by Adam Dreece
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Rocketing Ahead
“I don’t think this was a great idea!” yelled Mounira to Christina. The two shot down the road in the modified sail-cart as if they’d been fired from a cannon. Christina rode at the back, in a seat sporting a mast and folded-down, curved blades that looked like petals from a giant flower.
“We’re almost going fast enough, Mounira. Push the speed stick into its last position! Let’s see what this rocket-cart can do!” said Christina.
Mounira steered cautiously, shocked at how her slightest move resulted in a big change in direction. “This is crazy! We’re going too fast! I can’t let go of the steering wheel in order to change gear!”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have slammed it into third gear to start with,” said Christina, laughing. “How would Richy do it? He’s the expert, right? I heard he can do all kinds of crazy—hey, watch out!” Christina pointed to a rapidly approaching bend in the road.
Mounira pulled on the steering wheel; the rocket-cart narrowly missed a horse and cart as it hugged the winding road. “It’s hard to think right now!” she yelled back. She’d never done anything so foolish or exciting.
Christina glanced at her armband clock and turned some pieces. “Okay—we need to be airborne in less than four minutes, if we’re going to make it in time!”
“Air—what?!” said Mounira, turning back to look at Christina.
“Eyes on the road!” ordered Christina. She had to admit this was a ludicrous plan, but it was the only one with a chance.
“You didn’t mention flying! That’s impossible!” yelled Mounira.
“Ha! That’s what they all say—even when I use my whirly-bird right in front of them. Let’s see just how much I learned, and if I hooked it up right,” said Christina. “Tree!” she yelled, flinching as Mounira maneuvered the cart just in time. Given how close that was, Christina cringed as she said, “We need the extra speed now, Mounira. Now or never!”
Mounira swallowed. “I—I can’t!” she said, afraid to let go of the steering wheel.
Christina dropped her big-sister tone and slipped into her natural voice, that of a leader of a resistance movement. “This is what being a Yellow Hood means. This is the type of hero that you are inside. Lose the fear! Pull out that locked-up fury and focus. Your friends have been betrayed! Nikolas has been taken! We’re the only ones that can help. Do it!”
Mounira breathed in deeply. Letting out the breath, she used her knees to grip the steering wheel, then freed-up her hand to shift the gear into its last position, and just barely grabbed the steering wheel before the rocket-cart shot them forward, faster than ever.
For the next two minutes, they raced down the mountain in relative silence. Christina worked furiously to get everything ready, while giving Mounira the occasional direction.
“Wait—is that Tee’s house coming up? Do you need me to stop?” asked Mounira hopefully.
“Stop? No—it’s time for the leap of faith. Keep it steady!” ordered Christina, readying herself.
Mounira’s eyes went wide with panic as they shot past the house. “Wait—the cliff?!” screamed Mounira.
As soon as the rocket-cart was airborne, Christina pushed a pedal, which released wings under the rocket-cart and unfurled the whirly-bird’s blades. “Now—let’s see if this will start mid-air.”
Mounira closed her eyes and whispered prayers. A strange, loud sound sputtered, then kicked in, vibrating the rocket-cart. After what seemed like a while, she opened an eye. “Are we falling to our deaths?”
“Nope!” exclaimed Christina triumphantly.
Mounira opened the other eye and looked at the spinning blades—a blur. “It’s working!” she screamed. She looked down at the trees below. “We’re flying!”
Christina wiped her forehead, turned the mast controls, and checked some gauges. “Now I just need to make sure this doesn’t fall apart, and we’re good,” she muttered to herself.
“Wait—what?” said Mounira.
“Pay no attention to the lady in the back,” said Christina, laughing.
As Squeals was felled by the Hound’s shocking punch, Bore yelled and charged at him like a wild animal, knocking down two Fare soldiers that stood in his way. The Hound was ready, though, and a moment later Bore found himself screaming.
The Hound’s eyes grew wide with surprise as Bore fell to one knee, but then appeared to be getting back up with stubborn determination. He cranked his shock-gloves up to maximum and placed his other hand on Bore. The fury in Bore’s eyes began to shake the Hound’s confidence until, finally, Bore’s eyes rolled and he fell over.
Taking a breath to steady himself, the Hound looked to the group gathered near the horses and sail-carts, some hundred yards away.
With Egelina-Marie’s pistol jammed and her rifle out of ammunition, she was forced to resort to her sword to deal with the Fare soldiers.
Franklin watched from behind a tree, amazed at the group’s bravery, wishing he could be like them. He couldn’t believe the conviction on Elly’s face as she came into view; he’d never seen someone so young look so menacing.
The last Fare soldier exchanged blows with Egelina-Marie. As Egelina-Marie prepared to lunge, she slipped. The soldier tried to take advantage of her fall, but she recovered gracefully and got him right through the chest instead.
Saul and Richy stood, weapons in hand, staring each other down. Richy had a growing feeling that the Red Hood in front of him was familiar, but he wasn’t willing to admit it.
“Hotaru—stop protecting those people! Come back to your family. Come back to us!” said Saul. “Drop those sticks and come home.” Saul still couldn’t remember the details behind how he knew Richy, but he knew that if he couldn’t get Richy to surrender, he might be able to get him to lower his guard enough to take him out.
The Hound arrived and stood beside Saul. “Ready to give up, yet?” he asked of their adversaries. “Your entourage has fallen.” The Hound gestured to the dead guardsmen, and the fallen Cochon brothers.
Egelina-Marie, Elly, and Richy quickly shared a look—they were in this until the end. Franklin had a death grip on the tree trunk. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing.
At the other side of the battlefield, Tee finally reached Richelle.
“Pierre’s death is your fault!” Tee yelled, tears still streaming down her face.
Richelle lowered her stance as she prepared for Tee. She quickly took two small wooden planks out from under her cloak and started parrying Tee’s blows expertly. “My responsibility in his death is indirect, at best.” She could feel the pain in Tee’s voice, empathizing with how Tee felt, but remaining focused. Richelle felt like she was fighting a younger version of herself. The rage was familiar.
“You’re an innovative fighter when you’re angry,” Richelle said. “Evidently, it sharpens your mind. But you’re getting tired—and sloppy.” Richelle spun Tee around and shoved her away with her foot. “You’re going to get yourself killed, if you don’t stop.”
They fought in silence for another minute, Tee never managing to land a blow. She started to breathe hard. She hated it, but Richelle was right—the rage that had fueled her was draining away, and her body was feeling heavy.
“You’ve gone further with your training than I’d have guessed,” said Richelle. Tee lunged at her again, only to be flipped squarely onto her back. “Come see me in a couple of years. I’m interested to see what two granddaughters of world-changers would be like, whether as friends, or enemies. Now, go—before I change my mind. Go and bury your friend.”
Richelle started walking toward her coach. Tee, thinking she sensed an opportunity, charged and leapt at Richelle with her shock-sticks, hoping to finally land a blow.
In a flash of swirling red cloak, Richelle jumped backward, drew her cannon pistol, held it with both hands, and shot Tee backward into the air like a rag-doll.
“Tee!” screamed Elly.
“What�
�s that?” said Richy, pointing off in the distance.
Saul immediately turned to look.
The Hound shook his head. He was about to criticize Saul for being gullible, but then heard something strange from behind. The odd sound grew louder and more unnerving, until finally he couldn’t help himself. He turned around.
A bizarre contraption was coming towards them, flying above the trees at the southwest, shaking wildly. It came down to the ground in a series of drops and pauses, all the while continuing straight toward them, moving so fast that hardly any of them had time to react.
“Look out!” screamed Mounira as she and Christina jumped out of the crippled rocket-cart and rolled to the ground. The rocket-cart crashed forcefully into the Hound, sending him flying back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Foreign Element
“We’ve got to get Tee!” said Elly, turning to run, but then stopping in her tracks.
“What’s the worry?” asked a weary, approaching Tee. She had a black eye, blood on her chin, and walked with a slight limp, but was otherwise fine.
Elly jumped with joy. “Lala! But—I saw you thrown through the air when Richelle shot you!” she said, as tears of joy rolled down. She pounced on Tee and hugged her tightly.
Tee winced as Elly rocked her back and forth with an emotional hug. “Elly… you’re… crushing me… ugh—dying,” Tee joked.
“Sorry,” said Elly, backing off, and wiping her tears.
“Wait—if you’re fine,” said Richy, “then Anna could be fine, too, right?”
Tee looked back across the battlefield. “Maybe—but they took Anna.”
“What happened?” asked Egelina-Marie.
Tee looked back at the coach as it pulled away. “That unusual, huge pistol of Richelle’s shoots air. When it hit me, I felt like a leaf in the wind. The pistol connects to something on her back, hidden under her cloak. I saw it just as she spun around to shoot me.”
“Whoa,” said Richy. “An air gun. Wait… so Richelle came here not intending to kill us?”
The Yellow Hoods and Franklin looked at each other.
“She also had wooden paddles to block my blows. If she’d used a sword or anything else—” said Tee, bothered by what it meant.
“Don’t say it!” yelled Elly, shoving Tee.
Franklin shook his head. “Bad guys who came but didn’t want us dead? I don’t get it.”
“Tee,” said Mounira, meekly, “I’m—I’m glad you’re safe, but—”
“Mounira—nice cloak!” interrupted Tee. “Where did you get it?”
She looked at Christina. “She gave it to me. I’ll—I’ll take it off now.”
Richy gently took Mounira’s hand. “No way are you taking that off! You flew that… thing, and you hit the crazy bad guy with it. That’s crazy awesome. You’re one of us now.”
Mounira blushed. “Thanks—but, Tee, I’ve got to tell you something.”
“You look worried. What’s wrong?” Tee asked.
“Marcus Pieman took your grandfather! Marcus—he’s the leader of the Fare. I was hiding in the house and heard it all. I—I didn’t do anything except listen… I’m sorry,” said Mounira, looking at the ground.
Tee suppressed her immediate feeling of surprise as she absorbed the mix of emotions on Mounira’s face. “Hey,” she said, lifting Mounira’s chin, “you got his name. That will help us find him, and get my Grandpapa back. If they’d captured you too, then we’d know nothing. We will get him back.”
“Count us in,” said Bakon, as he and his brothers staggered over, shaking off the lingering effects of the Hound’s shock-gloves. Their faces and hair were mud-covered.
“Don’t get too close to me looking like that,” said Egelina-Marie to Bakon, causing him to blush.
Franklin turned to Christina. “Um… silly question—and please don’t misunderstand it as a lack of appreciation for you saving us—but whom might you be, then?”
Mounira answered, proud of her new big-sister figure. “This is Christina Creangle. She’s the genius that made us fly!”
Christina laughed. “Well, there’s more to it than that, but let’s just say—”
Suddenly, they heard four gunshots from across the battlefield.
“Who’s shooting?” asked Bore, looking around annoyed.
“Get down!” said Squeals, pulling Bore to the wet, muddy ground.
“Over there—near where the coach was—more soldiers,” said Bakon. “Eg, can you see if they’re Fare?”
Egelina-Marie crouched and looked, “They aren’t Fare… and they aren’t Frelish, either. There are about a dozen men. I’m guessing they were firing at the departing coach and Fare soldiers. I’m stumped on where they’re from and what they’re doing here.”
Mounira started breathing quickly. “We’re being invaded—just like home,” she whispered.
Franklin still couldn’t believe that the little eleven-year-old, one-armed girl had helped save the day. “Mounira—” he started, but then paused; he hadn’t done anything like this before. “It’s going to be okay. They’ll figure out what we need to do,” he said, gesturing to the team around them.
“Eg—was it?” said Christina, making her way over to the trees. “I think we need to split up and meet back at Nikolas’ place. Do you know the downstairs room at his house?”
“Agreed—but what downstairs room?” replied Egelina-Marie. She was collecting the pistols from the fallen guardsmen and handing them out to the Cochon brothers and Christina.
“Guys, they’re coming!” said Richy.
The group quickly moved into the trees, pulling the sail-carts and leading the horses along.
“Give me a minute,” said Egelina-Marie. She held out a pistol, took aim, fired one shot, dropped the pistol, and then used her spare similarly. Two soldiers, a hundred yards away, fell dead.
“Wow,” said Christina. “Impressive.”
“A shame they aren’t repeating pistols or at least have extra ammunition… Seems Anna hired the cheap guys,” said Eg, shaking her head.
Richy looked to Christina. “I’ll go with them,” he said. “Monsieur Klaus showed us that room once, a couple of months ago. It’s where we’re supposed to go if things ever go badly.”
“Great,” said Christina. “We’ll meet you there in six hours.”
“Bakon, boys—you good with that?” asked Egelina-Marie. The Cochon brothers nodded.
“Elly, you okay?” said Tee. Elly didn’t respond but sported a goofy grin. Tee followed Elly’s gaze and found she was staring at Christina. Tee gave Elly a quick elbow to the ribs.
Elly gave Tee a frown.
Tee’s face then fell. “Pierre! We can’t leave his body out there. We can’t.”
Bakon nodded. “Agreed. We need to give him a proper resting place. I also have some frustration I need to let out”— Bakon cracked his knuckles —“and I think these soldiers may be willing to help me with that.”
“Okay—we’ll take care of Pierre. You guys go,” said Egelina-Marie. “Those soldiers will be on top of us shortly.”
Richy excitedly said, “We can use the tree-bridges to get around them. But—” he turned to Bakon, “I need you to promise me something.”
“What, kid?” said Bakon, confused, while keeping an eye out for the soldiers who were finishing up checking their two fallen comrades.
“I need you to take me back to the Ginger Lady’s house today. Promise me,” said Richy, grabbing Bakon’s shoulder, making Bakon look him in the eyes. For the first time, Bakon saw the kind of pain in Richy’s eyes that Bakon had thought no one else could ever understand.
“We misfits stick together, kid. I promise,” said Bakon.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Ginger Secrets
Bakon pushed the front door to the Ginger Lady’s rotten house; the door fell off its rusted hinges and to the ground. Bakon peeked inside, and then shook his head. He wasn’t sure Richy would be able to handle it. The
kid had been through a lot today, and now he wanted to do this?
Only hours had passed since they’d battled the Fare, dealt with the foreign soldiers, and retrieved Pierre’s body. After finding a memorable, peaceful place near a stream in the forest—a place where they could properly say goodbye to Pierre—they had tried talking Richy out of coming here, but he’d insisted.
Bakon looked back to Richy. “I think—”
“No—we’re going in,” insisted Richy, again. His voice trembled, and his eyes were watery. Since learning about his connection to this place, Richy had been having nightmares. He’d grown up hearing scary tales about the Ginger house and the Ginger Lady. Like any child, he’d reached an age where he saw the tales for what they were supposed to be—a story to warn children. Yet, once he’d heard he was one of those children, the stories took on new meaning.
“I… I have to get rid of these nightmares,” said Richy. “I can’t hold it all in anymore.”
Bakon bit his lip and just nodded in understanding. He stepped into the house carefully. “Man, this place stinks!” he exclaimed, covering his mouth and nose with his shirt. “Be careful—I think somebody went to the bathroom right there. Geez.”
Steeling himself, Richy walked in. He flinched each time the wooden floorboards creaked.
Bakon checked the bedrooms and returned. “Nothing in there except a bed in one, and rotten straw mattresses in the other. The stairs to the second floor are all broken and boarded up.”
“There’s no upstairs in my nightmares—they’re mostly in here, in this room,” said Richy. “There’s something here—I know there is.”
“What are we looking for?” asked Bakon, softly. Bakon walked around, staring in disbelief at the rotten furniture. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” Doors were missing from some of the kitchen cupboards, while some hung from broken hinges.