Chasing Christmas Past
An Airship Racing Chronicles Short Story
Melanie Karsak
MelanieKarsak.com
Clockpunk Press 2014
Copyright © 2014 Melanie Karsak
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. References to historical people, organizations, events, places, and establishments are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Chasing the Star Garden: Chapter 1
Chasing the Star Garden: Chapter 2
Thank you
About the Author
Sign up for Melanie Karsak's Mailing List
Also By Melanie Karsak
Dedication
For Elyse
Part 1
A light dusting of snow covered the bowsprit of the Stargazer. The wind blew gently, causing a cascade of fat snowflakes to gust across the deck of the airship. When the flurry hit the bulwark it became a whirlwind that drifted upward into the purple and blue twilight sky. I rubbed my hands together. It was Christmas Eve, and it was bitter cold. I sighed deeply, my breath fogging the air. From the streets of London below the airship towers, I could hear the holiday revelers singing Hark! The Herald Angels Sing. The scent of roasted chestnuts perfumed the wind. My stomach growled hungrily, and I began dreaming of the mug of mulled wine waiting for me at my favorite haunt, Rose’s Hopper. Nothing sounded better than sitting in the corner of the tavern, drinking Christmas Eve away. Leave the roasted geese, plum pudding, and midnight mass to all the joyful mums and dads and fat-cheeked children. Tonight, I would drink. Tomorrow, I would race.
The balloon of the Stargazer shifted in the breeze. I’d already started strategizing. Cold air meant the balloon would get better lift which we could use to our advantage, but flying in snow was annoying as hell. Not that it mattered much. I knew what to do. I’d run in the Yuletide Airship Race since I was a girl. What made the 1820 race any different? I wasn’t going to let a little snow get between me and the fat stack of coins waiting in Calais. This year I would win for sure.
I pulled out my little bottle of laudanum. My fingerless gloves were good for more than just gripping the wheel of the Stargazer. The cap on the laudanum bottle was always annoyingly tricky. With shaking hands—the chill of the wind, of course—I undid the lid then took a drop. I stuffed the bottle back into the pocket of my wool trousers as Angus came out of the gear galley.
“Bloody hell! I think my balls are frozen,” Angus said with a laugh as he attempted to smooth down his kilt. “Are you done fussing, Lily? The ship is set to go. Let’s head to the Hopper. Jessup is probably half-drunk already.”
Grinning so hard the muscles in my face ached, I asked, “What possessed you to wear a kilt on this freezing night? And don’t tell me you’re commando.”
“What kind of Scotsman would I be if I wasn’t natural underneath? And didn’t you see my festive adornment?”
Instead of a sporran hanging from his waist, Angus had tied a bunch of mistletoe. “Christ, Angus. What...what the hell,” I choked out, laughing so hard I started to cough.
“All that opium smoke is burning your lungs, lass. Now, let’s go. If that buxom Rebecca isn’t at the Hopper tonight, I think I’ll cry,” he said with a grin, extending his arm to me.
“Well, you can always hope for a Christmas miracle,” I replied with a wink.
Angus and I headed to the lift that would lower us from the airship towers to the city street below. As we rode downward, I gazed out across the city. The rooftops were covered with a powdering of crystalline snow. The gaslamp light made everything sparkle. The waves on the Thames twinkled with golden light. While the revelers had moved off, I could still hear their dulcet tones from a distance. They were singing Silent Night. It really was Christmas Eve. I gazed up at the darkening sky. One shining star—was it the North Star?—glimmered. I wondered, just for a moment, about Byron. Where would the illustrious George Gordon, Lord Byron spend Christmas Eve? What shenanigans would he be up to? I hadn’t heard from him for more than a month. Who knew where in the world he was and what misadventures he was wrapped up in? I missed him.
“Happy Christmas,” Edwin, one of the tower guards, called cheerfully when Angus and I reached the bottom of the lift. “Here, Lily,” he said, tossing a package to me. The brown paper package was warm to the touch and smelled heavenly: honey roasted walnuts.
“Happy Christmas! And thank you. Want to come to the Hopper with us?”
Edwin shook his head. “Shift is about to start. Get some sleep tonight! You almost won it last year,” he reminded me encouragingly then headed to the lift.
I sighed deeply, looped my arm in Angus’, and we headed to the tavern. I clutched the small package of walnuts against my chest. Maybe the laudanum was already playing with my emotions, but Edwin’s small gesture moved me. It wasn’t like my foster fathers, such as they were, ever saw fit to give me a Christmas gift. I hated to admit how much I adored receiving even small things like Edwin’s gift. They felt like affirmations of love.
Angus and I crossed the snow-dusted cobblestone street to the tavern. The gaslamp outside flickered, casting blobs of orange light on the ground. Inside, someone was playing the piano loudly, over-striking the keys. Raucous voices sang Christmas carols. Over the crowd, I could hear Jessup, my teammate and balloonman, singing Here We Come a-Wassailing.
“Christ, sounds like someone is squeezing a cat,” Angus said as he pushed the door open.
“That’s Jessup,” I replied with a giggle.
Angus winked at me. “I know.”
“Stargazer!” Several of the tavern patrons erupted in cheer when Angus and I arrived.
“Just in time,” Ollie, the tapster, yelled. “Lily Stargazer, get over here! We were about to parade the Yule log! Come for a ride! It will bring you some luck tomorrow.”
They had just hauled in the Yule log from the back and were adorning it with holly boughs. Snow dripped from the bark onto the stone floor.
“Not me,” I called back. “Make Angus ride.”
“I can’t ride in a kilt. The bark will chafe,” Angus retorted with a laugh.
Without another word, Angus threw me over his shoulder and carried me across the tavern. The patrons cheered. I was hanging on haphazardly, but Angus set me down on the log gently. For all his brawny mischief, I knew Angus would be careful with me. He and Jessup were the only men I trusted—save Byron, in his own way—and I loved Angus like a brother.
“Okay, okay,” I said, situating myself on the log like it were a horse. I sat astride, Yankee style. I gripped the gritty, wet bark for dear life, seriously wishing I was already drunk.
“Got it, gents?” Ollie asked. “One, two, three!” They heaved the log into the air.
I clung to the log as they careened around the room. Once I felt stable, I waved to the patrons like a princess as I made the tour. All the usual faces were there, other airship jockeys looking worn down from running transports in the freezing wind, some travelers waiting to hop the next airship, and a handful of tinkers. I even spotted one of the new tinkers, an Italian, who had recently set up shop at Hungerford Market. His name was Salvatore something, but everyone just called him the Italian. He winked at me, lifting a mug of wine in toast as I paraded by. I smiled at him. Nice looking chap. I needed to find a reason to stop by and meet him.
I spotted Angus cros
sing the tavern toward Rebecca. The moment she saw the mistletoe hanging from his belt, she burst out laughing. A pretty girl with curly brown hair and red cheeks, she seemed like the kind of woman who could keep you warm for the night and make you a hearty breakfast the next morning. Maybe Angus would get his Christmas miracle after all.
When the Yule log tour finally stopped in front of the fireplace once more, they helped me off then broke into the traditional Yule log song. The men loaded the heavy log into the fire:
Old lady ash, you’ll burn so bright
And light the way for all the night
Mistress Yule, keep away the cold
And help us burn away the old
Mother forest, bring us luck
Cleanse away the mire and muck
This Christmastide let dreams come true
Make your wishes on the Yule
After that, the patrons threw small sprigs of herbs into the fire with the Yule log. I saw Mary, the ever-cheerful barmaid, kiss a sprig of parsley, close her eyes, then throw it into the flames. If I knew her right, she was wishing for a way out of the tavern—preferably via someone male dressed in velvet and silk. A basket of herbs and flowers was passed around. I took out a small purple flower. I wasn’t keen on superstition, but I pressed the flower into my palm and closed my eyes: let me win tomorrow...and let me see George soon. I tossed the flower into the fire. It crackled as it burned. I sighed heavily. Around me, everyone was smiling and feeling cheerful. They had even roped me into the merriment, but the feeling had been fleeting. In the end, I felt...detached. It was like the joy everyone else was feeling was always just out of my reach. I was always running after bliss. My whole life seemed to be filled with chasing, not catching. Sure, I’d had moments of passion or the thrill of an opium high, but I’d never known true contentment. That was something reserved for other people, better people.
Ollie pushed a mug of mulled wine, a Smoking Bishop, into my hands. “Happy Christmas, Lily,” he said, kissing me on the cheek. I watched as he made his way through the crowd, passing out more mugs filled with the steaming nectar. The scents of orange, cinnamon, and cloves wafted from my mug. I sipped the liquid, burning my tongue. The drink left a sharp aftertaste of spice behind. Tonight, the tavern smelled divine. The pine boughs decorating the fireplace mantle, the baking gingerbread, and the mulled wine fragranced the air. The scents delighted the senses, but my heart felt empty.
I cast a glance at Jessup, my teammate. He was still lingering by the piano.
“Lily, come sing!” he yelled to me.
I smiled fondly at him, shook my head, then headed for a table in the corner near the fireplace. I wiggled into a bench and propped my feet up on the chair closest to the fire. I pulled my gloves off then unwrapped the crinkly brown paper on Edwin’s package, popping a toasted walnut in my mouth. I savored the sweet flavor, chewed and swallowed, then washed it down with wine. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. My whole body felt tired. Beside me, the fire roared. I could hear the wood popping and crackling. It was such a sweet, calming sound. The radiating heat warmed me; I had felt frozen deep into my core. When I opened my eyes again, I grabbed the mug, the wine now cool, and finished it. No absinthe for me tonight. It was Christmas Eve, after all. Even the green fairy needed a night off.
Ollie brought me another drink. The tavern patrons started dancing. They waved for me to join them, but I shook my head. I watched as the Italian rose, set a few coins on the bar, then headed back into the night with the rough-looking aircrew of the Mockingbird. Where was he off to with that motley troupe? Just as he was about to exit, he turned, smirked slyly at me, then left. Yeah, I definitely needed to find a way to introduce myself to him. Later. After the race.
I gazed across the tavern. Everyone was having so much fun. Angus’ mistletoe had done the trick. He and Rebecca were already lip-locked, and he was putting a firm squeeze on her backside. Jessup was surrounded by boozy revelers who sang song after song. I loved a good party, but tonight I felt...lonely. How could that be? I was surrounded by people I knew, whose company I enjoyed. And it was Christmas Eve. I smiled softly as I watched the revelry, but my chest ached. My mind kept rolling back to Christmas Eves past. Never, not once, had I enjoyed what others would consider a normal holiday. Certainly not with my foster fathers. And before that, we kids at the orphanage had never been given anything. As for my life with my mother and father, there were no memories, not good ones anyway. I had no reminiscence of feasting on roasted duck or receiving nicely bundled gifts. Not once had I ever felt the magical glow of love, something people talked a lot about, on Christmas. The holiday made me feel really alone. I pulled out my bottle of laudanum and took another drop...and then, on second thought, another. My head started to feel drowsy. The lonely feeling drifted away. Soon, I felt nothing...what better gift was there on Christmas Eve?
Part 2
“Lily, wake up,” Jessup said with panic in his voice as he shook my shoulder.
I opened my eyes slowly. Angus was asleep in a chair nearby, his head hanging back, his mouth wide open. I rubbed my eyes. I was still tired. We’d spent the last twenty-four hours working nonstop preparing for the race. No wonder I’d passed out...well, between exhaustion and the laudanum. I cast a tired glance out the frost-covered window. Was that the first glimpse of sunlight on the horizon?
“Oh no,” I gasped in alarm. “No, no, no!” I yelled, jumping up. “Angus! We’re late!”
Angus jumped up, tripping over a chair, nearly falling.
I glanced around the tavern. It was morning. Old Aunt Rose was behind the bar washing mugs and humming Christmas carols. The tavern was closed. The scent of gingerbread lingered in the air, but the place was empty. The Yule log crackled. I could tell I had been sweating in my sleep. My whole body felt sticky, the hair on my forehead wet. Suddenly, I was struck with a craving for opium so strong that my stomach churned. I held back the bile.
“Go, go, go. Let’s go,” Jessup yelled, rushing toward the door.
Angus, Jessup, and I raced out of the tavern.
“Happy Christmas,” I yelled to Aunt Rose as we dashed out the door. Lovely old thing, she probably didn’t have the heart to wake us. It wasn’t her fault I was such a mess. She nodded sweetly and waved us off.
Outside, the cold air hit me so hard I felt like I’d walked into the side of a building. The street was packed. Spectators rushed to the airship towers. I gazed up. The Yuletide Airship Race Marshals were already on the platform. The airships, including the Stargazer, were docked in the race bays. Airship crews crawled all over their ships as the beginning of the race neared. The Stargazer shifted in the breeze like a ghost ship.
“Dammit!” Jessup cursed in panic. “We aren’t going to make it. The sun is nearly up!”
“We’ll make it,” I said decisively, trying to sound a lot more confident than I felt. God, why did I have to botch everything up? Why did things always go wrong for me?
“And if we don’t?” Angus asked as he tossed away the limp bundle of mistletoe hanging from his belt.
I frowned. “We’ll make it,” I said again. But my hands were shaking. Even if we did make it, I was feeling like I was about to throw up every bit of wine I’d drunk the night before. Just what the Marshals needed, a shower of foul-smelling bile and spiced wine all over the race platform. My stomach heaved, but I held myself together. In that moment, I hated myself. I gritted my teeth. Once we were in the air, out of the streets, I would feel better. I would be able to breathe. I could nip some laudanum and feel like myself again. Right now, however, I had to focus for the sake of my team.
“Make way!” Angus yelled when we approached the lift. A line of race spectators had queued to ride the lift up for a better view of the race from the towers.
“That’s the Stargazer’s team,” I heard one woman whisper to her male companion.
One of the tower guards, Jamison, spotted us. “Move aside! Let them through!” he bellowed to the
crowd, ushering a group of spectators out of the lift so we could get in.
“Lily! You’re going to miss the start,” Jamison said worriedly as he slapped the gate on the lift closed and yanked the lever, launching the lift upward with a heave. It rose quickly, the metal gears overhead turning.
“No, we’re going to make it,” I said.
“Lil, the Marshal is getting ready at the start,” Jessup said in panic.
Dammit! It didn’t matter how good we were, we would have to fight for the win if we started late. The wind whipped harshly. I turned my face toward the wind then closed my eyes. It was blowing in from the south. It would be in the face of the racers. Everyone would rise quickly then stall out, battling the wind all the way south. I gazed out at the Thames. Mist was rising off the water. I grinned. “Gents, we’re going to be okay,” I said as the lift lurched to a stop.
“Idea?” Jessup asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Let’s go,” I said, winking at Jessup. Angus, Jessup, Jamison, and I ran toward the Stargazer as the cannon boomed signaling the start of the race.
“Bloody hell!” Angus cursed.
“Go, go,” Jamison yelled at us. “I got the anchor.”
“Stargazer,” the Marshal chided, “you’re late!”
“Thanks for stating the obvious. We approved to race or not?” I shouted back as I scurried to the wheelstand.
The Marshal, a huge man who looked like he’d swallowed his Christmas goose whole, frowned at me then looked at his checklist. I glanced at the crowd. Ladies were snickering softly behind their fox fur muffs while men whispered to one another, frowning in disdain. Reporters shook their heads as they took notes. As usual, the Stargazer’s crew was an hour late and two bits short of being a winning race team.
“Approved. Move it, Lily! You’re already behind.”
I gazed overhead. The other ships had already set off and were headed south, into the strong sheer.
Chasing Christmas Past Page 1