by Brad R. Cook
In the barrage of fire that pummeled me, I heard the slamming of iron hooves behind me, and then the crashing of metal echo all around. I cringed and braced myself expecting a massive blow at any moment. Every muscle in me tightened, but nothing came. Instead, I opened my eyes to see Mr. Singh and the Iron Templar slamming the Horseman of War into the side of the train. The Iron Zulu, leaking steam and oil, still fired on the train and swung around to try and help Mr. Singh.
Zerelda stopped firing, as she waited for the Milli-train to settle. I braced myself for more impacts. I’d intercepted everything that would have hit Genevieve, sending dirt and rock raining down on us.
Over the din of the battle, I heard the lady assassin yell, “Genevieve, I don’t want to kill you. You have no idea what is happening.”
“Lies,” Genevieve screamed.
Their swords clashed repeatedly behind me. I wanted to turn around, but Zerelda, who had raised her sword, would momentarily lower her wicked cutlass and give the signal to fire again.
“The Templars are not the great organization you think they are.” The lady assassin said.
“I won’t listen to you,” Genevieve screamed as she attacked again.
“But I am your—”
“You are not my mother! You are evil.”
The lady assassin lunged at Genevieve and locked her sword with Genevieve’s. “You have no idea who I am, or why I have done what I have. I didn’t want to hurt your friends, but I had no choice.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Genevieve’s fury erupted. “My mother was a great swordsman and an honorable warrior. You’re nothing but a cheap imposter.”
Their fighting intensified just as Zerelda lowered her sword and the train began firing again. One large cannonball slammed into my shield and dented it. Rodin jumped and flew off the chest plate he’d been clinging too. He curled up around my shoulders. My shield wouldn’t hold up much longer, but I couldn’t stop defending Genevieve.
The glint of light reflecting off Genevieve’s silver saber shone through my visor as the sword soared past and stuck into the ground. I whipped around to see if she was okay, and found her with her arms held out in surrender. The lady assassin’s sword aimed at Genevieve’s throat. I went to raise the barrel of my cannon, but I’d already cut it free.
Explosions ripped all around me. I looked up and saw the airships. Our allies had arrived. They’d hurled cannon fire at the train, and in turn, Zerelda turned the train’s cannons toward the fleet.
Hendrix and Mr. Singh stopped fighting momentarily and looked up at the airships. More dotted the horizon, as the Templar Air Corp arrived. Hendrix reared up on his steed and slammed down the horses hooves with the force of a terrible earthquake, kicking dirt and rocks into the air. The ground around Mr. Singh and Owethu was ripped to shreds, and then, just like at Agincourt, their treads became mired in the loose earth and the ground gave way beneath them sending them plummeting into the caverns below.
Hendrix, now back on the Milli-train, turned and waved his hat. The train reared up on its legs and a demonic hiss pierced the valley as the Milli-train wiggled its back end like a rattlesnake, breaking the engine and about ten cars away from the back of the train. The train, now unimpeded by the damaged cars, scurried off to the north over the mountains.
With Hendrix and the onslaught of fire from Zerelda fading into the distance, I turned back to Genevieve. Rodin flapped incessantly inside of my armor so I threw open my visor to let him fly free. I scanned the surroundings for her, but didn’t see her. The Bronze Knight stood empty next to a scrap pile, the remains of the pale horseman. Not a good sign. I rolled over to the armor.
Where is she? I opened the chest hatch of my Black Knight and jumped out. I searched the area, but she was gone. Only her saber remained, sticking up amid the tall grass. Frantic, I yanked it out of the dirt and held it out as if it would lead me to her. “Genevieve!” I screamed, looking around frantically. Then the world slammed down on my shoulders, and I fell to my knees. Rodin screeched, his cry piercing the air as he flew off, heading for the Milli-train. The train. Genevieve had to be on the train. The Golden Circle had her.
I clutched at her sword and sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Genevieve! I failed you.”
CHAPTER 44
ALEXANDER’S DECISION
Shuddering hard and forcing myself to breathe, I remembered Owethu and Mr. Singh. I rose out of the torn earth now soaked with tears and ran back to the Black Knight. I sped over to the hole they’d plunged into and sprang from my armor.
Racing to the edge, I peered over and saw Owethu smiling up at me. They’re safe! He raised his hand. I waved. He and Mr. Singh sat on top of the Iron Zulu, not too far from the surface. I dropped to my stomach and reached down to give them a hand up.
“Where is Genevieve?” Mr. Singh looked around and then slowly turned to me.
I wiped my nose on my sleeve and looked at my friends. “The Golden Circle.”
Within moments, the Sparrowhawk landed, and Eustache ran up to make certain we were uninjured. After he was satisfied, he set about securing the scene, as all around us crewmen climbed out of crashed airship wreckage, and Zulu soldiers rushed forward to capture the remains of Hendrix’s men scattered amidst the remnants of the damaged train cars.
The Duke and Richard, both in torn, soiled garments, and slightly singed by fire, walked down the gangplank. The baron, with the captain and Sinclair, followed.
This was the moment I dreaded. The baron scanned the fields now bathed in the last light of day. I knew he was looking for his daughter, and it crushed my soul to be holding the answer. I gripped Mr. Singh’s shoulder and extended a hand to Owethu, “I have to tell him.”
Both nodded and I walked off, my shoulders weighted down more with every step.
The baron, the Duke, and Richard gazed at me as I approached them. Seeing only me, the joy on their faces quickly faded into puzzlement, and then horror as they saw I carried Genevieve’s saber.
“She’s gone,” was all I could muster before breaking down into tears.
Obviously not entirely comprehending, the baron asked, “Where is my daughter?”
“She was fighting her mother when I last saw her.”
The baron gripped his cane so tightly I thought he might break it. He stayed silent, but his jaw clenched.
The Duke’s eyes narrowed, hate filling his eyes, but as he started to speak, Sinclair pulled him off. “Your Grace, we need to send word immediately.”
Richard snarled and stepped toward me. “You imbecile. You’ve killed her!” I snapped him an are-you-crazy? look and he backed off.
Captain Baldarich placed a hand on the baron’s shoulders. “They don’t have much of head start, and the Sparrowhawk is in good shape, barley a scratch on her, so we should find them in no time.” He winked at me.
The baron nodded. “Name you price, Sky Raider.”
“I wouldn’t do that to an old friend.” He clasped the baron’s arm. “But I insist on taking the kid.”
“Richard?” The baron asked with a puzzled expression.
“Oh, no.” The two men looked at me and then at Richard who, instead of protesting, stormed off. Baldarich turned to me. “I don’t want to think about what Mr. Armitage will do if don’t take him. He’d probably build wings and learn to fly.”
“When can we leave?” the baron asked, which surprised me. I thought he’d not want me anywhere near him since I’d not protected Genevieve from harm.
“As soon as I give Heinz the orders.”
“Good.” The baron nodded and walked over to the Duke and the Grand Master.
Baldarich approached me. “So, lad, how you doing?”
“Not good, but I like your plan.”
“I thought you might.” He tussled my hair, and it was hard to keep the scowl on my face. “Can you live without that armor for a bit? You’re pretty deadly in it.”
“The Tinkerer says, it’s not the armor but the man inside that ma
tters. Captain, even after this is all over, I’d like to join your crew for a while, if you’ll have me.”
He paused staring at me, as if sizing me up. “You wouldn’t be the youngest I’ve ever brought on board, and you have a bit of resume, and an in with the captain, the boatswain, and my engineer.” He extended his hand, “Welcome aboard, Mr. Knight.”
I smiled and shook his hand. Rodin flew up and landed on my shoulder. He folded his wings and nestled down. Looking tired, he curled up against the back of my neck.
We turned around as Mr. Singh and Owethu walked over. Baldarich grabbed up Mr. Singh and hugged him tight. “Glad to see you without any major scratches. Prepare for departure. Oh, and we got a new crew member.”
The weary Mr. Singh snapped his head up, his torn turban almost slipping from his head, “Aye-aye, Captain.” He saluted and hurried up the gangplank.
Owethu shook my hand. “Thank you, my friend. Without you, my family and my village would have been lost.”
“Thank you. You stood by my side against a terrible evil.”
“I am sorry about Genevieve. She will be just fine, she is as strong as any warrior in real life or legend. I’m certain you will find her, but if you need me, send word, or Rodin”—he stroked the dragon’s back—“and I will come.”
“Kuhle kakhulu,” I said. “I am returning to learn your language.”
“I look forward to that day.”
The baron returned with the Duke and Sinclair. He patted his shoulder, calling for the dragon, but Rodin stayed on my shoulder. The captain nodded to the men and boarded the Sparrowhawk. Sinclair took my hands in his. “Good luck, lad.”
“Thank you, sir.” I stepped off and stopped. “Please tell my father where I’m going, that I’m sorry, and he can ground me when we meet again.” Sinclair nodded.
The baron and I walked up the gangplank and the crew reeled it in after us and closed the cargo door. The baron stopped me in the corridor. “Alexander, you said Genevieve was fighting her mother earlier. I take it you believe it is her now.”
“It’s why she took Genevieve.” I looked at him. “You should have explained to Genevieve who she was. She had a right to know.”
The baron stared off into space for a minute then said, “I never told her who her mother was before we met. I realize now I should have.”
“And I realize now that the Inner Circle wants Genevieve, just like they want me.” I looked down at her saber. “I won’t stop until she’s free.”
“Alexander, I—”
“Baron, apologies for my abruptness, but I don’t care. I’m certain I will be blamed for her capture. I’m surprised you will even speak to me. My father, most certainly, will say I’m reckless. The Duke will say I’m rebellious. I don’t care what either of them say. I don’t care that Genevieve is betrothed to Richard or that we can never be part of the same world.” I locked eyes with him. “Mark my words, I will find her. I will rescue her. Nothing will stand in my way.”
~ Alexander Armitage will return in Iron Lotus ~
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I want to start by thanking my critique partners the word weaver Cole Gibsen, and the sci-fi siren T.W. Fendley. They are amazing authors, and I highly recommend their novels. Mine are immensely better because of their efforts.
Thank you to the two illustrators – Georgie Retzer whose work appears on the cover, and Jennifer Stolzer who creates the illustrations for the Sparrowhawk and the rest of Alexander’s Sketchbook. Also to Kristina Blank Makansi for the great cover.
I wouldn’t be where I am without St. Louis Writers Guild, and though I recently stepped down as president, I am thrilled that it will not only continue, but will thrive! Literary communities are important to every writer, so I also need to thank the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators for everything they do.
I love all book stores, but I would be remiss not to mention Emily and the staff of Main Street Books in historic St. Charles for all the support! Drop by and you might find secretly signed copies of my books. Support your bookstores and the libraries; they are the gateways to infinite adventure.
Shout out to the Write Pack … those cool writer cats.
Thank you to the Zulu, a culture I have admired for many years. I only wanted to honor the great Zulu culture, and wish I could have showcased them more.
Lastly, thank you for joining us on this adventure.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Brad R. Cook began as a playwright, then dipped into the corporate writing world before moving into the publishing world. He joined the board of St. Louis Writers Guild in 2008 and served as President from 2011 to 2015. A founding contributor to The Writers’ Lens, a resource blog for writers, he can be heard weekly, as a panelist on Write Pack Radio. He learned to fence at thirteen, and never set down his sword, but prefers to curl up with his cat and a centuries’ old classic.