by Brad R. Cook
“Yes.” Genevieve stepped off, but stopped. She rushed back and kissed my cheek. “You’re one of the bravest and most intelligent warriors I’ve ever met. Never doubt that.”
She pushed away from me, but I reached out and snagged her arm. I gently drew her back to me and wrapped my arms around her. When our lips touched, electricity rippled up my spine. I didn’t pull away. Neither did she.
Slowly we separated, still in each other’s arms. I could have gotten lost in the sparkle of her eyes forever. Breathless, I ran my finger over her cheek. She looked down and bit her lip.
“Good luck,” I said.
She touched my cheek. “Godspeed, Alexander.”
She slipped out of my arms and ran off.
CHAPTER 40
IRON ZULU VS. MILLI-TRAIN
I stood next to Mr. Singh on the gundeck as the Sparrowhawk rose into the sky. Immediately we saw the Milli-train crawling toward us, cutting back and forth through the grass like a predator seeking out its prey.
Mr. Singh conducted the gundeck like a symphony. At his direction, the gun crews rushed around prepping the cannons and manning each Gatling gun.
“What would you have me do, Mr. Singh?” I asked.
He looked at me and pointed to the front room—my room. “Keep the cannonballs coming. First, give me a count of what we have?”
“I’m your man,” I said with a salute. “But can we keep an eye on the Iron Zulu, too? It’s a superb machine, but I’m worried about Owethu. I know he’ll be great, but he’s alone down there.”
“We will help him all we can.”
I leaned a little closer, “Is Genevieve onboard?”
“No, her father insisted she ride on the Imperial Airship.”
“Oh.” I blew out a long breath, trying to force the anxiety of knowing she was with Richard from my chest. I walked off to the front room, but stopped, spun around and said, “Do you just want cannonballs, or should I bring up chain-shot and bar-shot, too?”
“Bring it all. Who knows what we’ll need.”
“Aye-aye, Mr. Singh.” I entered my room, and did a quick check of the ammunition.
The captain’s voice echoed out from the copper tube. “Mr. Singh, fire on my mark. Put everything we have on that metal slug.”
“Prepare to fire!” Mr. Singh directed the crews. He leaned back and yelled into the copper tube, “All port side guns at the ready, Captain.”
The Sparrowhawk tilted to the port side, aiming the guns directly at the Milli-train. As we banked, cannon fire erupted in the distance. Flashes of fire flew out from the top of the train, but nothing hit us … yet. Still the captain didn’t fire.
I rushed to the starboard side and looked out. Most of the other airships had lifted off and jockeyed for position around the train. Glancing down at the village, the Iron Zulu stood at ready at the gates. Rows of Owethu’s fellow warriors stood behind him, cheering him on. Alongside them, the a detachment of British infantry from the Imperial Airship had taken up positions behind a berm. The sight was imposing. I wish I could see Hendrix and Kannard’s faces right now.
From the Sparrowhawk, we had the perfect vantage point of the battle lines, the terrain, and even the reinforcement of soldiers setting artillery up on a hill in the distance. Even Alexander the Great would be jealous of this view.
The captain’s voice broke through the rushing wind. “Fire!”
Mr. Singh drew his shamshir and pointed it toward the Milli-train. “Fire!”
Both cannons roared to life, spitting fire and lead down at the armored train. As the cannon crew swabbed out the barrel and reloaded, the Gatling gun crew cranked the handle and rained bullets down on the target. The crewmen readied the cannon with the powder charge, ball, and wadding. Then the man with the botefeux, turned to Mr. Singh awaiting the next command before touching the slow burning rope to the wick.
Mr. Singh yelled, “Fire!”
The crewman laid the botefeux to the wick, and in an instant smoke and fire belched from the cannon, which obscured Mr. Singh, but the shimmer of his blade pierced the veil.
The captain’s orders echoed again throughout the ship. “Prepare starboard guns.”
Mr. Singh yelled, “Starboard guns ready.”
We banked steeply toward starboard, and I grabbed hold of a post to keep from sliding. As we continued turning, through the gunports, I saw the Milli-train charging the main gate of the village. The Iron Zulu held his ground and fired on the metal monster. Fire! Fire! Fire! I repeated over and over under my breath, willing the captain to give the order. But he didn’t. Watching the metal monstrosity march forward toward Owethu and the village, I was filled with terror.
Finally, the captain ordered, “Fire!”
Mr. Singh pointed his sword. “Fire!”
The cannon and Gatling gun rained lead down at the train, but the monster kept moving forward. The cannonballs exploded on impact, spitting fire along the iron plating. The bullets battered the hull like hail, dimpling the iron, but not penetrating the metal. Still Owethu held his ground.
“Mr. Singh,” the captain yelled, “prepare grapplers. And Mr. Singh, make your shots count. We only get one chance at this.”
Mr. Singh ran to one of the grapplers and pointed at me. “Alexander, take hold of the other side.”
I ran to the hatch in the floor and yanked it up. Inside lay the grappling gun and coiled cable. In my mind, I flashed over Mr. Singh’s lesson on how they worked, but it had been last year. “Unlock it first, right?” I asked.
“Yes, and don’t forget to unlatch the cable, too.”
I flipped the latch on the gun and freed the cable. Pulling back on short lever, I opened the outer hull and the grappling gun swung out. Using the large circular reticule on top, I aimed it toward the Milli-train. “Which train car?”
“The first car” Mr. Singh replied.
I pulled the trigger and the hooks soared out and downward with the cable spooling out behind it. Both grapplers pierced the roof of the first car and popped open, securing the lines. Immediately, they were pulled taut. The engines of the Sparrowhawk whined under the strain, but the captain didn’t give up. I ran to the gunport and looked out. We held the Milli-train just outside the village.
The Iron Zulu still stood his ground in front of the Milli-train. With the beast held at bay by the Grappling gun, and Owethu had the engine exposed right before him. The Milli-train reared up, pulled back by our cables, like a praying mantis rising up to devour its prey. The Iron Zulu raced up beneath the train, and using its shield to block the legs, he pushed up on the engine. Then with one swift movment, he slammed the Iklwa into the boiler. Steam rushed out, encircling the Iron Zulu.
The cargo doors toward the back of the Milli-train blew out and two Iron Horsemen jumped out. An inner fire shone through the plates and gears of the steeds, surrounding them in shadowy darkness. The riders, Hendrix and Kannard, cloaked figures, sitting within the backs of the machines, charged forward.
Fear snagged my heart, freezing me in place, again sending a surge of horrid memories rushing through my mind. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on what Mr. Singh needed me to do.
Rushing toward Owethu, Hendrix, the red Horseman of War, raised a giant two-handed sword, a flat sheet of steel with a long handle and cross bar hilt, and galloped full speed. Kannard, the white Horseman of Disaster, raised his cavalry saber and charged alongside Hendrix to the front of the Milli-train. In a single thrust they sliced the grappling lines.
The Sparrowhawk lurched and I tumbled across the deck. I popped up and looked around as the aero-dirigible leveled out. Everyone seemed okay, so I ran to a hatch to check on Owethu. I heard a loud crash and saw a huge dust cloud kicked up as the Milli-train slammed forward. I couldn’t see the Iron Zulu in the chaos, but he he burst out of the dust and rounded around for another attack.
“The Iron Zulu is fighting both Iron Horsemen.” I pointed down below. “We have to help him.”
Hun
ter appeared with the longest two rifles I’d ever seen, as well as the same scowl he always wore. “Captain sent me to help.”
“Excellent, but what are those?”
Hunter walked over and knelt next a gunport. “My Kentucky longrifles, Thunder and Lightning. Only these are a bit modified, and I use a different slug. A bit more powerful.”
He took a powder horn from his belt and poured a measured amount down the barrel. Next, he wrapped the ball in wadding, and rammed it down. Setting a small percussion cap under the hammer, he set it aside and repeated the process with the second rifle.
Hunter kneeled down and poking the longrifle out the hatch, he rested the barrel in the corner. Sighting down the barrel, he took several deep, steady breaths.
Hunter eased back on the trigger and black powder smoke erupted from the barrel. I watched the bullet hit its mark. But at the last moment, one of the iron plates on the side of Hendrix’s steed popped up and deflected the shot. The bullet soared toward Lord Kannard’s steed, and when it bounced against its iron plates, the shot ricocheted, striking Hendrix in the bronze plate covering his shoulder.
“Great shot.”
Hunter smiled. “I remember how those plates deflected shots from last year.”
Both horsemen reared up and looked around for the source of the gunfire. Hendrix aimed at Kannard and roared as his eye sparked with electricity.
In the chaos of the moment, both horsemen forgot about the Iron Zulu, and Owethu shoved his shield under Kannard’s steed, thrusting the Iklwa into the cannon in its chest. The white horseman of Disaster reared up as the cannons collapsed. Hendrix and the Horseman of War, slammed its hooves against the ground, churning up the grass and dirt around the Iron Zulu.
The Milli-train then began firing on all the airships circling above, including the Sparrowhawk. Two smaller airships plummeted to the ground. Another cannonball exploded out of the train. My heart skipped. It was heading toward us. I turned and ran to the other side of the ship. “Incoming,” I yelled as I dove for cover.
The outer hull ripped inward as the cannonball tore through the gundeck and up into the ceiling. Canvas whipped around the twisted frame left in the wake. I looked up and the shot had also gone through one of the room’s upstairs and out the side. I pulled my goggles over my eyes and ran forward for more cannonballs to return fire.
Beams rattled and creaked around me. The Sparrowhawk shook, but thankfully the aero-dirigible didn’t list or fall out of the sky. I only hoped no one was injured.
I carried the cannonballs and powder charges out to the gundeck, where the men now fired freely on the enemy below. Smoke billowed through the deck only to be sucked out the gunports and hatches. With my vision limited, I relied on my memory of the obstacles in my way.
Hunter continued methodically loading his longrifles, taking careful and steady aim, and then firing. He’d then set Thunder aside, picked up Lightning and selected his next target. From the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth, I could tell he was enjoying annoying Kannard and Hendrix. I could tell, too, when he’d missed, as he snarled.
Bullets riddled the hull, ripping through the canvas and even the wooden planks. I dove to avoid the searing lead as did the crewmen and Hunter until another swarm passed. He popped up and laughed. “Horsemen found me.”
“At least if they’re shooting at us, they aren’t killing any villagers.”
CHAPTER 41
THE BLACK KNIGHT RIDES AGAIN
Hunter pointed out one of the hatches to the North. “Airships.”
“Is it the Templars?” I rushed over and saw several airships racing this way, each adorned with the Templar cross whipping in the wind. “They’re here!”
The crew cheered, but Mr. Singh yelled, “Don’t get distracted. This fight isn’t over.”
I nodded and ran to the other side. I stuck my head out an unused gunport between the Gatling gun and cannons. Below, Owethu kept the horsemen out of the village, but the train, which had been forced back by all the aerial attacks, charged once again. Mr. Singh yelled, “Fire!” and the cannons beside me roared.
Upon impact, the blasts merely bounced off the top of the train. Our firepower wasn’t enough to stop it, and the Golden Circle was overwhelming our forces on the ground. More soldiers, more airships, and more cannon—would it be enough?
The train again raised its guns toward the Sparrowhawk. Mr. Singh yelled, “Incoming.” We all took cover the best we could. The explosion shook the Sparrowhawk as black smoke drifted into the gunports, but we were not directly hit.
Mr. Singh rushed back to a gunport, and pounded the hull with his fist, “Blasted! They hit the cargo ship.”
I rushed up next to Mr. Singh as the largest of the airships, a cargo blimp, plummet from the sky and smash into ground, landing between the train and Owethu. The crumpled wreck smoldered but didn’t burst into flames. Turning to Mr. Singh, I asked, “Was that the airship with our armors?”
“Afraid so,” Mr. Singh sighed.
“I have to get down to the Black Knight,” I said, hoping that it survived the crash intact.
“Apologies,” Mr. Singh shook his head. “We can’t land. The Sparrowhawk would be too vulnerable.”
“What about the grappler?” Not waiting for his response I ran over to the opening.
“Wait, Alexander, I must inform the captain.”
“No time,” I countered, loading another grappling hook into the gun. As I fired toward the crashed airship, I heard Mr. Singh yell into the copper tube, “Captain, Alexander and I are zip-lining down to the armors.”
Laughter echoed back through the tube, and I heard clapping.
The hook sank into the ground a few feet from the smoking wreckage. I pumped my fist and I heard Hunter’s voice behind me, “Nice shot.”
“Hunter, once we’re on the ground, retract the line.”
Hunter nodded and shook Mr. Singh’s hand.
I grabbed the thick leather strapping and wrapped it around me and secured the brass ring to the cable, then handed another to Mr. Singh. Seeing the cable swaying in the wind visions of disaster filled my mind. “This is a bad idea.”
Before I could change my mind, Mr. Singh said, “Forgive me my friend.” Then he pushed me out the Sparrowhawk.
Hanging tight to the wire, the wind biting my skin, I was thankful I hadn’t taken off my goggles.
As I zipped toward the ground, cannonballs and dozens of rounds whipped by me. Only a few feet from the end of the line, I released the strap and slammed into the ground. I rolled several times before crashing into the wreckage. Lying on my back, with the wind knocked out of me, I saw Mr. Singh hurtling down toward me. He waited a moment longer than I had, released his strap, and landed perfectly on his feet in front of me.
“Showoff,” I groaned.
“At least I am not lying down on duty.” Mr. Singh chuckled as he extended his hand. I grabbed it and he pulled me up.
“Let’s find those Iron Knights.”
We ran alongside the crumbled airship until we reached the midsection where there was a break in the hull. Climbing through the torn canvas of the outer structure we searched for the armors. I climbed under twisted metal braces, and tossed shattered wooden planks to get deeper within until we saw the Black Knight, the Bronze Knight, and the Iron Templar.
“Over here,” I yelled to Mr. Singh.
Ignoring the encroaching fire, I rushed over to the Black Knight and laid my hand against the metal. A flood of memories crashed through my mind. The Tinkerer had fixed the leg and the hole in my shield. I only wished my scars healed so easily.
I opened the chest hatch and climbed inside. I felt whole again, back in my machine. I reached in the arms and gripped the controls. The power at my finger tips sent a surge of confidence pulsing through me. Igniting the burners to build pressure in the engine, I fired up the armor, and soon smoke belched out of the twin stacks curving along its back.
I knew I should complete a run-thro
ugh, to make sure the guns were loaded. But there was no time. In front of me, through the web of twisted beams, the Milli-train was charging straight toward me, as if it aimed to plow straight through me.
I battened the hatches and closed the visor and said, “Okay, Black Knight, I know we’ve been through a lot, but we need to save the village—and survive this day.” I raised the arm cannon and aimed it at the train. “By god and my ancestors, please let this work.” Pulling the trigger, fire ripped forward blowing a hole through mesh of the airship. The shell whined through the air and exploded directly on the front of the train.
I cheered and pressed the pedal to move forward. Nothing happened. The treads didn’t move at all. I could feel the Black Knight straining against something. The Iron Templar was beside me, took aim at the train, and fired. The round impacted one of the Milli-trains legs, ripping it off.
Studying the Iron Templar, I saw it, too, was strapped to the deck of the airship to secure it for the flight. We were now trapped. I couldn’t use the cannon or risk injury to everyone and anything still in the wreckage. I reached back with the Black Knight’s arm and unlatched the sword, a sharpened slab of steel over eight feet long and over a foot thick. Drawing the blade forward, I cut the Iron Templar loose and Mr. Singh crashed through the wreckage and rolled to freedom. I sliced through my own straps, rolled over to the Bronze Knight and freed it from its strapping.
For an instant, I thought of Genevieve and that she should be here taking control of the Bronze Knight. But I couldn’t focus on her right now. I pressed the pedal and this time the treads rolled forward. The Black Knight pushed against the beams and wreckage surrounding me and ripped through them like paper. Once free of the debris, I spotted the train ahead of me, again plowing straight toward the village
Mr. Singh’s Iron Templar charged the Milli-train, its white tunic with the red cross emblazoned on the chest. Explosions ripped into the ground around me. Dirt and grass rained down on my armor like hail stones. As I moved forward, the Milli-train fired on me, but I continued forward. I had to help Owethu. I lifted my cannon and fired at Lord Kannard, but the steed protected him.