Gaslight Magick

by Teel James Glenn

  Now it was Aunt Mini’s hackles that started to rise. I saw her eyes narrow as I prepared to try and smooth the waters but was saved from having to do so when the ambassador’s pretty wife, Lady Tozi called out with real fear in her voice.

  “Look! Those little ships are getting closer!” She hugged close to her husband.

  Indeed, the three sleek craft were rising swiftly from the muddy brown river below. They spread out and paced the massive airship we were on.

  Beyond the three craft, on one side of the Mississippi, were the vast open plains that were the Confederacy of the Original Nations; with a brown sea of movement on the horizon to the west that was surely part of the endless herds of bison that roamed the interior of the continent. On the Eastern bank were some scattered white trading settlements.

  Bloody wars had cost both nations many lives, but with Aztec backing the C.O.N. had stopped European encroachment at the Mississippi and it had become the border with the 114-year-old United States of America.

  “What is to be done, Herr Baron Von Burton?” the ambassador asked. He kept his voice calm but pulled his wife closer. His eyes, however, showed real concern.

  “I do not know,” the burly Austrian said just as a clanging bell sounded somewhere in the interior of the great airship.

  “What is that?” the ambassador’s wife asked with a trembling voice.

  “A sound to general quarters, Frau,” the steward that had been serving us said as he quickly stowed some crockery. “I must this time leave you to assume my post.” He added as he raced out, “you will be fine here.”

  Suddenly we seven were alone in the forward lounge of the great craft.

  The ambassador’s party had all but forced their way on the inaugural flight with a special request through the governor’s office. “We must be in Montreal to greet Crown Prince Edward when he arrives. Bad weather delayed our trip from our home and even a fast river steamer will not get us there in time; and no other airships are scheduled to leave going north for a full week.”

  Up until the sighting the air-sloops it had been a pleasant trip. Both jaguars were like silent statues behind Ambassador Chichua, who proved personable and intelligent company and his wife refreshingly vocal herself, though obviously well versed in diplomatic complexities.

  Now we were all isolated on a floating island in the sky about to be besieged and our difference in nationalities and cultures mattered little. We would all bleed just the same from a pirate cutlass!

  Chapter Seven

  Boarders!

  As we sat there the noises of the ship in crisis sounded louder from the depths of the great airliner as the skeleton crew prepared to battle the aerial buccaneers.

  “How could the American government allow such lawlessness?” Baron Von Burton scolded as we watched the ships rising slowly and inevitably toward The Pride of Prussia. It was an eerie feeling, with only the low vibrations of the propeller engines moving the Pride through the air as the only sound from outside the window. We could only imagine the cries from the scurrying figures on the rising ships.

  “There is lawlessness in every realm,” Ambassador Chichua said with deep sadness. He had moved away from the window and taken a seat, the image of calm and deportment. Even I, from another kingdom and who had been in the presence of kings and peers, felt pride at his even behaviour. “It is why it is so important that I meet your Prince, Lady Camden.”

  “How so, Mister ambassador?” I asked. I was fascinated watching the air sloops as they approached like stalking predators but tore my eyes from them to face Chichua.

  “Because, Baronet Grey,” the Mexhican nobleman answered me with deliberation, “recently pirates have boarded several of my country’s ocean going ships—in international waters—and killed many of the crews, stealing the cargoes. I carry a treaty to present to your prince to address the issue. It is the hope of our government that in exchange for the protection of the vast Albion navy your prince will accept several trade concessions that I am empowered to offer. Among them is a site for a naval base in our southern regions that I know your navy has desired for decades.”

  “My husband has long sought to bridge the quiet enmity between your empire and ours,” Lady Tozi said. She stood by her husband, a hand gently resting on his shoulder as if drawing strength from him, though I suspected he was actually drawing much of his calm and strength from her.

  “The Aztec Empire does not need help,” the male Jaguar said. He had a cold sheen to his dark eyes as he turned from the window after looking at the approaching skyships. The pirate craft were now clearly visible in the mirrors set outside the lounge windows to provide views of the skin of the Pride for guests.

  “Our warriors…” The bodyguard began. These were the first words I had heard him speak for some time and though his voice was quiet there was steel in his tone.

  “Are not sailors, Eztl,” the ambassador finished. “The sea going skills of our people have long been lagging behind their other abilities.”

  “We can learn, my lord.” The jaguar’s tone was short of a direct challenge, reverential but obviously passionate about the subject. “There is nothing the people of the Sun can not learn and conquer.”

  “Yes, my proud guardian, I too believe this,” Chichua said, “ but in time. It is now I worry about. Now we can—both our peoples—benefit from each other’s strengths.”

  “That is the way of the world, Mister Ambassador,” Aunt Mini said. “The way it should be anyhow; with the Mali Empire pushing into the Atlantic and the Russians trying to chew their way across Asian territories it is too small a world for an ‘every man for themselves’ attitude.”

  “Just exactly so, Lady Camden,” Chichua said. “And no good can come, for either of our homelands to squabble over minor things when free trade and exchange of ideas would enrich both our peoples.”

  “But, my lord,” Eztl insisted, “If you let the Albion’s in the door of Mexhico they will force-“

  “Enough, Eztl,” the ambassador said quietly but sharply. His eyes barely narrowed and he never looked at the bodyguard but he too had steel in his words.

  “My lord,” the jaguar bowed stiffly. It was as a neat a dressing down as any colour-sergeant ever gave a trooper in Crimea and more eloquent for its brevity.

  There followed an uncomfortable silence and for a moment I thought the ambassador and his guardian might come to an open argument but then the female Jaguar called to us, “They have launched the grapple harpoons!”

  The moment after the woman warrior’s pronouncement the great liner shuddered with the impact of the boarding grapples. The pirate craft were directly under the airship now and the sound of their diesel winches pulling them snug to the ship was clearly heard over the Prussia’s own engines which laboured loudly against the new drag on its sides.

  “What is to happen?” asked the baron with a sudden shrill tone to his voice. “Surely the crew…”

  “I believe you stated it was only a skeleton crew, Herr Baron Von Burton,” the ambassador said with a calmness to his voice. “And I would imagine not equipped for armed conflict, certainly of this level of involvement.”

  “But who will protect us?“ The baron asked to no one in particular “What if these bandits wish us violence?”

  “I can’t imagine they wish much else,” Aunt Mini said with her usual bluntness. “Though profit is usually what that sort wants; this here aerial stagecoach is pretty slim pickings for bushwhackers.”

  “Surely husband,” Lady Tozi said, here voice cracking with fear, “these bandits will not dare to molest us!“

  “I am afraid, Mrs. ambassador that those sort of men will dare anything.” I tried not to frighten the lady, but it was time to face the hard reality to prepare for what was to come after. “If they are willing to attack a ship of this size in such few numbers. They must know it is a civilian craft and that the ship is under-staffed.”

  “How could they know that?” the Austrian owner asked.
“Are you saying they knew this was a test flight?”

  “Possibly,” I said absently as I assessed my surroundings for possible weapons—my sword cane was in my suite at the other end of the ship with my luggage and I had brought no gun on the trip. I was sure things were going to get exciting in short order without them. “And we must consider the fact that they knew exactly who would be on this ship.”

  “But how so?” Von Burton asked. The corpulent owner was pacing now, back and forth from the window to the table with constant glances towards the companionway the steward had run through. “Our exact departure time, even the week of the flight was kept secret to get the jump on any competitors.”

  “Yet the agents of our government in New Orleans found out,” the ambassador said, grasping my train of thought, “and with very little effort, I might add.”

  “Precisely,” I pointed out. I moved to a sideboard and pocketed a number of nicely balanced steak knives intended for table settings. I watched in the mirrors out the window while a dozen raiders transfer from their snug little craft to The Pride of Prussia like nimble monkeys.

  “But what could they want?” The flustered owner of the Prussia mopped his profusely sweating brow. “If they knew this was a test flight they must have known we have no gold or other valuable commodities on board.”

  “Perhaps not gold as such,” I said coldly, “but you do have ‘commodities’ of great value, Baron.”

  “What do you mean, Sir Althelstan?” Lady Tozi asked me.

  “I am afraid to say your husband and yourself, madam,” I pointed out and saw her wince. “And Herr Baron as well. Each of you would be worth your weight in gold to rogues if you were to be held for ransom.”

  Chapter Eight

  Battle in the air

  “I suppose I’m a pig in a poke, nephew?” Aunt Mini said.

  “Hardly a fortune if the worth is your weight in gold,” I joked at her. She levelled her best ‘kill you with one look’ glare, but I was used to it so I was only mildly wounded.

  “Our demise could be worth even more than any money to my husband’s enemies,” the ambassador’s wife said. Her husband stood to face her but she continued, “Were he not to sign the treaty with your prince the cause of those enemies would be greatly strengthened.”

  “Hush, dear,” Chichua said. “I am sure that it is not the case. True there are those who oppose the concept of the treaty, but they are loyal to the Aztec people. Besides, arrangements were made in the upmost secret after the incident with our ocean ship being delayed.”

  “Secrets can be ferreted out,” Nenetl, the female Jaguar said as she doffed her jacket for freedom of movement. Her superbly athletic female form was even more visible as she rolled up sleeves of her shirt to reveal tattooed, muscular arms. She drew two obsidian daggers from sheaths on the back of her belt and it was clear she would use them expertly. I found myself admiring not only her form but the surety of her dedication to a cause, protecting her lord. “Men can be bribed or threatened to reveal anything, my Lord Chichua.”

  “And was it not, my husband, your enemies that were likely to have sabotaged the ship so we would be too late in arriving in New Orleans and thus to be too late for the meeting and to make it to Montreal?” The steel in the lady’s nature was clearer now though her manner and voice were still demure.

  “I have to agree with the ladies, Mister Ambassador,” I said. “My aunt and I told no one of the baron’s invitation or the actual departure time; and if anyone wished to kidnap the baron it could have been done before we left the city much more easily—he had been in the city for over a month to supervise the final preparations.”

  “And such people could have made a talking-crystal call ahead to alert these pirates,” Nenetl agreed with me though from her tone I think it she was reluctant to agree with me on anything.

  I was fascinated to watch the woman as she made preparations for what was surely to be a coming battle. She and her male counterpart explored the corners of the lounge and made sure that all the entrances from below where secured, though the light wood and canvas construction of such barriers made such actions just an inconvenience to any determined intruders.

  The two jaguars next stretched and tested the footing of the carpet of the lounge. Their movements reminded me of some of the Sikh drills I had learned in my time Bombay.

  “It does not matter who was or was not informed,” Eztl said in a deep, commanding voice as he stretched. He had stripped to the waist to expose a muscular torso covered in warrior tattoos. “We will not allow those bandits, for any reason, to get near you, Lord and Lady Chichua.” He brandished his two daggers and then, with a respectful nod waved to a corner of the room, “Please move to that alcove, it will be safer for you both.”

  He and the woman warrior made their way to the bulkhead door that lead to the main corridor of the ship. They had already blocked or sealed the access doors for the other companionways so that there was only one way into the salon. I was painfully aware that that also meant there was only one-way out for we who were in the salon.

  The jaguars proceeded to tear up several tables and chairs from their floor mountings to improvise a barricade just inside the doorway. This barrier would act to funnel any attackers into a narrow space when they came through the portal so they could not spread out. It was a solid military stratagem though it put my mind to Thermopylae and the last stand of the three hundred Spartans so long ago. Not an allusion I wanted to dwell on considering the fate of those Greek warriors.

  “Eztl—” the ambassador began and I was not sure he was not going to apologize to the warrior but his wife stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “Let their destiny be fulfilled,” she said. The ambassador nodded and he and his mate began to chant softly. I was doing a bit of quiet praying myself.

  Aunt Mini elbowed me. I looked down to see she had set her jaw and was holding a metal chair arm that she had pried off one of the seats. She grinned and waved it like a tomahawk. I just shook my head and sighed.

  The two copper-skinned warriors had removed their shoes for purchase, leaving the barefoot. They stood poised like bronze statues, almost in trance, as they faced the doorway. Forward in the corridors of the great airship we could hear the sounds of violence; thuds, screams of pain and the clash of steel. There were, however, no sounds of gunfire.

  When I remarked as much Von Burton said, “The crew carry no firearms; some airships use hydrogen, which is highly combustible because America jealously guards its vast supply of the less volatile helium. Hydrogen does have greater lifting capacity. We are lucky, however, though we have only helium under agreement with the United States Government. Thus we were able to avoid the more dangerous gas and have even greater lifting capacity for the use of Merlinian vacuum technology that your country shared with my company under license.” The sweating Austrian listened to the clatter in the outer halls with increasing fear in his eyes, his breath coming in short bursts. “Still, the custom on all airships is not to use guns for one never knows—”

  “Them fellas on the pirate ships must not have been sure what gas you were using, “ Aunt Mini said. “I guess that’s some good news.”

  “So your Jaguars have a good fighting chance then, Mr. ambassador,” I said as I observed how they had arranged the barricade. “If the crew is able to make any kind of dent in the borders then the numbers may not be so against them.”

  “My guards, as all Jaguars, are the finest warriors in the world, bar none,” the Mexhican Ambassador said with real pride. His words were confident but I noticed he gripped his wife’s hand more firmly.

  I did not bring up the, Iroquois, Sikhs, Gurkhas or Zulu warriors all of whom I had singular experiences with in the Crimea. Though looking at the absolute concentration and superb physique of the two Jaguars I suspected they would be at least the equals of any those great warrior cultures I’d had the honour to serve beside.

  The sounds of the skirmish in the bowels of t
he ship grew first louder, with savage cries and screams of agony, and then gradually began to fade. It was clear that one side or the other was winning and though there was no way to know for certain I had little doubt the hardened filibusters would easily overwhelm the airship’s crew. After all, the crewmen were hired for skill not savagery.

  We did not have long to wait for Chichua’s boast about his warriors to be proven as the sounds of battle were soon clearly moving our way.

  Baron von Burton tried to flatten his bulk into the alcove where servers would normally have the tea service, and in front of which the jaguars had set up a second improvised barrier. The Austrian was wheezing his fear. He was sweating as if he were in a heavy rain.

  The ambassador calmly placed his wife behind him in the alcove to shield her with his body. He was stoic and his breathing was even; he was truly a man to be admired and I felt that his people were well served.

  Once more I felt alive as I had not since the Crimea, save for our time in the plantation in Slidell. There was a sense, not only that my life but Mini’s was in my hands, solidly in my own hands. It seemed that fate had arranged it so. I looked down at my aunt and attempted to step in front of Mini but she would have none of it.

  “I’m ain’t gonna hunker down and stare at yer behind while the fightin’s goin on, nephew,” she said. She waved her improvised hatchet and added, “Just see to yerself.”

  I knew better than to argue with her so I turned back to the jaguars just as the door from the corridor exploded inward.

  Chapter Nine

  Endgame

  The air pirates that charged in were as motley a crew of cutthroats as one could imagine. They were a mix of all races though they were of a type-scarred and brutal to a man. They were armed with a mix of cutlass, kriss, short axes and knives.