Solstice celebration, just hours away, that made the month so special to him.
Once again, he checked the skids on his sleigh, and the reins that awaited the horses. Everything was ready.
“I already checked everything, twice, Monsieur Klaus,” said Bakon, coming up behind Nikolas and laying a friendly hand on his shoulder. Bakon’s brothers, Squeals and Bore, both smiled.
Bakon sported a we
ll-worn brown leather and fur coat, and a fur winter hat. His brown hair peeked out from under his poorly stitched hat, just below his ears. His soft, brown eyes were in contrast to his rough, yet good-looking face.
His brothers were similarly dressed, but rather had blond hair poking out from under their fur hats. Whereas Bakon was five feet and ten inches, Squeals was six feet tall, and Bore, a massive six-foot-five.
Bore remained, as ever, a gentle giant, but Squeals and Bakon had changed in recent months. Egelina-Marie’s presence had softened the edges of Bakon’s personality, and Bakon gave Squeals more room to prove himself. Squeals, having helped save the lives of the Yellow Hoods months ago, had seemed to finally be finding his adult footing, at the tender age of twenty-four.
Nikolas nodded his approval and appreciation for the brothers’ help. It was great to have them back. Since he and his late wife, Isabella, had taken in the abandoned Cochon children, the boys had been there, along with the rest of the Klaus children, to help prepare for the winter Solstice celebrations, until Isabella’s death ten years ago. She’d always said that Solstice was the best way to chase away winter and make way for spring. Nikolas missed her deeply.
“Bore gave the sleigh a good shake, and nothing moved,” said Squeals.
“I’ve got the last bag of toys here, Monsieur Klaus,” said Egelina-Marie, arriving on the scene to heave the bag on top of others already in the sleigh. Her blue eyes were filled with the joy of feeling like a kid again. Her shoulder-length, dark brown hair framed her heart-shaped face. She had fond memories of seeing Monsieur Klaus come into town in his red coat, followed by screaming children. The adults would follow with food and drink to share with friends and neighbors.
Nikolas looked sternly at Bakon, his old-fashioned values showing themselves.
“Hey—! Eg insisted she carry that last bag,” said Bakon, defending himself, hands up.
Egelina-Marie chuckled and Bore started to laugh, covering his face with his enormous hand. Until a couple of months ago, Bore had almost never seen Bakon smile. Now, he saw it on occasion. He liked that. He liked Egelina-Marie very much, too.
“Mister Nik, we all done?” asked Bore, his voice deep and simple-sounding.
“Almost, Boris, almost. You did good, very good,” Nikolas said. His eastern kingdoms heritage was evident in his heavy accent. He reached over and gave Bore an affectionate slap on the arm. “Now, where are my granddaughter and her friends? They are a bit late. We need to get down to Mineau for six o’clock. Squeals, will you fetch the horses, please?”
Squeals nodded and pulled Bore along. “Come on, big guy, let’s go see the horses.” Bore loved horses.
Nikolas snapped his fingers, remembering the brass tube with design plans that he wanted to bring. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Oh, Monsieur Klaus, my father wanted me to tell you that he’ll meet you at the gift-giving ceremony. He has a couple of things to attend to before that,” said Egelina-Marie.
Nikolas’ eyes went wide as he realized he hadn’t taken care of something important. He rubbed his short, salt-and-pepper beard. To avoid his usual clumsiness with words, he’d typically take his time to smooth out thoughts before speaking—but right now he didn’t want to miss another opportunity to say what had been on his mind. “Ah… Egelina-Marie, there is a thing I must say.”
Bakon’s eyebrows went up. He hadn’t heard this tone from Nikolas before.
Nikolas took hold of Eg’s hands and smiled at her, looking up slightly. She was an inch taller than his humble five-foot-eight. “No more Monsieur Klaus, please. You must call me Nikolas. Will you do that for me?”
“Um,” said Egelina-Marie, her cheeks reddening. “Um, sure. If you're sure?”
Bakon couldn’t believe what was happening. He’d heard about when Nikolas had asked William to call him by his first name. Bakon had never imagined it would happen with him and Eg; after all, Jennifer was Nikolas’ own daughter, and William his prospective son-in-law. Bakon had always doubted how Nikolas really felt deep down, until now.
Nikolas smiled warmly at Egelina-Marie. “Quite, yes? You’ve earned your place. Your influence is wholesome and good. I allowed the formalities to continue until I could extrapolate a likely trajectory, and I am content with what I have now projected. So, I am formally asking for a reduction in the state of formality. Yes?” He could tell by the look on her face that his initial simplicity had been lost.
Egelina-Marie choked up. It had taken a moment to figure out what Nikolas meant, and she could barely believe it. With a sweet smile, she managed to say, “Okay,” and then kissed Nikolas on the cheek.
Nikolas turned to the surprised Bakon. “Same for you, Bakon. No more Monsieur Klaus. Yes? Good.” Nikolas turned and started to head away. “I’ll be back in a moment. We can’t keep all the children waiting, now can we? So much to do!” His muscular body bounced along and he sang to himself.
Bakon gave Eg an affectionate shove. “Look at you, Sergeant. I think you've been attacked on the cheeks by sentiment. Are your eyes misting up?”
“You’re no better. I can see it. That dark, rough exterior doesn’t know how to handle one old man who truly has always thought of you as one of his own. And by the way, don't make me hurt you,” she said, smiling, and poking back at him. “I am a trained professional.”
“I’m a professional ruffian. I—” countered Bakon.
“No, you’re not really—you just pretend,” said Eg, grabbing him by the fur collar of his coat. “But you can always be my tough guy. Come here—”
Just as they started to lean toward each other, three sail-carts came sliding up the path to the house, each piloted by a yellow-hooded driver.
“Careful! Here comes a little girl with a slingshot. Need a helmet?” joked Egelina-Marie. She could see she’d teased Bakon enough, and gave him an innocent smile.
The sailing Yellow Hoods engaged their handbrakes and pulled down their sails. Turning their steering wheels gently, each brought their sail-cart to a complete stop, with a spray of snow. Tee, Elly, and Richy climbed out. The winter afternoon sun danced off their yellow hooded cloaks.
“Hey guys,” said Tee, pulling back her hood and allowing her long, dark brown hair to pour out. “Are you ready to go? I can’t believe we’re officially doing it in Mineau this year!”
Thirty years ago, there was only the city of Mineau at the foot of the mountain. As Mineau grew into a trading hub, some freethinkers decided to establish a more secluded town up on the mountain’s plateau. They’d kept to themselves and were careful, at least at first, about whom they would let feel comfortable enough to stay in town. They decided to use an old nickname of Mineau as the new town’s name, not only because they liked the name, but also knowing the political headaches it would cause and how much more likely it would make the outside world just want to leave them alone. Thus, Minette was founded.
This was the first year the city of Mineau would officially celebrate Solstice with Minette. Both town magistrates had decided it was a great opportunity to bring the towns together—something attempted every now and then, and in different ways. The Solstice celebration wasn’t unique to Minette, but the way they did it was—the presents, and bringing everyone together to feast, sing, and dance outside.
“Woo!” said Elly, looking at the sleigh. “Are those sacks all full of presents? That’s even more than last year.” Her dark blond hair was almost the same length as Tee’s.
“We started preparation a week earlier this year! Four weeks, we worked,” said Nikolas as he returned, brass tube in hand. He jammed it into the sleigh in a secure spot.
Turning to Elly, Nikolas continued, “Egelina-Marie offered to help, which made us a small army! Each of us had our roles and we worked at our specialties. The Cochon brothers carved all the wood parts. Tee and her parents assembled the pieces. Egelina-Marie and I painted. When all the toys were dry, I went over each to make sure they were perfect.” Nikolas looked back at all the
dull-colored sacks and did some calculations in his head to make sure he had enough.
“You always worry you didn’t make enough, Grandpapa,” said Tee, interrupting his thoughts.
Nikolas was content that he had everything he needed. He looked around at the smiling faces and noticed the sail-carts had skied in. “You have made another improvement, Richy, yes? Mind if I have a look? I was wondering, at the back of my mind, how you were using the sail-carts in this snow.” He twiddled his fingers in anticipation.
“Sure!” said Richy, with pride. Ever since Nikolas had built the sail-carts for them last fall, Richy had spent countless hours with his. He’d become the daredevil of the trio, and consequently found himself spending almost as much time repairing or tinkering with his sail-cart as actually using it. He didn’t have to tell Nikolas there had been changes—it was obvious.
Richy flipped his sail-cart onto its side. “I removed the wheels and put these skids on. I got stuck a couple of times in the snow when they fell off, so I put in this cross-brace—Tee’s idea. I also nailed this little box on the back, for tools. I had to put a buckle and strap on after I littered tools around the forest. I still owe my dad chores as payment to replace them.”
Nikolas bent down and gently ran his hand over the snowy skids. “Now what inspired you to use this wood?”
Richy glanced over to Elly. “I tried some others—they didn’t work so well, but then Elly found this type of tree in the forest that bends well. She said it’s used for bows, so we used that for the skids. The problem is we can’t go very far—the snow ends up stuck to the wood a lot. We have to keep scraping it off. Maybe I’m using the wrong wood.”
Nikolas stroked his beard. “No, no… the wood is fine. It is exactly the right wood to use. I know what you are missing. I must fetch something for you, yes?” He went into his large shed, still filled to the rafters. Few dared to enter for fear of being buried. It seemed to have a Klaus-shaped tunnel carved through. Soon he emerged, triumphant.