A tall female appeared in the atrium with her figure caressed by a white robe. Petite spots of red dotted it in odd, random patterns. She studied the four humans before smiling directly at Senator Clark. “Prince Cesare sends greetings.”
Clark tried to cover his exhausted wheezing with a vicious snarl. “You tell that stinking animal that I'll see him in Britain soon enough.” He paused as recognition dawned on him. “Wait. I know you. You were at the Tower of London. You killed some of my men.”
She laughed. “I know you too, Butcher. I am Flay. I defeated you in London. And again in Edinburgh. Now I've taken your emperor here in his own homeland. And you did nothing.”
Clark stepped forward. “Let's just finish it here and now.”
Mamoru planted a hard arm against the American's immaculate blue tunic. “Stop, you fool! She's baiting you.”
Flay regarded Mamoru curiously. “You smell odd. Princess Adele had the same smell. As do you.” She glanced at Nzingu. The stench brought back memories of the excruciating agony she felt when Adele placed the cross on her. Her hand went to the spot on her chest where the object had burned her permanently. Here was Senator Clark eager to be killed by her hand, but she hadn't anticipated that Clark would be protected by those with abilities similar to the princess. She took a deep angry breath, steeling herself to attack despite the fear and the weakness coursing through her. Then she heard something distant: the sound of many soldiers running with metal weapons ringing. The smell of guns. Many guns. Flay had fewer than ten soldiers around her. Most of her foreign pack were spread around the city, or had already fled north after sowing havoc. She didn't have the power or the strength to match the number of men she heard coming. She hissed to her ailing troops.
“My work here is done,” Flay said to the humans. “Your king is dead. Your war chiefs are dead. Your city is broken. I no longer need to live among you.” She pointed at Clark. “Come to us in the north, if you dare. We are waiting for you.” The vampires all lifted off the ground and drifted out through the shattered glass of the atrium roof.
Nzingu raced to the window and watched the vampires depart, mere black spots against a lightening sky. To her relief, they did not vanish back into the city, but veered north. “They're leaving.”
Clark turned angrily on Mamoru. “You shouldn't have stopped me! I could've killed her!”
“Be quiet. She would have slaughtered you.”
A large squad of Persian marines appeared with rifles at the ready. Clark recognized Captain Eskandari from the glorious attack on Bordeaux as the marines expertly fanned out to search the rooms off the rotunda.
Captain Eskandari saluted Senator Clark. “Sir, where is Prince Simon?”
Clark slapped the closed door with his hand. “In here. Safe and sound. Get him out of there and take him somewhere better fortified.”
“Well done, sir. The vampires appear to be abandoning the palace precinct.”
“I've driven them off,” the American replied.
The Persian officer replied, “There have been attacks all over the city. The House of Commons has been struck. The Tewfiq Barracks was hit. The airport. The telegraph exchange. We're only just getting reports, but there are many casualties. Many.”
“That's fine, Captain.” Clark sheathed his Fahrenheit blade and indicated Nzingu. She had fallen to one knee, dripping blood. “Get this woman here to the surgeon. Then find whoever is in charge of the Imperial Air Force now and let's get some ships aloft in case more attacks are coming. Come on, we need to get on top of this disaster. Then we can see about getting me sworn in as emperor before this empire goes completely to hell.”
Captain Eskandari watched the Americans stride across the broken glass, their boots crunching with every step as they went out of the ruined atrium. He turned to Mamoru. “Is he the next emperor?”
The schoolmaster shrugged, kneeling beside Nzingu. “If Lord Kelvin is still alive, he should know.”
ADELE HEARD THE distant water of the Nile as she neared the entrance of the Temple of Hathor. Colonel Anhalt stood nearby studying a map book, silhouetted against the deep orange sky. “Colonel?”
“Your Highness.” Anhalt snapped to attention.
“As you were. I've been thinking about our options.”
“Is one of them returning to Alexandria?”
Adele took a deep breath. “Not yet, I fear. As I told you, I won't return until my demands are met. So I need a safe haven from which to negotiate with my father, and to send him word that I'm fine.” She joined Anhalt in a study of the map of the vast Nile region. “Our best hope is Katanga to the south.”
“King Msiri's country?”
“All other surrounding territories are either imperial provinces, or client states that might have reason to curry favor by shipping me back. Msiri is entirely independent. I've met him several times and like him. And I trust him. Plus, in terms of pure politics, if Msiri thinks he can ingratiate himself with the future empress, temporarily displaced or not, it would be to his benefit to help us.”
“He is reputed to be a rather…unconventional royal.”
“He is.” Adele smiled. “Like I am.”
Anhalt nodded approvingly at her analysis. “Then I agree. I suggest we move west for a hundred miles to remove ourselves from the Nile air corridor, and then strike southward across the Sudd.”
Adele could see worry in her commander's face. Surely he wanted to believe she would return home eventually, and that he hadn't turned his back on his nation forever. She wasn't so sure, however. Right now, that possibility seemed bleak.
Anhalt said, “I recommend that we leave tonight. It has been nearly two weeks since you disappeared, and panic will be setting in. The net is tightening. Every ship and airship out of Alexandria and Suez is searched. Patrols are increasing out of Aswan, Port Sudan, Aden, and Khartoum. The Nile and the Red Sea are becoming an armed camp. We'll be lucky to escape.”
“I agree.”
“Shall I arrange a litter for Greyfriar, given his illness?”
“No!” she exclaimed. “He wouldn't have it. The medicine you provided is working well. I'll get him.” Adele didn't mention that she had stuffed the tablets into her baggage; they were pointless for Gareth.
Adele swept past the dim paintings on the monumental walls. In a quiet alcove, she found Gareth crouched in the corner under a silvery blanket, reading the penny dreadful. At his feet was a khaki helmet. Adele stooped and picked it up.
“You're supposed to wear this,” she whispered to keep her voice from echoing through the ancient halls. “It will keep you cool. Our army has operated in the desert and jungles long enough to come up with a useful cooling kit.”
“It's too heavy.”
Adele rolled her eyes and placed the peaked helmet on his head. “It will keep your brains from boiling. And it looks damn good. Every woman likes a soldier.”
Almost immediately, Gareth felt clear-headed as the chilled air pushed away the weight of the heat. He stood without weak knees and gave Adele raised eyebrows of acceptance.
Adele remarked, “See? If your people could make those, you could conquer the whole world.”
“So long as it's fashionable,” he said, eliciting a smirk from the princess. He briefly wondered if perhaps Cesare had thought the same thing and that's why his brother was aligning with humans, something so unlike him. Fortunately, the cooling mechanisms only lasted a short time. Vampires would have to import them by the boatload in order for them to be viable. “I assume we're moving on?”
“Yes. Listen, we're bound south across the desert and toward the tropical forests of the equator. However, northeastern Katanga is relatively high country, so maybe it will be a bit more suitable to you.”
He sighed. “Stop worrying. I did survive the Nile, after all.”
“Barely.” Adele took a worried breath and extended her hand. He took it, and together they went to the main entrance. The sun had set, leaving them in darkness until the
stars began to wink on. They left their brief home and hiked down past Abu Simbel and beyond into the desert. More guardsmen appeared over a rise and saluted Colonel Anhalt and Adele, then watched in a mix of awe and suspicion as Greyfriar passed them with cloak flowing.
The party climbed the sandy rise, and there waiting on the other side was an airship staked to temporary anchors. A few men worked the shrouds and yards in the ghostly yellow chemical lights. The boat was relatively small, a brig with four square-rigged masts, two extending horizontally from either side of the dirigible.
Anhalt said, “Your Highness, this is HMS Gordon, a fine relic rescued from the breaking yard in Suez. She is not the newest model off the line, but she'll hold together to Katanga, or so I'm assured by the reputable and now wealthier yardmaster. But as she is now absent from the imperial registers, and is a refugee with the rest of us, you may name her as you will.”
“Remarkable,” Adele replied. “Well done, Colonel. She'll do admirably. I believe I will call her Edinburgh.”
Greyfriar moved his shoulder to touch hers. “Excellent.”
The fugitives went aboard their new vessel.
“Do you feel that?” Adele sat up in her simple bed abruptly, alone in her spartan cabin on the airship. Her voice was not raised beyond that of a normal speaking tone.
Not to her surprise, the door to her cabin flew open and Greyfriar appeared, his senses, as always, attuned to her. “What's wrong?”
Something had awakened Adele. Something strong flowed through her, and she planted her bare feet firmly on the rough wooden deck and stood, but felt almost as if the scorching sand of the desert were beneath her. There was a wonderful, wild flutter in her chest.
A worried Greyfriar approached with his hand outstretched. “Are you unwell?” He touched her bare arm, but drew back from the searing heat of her skin.
Adele caught his eye, still immersed in the sensations flooding her. “You can feel it, can't you?”
“It's you. You're burning.”
“Sorry.” She tried to focus her attention on the ripples of energy moving through her body as Mamoru had taught. The air grew very hot, and her breath rushed out dizzily. She felt the sun and wind. Sand pricked her face. The smell of smoke and chemical soot wafted over her with a slight hint of lemons. Like Alexandria? Then she felt the air freshen and it was wet. The taste of salt on her tongue and her skin went brinish. Then sun again and hints of olives and the flapping of wind in sails.
Adele was breathing hard—panting, in fact. Her nightclothes were soaked with sweat. Her knees gave way and Gareth rushed to her.
“Don't!” she warned as he grabbed her.
He grimaced in pain, but swept her up and carried her to the bed. Once she was sitting, she swatted his hands away.
Adele asked, “What happened to me?”
He knelt in front of her. “You began to shake. And your breath was too fast. Your scent changed drastically.”
She gingerly pinched the edge of his leather gloves and tugged them off. His skin was pink and blistered. “You shouldn't have touched me.”
“That will heal. Something is happening to you.” His blue eyes studied her, and his nostrils flared as he took in her fluctuating aroma.
She began to stand again, but Gareth said, “Just be still.”
“No. I have to check something.” Adele staggered from the bed and grasped the walls to stay upright.
The air was blissfully cool as she came up from the companionway to a sky that was cobalt and star specked. The crew was startled by the unexpected arrival of the unkempt princess and her grim guardian on the quarterdeck. They stared at Adele in her nightgown until Greyfriar draped his cloak around her.
“Captain,” Adele called as she padded to the rail. “Where are we?”
“What do you mean, Highness?” Captain Hariri appeared. The master of Edinburgh was a tall, dark figure in a flowing brown robe.
“What's down there?” She peered over at the invisible black earth thousands of feet below. Greyfriar was at her side, keeping a hand near her.
“The Sahara Desert, ma'am.” The captain shrugged at the questioning glance of the helmsman, both wondering about the princess's mental state.
The princess scowled. “Are we over Nabta Playa?”
The helmsman consulted the charts and nodded. “Yes, ma'am. Nabta Playa. Or thereabouts.”
“I knew it!” Adele pounded her hands on the rail and laughed. “I felt it!”
“What are you talking about?”
She lowered her voice. “Nabta Playa is an ancient stone circle. Built over a rift. Like the ones in Britain, but even older. Built when the Sahara was green, probably built to help fight vampires. I felt it when we passed over. It grabbed me and took me, for some reason. I could smell and hear the earth. Maybe like you do.”
Greyfriar felt her warmth. He recalled the first tasting of her blood and how he'd touched the truth of her nature, which was the destruction of his kind. He sensed the same thing now even without tasting her blood. It coursed through her like a molten core at the heart of the sun, and he briefly wondered if he fed from her now whether it would burn him from the inside out. Not that he would care.
The day was dawning with the threat of storm clouds as a massive curtain of grey came rolling in from the west. Amid the creaking yards and thundering wind, Colonel Anhalt found his mind drifting to the matter of treason again. His uniform now in his baggage, he had abandoned most of his command for their own good, allowing only the most trustworthy of the White Guard to follow him on this insane mission to help his princess. Adele mattered more than Equatoria. To him, she was Equatoria. He had defied the orders of his emperor for her. His duty had been to return the princess to her government and secure the Greyfriar for prosecution. Now he was a traitor.
“Colonel, I don't believe I've seen you sleep since this voyage began.”
Anhalt turned to see the familiar face of Captain Hariri, darkened by the shadows of the early sun in the east. The captain handed him a cup of steaming coffee. He sipped gratefully.
“Thank you, Captain. I've never slept well aboard ship.”
“I recall.” Hariri smiled with his eyes. “During the Siege of Zanzibar you stayed awake for a week.”
“That was unmitigated fear.”
“Doubtful. Is everything to your liking?”
“Yes. The coffee is delicious.”
Hariri laughed. “Well, that's not what I meant, but I'm glad. The ship. The crew. Are they performing to your satisfaction?”
“Yes, Captain. Your people are excellent, particularly given how short-handed you are for this brig. And I appreciate you giving up the stern cabin for the princess.”
“Of course. She is a princess.” Hariri continued in a voice barely audible over the wind. “I know it disturbs you to deal with such people as I. A pirate. And the crew members are hardly Imperial Air Academy.” He glanced at the red flag snapping over his head. It was the banner of the South Arabian Company, quite illegal since Edinburgh was not a vessel of that grand old trading firm.
Anhalt stared hard at the captain. “You are the finest airman I've ever seen, Aswan. I would put Her Highness's safety in no one else's hands.”
“Thank you, Colonel. We will serve you”—Hariri touched his heart, lips, and head—”until the end.”
Anhalt clapped a grateful hand on the captain's shoulder. “I can certainly use you during this trying time.”
“I should tell you that I heard in Djibouti that all manner of men and ships are about, searching for your princess. The Equatorians put out the call, and every vessel flying is traveling under letters of marque hoping to lay hands on her and make their fortune from the court.”
“I have no doubt you can avoid them all.”
Hariri chuckled. “But of course. Now, may I ask you a question?”
“Certainly.”
“Tell me about this Greyfriar fellow. What do you make of him? He's the talk of the ship.
We've heard the stories, but you've seen him in action, yes?”
Anhalt shook his head. “I've seen little enough action from him, aside from rescuing Princess Adele from her otherwise orderly wedding. He's an enigma to me. I too have heard amazing stories, primarily from Princess Adele. From all accounts, he's quite the wonder worker.” Anhalt left unsaid that although he would never believe Adele was the type to succumb to the mythmaking that surrounded the swordsman, some of her tales of adventures in France and Britain belied reason. He needed more evidence that this mystery man deserved such adoration. Anhalt couldn't stop the hateful ache in his chest created by the dread that he was watching the world's greatest empire dragged down by a romantic fake.
“You should get some rest, Colonel,” came a soft voice.
Anhalt turned with a start to see Princess Adele standing close, buffeted by the wind, with Greyfriar as her ever-present reflection. The colonel looked at the deck, embarrassed by his thoughts.
Captain Hariri took Anhalt's empty coffee cup and retreated.
“I will, Highness” the colonel replied sheepishly to Adele. “I was taking one last turn about deck. Double-checking supplies.”
“Is Katanga within our safe reach?” She pulled her cloak tight to ward off the cold.
“I believe so. In another three or four days we should reach Bunia, Msiri's northern capital. As long as the winds hold and the weather doesn't turn too dear, and the ship stays together, we should have food and water for the trip.”
The activity around them abruptly heightened. Men clambered into the tops. Adele wondered if it was just a change of morning watch, but somehow this felt different. The intensity was very high. Storm clouds rumbled beneath them, though she had thought they were out of the thunderheads' reach. She and Colonel Anhalt both turned to the quarterdeck, where Captain Hariri now stood at the rail with a spyglass to his eye.
The Rift Walker Page 22