by Chris Paton
Lena knocked on the wood scaffold framing the entrance to Stepan's office alcove. She ducked beneath the nets and made herself comfortable on a long cushioned crate that Stepan slept on between long shifts. She huffed as she collapsed onto the pillow.
“What is it?” Stepan said.
“Vladimir, my Russian,” she said. “He is sleeping.”
“He is tired. He has been busy.” Stepan gestured at Akula at the dock. “And he is wounded.”
“Pah,” said Lena. “A scratch. I have cleaned it. Then he fell asleep.”
“I am sure he will be more affectionate once he has rested,” Stepan said and smiled. “You can bother him when he wakes up.”
“Da.”
“And what about your arm?”
Lena lifted her arm and rotated it one way and then the other. “It is fine. A little stiff. Nothing a good Cossack cannot live with.”
Stepan reached inside the drawer and pulled out a small bottle of vodka. He popped the stopper and took a quick swig before tossing the bottle to Lena. He counted less than five drops of vodka to splash on her tunic before she caught the bottle and drank a good quarter of the contents. Stepan watched her press the stopper into the bottle and move to throw it back.
“No,” he said and paused for a moment. “Lena?”
“Da?”
“What will you do after this?”
“Ah,” she said as a broad smile dimpled her cheeks. “I want a farm in the woods, with space for the children.”
“A farm?”
“Da. I will grow roots for market and potatoes for booze. And,” she sighed, “sunflowers.”
Stepan struggled with the thought of Ivan Timofeyevich's daughter working on a farm and he clicked his fingers for Lena to throw him the bottle. He took a long pull of vodka and asked, “Sunflowers?”
“Da,” she said and sat up on the cot. She leaned her back against the wall and crossed her legs. “They can grow this big.” Lena reached out towards the nets hanging above her. “And the heads are the size of pumpkins.”
Stepan imagined Lena tending a field of sunflowers, and the light in her eyes convinced him that it was only a question of time. He pressed the leather stopper into the mouth of the bottle and rolled it into the drawer. Lena gave him a look and he shrugged. “We have work to do. It is time to prepare Akula for battle. Come,” he said as he ducked beneath the nets and stepped outside the alcove. Lena followed and, with a quick glance to where Vladimir was sleeping, she climbed down the short ladder and onto the dock to which the submersible was tied. She stopped to look at the small craft, only four horses in length.
“How many men can fit inside?”
“Three,” said Stepan as he stepped from the dock and onto the hull.
“And Vlad? He can fit?”
“It's a squeeze, but he does well.”
“Why did he choose to sail in one of these? He could have become a Kapitan, like you.”
“Ah,” Stepan said as he undogged the hatch. The metal squealed beneath his hands. “That would be my fault,” he said.
“Why?”
“Well, Vladimir is a loyal Poruchik. When I promised Anna I would stop fighting, I applied for the job as Kapitan aboard one of the Navy's new submersibles – they were looking for volunteers. Vlad threatened to resign his commission if the Navy did not assign him to me.”
“And he squeezes himself into that,” she said and nodded at Akula, “because he wanted to stay with you?”
“Yes,” Stepan said and smiled at the look on Lena's face. “Of course, there is more space on a farm.”
“Kapitan?”
“I will encourage Vlad to choose again when this is all over.”
Lena stepped onto the hull and peered inside the hatch as Stepan opened it. She wrinkled her nose at the smell – a mix of sweat, wood smoke and something that teased her brow into a frown.
“Apples,” said Stepan. “A small luxury on a small craft. Do you want to climb in?”
“Not really.”
“Good. I will go first. You follow me.”
Stepan lifted his leg over the lip of the stubby command tower and climbed inside. He stopped a moment later as the dull echo of his boots on the deck rang through the ship. He straightened his back and looked up at Lena.
“Kapitan? If you close this,” she said. “There can only be a few inches between your head and the hatch.”
“Two and a third.”
“But Vlad, he is much taller than you.”
“Yes,” Stepan said. “And very loyal.”
“Da,” Lena said and nodded. “I am coming in.”
Stepan shrank deeper into Akula as Lena climbed over the command tower and down the short ladder to the deck. Stepan pressed an apple into her hand and squirmed onto a small wooden seat in front of the tower, slipping his legs over the central torpedo tube and jamming his knees beneath the two tubes on either side.
“This is the gunner's position,” he said and wriggled past Lena to give her room. “Try it.”
“Gunner's position?” she said and wiped at the apple juice on her chin. “Where are the guns?”
“Torpedoes. They are locked inside each tube. This is where you will sit.” Stepan pulled the lever from his pocket and pressed it into Lena's hand. “You must not lose this.”
“All right,” she said and took the lever.
“Put it somewhere safe. You understand?”
“Da,” Lena said and tugged the lever free of Stepan's grip. “I understand.”
“Good. When the time comes, Vlad and I will tell you what to do.”
“And where will you be?”
“It is my command,” Stepan said and placed his hand on the wheel tucked within a small forest of stubby brass levers beneath the window of the command tower. “I drive the boat, and Vlad,” he said with a nod towards the rear of the submersible, “he stokes the furnace and navigates with the charts, there.” Stepan pointed at a thin map table tucked behind the pipes. A large watch and a pair of navigators calipers dangled on leather straps beside it.
Lena looked around Akula's spartan workspace. Stepan recognised the look in her eyes, he had seen it in the faces of the Imperial Navy's senior staff – a mix of wonder, pride and incredulity that the Navy owned such a fleet of curiosities.
“Kapitan?”
“Yes?”
“Why does Imperial Russia need emissaries when she can build things such as this?”
“A good question,” Stepan said and sat on the deck. He tucked his knees to his chest. “Akula and Kosatka are secret. We do not want anybody to know we can build such a vessel. That I understand. It makes good strategic sense. But I also know that as soon as the emissaries were discovered, Moscow became obsessed with remote control, and failed in every attempt to copy the technology. That is one answer, perhaps. But I wonder if Moscow feels threatened by the Germans, and in the fight for Central Asia, they are willing to give up a lot of things in order to win.”
“And you, Kapitan. What are you willing to give up to win?”
“Me?” Stepan said and wiped his hand across his face. He fingered the watch face on the leather band wrapped around his wrist. “I have already lost one half of what I love more than anything in this world. A few days ago, I thought I had lost everything. I will give up everything to get Nikolas back to his mother.”
“Then we had better get started, Kapitan Skuratov,” said a voice above them. Vladimir leaned down through the hatch and caught Lena's eye. “We have a new recruit,” he said and smiled.
“That's right, Poruchik Pavlutskiy. I expect you to show her the ropes.”
“He is going to teach me?” Lena said and rolled her eyes.
Vladimir exchanged a quick look with Stepan, slipped his legs over the lip of the hatch and lowered himself to the deck. “Da,” he said. “Lena Timofeyevich, it is time to go to war.”
Chapter 29
The Gates of Arkhangelsk
Arkhangelsk Oblast
“Come and meet my brother,” Luise said and took Emilia's hand. She led her through the crowd of wary Cossacks circling Hari and Jamie, her lips trembling between a broad smile and a nervous laugh – Luise had lost track of the years it had been since she had last seen Jamie. Is he still my brother? she wondered as they drew close.
“Miss Luise,” Hari said, pressing his hands together in a namaste and bowing. He looked up as Luise let go of Emilia and closed her hands around his.
“I thought I had lost you,” she said. “When Khronos...”
“Yes.”
“You fell...”
“Yes.”
“But you are alive,” Luise said and threw her arms around Hari. Small clouds of dust lifted from his robes as she hugged him.
“Truly, I am,” Hari said and pulled his arms free of Luise. He stroked her cheek and curled his fingers through her strawberry blonde hair. “I will never leave you again.”
“Don't say that,” Luise whispered as she looked into his eyes. “Don't promise anything. Not yet.”
“All right,” he said and nodded. “Now, would you like to meet your brother?”
Jamie shuffled his bare feet in the dusty dry earth. Bryullov's shirt had a bloody sleeve, and it was the first thing Luise noticed as Hari stepped back to make room for her brother.
“You're hurt?” she said.
“Me? No. It's not my shirt.”
“Go on,” Hari whispered.
Luise took another step and held out her hand, but Jamie rushed forwards and pulled her into a tight embrace, his fingertips pressing into her shoulders and his arms closed tight around her body.
“My dear sister, I am so sorry for everything I have done,” he said as he choked the words through a decade of guilt.
“Don't apologise. It's all right.”
“Is it? How can it be. I left you. I deserted you.”
“You were sent away.”
“Yes,” Jamie said and lifted his head to nod. “I was under orders.”
“And so was Admiral Egmont. He sent you away, on a perilous mission, half hoping you would not succeed.”
“I don't understand?”
“His orders,” said Luise, “were to get rid of you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Your name – ours, in fact. He was ordered to get rid of all the Hanovers that could be traced to the queen.”
“Now I really don't understand,” Jamie said and let go of Luise. She caught him by the hand as he took a step back.
“War is coming. A war with Germany, most likely,” she said and glanced around the Cossacks for a glimpse of Hannah. She found her standing by the side of Ivan and her most-trusted officer. Luise lowered her voice. “The Admiral was ordered to get rid of you, and me. He didn't expect you to return from Afghanistan. He hardly expected you to succeed.”
“And yet, I did,” said Jamie as a pulse of blue flickered beneath the skin of his hand. “More or less.”
“What happened to you?” Luise said and placed her palm on Jamie's chest. “What have you become?”
“I am djinn,” he said and broke away. “And I am hungry. I must eat, and rest, and then I will tell you my story, if you will hear it?”
“I will.” Luise felt a tug at her sleeve and looked down to see Emilia's hand.
“Hannah wants to talk to you and the man in the dirty white hat.”
“That would be me,” said Hari and held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you...”
“This is Emilia Ardelean,” said Luise as the two shook hands. “She is a most interesting young lady, and quite resourceful.”
“I see,” said Hari and smiled at Emilia. “I look forward to hearing more about you. But first, my friend must eat,” he said. Two Cossacks carried a large black pot into the centre of the circle. They placed it on the ground in front of Jamie and broke loaves of thick-crusted bread into rough chunks on copper plates. They gestured at the stew and Jamie began to eat.
“You're not hungry, Hari?” said Luise.
“I can wait. Let us talk to Fräulein von Ense.”
At a look from Ivan, the Cossacks relaxed and jostled around the pot as the cooks reached into deep cloth sacks and broke more bread onto the plates. Jamie spilt stew on his chin and shirt as the Cossacks pressed around him. One man tugged at his shirt and pinched his skin only to slap him on the back and press more bread into Jamie's hands. Jamie shrugged and dipped his bread into the stew. The word djinn was bantered about the group as they ate. Jamie ignored them.
“Your brother is a slow demon?” said Hannah as Luise and Hari joined her.
“He is djinn,” said Hari. “Something quite different.” Hari paused as Ivan reached for the kukri at his belt and drew it out of the scabbard. The Cossack's eyes shone as he turned the blade in the air. “From the Indian Gurkhas,” he said. He waited as Ivan said something in Russian.
“He likes it,” said Hannah.
“I thought so,” Hari said as Ivan gave him the kukri. “What are your plans for the city?”
Hannah unfolded a rough map of Arkhangelsk and spread it on the ground. Hari kneeled by her side as Luise peered over their shoulders. With small stones she picked up from the ground, Hannah placed one stone at a time on the map as she described the location and what they knew of their objectives.
“This building was once the town hall,” she said and place a large stone on top of a building that backed onto the river. “We know that Venzke, the German in charge of the occupation of Arkhangelsk, uses this building for his administration. There is a large wine cellar and Ivan says there is a tunnel and sewer system below that.”
“So you can get your men inside?” said Luise.
“Yes, if it comes to that. I am hoping that once we get inside the city, the Germans will not want to fight their own countrymen, and Venzke will be forced to give up. But,” Hannah said and bit her lip.
“You're not sure?”
“From what Herr Schleiermacher told me on the train, I am convinced he will not. There will be some fighting, but Ivan has promised his Cossacks will fight alongside Wallendorf's soldiers and the emissaries we have left.”
“Emissaries?” said Hari.
“Yes,” said Luise. “They have perhaps evolved since you last saw them.”
“Truly,” he said and turned to see Emilia talking to her emissary outside the circle of Cossacks. Three of Ivan's men interrupted with plates of bread and small bowls of stew. They handed them around the group and Hari's stomach growled as he dipped a chunk of bread in the stew and popped it into his mouth. He grinned at Luise and wiped stew from his chin with the back of his hand. “It has been a while since we last ate.” She smiled, holding the plate and bowl in her hands as the others ate.
“What about Khronos?” she said “Has there been any sign of him?”
“He must have stopped to refuel the flyer,” said the officer. “Perhaps three times. He may arrive soon, supposing he knows the way.”
“He is drawn by Abraxas,” Luise said and turned to Hari. “That's the name of the man in Arkhangelsk.”
“You discovered his name. That's good. But where will we find him? Have you had any contact? Any visions?” he said.
“No. I did try, but I found Khronos instead.”
“Then we must get inside the city and find him before Khronos does.”
“I think we all agree on that,” said Hannah. “There is just one slight problem – the gates of the city are well defended. We cannot get close, and our people inside the city are too few to take them.”
“Then we will have to force our way in,” said Jamie as he joined the group. He reached over Hari's shoulder and pinched more bread from his plate. “I am ready. Let us begin.”
“Begin? No, we must wait and plan our attack,” said Hannah. “If we are too...” The words hung in her mouth as Jamie's feet and legs lost their form, the djinnsmoke curling at the dust on the ground. Luise gasped at the sight of her brother
as his chest expanded and the shirt he was wearing split at the seams and flapped away from his body.
“Are you ready, little man?” said the djinni, its skin flushed with blue tinged with flashes of orange.
“Truly, British,” Hari said and drew his kukri. He tucked the empty copper plate inside his satchel and made a short bow to Hannah and Ivan. The Cossack leader smirked and stared at the djinni while Hari took a step towards Luise. “Once we are inside the city, we will find Abraxas. I will return for you.”
“There is no need,” she said and waved at Emilia as she stood on a crate and filled Kettlepot's furnace with wood. “I have my own personal bodyguard. I will meet you inside the city, at the gates...”
“Once the fighting is over?”
“Hari,” she said, “the fighting is just beginning.”
“Of course.”
“But I have seen you fight. Please be careful.”
“Little man,” said the djinni. “I grow restless.”
“I must go. Meet me inside the gates.”
“Yes,” Luise said and leaned forwards to brush Hari's cheek with a kiss. He smiled and bowed.
“Miss Luise,” he said. Hari called to Hannah as he walked backwards behind the djinni. “Be ready,” he said.
“To do what? We have not made any plans,” she said and waved at the map on the ground.
“Take the initiative, Miss von Ense. Make the most of every opportunity.”
“When you are done,” said the djinni, “We have work to do.”
“This is your last task, djinni,” Hari said. “This is why I freed you from the pit.”
“And when this is done, will you free me from the man?”
“If I can, I will.”
The djinni turned upon the coil smoking from his lower body. He filled his lungs and nodded. “Good then,” he said and turned towards the city. The djinni paused at the burr of a propeller in the sky above, pointing at the Wallendorf flyer as it cleared the walls of the city.
“I see it,” said Hari. “Khronos has arrived.”
The djinni pressed its upper body down towards the ground. Its legs flattened beneath its chest like the coiling of a supernatural spring. Hari ran on ahead of the djinni, his kukri above his head and the war cry of the Indian Gurkhas screaming from his mouth. The djinni released the energy of the coil and blasted forwards, the wind from his passing tearing at Hari's robes as it streaked towards the gates of Arkhangelsk. The crack of muskets and the flash of gunpowder rippled along the top of the gates and the towers on either side. Hari pressed on as the bullets fell short, out of range. The djinni reached the gates a moment later, barrelling through them with a tremendous crack that quaked through the surface of the earth on both sides of the gates. The towers rocked as the gates evaporated into sawdust and splinters. The siege of Arkhangelsk was over and the battle had begun.