The Washingtons stood to one side, George standing in front of Martha. I was too far from my weapons and even further from the cauldron, while the open floor of the airship was only steps behind me. If I was knocked backwards a few feet, I'd slide through the sky into the dense hardwood forest below.
"Why are you doing this?" asked Martha, stepping in front of her husband.
"Because you won't do the hard things necessary to lead this country," said Anne. "We must strike before they hit us, let the world know that the United States is not to be trifled with."
"Better to stand tall and make them wonder," said George.
"I'm sorry, Mr. President," said Anne. "I truly am. William and I had hoped that you'd see it our way. We've argued about this for weeks. You could have been the President for a fourth term."
"William won't stand as president if you kill me. My Vice President, John Adams, will take that place and will easily win reelection," said George.
"Small sacrifices for the greater good," said Anne. "We're patriots. We just want to see the country strong."
"As long as you make a handsome profit," I said.
A wry smile crept to Anne's lips. "There are certain benefits to power."
"Jefferson was right to fear the banks," said Martha. "Though it's too late now. A war will harden the people against perceived weakness."
"You see things clearly," said Anne, and then she nodded my direction. "With her, it'll be easier to sell the idea that you were both killed by a Russian assassin."
I took a step towards the pistol, and Anne shook her arm at me, warning me not to move closer. I caught the gleam in the President's eye and made the move to the weapon.
A bolt of glistening light slid through the air, missing me as I ducked underneath it. The pistol fit into my hand. The distraction proved enough, as the President rushed Anne. Though he was nearly seventy, he moved like a soldier half his age.
His attack was intercepted by Koschei. George ducked under the assassin's blow and put his shoulder in his gut, knocking them both to the floor.
Lying on my side, I pulled the lever back on the pistol and fired at Anne, tasting gunpowder. I looked over my weapon, stunned to see that Anne was still standing. The gauntlet on her arm had deflected the shot.
Koschei stood over the President, its arm pulled back for a vicious blow, when Anne pointed towards me and screamed, "Kill her!"
I scrambled to my feet, unleashing a blast at Koschei which did little to slow him down. He grabbed me around the neck and waist and lifted me above his head, preparing to throw me into the abyss.
Suspended in midair, the scene seemed hopeless. Martha stood to the side, her fingers dug into her skirt. George lay on the wooden floor, injured from his encounter with Koschei, and I was about to be thrown from the airship.
With the assassin holding me over his head, I aimed my final shot, not at Anne's person, but at the worn leather satchel on her hip. The moment the blast hit the egg, crushing it between the flaps, Koschei dropped me onto the ground.
My head cracked against the wood, and unconsciousness threatened to overcome me. Koschei lurched around in a frenzy, screamed clicks issuing from his thin lips like a mountain of pebbles falling to the floor.
I thought he would kill me first, but Koschei went after Anne Bingham. Anne shot him with the gauntlet, which only slowed him momentarily. Then he picked her up, threads of light bouncing all around him, and threw her off the airship. The night swallowed her screams.
Koschei advanced on me, still prone and nearly incapacitated. My pistol was empty and I could barely move. The ancient assassin stumbled towards me, the damage to the duck egg apparent from his crumbling armor. His face was cracked, dark blood leaking through the gaps, but his injuries were not going to save me, as he had enough power left to kill me along with Lady Bingham.
When Koschei reached down to snatch me up, he hesitated, and then stiffened, arching backwards in a terrifying grimace. Then a glint of steel slid from his gut and he stumbled forward, revealing Martha Washington, standing behind him with the rapier in her hand.
Koschei's knees gave out and he tripped over me, bouncing down the ramp and tumbling off the airship. Martha dropped the rapier and rushed back to her husband, who was sitting up holding his ribs. He appeared injured, but not grievously. I, however, felt like churned butter.
Sitting up, I closed my eyes and placed my forehead against the fabric bunched up around my knees. It was the closest thing I had to a pillow. I deliriously wanted to sleep, but knew I had more to do before the night was over.
George and Martha were speaking so quietly I could barely hear them. The pistol shots rang in my ears and the rushing wind hid what sound remained.
"We should go up and check on the Warden and the other soldiers," I said. "Maybe some are still alive."
It seemed like faint hope, but it was better than nothing. Through my bleary eyes, I saw Martha giving something to George and then eating a piece herself. My gaze fell upon the wrappings of Morwen's chocolate treats swirling in the eddies.
"No," I screamed, holding my hand out to stop what had already happened. "They're poison."
From the looks on their faces, I knew they'd already swallowed the chocolates.
"I saw them fall from your coat," said Martha, faintly. "I thought a bit of chocolate would help our spirits."
I slammed my fist against the floor, ignoring the pain.
"I don't feel like I'm going to die," said Martha, though her skin paled and her gaze turned unfocused. I could see the effects of the poisoned chocolates on their faces and hoped they hadn't eaten enough to kill them.
Martha turned to her husband, just as he slumped over. "Oh no, I gave him a full piece." She held up half a bite in her hand. "I've only eaten some."
"Is he breathing?" I asked, and she nodded.
Then Martha hiccupped and looked around. I climbed unsteadily to my feet, feeling I should do something, and collected my weapons.
"Are you okay, Martha?" I asked.
She gazed at me, squinting as if she'd never seen me before. "Who are you?" she asked.
"Who am I?" I said, the words hollow in my mouth.
Martha glanced around, looking down at George, asleep in her lap. "What am I doing here? Who are you? What have you done to us?"
A pit formed in my stomach and I wanted to crawl right into it. Standing there with the stolen rapier and pistol, backlighted by the distant storm, I guessed what kind of chocolates they'd eaten. Like the chocolate that had enhanced my memory, these took it away. I understood then what Morwen's plan was. She would have saved them and then wiped their memories with the chocolates, preserving her identity.
As I took a step to the right, I saw William Bingham rushing through the cannon hold with a half-dozen soldiers in blue coats behind him. The Warden followed them with a heavy limp and a bandage on his head.
"What have you done to George?" screamed Martha Washington, shaking her husband.
I made it to the cauldron just as William and the soldiers arrived. Martha extended her arm towards me.
"She felled my husband!"
Dropping the pistol and rapier into the bottom of the cauldron, I grabbed the control rod and sent myself careening out of the hold as the soldiers fired upon me. Delirious and injured, I surprised myself by making it out of the hold without hitting anything, flying into the night and away from the Brave Eagle.
Once I was safely hovering in the air, I mourned my Pyrrhic victory. To salvage something of the night, I flew away from the airship, tracing its path. It only took me a couple of passes to find Anne Bingham's body, tangled in the branches of an oak tree.
I removed the gauntlet from her arm, careful not to touch the obsidian stone, and set it in the bottom of the cauldron along with the other acquired weapons. Before I left, I realized the satchel that contained the duck egg was missing, though she was so far up in the trees I found it hard to believe that Koschei would have been able to rea
ch her.
Shaking off the feeling of being watched, I left Anne's body, wondering if it would ever be found. Especially since the Washingtons would have no memory of her being thrown out. My only solace was that Simon had survived. He would make sure the Washingtons were no longer in danger, though I was sure the previous battles and my presence would be spun in the Binghams’ favor.
Climbing high into the sky, I circled around until I spied the warm glow of Philadelphia on the horizon. Though I felt like tattered cloth spun through a thrasher, I made it back to the city without collapsing. I'd planned on returning to my house, but when I flew over the Franklin Estate, every light was aglow, turning it into a beacon.
Back on solid ground, I tucked the pistol into the folds of my dress and carried the rapier and gauntlet with my empty hands. I approached the estate with trepidation, wondering if Ben had returned, or if it were merely Voltaire ransacking the place now that the strange electrical field no longer protected it. The other possibility was that the neighbors had seen the destruction from when I flew out of the wide window.
The light inside the parlor stung my eyes. Broken glass, chunks of plaster, and mangled pieces of velvet furniture littered the front room from my first trials with the cauldron. I held my arm up, prepared to call out my arrival, when I heard the shuffle of feet at the side door.
"Morana?" asked a young man, who I thought I recognized. He was a handsome youth, mid-twenties, wearing a patterned green silken vest over a white shirt. He was a strapping man with broad shoulders, and a strange device hung on his belt that looked like it had come from the same place as the gauntlet in my hands. It wasn't until he quirked a smile that I recognized him.
"Ben?" I asked.
"Kat?" he replied, the corners of his lips bending downward. He stepped forward and took the gauntlet from my hands as if it were a gift. I was so stunned by his youthfulness that I didn't think to protest.
"Yes," I said. "Where have you been?"
"Me?" he said in mock injury. "Saving the world. What have you been doing?"
I couldn't tell if this was one of his joking manners, and I was simply too exhausted to reply. "You've been gone a year."
"A year," he said, holding his hand to his chest. "Well, that's a problem. But it would explain a few things."
"What happened?" I asked. "My memory has been like cheesecloth. Seeing you now only brings the shadows of thoughts to the front, though I know not their meaning."
"Did not the letter you wrote to yourself explain everything?" he asked.
"Letter? I wrote no letter," I said.
He put a cupped hand to his closed mouth. "Kat, I'm sorry. You must be so confused. I'd hoped to make it back sooner."
"Where were you?" I asked, a sinking exhaustion climbing up my bones.
"Otherland," he said grimly.
The word seemed to catch a distant memory. I frowned.
"What happened, Kat?" he asked tenderly.
"I thought you'd absconded to the Ottoman Empire, or been abducted," I said.
Before another question could make it to my lips, my knees buckled slightly.
"Miss Dashkova, you look terrible. Really, you look like the cold cook is about to shove you into the earth."
He pulled a tin from his vest pocket, scooped a pyramid of dust onto a silver spoon, and held it out to me. I fell upon it like a starving woman. As soon as the powder hit the back of my throat, I felt a heaviness claim my limbs.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Go home and rest," said Ben Franklin. "Come back when you're recovered, you can tell me everything—and I'll explain the memories that you're missing. It will all make sense once you've heard the whole story. We have a lot to do."
"What's going on?"
He rubbed his jaw, a disappointed slant to his lips, before giving me that wink of his that always made me smile. "We have to save Philadelphia."
###
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Also by Thomas K. Carpenter
THE DIGITAL SEA TRILOGY
The Digital Sea
The Godhead Machine
Neochrome Aurora
GAMERS TRILOGY
GAMERS
FRAGS
CODERS
ALEXANDRIAN SAGA
Fires of Alexandria
Heirs of Alexandria
Legacy of Alexandria
Warmachines of Alexandria
Empire of Alexandria
Voyage of Alexandria
Goddess of Alexandria
MIRROR SHARDS ANTHOLOGY
Mirror Shards: Volume One
Mirror Shards: Volume Two
THE DASHKOVA MEMOIRS
Revolutionary Magic
A Cauldron of Secrets
Birds of Prophecy
The Franklin Deception
Nightfell Games
The Queen of Dreams
Dragons of Siberia
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Thomas K. Carpenter resides near St. Louis with his wife Rachel and their two children. When he’s not busy writing his next book, he’s playing soccer in the yard with his kids or getting beat by his wife at cards. He keeps a regular blog and can be found on twitter under @thomaskcarpente.
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A Cauldron of Secrets (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 2) Page 21