by Brad R. Cook
“A train that can go anywhere. Soon, there’ll be no need for tracks. My Milli-train will conquer the world.”
“A train need not be a monster,” Genevieve said, her chin raised. “Trains bring civility to the outer most reaches of our world.” Hendrix turned away from Genevieve, tore off a piece of bread, and pointed it at me. “That kind of talk is why she’ll never be in the Golden Circle.” He laughed, shifting back toward Genevieve. “I guess you’re more of a daddy’s girl, hey?”
“Civilization can only be brought once the wilderness has been pacified.” We all looked across the table at the lady assassin, who stared toward Genevieve with eyes that burned like fiery daggers. Genevieve’s gaze narrowed, but her expression remained stoic. Like stone. But then, for the first time, Genevieve’s gaze darted away, downward. The first and only crack in her façade. Then regaining her demeanor, she said, “Pacifying … enslaving those in the Empire is not civilized. It is barbaric.”
“Spoken like a true blueblood.” Hendrix nudged me with his left elbow. “There’s another reason she’ll never be in the Golden Circle. A new world is coming, forged in a fiery crucible of the horsemen’s heart. Hammered into a golden circle.”
Kannard walked in and sat down beside the lady assassin, staring from me to Genevieve for a long moment before he said, “Must we dine with the prisoners?”
“Prisoners? We don’t have any prisoners onboard,” Hendrix said with a crooked smile. “These are our guests.”
Kannard snarled in annoyance. “Fine, but maybe your guests should be locked up in more suitable accommodations.”
Hendrix let loose an eerie chuckle, more like a punch to the gut than a laugh. “I’ll take that into consideration, Lord Kannard.”
“How is your hand, Lord Kannard?” the lady assassin asked.
Kannard narrowed his eyes and stared at the woman beside him, but did not answer her.
Hendrix turned to me. “You really should reconsider our offer, you know. The Golden Circle is more of who you are than the Templar Order, who, by the way, still have not accepted you. Have they?”
The man knew where to strike.
“No … but one day they will.”
“Ha! One day. You are worthy now,” Hendrix said. “Just because a bunch of old men tell you can’t, doesn’t mean you aren’t capable.” Hendrix wrapped his mechanical arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. He slammed his remaining hand on my chest and pounded. “Everything that you will be, is already inside you.” He released me and returned to eating.
Strong, encouraging words from my enemy. I took a deep breath, but tried not to let them seep inside me. I didn’t want to tell him I agreed. Kannard snagged a slice of sausage and said, “Soon the horsemen will ride again. Nothing your precious Templars do can stop us. Join us or don’t. Either way, the world will tremble.”
Hendrix nodded. “Let them come. This train will blast them from the sky and crush them into the ground.”
“Speaking of this train, I slept horribly,” Kannard groused. “Too much moving around. You should have built a boat. Then we could just sail down the coast.”
“A boat?”
“Yes, an elegant boat. Not this monstrosity of the modern age … this iron serpent.”
“Careful, Milord.” Hendrix wiped his mouth and stood up. “Baroness?” He held out his hand. “Shall we? We have much to discuss.”
The woman stood to follow Hendrix. “And you.”
“I’m not done,” Kannard said, popping some cheese in his mouth.
“Yes, you are.” Hendrix motioned toward the soldiers as he headed to the door. Kannard eyed the soldiers, stood, grabbed some grapes, and headed off with Hendrix, never giving us a second glance. The lady assassin followed, along with the guards. As Hendrix approached the door, he turned and called to the last soldier, “Lock the door behind you. We don’t want our guests to think they can come and go as they please.”
After the last of the soldiers left, Genevieve said, “They appear to be fracturing.”
Pssssst.
I glanced sidelong at Genevieve, and she raised her eyebrow.
Pssssst.
The sound came from the back of the train car. I stood up, but before I could even move, Mr. Singh and Owethu popped up from behind a chaise lounge.
“Indihar! Owethu!” Genevieve and I yelled.
“We thought you might be …” Genevieve halted.
Mr. Singh laughed, “Fear not, Milady. We merely stowed away.”
Owethu, jumped over the back of the lounge and stood on the cushion. “We are here to rescue you.”
Mr. Singh cocked an eyebrow and stared at the table full of food. “You do need rescuing, right?”
CHAPTER 30
ESCAPE FROM THE TRAIN
Mr. Singh and Owethu stared at the food and I motioned, “Please, dig in.” They hurried over to the table and snatched up some fruit.
“Being a stowaway is horrible,” Mr. Singh said as he shoved a strawberry into his mouth. “Not like being a guest of the Golden Circle.”
“Yes,” said Owethu. “We at least expected to untie you.” He smiled and tore off a piece of meat.
“Where have you been?”
Mr. Singh motioned toward the back of the train. “Atop crates, on the roof, wherever we needed to hide until we could rescue you.”
“Better yet, how did you get in here?”
“Easy,” said Mr. Singh. “As you all slept, we snuck into the car and hid.”
“We’ve got to get off this train.” We all three looked at Genevieve.
“But this is taking us to the hidden city of the sky pirates.”
“Yes,” she nodded, “but I don’t think we want to be on this train when it arrives.”
Mr. Singh grabbed some more food and said, “The captain knows where the hidden city is.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” I said.
The door swung open behind us and the lady assassin stepped in. We all spun around.
“Bonjour! Look at what we have here. Guests … and stowaways.” She drew a rapier from the sheath at her side. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist you come with me.”
Genevieve stepped into the middle of the train car, and drew her silver-hilted saber with lapis in the pommel. “Apologies for disappointing you, but we’ve decided to disembark.” She raised the sword in salute.
The woman chuckled. “I guess this was impossible to avoid. Given our history. But my dear, can you fight your mother?”
“You are not my mother.” Genevieve hardened her stance, and without looking back at us, said, “Get out of here. I’ll catch up.”
“But Genevieve,” I appealed.
She smiled. “This is duel one. That should inspire confidence.”
Mr. Singh did not hesitate. “To the roof.”
He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me toward the door. Owethu followed, but before we were able to escape, the lady assassin spun and whipped a thin spike deep into the door frame. Mr. Singh yanked on the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
Genevieve charged and slashed with her sword, forcing the lady assassin to give ground or get cut. The blades clinked together as her opponent blocked every attack. Genevieve pressed harder, pushing her back to the couches. I smiled. Genevieve moved like an artist, as if watching one of the great masters in their studio.
Mr. Singh and Owethu pulled at the door to no avail. The lady assassin twisted and parried Genevieve’s blade, but she countered with a thrust that held the woman away from us. Mr. Singh pulled his Katar dagger and dug the wide blade into the wood.
Failing to pry out the spike, Mr. Singh twisted his Katar free. “Alexander! Quick, your Thumper!”
Without taking my eyes from the battle before me, I reached in the pouch on my belt and pulled out a percussion cap. I slid the piston forward and loaded one into my Thumper. “Stand back.”
As Owethu and Mr. Singh scattered, I aimed it at the door, pressed the trigger, and ob
literated the door jam and spike.
“Get up on the roof.” I said pointing toward the shattered door. They nodded and disappeared.
I turned back as the lady assassin flipped over one of the coffee tables, landed on the couch, and pushed off to attack. Genevieve parried with her saber.
Loading another percussion cap into my Thumper, I aimed at the lady assassin. Before I could fire, she twirled, plunged her hand into her cloak, and slung several spikes toward me. One lodged in my Thumper. Another cut through my shirt. The rest sank into the wall behind me.
As I pried the spike out of my Thumper, Genevieve thrust forward, and cut through the assassin’s cloak.
The lady assassin stopped and reached under her clothes. “You drew first blood. I’m impressed.”
“I was trained by the best. My father and my real mother.”
Flashes of steel filled the parlor as the two women fought like warriors of old. Genevieve advanced with a flurry of quick thrusts and cuts. Each time, the lady assassin retreated only to lunge in response. I aimed my Thumper, but did not shoot. I could not chance hitting Genevieve.
The lady assassin spun, tossing pillow after pillow at Genevieve. She batted them away, slicing open several, and sending feathers flying in every direction. Relentless, the rapier pierced the cloud of feathers and ripped into Genevieve’s cloak. She paused, momentarily stunned. She looked down at herself, no blood, so she twisted, and swung her blade to parry the rapier away.
The lady assassin whipped her sword back and forth, pressing Genevieve back toward me. Their blades danced in the chaos stirred up by the wind. She lunged forward in an attempt to impale my friend. I raised my Thumper and fired, spinning the assassin to the floor.
Genevieve looked from the woman to me, and back again. There was no time to waste. Others would be upon us soon. I glanced back at the door. Hendrix and his soldiers were advancing through the cannon car.
Without a word, I looked up to the ceiling, hoping that armor plating there was not as thick as the plating on the sides. I raised the Thumper and pointed it above the table. The concussive blast ripped through the roof, tearing open a hole a few feet wide.
“Let’s go,” I yelled.
Genevieve sprang onto the table and jumped through. I climbed onto the table, glancing back at the lady assassin, who lay on a Persian rug, stunned, but not dead. I turned away, grabbed the edge of the opening, and pulled myself up.
Once on top of the undulating train, we ran toward the rear, where Mr. Singh and Owethu stood waving their hands. As we jumped from one car to the next, I looked over my shoulder. The lady assassin sprang out of the hole and once again pursued us. Hendrix climbed out as well, he yelled something back into the car and pointed at us, the soldiers charging out beside him ran after us, too.
I turned, jumped the gap between two cars, and yelled, “Faster!” to Genevieve. I still didn’t know how we were going to escape, and we were quickly running out of train cars.
Mr. Singh and Owethu had reached the end. Both nervously looked over the edge. I looked at Genevieve, then back toward our pursuers, who, too, were quickly bearing down on us.
“What’s the next part of the plan?” I asked.
“I thought this was your plan.” Genevieve said.
“Jump,” Mr. Singh yelled. Then he and Owethu leapt off the back of the train.
Genevieve sprang over the next gap and said, “There has to be a way.”
“If we leap off the sides the legs will chew us up. Hopefully the sand will save us.”
With the lady assassin and Colonel Hendrix now only one car behind us, there was nothing else to do. I grabbed Genevieve’s hand and we leapt off together. We tumbled through the air, our fingers squeezing ever tighter.
We landed with an incredible thud on the top of a sand dune. I lay there stunned, knocked out of breath, but quickly recovered as Hendrix reached the edge of the train. With his right arm raised he fired a grappling line, sending a cable hurtling from his arm. The spiraling line arced toward me, moving faster than I could react. Genevieve popped to her knees and knocked the grappler away with her sword. Hendrix, staring at the four of us, retracted the line.
CHAPTER 31
TEMPLAR ARMADA
“The Milli-train is circling back around.” Mr. Singh pointed as the train turned back upon itself.
We followed Owethu and Genevieve to the base of the dunes, trudging through the shifting sand. We turned away from the sound of the chugging legs and slipped behind another dune. My heart pounded and every muscle in my body twitched as the Milli-train crested the hill to our right and continued on. They hadn’t seen us. For the time being, we were safe.
The Milli-train’s wide turns, changes in direction, and crisscross patterns, allowed us to slip further away. We continued in a zigzag pattern for the next hour until we were certain they wouldn’t find us. Thankfully, the high winds pushed sand into our tracks, making it impossible to follow them. To be certain, we climbed to just below the crest of another dune, peeking over. The Milli-train was marching south again, leaving us behind.
Great. We’d escaped a moving train, only to face certain death in the midst of a desert. I dreaded thinking about our fate and the many dangers that lay beneath—or baking upon—the sand. The heat of the waning day still beat down on us, as if we stood in an oven. Sweat poured from every inch of me, and swiping it away brought little relief as more rolled down to soak every fiber on my body. I’d always lived around water, and after today, I’d never leave it again.
We trudged along in silence before I finally said, “Anyone got a good plan for getting out of this desert?”
Without breaking stride, Mr. Singh said, “Contact the Sparrowhawk.”
I shook my head. Here we were on the verge of death, and he jokes. “And how do you propose we do that, Mr. Singh?”
All he did was shrug his shoulders.
I stopped. “You do realize, we are stranded in a desert with no water, no food, and no hope of survival, right?”
Owethu whipped out a canteen. “I brought water.”
We all broke out in laughter. The tension disappeared, and for the moment, so did our worries about our predicament. After taking sips from the canteen, we continued our journey in the sand, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the dunes, but offering no relief from the sweltering heat.
Once the sun dipped below the horizon, the temperature plummeted until I was shivering so much; all I wanted was to bury myself under the warm sand. Still, we walked.
Genevieve came up alongside of me and put her arm through mine. She tucked in against me, stealing my warmth “You’re so warm,” she said, “as if you’d stored the heat from today.”
I laughed. “More like an internal boiler fed by all the food I eat.”
Once night had swept completely over the land, Mr. Singh pulled out a flare gun. He looked to the stars, and finding his directions, fired into the Northeast sky. A bright red, burning glow soared into the air and exploded like fireworks before slowly drifting back down to the sand.
“Will anyone see that?” I asked.
“Everyone in the dessert saw that falling star.” Mr. Singh said. “Hope the Milli-train doesn’t.”
We all turned toward the south, searching the desert for any sign of the mechanized train. Only the endless sea of dunes lay behind us. In front of us. All around us. Which was a good thing. Wasn’t it?
A short while later, I saw several stars, dots of light, descend from the sky and drift above the sand. They moved toward us. The soft sound of engines pulled my attention to the dark clear sky above, and then I saw several airships approaching from the Northeast. Each had hung lanterns beneath their hulls to ignite the airship as well as the dunes below. I wasn’t certain if one of them was the Sparrowhawk, but right then, it didn’t matter, they were real.
Mr. Singh raised his flare gun, and a burning red orb soared into the sky, illuminating the Templar flag on the side of a couple o
f airships.
As we heard people cheer above us, the tension faded from my shoulders. Spiraling down around the flare, the familiar bronze wings of Rodin darted in and out of the red light as if playing with the ember. He soared down and landed on Genevieve’s shoulder. He rubbed his head under her chin and along her cheek. She grabbed the dragon, hugged him, and scratched behind his ears and horns. Rodin cooed. He was as happy to see us, as we were to see him.
The Sparrowhawk never looked better as she glided down toward the desert and hovered above us. Five other airships accompanied them: two smaller airskiffs, two airfrigates, and the Duke’s imperial airship. My joy deflated like a punctured balloon. We were saved … by the Duke. Worse yet, it was probably Genevieve’s betrothed waiting to scoop her away and claim all the glory for himself. I kicked at the sand, but forced myself to calm down. More important matters lay ahead.
We all climbed aboard the Sparrowhawk as the crew lowered a rope ladder. Our parents and the captain peered through the hatch of the aero-dirigible, as we boarded the vessel. I’d hoped a warm welcome would be waiting for us, since we had managed to escape capture and avert certain death, but when I saw my father’s face, I wanted to jump right back into the sand.
“Welcome aboard,” Captain Baldarich announced with wide-open arms. “My congratulations on surviving that mechanical monstrosity.”
“The Milli-train,” I said. “At least that’s what Colonel Hendrix called it.”
They all looked at me. Their smiles faded. It was like I’d taken a giant pin and popped the only balloon in the room. The baron grabbed Genevieve and hugged her tight. Baldarich embraced Mr. Singh, as did Owethu’s father to him.
When my father grabbed me by the shoulders and squeezed, I seized up, thinking I might get one of his unending lectures again. He stared into my eyes. That’s when I saw that his eyes were red and glossy, his cheeks still wet from tears. He didn’t hug me, just smiled, fixed his glasses, and patted my shoulder. I grabbed his arm and said, “I’m okay. They treated us really well.”