by Brad R. Cook
“Too true.”
“Too bad I don’t have the Black Knight. I could smash through those walls and take the courtyard with ease.”
She nodded and I saw her eyes dart to the side. She saw it, too. Cut through the hole in the eastern wall and smash through the main doors. That’s what I was thinking.
“We should have brought the Iron Knights.”
My father’s eyes popped out of his head and he raised his finger. “Those infernal machines are not toys. Mechanized armor is not for teenagers.”
“All I’m saying is they would be really helpful.”
“Alexander,” my father groaned.
Genevieve nodded, and so did Rodin.
The ship shuddered and we wobbled, but I didn’t fall over. I ran to the window as Genevieve turned back to Heinz. My father and Owethu joined me.
Our allies had taken the courtyard, but the Knights of the Golden Circle still had cannons and guns in the keep’s ruins. In the thick smoke smothering the castle, I searched for evidence that the baron and others had remained unscathed. An arc of blue lightning from the captain’s cannon provided the response.
CHAPTER 14
THE LITTLE SHIP
Through the smoke enveloping the castle, I saw several figures slipping out the back toward the airship. “Look! Someone is making a run for it.”
“Who?” Genevieve asked, scanning the scene below.
I squinted, hoping to peer through the carnage. “There,” I pointed. “Three people.” All were dark figures, but one turned, and through the haze, a flash of light glinted across shiny bronze plates. “Colonel Hendrix,” I spit through clenched teeth.
My father pulled back from the window and slid into his thoughts, pacing back and forth for a moment. He was putting something together. He had the same look when he translated ancient texts. He raised a finger and blurted out, “I think I know what’s this is about.” He rushed off the bridge. I watched him depart and said, “We should stop them. Let’s drop the Sparrowhawk right on top of them and force that ship to stay on the ground.”
Genevieve shook her head. “I can’t order that.”
“Why not?”
Genevieve pointed toward the castle. “This ship is the only reason my father and the captain are still alive.”
I turned and saw the captain and baron fighting in the keep. The Gatling gun rained lead around the artillery and two were aimed inward. The gun crews scattered in the hail of fire but if they regrouped, our friends and her father would be killed. I nodded quickly wanting with everything to take back my request.
Genevieve smoothed out her jacket and pulled it down. She turned to Heinz. “Keep the Sparrowhawk steady, so Indihar can rain lead on our enemies.” She patted her shoulder. “Come, Rodin, we have to think of something.” Rodin jumped off me, glided to her, and landed.
As Genevieve turned away, Owethu hit my arm. “We follow them.”
I jumped and grabbed his shoulders. “Brilliant!” I ran after Genevieve. “Wait! Owethu has the answer.” She stopped and waited for me to continue. “We take the Kite Skipper and track them.”
Her brow peaked. I could tell she was intrigued, but she had a question.
“It’s in the cargo hold. We just secured it.”
She nodded. “Our parents are going to kill us for this, but we’ve got to do something to prevent them from firing on the Sparrowhawk, or my father and the others.”
“First things first, though … we have to put it together.”
The three of us and Rodin, rushed down to the gun deck and pushed through the thunder and smoke to the back where the Kite Skipper sat. Genevieve didn’t look impressed. Owethu and I unbundled the canvas and wooden slats. I held two pieces up trying to see how they fit together.
Mr. Singh rushed over, “What is going on here?”
I looked up. His hard brow covered inquisitive eyes. He locked his hands firmly on his waist.
“Hendrix and the lady assassin are fleeing. They might even take a parting shot at the Sparrowhawk ….”
“Or worse, the captain, and her father.” His expression softened. “What is your plan, Alexander?”
“As they lift off we charge, force them to head away from the castle. They’re fleeing, not staying around for a fight. Once they’ve gone, we hang back in the clouds and follow them. Mr. Singh nodded in agreement. “The captain will surely want to search the castle for spoils…, I mean he and the baron will surely want to make sure none of our enemy remains.”
Genevieve smiled. “My father will insist on searching for clues to their plan.”
I pleaded with both of them, “Then we have to pursue these murderers. We can’t let escape.”
Mr. Singh stroked his beard. “What do we do when they land?”
I paused. “We’ll contact the Templers and the Sparrowhawk.”
“How?”
“I don’t know; I haven’t gotten that far yet.” I shrugged.
“Well then we should get moving,” Mr. Singh said with a large smile. “We’ll never catch them if you keep screwing around.”
Genevieve touched Mr. Singh’s shoulder. “We’re going to get in a lot of trouble for this; you might want to stay here.”
“Kind words milady, but I would never leave my friends in trouble. Besides, if I go, then you aren’t stealing the Kite Skipper.”
Geneveieve hugged him and said, “Welcome aboard.”
Mr. Singh explained how the Kite Skipper fit together, which was a blessing, otherwise we might never have figured it out. Within moments, we had the main struts fixed in place and the burner set. I started to light the small brass stove, but Mr. Singh stopped me and grinned. He pulled a ribbed canvas hose from the ceiling, took the seal off the end and secured the fitting to the balloon. He flipped the valve, and gas filled the balloon halfway in a matter of moments.
“Hook the struts to the balloon, Alexander. Its belly holds helium, not air.”
“Fascinating. So what’s the burner for?” I asked.
Owethu held up a propeller. “This.”
Mr. Singh nodded and leaned back to check on his gun crews. They continued to rain lead shot on the castle below. “Now, fix the wing sails to back of the balloon. They connect to the crew seats.”
“Wait … that’s what we are sitting on?” Genevieve gawked at the contraption with a worried gaze. Most airships suspended a ship’s hull beneath the balloon, but the Kite Skipper didn’t, it remained opened to the sky. Genevieve buried her concerns and jested. “Good thing I’ve changed into pants.”
I looked at the wooden rods with leather straps woven between and knew this was going to be fun. There was nothing surrounding us. Only thick leather belts kept passengers tied to the Kite Skipper. Owethu and I secured all the connections.
Once the Kite Skipper sat assembled on the gun deck, I don’t think any of us eyed it with a sense of security. Brass, bamboo, leather, and canvas sounded good, but this contraption looked as if it might fly apart in a stiff breeze.
Mr. Singh, unconcerned, said, “Everyone aboard.” As we boarded, he handed us each a pair of thick goggles and four heavy coats. “Put these on. You’re going to need them in the winter sky.” Then he sat down, picked up one of the belts and wrapped it around his waste. “Strap in, hold tight, and don’t forget to lock your feet into the straps. They’re all that keep you connected to the Kite Skipper and from certain death.” I could have done without the final part.
I strapped in next to Mr. Singh, who taken the pilot’s seat, while Genevieve and Owethu secured themselves behind us. “How do we get out of the ship?”
Behind us a crewmen yelled, “Enemy airship is lifting off.” The joy slipped from Mr. Singh’s face. “Hold tight.” He pointed to a crewman, who pulled a lever on the wall. The floor beneath us opened up and we dropped out of the Sparrowhawk. We didn’t fall like a stone, more like a feather.
Once clear of the areo-dirigible, with the wind whipping all around us, Mr. Singh ignited
the burner between us, which spun the crankshaft running down the center of the craft. In response, the propeller whirred to life. He pulled a lever and a pair of winglets extended on each side of us. Turning the yoke starboard, we pitched left, and descended. I looked back and watched as we soared away from the Sparrowhawk.
“Look!” I pointed at Rodin as he zipped out of the Sparrowhawk and soared after us. He landed atop the balloon and hooked his claws onto one of the struts, a fitting masthead for our little craft.
CHAPTER 15
THE CHASE
The red and black airship, The Black Freighter, charged through rising smoke, and buffeted by the hot blasts of the cannons, pushed faster. A strong gust from the north pushed our tiny craft toward the battle. As Mr. Singh predicted, the coats were a necessity. The wind was cold, like an arctic blast. Snow still covered the surrounding fields and reflected the glare of the sun overhead.
“We’re nothing more than a mosquito to an elephant,” I yelled over the wind and whirring propeller. “What are we going to do?”
“We charge them.” Mr. Singh forced the yoke forward aiming right for the airship’s hanging bridge.
Mr. Singh couldn’t be serious, but the determination glowing in his eyes told me otherwise. I tried to think of something, and turned to consult Genevieve. She’d freed herself from her belt, and stood up, hooking her boot under one of the struts.
She drew her saber and snagged one of the ropes of the balloon with her other hand. “No need for a suicide mission, Mr. Singh,” she yelled. “Why don’t we poke a few holes in their backside and they’ll never make altitude.”
“You’re the bravest person I’ve ever known.” The wind whipped my words away, and she didn’t hear them.
We soared past the Black Freighter’s portholes. I waved. Although I couldn’t see inside because of the sun’s glare, I was really hoping they saw me. Mr. Singh pulled up on the yoke, and we brushed the underside of the airship, dodging several ropes dangling in their wake. We skimmed up the starboard side. As soon as Genevieve saw taut canvas, she plunged her sword inside the blimp. Three deep cuts later, we broke away and soared off. I spun around and saw puffs of smoke shooting from the airship’s portholes.
“They’re firing on us,” I shouted. Fortunately, we were far enough away that nothing hit us. Even so, Mr. Singh changed course and dropped the Kite Skipper’s nose to gain speed. When he thought we were out of range, he rounded our craft and faced the airship. Torn canvas flapped in the wind. The airship continued to climb, but it turned from the Sparrowhawk and headed south.
I threw up my hands. “They’re running. We did it!”
In the distance, we saw the Sparrowhawk continuing to fire on the castle, and the castle returning a shot that fell under the aero-dirigible.
Genevieve dropped back onto the seat and strapped herself in. The four of us looked at one another. None of us spoke and our silence shouted volumes. Our true enemies were getting away, and we had the only means of following them. We each knew what our parents’ would say, but our minds had been made, solidified, like Roman concrete. I turned to Genevieve and Owethu. They both nodded, and I gave Mr. Singh the thumbs up.
He turned southward toward the fleeing Black Freighter and yelled, “We’re off!” I looked back and saw Owethu had closed his eyes and tilted his head to the sky.
Even though the black airship dragged canvas like a whipping lure, they still managed to gain distance between us. “We have to fly faster,” I said.
A devious smirk formed on Mr. Singh’s lips. “You’ve yet to see why they call it a Kite Skipper.” He handed me a scrap of cloth and said, “Find the wind.”
Find the wind? It was currently smacking me in the face. My eyes would be sealed shut if it weren’t for the goggles. I studied the torn piece of cloth in my hand. This made no sense.
Owethu leaned forward and pointed off to the southeast. “Watch the clouds.”
I looked at him and my brow rose. “What?”
I shrugged. Genevieve shook her head and laughed.
Owethu grabbed the cloth from my hand and tossed it off the side.
“Hey, why did you do that?” I glanced over the side. The scrap shot back in our wake, but after tumbling for a moment it whipped back toward us heading southeast. “Oh,” I said. “The wind.”
They all laughed and I sank a little deeper into my seat.
Mr. Singh throttled back and right before we fell out of the sky; he pulled a cord and released the kite sail. The huge canvas sail flapped for a moment, but suddenly billowed out in front of us as it caught the wind. We lurched forward and began flying much faster. He then increased power to the engine and used the propeller to help him steer. Stretched out in a wide arc, the kite sail, bound to the craft by four ropes, pulled us ever closer to the wounded airship.
For the next few hours we bobbed alongside the clouds. I couldn’t stop staring at the world around me. From up here everything seemed possible. Snow covered the fields below, looking like a layer of clouds lying on the ground. Needles of cold wind pierced my cheeks below my goggles. I would need to remember to thank Mr. Singh for providing on our gear.
Every so often we would spot the enemy airship through the billowing, white mountains towering above us in the sky. The clouds kept us from sight, allowing us to trail silently behind them.
The clouds below us cleared and giving us a view of the land below. In the distance, I saw a city divided by a river. From its size alone, I knew the city that spread beneath us like a jewel set upon the land. “Paris,” I said, pointing.
Everyone nodded, and I felt Genevieve’s hand on my shoulder. She lightly squeezed my coat. The pressure alone sent a chill through me. I turned, from the smile crossing her lips, I knew she, too, was remembering. Paris faded into the distance, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that night—the dress, the theater, the wonderful cheese, the romance languages, and my first kiss. Still the best day of my life.
Soon the snow covered landscape greened until we were cruising over the vineyards and fields of southern France. The skies cleared, leaving a ceiling of blue above us. The patchy clouds that remained left us nowhere to hide.
We soared above and behind the Black Freighter, a good place to avoid being seen. The airship listed. They were in trouble, crippled, flitting back and forth like a drunken firefly.
“What’s wrong? Do they have a leak?” I asked.
Mr. Singh pointed to the rippling canvas and exposed frame. “The aft section deflated over the flight.”
Genevieve leaned forward. “They’ll have to land soon. I can’t imagine that is a comfortable flight.”
As the airship suddenly rose higher in the sky, we all laughed. The Black Freighter continued to climb, and the fun abruptly ended as we were no longer above them, but behind them. A rear gun port flipped open on the airship. I pointed as Mr. Singh turned the yoke hard to starboard. Too late. A puff of smoke exploded from the airship. The cannonball exploded from the airship, leaving a black cloud in the sky. Lead shards cut through the front of the Kite Skipper.
One of the ropes holding the kitesail was severed, causing the canvas to whip wildly. Then the shattered cannon ball ripped through the helium-filled balloon, and it withered as the gas escaped. We plummeted downward out of the sky. Mr. Singh used what little remained of the kite sail and the remaining small winglets to control our descent, but we were clearly about to crash into the side of a ruined cathedral.
As Mr. Singh struggled to keep us on a controlled path, Genevieve yelled, “Get ready to jump.”
The ground rushed up before us and my heart pounded as my head screamed “Jump!” But I knew I had to wait. If we were too high, we ensure a certain leg shattering. Too low, though, and we might get tangled in the sails of the airship and be part of the crash. I didn’t want to let go, but everything inside me yelled, “Get out!”
Moments before we crashed, Mr. Singh yelled, “Now!” I willed my grip to loosen and leapt away from th
e ship and into the grass. I tumbled to a stop and flipped up on my elbow, searching for my comrades as the craft smashed into the grass beside the ruined cathedral.
Stunned, I sat there for a few minutes, then patted myself to make sure I still had all my parts. Beyond some bumps and bruises, I was fine. A rush of relief washed over me as Genevieve stood up and brushed herself off. Owethu and Mr. Singh, too. They all hobbled toward me. I pushed myself up out of the grass. “Unbroken?” I asked each of them.
They all nodded, and Rodin growled as he landed on Genevieve’s shoulder. Mr. Singh and I checked over to the shattered remains of the Kite Skipper.
“Now what?” I asked.
“We walk,” said Mr. Singh.
Great. The long walk to some town in the distance, only to wait for my father, the baron, the captain, and probably the queen, chew me up and spit me out for ruining everything.
I turned to see where Genevieve had gone. . She was looking away from us. “I see them,” she called. “They’re landing at that castle on the hill.”
CHAPTER 16
CATHAR CASTLE
We trudged our way to the castle perched on the ridge at the end of the valley. The impressive fortification rose from a natural outcrop of rock and dominated the surrounding landscape. In the long shadows of the afternoon, we approached the stone fortress. I’d never felt more like a knight storming a real castle.
A symphony of sounds carried over the walls, but no one stood on the battlements. “Why are there no guards on the walls?”
“They don’t expect an attack,” Genevieve answered. “They shot us down.”
Mr. Singh nodded. “We should keep moving. See if there’s a way in.”
Owethu pointed further down the wall. “The sound is louder from this direction.”
We slid along the base of the tall, massive stone fortifications and slowly worked our way to the back of the castle, staying near the walls to avoid the sheer hillsides. As we neared the back, the grounds narrowed further. There, the fortress walls also were shorter, where we eventually had to crouch down in order to keep from being seen.