by Chris Paton
“Molotok,” Nikolas cried as Stepan kneeled beside him and pulled him as close as he could within the constraints of the rope.
“He's gone,” he said and rocked his son as he had done when he was a little boy when his mother was too weak to hold him. “Hush now. It's all right.”
“It's not all right, papa. He's dead. Molotok is dead.”
Stepan turned his head at the sound of footsteps. The blonde woman arrived on the roof together with Ivan and a party of Cossacks. The Germans were quickly disarmed and Stepan turned back to his son as the woman tongue-lashed them into submission. The Cossacks removed their prisoners and the roof was all but emptied.
“Why did he have to die, papa?”
Stepan pressed his head to his son's and sighed. He opened his mouth to speak, only to find a girl kneeling beside him. She placed her hand on Nikolas' shoulder and said, “He is not dead, Nikolas.” The girl's Russian was awkward and stiff with accent, but understandable. “The Şteamƙin don't die, they just go quiet, until they are revived.” Nikolas lifted his head and looked at Emilia, his face softening as she smiled. “I bet if we get him out of the river, we can fix him,” she said and pulled a small knife from her pocket. She sawed through Nikolas' bindings and then Stepan's.
“You really think so?” Nikolas said as he flexed his arms and wriggled his fingers.
“Yep. And I will stay with you until he is back on his feet.”
Stepan winced as Nikolas curled out of his arms and stood up. The blood seeped around his fingers, and, he realised, it wasn't slowing.
“I might need some help,” he said. As Emilia cut through the last of his bindings he slumped to the floor.
“Papa,” Nikolas cried, his face a mixture of hope and terror as those dear to him were returned and taken away in the space of a few heartbeats.
“I am all right,” Stepan said. “I just need some help.”
Vladimir slid across the tiles of the roof, a knife in one hand and a tangle of slashed ropes in the other. He gave the knife to Nikolas and kneeled down to inspect Stepan's wound. He tutted as Stepan squirmed beneath his prodding and investigating.
“Why the fuss? It's no worse than you have had before, Kapitan.”
“I was younger then.”
“But no less reckless,” Vladimir said and grinned. “Bind it now and cauterise it later?”
“Yes,” Stepan said and grimaced as Vladimir bound the wound tightly with a Cossack bandage. “How is Lena?”
“She and her father,” Vladimir said with a sly grin, “are discussing terms.”
“Terms?”
“Of marriage. Apparently she is convinced I am the one. But, I fear, her father needs some reassuring.”
“By which you mean he recognised you?”
“He did,” Vladimir said and knotted the bandage. “That's the difficulty when enemies become allies, is it not?”
“I will put in a good word for you.”
“Don't even think about it, Kapitan. I think Lena is enjoying herself.”
“Yes,” said Stepan as he looked around Vladimir's body. He watched as Lena waved one end of a frayed rope in her father's face, brow-beating the great Cossack leader with threats and accusations that even her mother would not deny. Stepan felt a pang of sympathy for Ivan, and then he laughed. It was over. Arkhangelsk was free and his family would soon be reunited.
“And what will you do, Kapitan?”
“Me? I haven't really thought about it.”
Vladimir sat down on the roof and crossed his long legs. He wiped a spot of blood from the scuffed tip of his left boot. “I have a suggestion.”
“And that is?”
“Arkhangelsk could use a new administrator.”
“No...”
“One that is not afraid of Moscow.”
“Vlad...”
“And one that has the interests of its people at heart. Now and tomorrow.”
“That's not me, Vlad.”
“Really, Kapitan? Tell me, what else have you fought for these past few months?”
Stepan sat up and pointed to where Nikolas chatted with Emilia in the shadow of her emissary. “My son,” he said.
“And how many times have you resisted saving your son for the greater good of the city?”
Stepan didn't answer, his mind suddenly spinning with each moment he had put off rescuing Nikolas when the mission, the people, and Arkhangelsk came first. He looked at Vladimir and nodded. “I suppose you might be right, Poruchik Pavlutskiy.”
“Poruchik? Not for much longer. Why else do you think I am suggesting you take the administrator's position? I want to be Kapitan Pavlutskiy.”
“And what will you do first as Kapitan?”
“I will raise Akula, and train a new crew.”
“Then you should know I promised one of the submersibles to him,” Stepan said and pointed to Ivan.
“You mean papa?” Vladimir said and laughed. He uncrossed his legs and stood up, holding out his hand to pull Stepan to his feet. “Come, Nikolas,” he said. “Let us get your father downstairs. He needs to speak to the people.”
“What people?” said Nikolas as he slipped beneath Stepan's left shoulder and helped Vladimir walk his father across the roof. Emilia walked behind, the familiar clank of her emissary rumbling through the tiles.
“Them,” Vladimir said as he stopped by the doorway. Stepan stifled a gasp of pain – or was it anxiety, he wondered – as he looked down upon the people of Arkhangelsk gathering on the street outside the administrator's building. He recognised a thin woman in the crowd and smiled as Anna waved up at him.
“Your mother is there,” he said and gave Nikolas a quick squeeze.
“Yes,” said Nikolas. “She looks well.”
“Good Cossack food,” said Ivan as he joined them with Lena grinning behind him. She won the first battle, Stepan realised and smiled as she tangled her fingers between Vladimir's as they continued through the splintered doorway.
Stepan grimaced his way down the stairs, all the way to the remains of the front door, the frame bearing the distinctive silhouette of an emissary. He wondered how Emilia's emissary was going to get down from the roof, only to hear the crowd gasp and turn to watch as it climbed down the way it had come with the girl clinging to its neck. The emissary stepped onto the street at the same time Stepan walked onto the first step in front of the crowd. They hushed as Hannah left the Germans in the custody of the Wallendorf soldiers and joined Stepan on the top step.
“Kapitan Skuratov,” she said. “I have heard a lot about you.”
“You speak Russian?”
“A little,” she said. “Perhaps enough to put things right, with your help.”
“Of course.”
“Then you will take the administrator's job?”
Stepan thought for a moment as he scanned the crowd. Anna waved at him and nodded. Everybody knows but me, he thought. “Yes,” he said. “I will.”
“Then I will pledge as many emissaries as needed to work the mines.”
“At what cost?”
“I think we can work something out.”
Stepan beckoned for Anna to join him, smiling as she weaved her way between the people. Nikolas let go of his father and leaped off the step to embrace her. He hugged her as Hannah raised her voice and spoke to the people of Arkhangelsk.
“The emissaries came her under false pretences and you have suffered at their hands,” she said. “That was yesterday. Today marks a turning point, a day when the emissaries will be put to work by you and for you. Some of them,” she said and winked at Emilia, “will do this out of love, others will have to be guided, and we will teach you how. Let this day be the last of tyranny and the first of a prosperous future, under the new leadership of Administrator Skuratov.” Hannah finished by clapping her hands. The crowd cheered and clapped and Stepan felt a swell of pride as they began to sing The March of the Common People, louder and louder with each verse.
Through the
tears streaming down his face he noticed a cart at the edge of the crowd. He wiped his eyes to see a young woman and an Indian man pulling the cart up the street towards the gates of the city. Stepan noticed a body in the bed of the cart and he beckoned for Hannah to come closer.
“Who are they?” he said, raising his voice as the crowd began the fourth verse.
“That is Miss Luise Hanover and Hari Singh.”
“And the man in the cart?”
“I believe that is the body of Jamie Hanover. He was a Lieutenant with the British Royal Navy.”
“And where are they going?” Stepan said as he watched the cart roll towards a bend in the street.
“They are going home,” said Hannah. “Finally.”
Hari stopped before the bend and looked back. He caught Stepan's eye, pressed his hands together and gave a short bow with his namaste. The woman by his side paused to wave and then they were gone, the cart disappeared around the bend, the dust from its wheels settling as the crowd began the sixth and final verse welcoming in a new age for the people and the city of Arkhangelsk.
About the Author
British by default, Chris Paton (1973) has English and Welsh parents, and a Scottish surname. But it is his Welsh heritage - something about dragons - that seems to drive Chris' writing. Graduating from Falmouth University in 2015, Chris has a Master of Arts in Professional Writing, and a couple of other degrees that help pay the bills. Chris' favourite books include any genre with a bit of magic, giant squids and spaceships. Chris is a teacher by profession and a canoeist by choice. He lives in Denmark with his wife, Jane. You can find him in Denmark or online here:
www.chrispaton.dk
www.facebook.com/chrispaton.author
www.twitter.com/Aarluuk
By the Same Author
The Adventures of Hanover & Singh
Metal Emissary, book 1
Slow Demons, book 2
Khronos, book 3
Djinn, book 4
Emissary Metal
Table of Contents
Contents
Title Page
Djinn insert
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
About the Author
By the Same Author