The Phoenix Lord (The Dracosinum Tales)

by Angelique S. Anderson

  The new wind that carried him was a cruel one indeed. For no sooner had he traded in his Captain’s hat, than he now joined the ranks of the deceased. His murderer leaving the lower half of his body on the cobblestones only to be discovered the next morning, by the one person who would be able to identify the coin purse and boots that were left behind; his former first mate Dorian Gilligan.

  Chapter Two

  The great airship parade had all of lower London mafficking about like a herd of wild horses. Wylie stepped back from the window and stood next to the bed that had been her father’s. She straightened the bedclothes for the millionth time and wished that she was able take his aging hand in hers just once more.

  It killed her to know that his body was buried with others of her same station in life. It was quite possible grave-robbers had already dug it up and stolen his shoes, and maybe even his clothing. It made her feel good though, to know that the little money she’d been able to save had been enough to buy him a decent coffin.

  She’d even been able to afford a real priest, and even though only a few people from the tiny Anglican Parish of Lugwallow attended, she was content, knowing she wasn’t alone in the cemetery as they lowered him into the ground. She’d done right by him, and that was all she could have hoped for.

  “I do wish you were able to see what I see, father,” Wylie spoke out loud, wishing he could hear her. “The cavalcade of airships is simply brilliant this year.” Her eyes teared up unexpectedly, and she wiped the droplets away. She knew it was brought on by the realization that they would never again share the joy and awe of watching the annual Airshow together. The Airshow was truly one of the best things about living in their poor little town. They had the finest view of it, without having to deal with a cluster of Londonites tallying about.

  “All right father, I’m off to tend to Lord Adrian’s horses, I shall return before nightfall,” she said to the empty bed. How many times had he chided her for lollygaggin’ about Dobbinsturn when she was late returning from the stable?

  She’d always countered, “But how else am I to find a worthy suitor?” to which he’d jokingly replied a time or two, “Perhaps if you didn’t smell like a stable, a suitor would come to you,” and her reply was always the same, “If he’s a worthy suitor, he will not mind such things.” Then she would giggle and kiss him gently on his wrinkled forehead.

  “That’s the kind of talk that will scare them all away,” he would whisper weakly, always smiling, always teasing. He continued teasing right up until the day he died. She sighed heavily, leaving his room and closing the door behind her.

  “I miss you, father.”

  She grabbed her Wellingtons, sliding the worn rubber over her straight-legged trousers. To an outsider, the boots were past their prime, but to Wylie they were protection from the manure and straw that poked her legs. There was another reason she couldn’t part with them though she would never admit out loud that the old boots were her prized possession which once belonged to Lord Adrian.

  Wylie shrugged off the sudden thought of him, and pinned up her wild, untamed ginger hair in a loose braid, then slid her hand-fashioned goggles over the top of her head, adjusting the mini-periscope that had come loose from its clip. A carefree glance in the aged antique mirror in the entryway, told her that her goggles were slightly off kilter. She straightened them, sucking in a deep breath.

  I must find the strength to get through today.

  She traced her fingers over the goggles, pausing on the worn leather sides. They needed new straps, and to be re-sewn. Too much time had gone by since she’d shown them the attention they deserved.

  There was a soft spot in Wylie’s heart for her goggles. She’d hand sewn them using bits of leather from an old pair of her father’s boots whose soles had finally come undone. Then scrounging about and using her meager earnings, she purchased the lenses, three on the right for different levels of magnification, and two on the left, specially made for seeking out the constellations. Dark brass adorned the eye frames and the periscope clip as she had a long standing affinity for dark brass.

  She would cherish them even more now as her father had been so proud that she created them on her own. It was perhaps the last thing he’d praised her for, and his approval always meant the world to her. She grabbed her hip pouch, pulling it over her petite frame, so it rested snugly on her side, as she stepped out into the brisk morning air.

  The door banged shut behind her driven by the cool wind swirling about. The crumbling old door with the aging brass knob barely catching on the lock. Her home was in desperate need of repair, but it had been all she could do to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads lately.

  Her father’s medicine took most of her meager stable girl earnings month after month. She never complained though since it was much better to have him still alive and breathing for the time left to him. Perhaps now that her father had passed on, it would do her some good to fix up their home. It was hard for her to imagine ever giving it up. As long as she was there she could visit his bedroom and breathe deep of his fading presence. It didn’t even bother her that she may die a spinster with no real hope of love or family.

  “Come now, Wyles. No need to think upon such things,” she told herself out loud as she focused on the hours walk ahead of her into the grand Parish of Dobbinsturn, to Lord Adrian’s estate.

  Perhaps if Adrian were not a Lord, or she not just a mere stable hand, he would make a lovely suitor. She was quite content to replace sad thoughts of her father’s absence, and negative thoughts of being alone, with images of Lord Adrian’s lovely, chiseled face, and lively eyes.

  His eyes were her favorite feature by far. His bewitching gray-eyed gaze tripped her up more than once, causing a soft pink to caress her cheeks before she realized she’d paused in her work just to stare at him. She refused to let herself forget though that she would never be fit for a man such as him. Of course it was true that the gentle-natured Lord Adrian was already betrothed to Lady Judith; her persnickety, but gloriously wonderful, nearest and dearest friend.

  How Wylie both adored and felt jealous of Lady Judith Ukridge. The two of them had been friends for ages, to Lord Jameston’s dismay. Judith’s father made no attempt to hide his distaste for the peasant girl whenever she came to call. Even though he was one of the most well-respected men in all of Dobbinsturn Parish, and even most of London, Wylie found him to be a bit of a mean ol’ reprobate, and she never hid her opinion of him either. The sudden turning of her thoughts to that contemptible man reminded Wylie that perhaps she should call upon Lady Judith before she headed to the stables.

  Judith tried her best comforted her when Nicolas Petford passed away, but Judith’s father forbade her to attend the funeral. He insisted that his daughter never be seen in such a place as the lowly Parish of Lugwallow. This only heightened Wylie’s dislike for the awful man all the more, but regardless, the young ladies managed to keep a close friendship.

  Judith’s home was a bit out of her way, a fact which Wylie relished as her time spent in Dobbinsturn was always too short. Any excuse to stay longer on its cobblestone streets filled her with happiness. As she approached the familiar cream colored mansion, it took her breath away as always. The grandness of it never ceased to amaze her, with its octagon pillars and over-sized windows looking out onto the bustling streets of one of the loveliest parts of all London.

  Wylie took a deep breath and ascended the elegant marble steps that Lord Jameston Ukridge had specially commissioned. He was a boastful man, and from the day she first met him, he spoke often of his wealth. After all, he was one of the most sought after airship architects in London. He was responsible for designing nearly half of the queen's air fleet, a fact he seldom let anyone forget.

  After Judith’s mother passed from consumption, her father set aside his career to take care of Judith. Muddling about at home he’d developed an interest in houses for sale, which in turn resulted in his selling houses as a business. H
e even, as he’d earnestly stated to her, would go so far as to help new business owners acquire land, and loaned them money to build on the property. It wasn’t long before he purchased a building of his own to open a bank. He called it Ukridge Business and Loan and became even richer because of it. Another fact, which he never let Wylie forget.

  Reaching the first step, she knocked gently on the door and waited patiently for someone to answer. Shortly the curtain parted at a window to her left, and there was her best friend peeking out, waving and smiling at her.

  “Darling Judith. God love her,” Wylie waved and smiled back, adjusting her leather vest over her waistline, and adjusting her utility belt, with its multiple pockets and gadget holders, resting snugly against her hips. The door swung open, and Hildreth Mackinson gave her a most unwelcome glare. She turned her back on the guest without even so much as a second glance at Wylie, which made her laugh.

  “Oh come now, Hildreth. Still don’t fancy me, darling?” The sound of feet hurriedly stamping away was the only response.

  “Oh, my dearest Wylie. Have you come to send my house into a tizzy?” Judith teased, but in her eyes, the gleam of something calamitous flashed.

  “You know that is my greatest joy,” Wylie teased back, hugging her friend. Her stomach flipped unsettlingly. Something about Judith’s voice warned her to be worried, but she was unable to fathom the reason. When they stepped away from each other, they both remained smiling, but there was a tension so thick it could be cut with a chiv. “I see your housekeeper has not let her fondness for me get in the way of her household duties,” she winked at Judith, slipping her thumbs behind her belt for comfort.

  “I’m afraid that is the least of your worries, dear friend.”

  A million scenarios ran through Wylie’s mind, though they all seemed a bit unmitigated. She was letting her imagination get away with her.

  “What Judith? What it is it?”

  “Not here. Not now. I know you have only just put your father in the ground, but terrible things are afoot. You must go! I will find you!” With that, the one person in all the world who made Wylie feel like she wasn’t alone, was pushing her out the door. When she tried to protest, Judith's eyes welled up with tears. “I promise, I will explain! Go!” Without ceremony Judith shoved Wylie roughly out the door and slammed it, leaving Wylie shocked and bewildered by her friend’s behavior.

  Chapter Three

  London looked just as it had a moment ago; crowds of people milling about, and the sky parade still in full swing. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed. Wylie couldn’t remember a single moment in all the years she’d known Lady Judith when her friend had acted in such a way. A typical person perhaps would not think anything of it, but Wylie felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She turned to glance back up the steps, seeking out the window, in the hope that she was being beckoned back inside, but the curtains were drawn and still. The house was as silent as a tomb from where she stood.

  Oh Judith, what is it? What has happened? Her eyes began to well with tears. She could handle being alone, but not her best friend being angry or upset with her.

  Stop over thinking it, Wylie, she tried to convince herself. The reminder that she still had a job to go to interrupted her thoughts. Yes, work. I must trust that Judith will find me and tell me what this is all about. She convinced herself to let that be enough, and with time slipping away, she hurriedly made her way to Lord Adrian’s stables. She knew that the days she had taken off to bury her father would drastically affect her workload, and the last thing she wanted was to anger her employer.

  As Wylie rushed to Lord Adrian’s home, the sight of the tall wrought iron fences were a welcome sight for her troubled heart. Slipping through the gate, as stealthily as possible, she rushed straight to the stables. The smell of horse manure reached her nose before she was even inside, but even that was comforting to her. This was something she was able to fix. Something she had some control over, and the time she spent shoveling was a welcome break from the thoughts of her father dying, and her friend’s mysterious behavior.

  After dunging out the stalls, and spreading fresh straw so that the horses had a comfortable place to lay down as the weather got colder, she grabbed a halter to put on the stallion, Chaos. By far the wildest and the least broke of the bunch, he was still her favorite. His jet-black coat always glowed after she brushed him, and for as long as Wylie had worked there as a stable hand, he had never given her a bit of trouble.

  There was something in his spirit that she connected with, and she always gave him extra attention. She often brought him an apple, or fresh carrots when her meager earnings would allow. She gently pulled the halter over his head and fastened the buckles securely. He nickered softly, as she did so, nudging his head against her.

  “Affection? Why Chaos, I’ve never seen this side of you,” she joked, gently stroking his mane as he stomped his hooves in response. Standing on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his muscled neck, as if he were a dear friend she hadn’t seen in ages. Then she let out all of her frustration and sadness in great wracking sobs that scared the mares as they all started whinnying and nickering in their stalls. Chaos didn’t move, and instead, laid his head on her shoulder while she cried.

  When she had finished crying, she wiped her eyes, grabbed the brushes and began grooming him.

  “Ahem,” Lord Adrian cleared his throat behind her. At the sound Wylie’s face turned several shades of red and she inhaled sharply.

  “You couldn’t have told me he was here?” she whispered to Chaos.

  “Do not worry yourself, Wylie. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “What secret?” her cheeks went red with embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to get emotional, and she surely didn’t want Lord Adrian thinking that of her. She continued brushing the stallion’s shiny coat.

  “Exactly. However, I guess that answers my question.” He crossed the stable floor, kicking straw out of his way as he approached her.

  “What question is that, Lord Adrian?”

  Coming up behind her, he laid a gloved hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. Her breath caught in her throat as even through leather she felt the warmth of his hand there. She dared not speak or breathe or even move for fear he would remove it.

  “I desperately wanted to ask how you were doing… it turns out Chaos knows you better than I do, which, I have to say, makes me a bit jealous,” he smiled sincerely at her. She couldn’t bring herself to say a word. Has the whole world gone mad? When she didn’t respond, he said, “That bad, huh? Can’t say I blame you, Wyles. I don’t know how you’re managing. If my father passed... I would simply…” She saw by the emotion on his face that he couldn’t bring himself to even think about it.

  “Well, no worries about that, my Lord. Your father is as healthy as a horse,” she joked, hoping to break the unwelcome sadness that had entered the conversation. Lord Adrian, his hand still resting awkwardly on her shoulder, used his free hand to grab one of hers.

  “Wylie, I don’t want you to feel that you’re alone, because you’re not. I still consider you a friend, and if there is ever anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask.” Their eyes locked, and he stepped in closer. For a brief moment, it felt like he may lean in to kiss her, though she hadn’t the faintest idea why. Not that I would stop him. He brushed the hair back from her forehead, and the moment felt magical. All the feelings she had been holding back because of his betrothal to her best friend, broke out of the carefully guarded recesses of her mind.

  Dad blammit, Wylie. You warned yourself not to fall for him. You’ve been doing so well… why now? But there was no answer. She had spent many months worried about her father, barely able to pay for his medicine and put food on the table. All bets are off, just don’t do anything imprudent, she warned herself. Not that she would do anything irresponsible, she would never do anything to hurt her best friend, but there was nothing wrong with allowing herself to feel something
, was there? Especially if it meant that for a brief moment out of each day, she could be happy. It was perhaps the only happiness she had left.

  Just as that thought crossed from her mind, Wylie caught movement out of the corner of one eye. She whirled to see Lady Judith, arms folded across her chest, standing in the stable entrance. In a panic, she stepped away from Lord Adrian, who bowed to her and then hurried to Lady Judith’s side.

  “My betrothed!” he exclaimed, his mouth turning up in a most glorious smile. To Wylie’s delight and dismay, Lord Adrian took Lady Judith’s hand in his and raised it to his lips. “How is that I should be so lucky as to see both my good friend and my wife-to-be on the same day?” Wylie being referred to as ‘friend’ drew a look from Judith, but it made Wylie positively giddy. “What is it that brings you here today?”

  Judith didn’t seem in a hurry to answer that question and instead shot daggers toward Wylie.

  “My beloved,” she spoke to Lord Adrian. “I have private business with Miss Petford. Would you be a dear, and excuse us, just for a moment.”

  “Absolutely.” He leaned in and kissed Judith’s cheek, though the gesture seemed to be more one of obligation than love or adoration. When he had left the two women alone, Judith was first to break the silence.

  “Mind telling me what the hell that was all about, Wylie?”

  “My dear Judith, you know full well I have never kept a thing from you, and I would never hurt you. You’ve known from the beginning that I adore Lord Adrian,” Judith gasped in shock. “As a friend.” Wylie added fervently. “Though he is lovely to look at. Please, I beg of you... give pause to what you think happened. He is a Lord... and I am a foul-smelling stable girl. For goodness' sake, I clean up his horse’s droppings. Surely you don’t think he would be interested in me in the slightest?” Reason gave Judith the clarity she needed, Wylie saw it on her face.