by A. W. Exley
“Just as well we’re on our way.” Nate released her once the Hellcat levelled out. “Nolton will be hard on our heels once he recovers from his hangover.”
“Nothing like a quick early morning escape to stimulate the senses!” Loki’s laughter and beaming presence filled the door to the deck. “Nate, your admirer was heading our way with a small contingent. I thought you might want to get the jump on him.”
“I thought as much. We need to see the dragons safe without him breathing down our necks. Nikolai and I have arranged a wee surprise that should keep him busy.” A wide smile spread across his face.
Cara sucked in a breath; Nate was never more handsome than when up to something. “What have you done, now?”
His blue eyes twinkled. “Yesterday we anchored his airship to the deepest and strongest piles we could find. They won’t notice until they try to ascend, and find themselves tethered like a dog chained to a tree. Hopefully they will charge off and be jerked back to Earth. It will buy us some time.”
Cara wondered who went for a swim in the freezing waters to attach the chains. “Will it damage his airship?”
Loki shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “Rather depends how keen he is to try and jump us and how heavy he is on the throttle.”
Her gaze returned to Nate. “Which means?”
The smile remained on his face. “If he guns the engines too soon he could rip a hole in the side of his ship when the lines pull taut, or he could end up with a mooring pile speared through his bridge.”
She kissed his cheek sharing the laughter. “Honestly, for a supposed hardened crime lord, I think beneath that surface lurks a naughty schoolboy.”
He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his gaze blazing hotter and heating her down to her core. “I’m happy to show you what my naughty schoolboy can get up to.”
She batted his hand away, unsure how to respond to the new and mischievous Nate. “I’m going to get changed. Alone.” She waggled a warning finger in his direction.
His smile dropped away to be replaced by a more serious intent. “Meet us in the lounge and we’ll show the eggs to Sergei.”
She dashed down the corridor to the cabin she shared with Nate. Excitement lit a fire under her feet, eager to hold a particular egg in her arms. She stripped off her more elaborate skirts and dropped them to the floor. Flipping the lid on her small steamer chest, she grabbed pants, her favourite blue and green corset, and a deep green wool coat. Once dressed in comfortable clothes, she headed down the short corridor to a set of double sliding doors. Nate, Loki, and Sergei waited in the small lounge. Sergei took up half the available space, his eyes boring into the small chest, his nostrils flaring as though he could scent the contents. Nate leaned against the dark panelled wall, a chisel in one hand. Loki stretched his lean body along the sofa as though dragon egg cargo was an everyday occurrence.
Cara knelt on the floor in front of the tea chest, her heart pounding as Nate moved and levered off the lid. Like a child on Christmas morning who knows exactly what is waiting under the tree, she reached out eager hands to help brush away the covering of tea leaves. She inhaled bergamot and lemon, a scent that would forever mean dragon in her mind. She picked her favourite egg and lifted it from the substitute nest. Larger than the other two, the shell was mottled with tiny auburn veins interwoven over the surface. She caressed the exterior and crooned to the ancient creature asleep within as she cradled it to her chest.
Warmth radiated from the egg as though Cara clutched a heated brick from in front of the fireplace. Pressing her cheek to the rough shell, she listened for the steady heartbeat from deep within.
I’m holding a dragon egg, and she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face.
Sergei examined the other two smaller eggs. He turned each in his large hands, using his fingertips with a light caress over the entire shell, tracing grooves and lines in the exterior, checking for any imperfections or damage. He held each to his ear, listening for the faint whump-whump from inside. Worry creased the corners of his face, his eyes almost disappearing as the weathered furrows overtook them. He settled the valuable cargo back into their tea nest.
“How old are they?” he asked of Nate.
“My sources were vague.” Nate shrugged, his attention held by Cara. “We didn’t have much time to talk while breaking out of the Forbidden City. Possibly twenty years old.”
Cara shook her head in amazement, twenty years and still the dragons lay trapped inside their eggs. What is their lifespan if it takes so many years for them to just be born?
“Poor thing,” she muttered. “No wonder you need Sergei to protect you, so vulnerable like this and imprisoned for such a long time.” She brushed her lips against the shell. The egg jerked and spasmed in her embrace. A yelp tore from her throat and she nearly dropped the priceless object. A crack rent the air, loud as an axe splitting firewood. Cara stared in horror as a thin jagged line appeared and crawled for several inches through the tough shell before stopping.
“Shit! Did I break it?” She turned eyes wide with horror and distress to Sergei. She half expected the overprotective dragon master to toss her off the Hellcat into the freezing Neva for harming one of his eggs.
His face scrunched up before the booming laugh filled the small lounge. “Nyet, little one. It is time. This one, he wants to meet you.”
His words didn’t reassure her; neither of the other eggs were cracked, just the one she always stroked. “It’s hatching?” Cara held the egg at arm’s length, praying she wouldn’t end up clutching an enraged fire breathing dragon.
“Da. It will still be a few days. Shell is very tough. But it has started.”
She returned the egg to the chest, nestled with its siblings and scooped tea over the top. She worried over the mythical creatures. What happens if we have three dragons loose on the Hellcat?
“How long will it take to travel to Sergei’s home?” Her gaze darted from the calm presence of Nate to the solid Sergei.
Nate answered. “We’re travelling to the Central Plateau; we should reach the hideout late tomorrow afternoon. Loki will push the Hellcat hard; we have a lot of ground to cover.”
Loki dropped his feet to the floor. “Speaking of which, I shall go do captain things and make sure we’re not being followed … and I’ll even rustle up breakfast.”
A small matter nagged at Cara. She pointed a finger at Loki. “Hang on, what have you done with Miguel?” His absence added to her worry catalogue and she hoped he wasn’t sleeping off a hangover in some cheap brothel.
Loki spread his hands. “He’s learning the ropes as a crewman.”
“So you’ve set him to work?” Cara’s eyes narrowed, searching for the subtext in the pirate’s words.
He gave Cara a wink. “Damn straight.”
“All right, then.” She sighed. At least Miguel was out of trouble and occupied.
Morning passed with a large breakfast. Sergei devoured more food than Cara believed one person could consume. Then hours ticked by, endless forest passed beneath the airship and she took over the sofa. Magycks of the Gods rested on her stomach, and her father’s small journal lay open on the low table. The dragon eggs slumbered in the chest. Cara cast nervous glances in their direction, expecting to see a head prop open the lid or dragon breath to set fire to the thin wood.
Nate entered the lounge, picked up her feet, and settled on the end of the sofa. He placed her legs on his lap and rested his hands on her booted ankles. “So, where did this necklace come from? What is its history?”
Cara closed the medieval book, reciting from memory. “It came from Hatshepsut, Queen of Egypt. She reigned until 1458 BC. A mage gifted the collar to her after the death of her husband, Thutmoses. Shortly after, seemingly not content to be a regent, she took the regalia and insignia of pharaoh. She took the power and control of men.”
Nate stroked his hand up her calf. “Sounds like another troublesome woman.”
Cara snorted wit
h indignation. “Hatshepsut was the most prosperous ruler of Egypt. She excelled at war craft and opened previously unknown trade routes. She amassed the wealth that supported the rest of the eighteenth dynasty. She was one of the first great women of history.” Cara tried to ignore the hand massaging her leg and creeping to stroke the sensitive flesh behind her knee. She scolded her brain, telling it to stick to academic matters. “No wonder Thutmoses III tried to strike her name from history, scrubbing her cartouche from monuments. Maybe he couldn’t live up to the precedent she set.”
“So how did this particular necklace become an artifact of interest?” Nate’s hands stilled as he listened to the story.
“I have no idea. Perhaps she infused it with her spirit and determination while alive? Perhaps the mage spoke some words of power over the object before he gave the necklace to her? When Hatshepsut died, she was buried with the thing. At some point, her tomb was disturbed and the necklace removed. There are two mechanical scarabs; one sits on each shoulder, whispering into the ear of the wearer. The legends say the scarabs generate power and feed it through the person’s body. Like a drug, it poisons their system. Over time, they crave more power to sustain the same euphoria.”
“Have you figured out how to remove the necklace from Victoria?” His fingers resumed their slow path over her buckskin clad legs.
“Yes, and it’s not good.” She tossed the heavy book onto the coffee table.
He raised a dark eyebrow waiting silently for her to continue. He moved to rest his arm along the back of the sofa.
“Removing the necklace requires the ultimate sacrifice.” She raised her eyes to meet Nate’s steel gaze. “Someone has to absorb the power generated by the mechanical scarabs.”
His fingers tapped on the patterned fabric as he mulled over her words. “Could we talk her into removing it herself?”
“Even if we could, and judging by Albert’s message I think we are too late, it would have the same effect. If she removes it by her own hand, she dies.”
“You’re sure?” He lifted her feet and rose to prowl the confines of the room.
“There are only two other documented cases that I can find. Alexander the Great found it and wore it on his march across Asia and into India. Such was the love Hephaestion bore for Alexander and his concern about the path of destruction of his beloved friend that he tore the collar from around Alexander’s neck and then died in his arms.”
Nate scowled. “History says Hephaestion died of typhoid.”
Cara sat up, unable to watch Nate’s upside down movements. “History has a tendency to gloss over things that can’t be easily explained, like killer necklaces and diamond hearts capable of beating and joining two souls.”
The pacing halted and he turned, the scowl becoming a smile at the woman who shared his heartbeat. “Who wore the collar next?”
“The thing disappears from history for centuries until it reappears around the throat of Genghis Khan and we all know his proclivity for invading and conquering.”
“And how did he meet his demise, according to your research?”
“He met his end at the hands of a Tangut princess taken from her family as war booty. Genghis Khan meant to force her submission. They fought, and during the struggle, she tore the collar from around his neck. He had hold of her and they both died from the fatal energy discharge.”
Nate ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t like our current options; we need to find another way.”
ime became the enemy. With the slow passage of minutes into hours, the occupants of the Hellcat fought inactivity. They waited for the cracks scattered over the dragon eggs to rupture and release the occupants, but hoped not before they landed. They waited for news of Victoria’s declaration of war against China and prayed they would return in time to stop her. They waited for any sign of pursuit, but saw none.
Sergei did his best to keep cabin fever at bay telling old legends to Cara, pointing out hills and rivers harbouring slumbering princesses or malicious goblins. Russian fairy tales of Baba Yaga the witch and her house on chicken legs came to life as dense forest passed underneath the airship. His heavy accent and rich tone a mesmerising mix, holding her enthralled like a small child at bedtime. His stories calmed her mind buffeted by events beyond her control.
Day dragged into night and they sought escape in restless sleep to begin the process anew the next day. Morning revealed hair line fractures in the other two eggs, but no more in the larger egg. Nate, Loki, and Sergei poured over topographical maps, narrowing down possible landing points as they neared his cabin.
Down in the cargo hold, Miguel and Cara donned harnesses and clipped themselves to hooks by the open cargo door for a spot of shooting practice. A mechanical arm operated by a crew member launched clay targets into the airship’s wake. Leaning out, boot toes over the edge of the doorway, bodies angled toward the earth, Cara challenged her vertigo.
She preferred a pistol over a shotgun but took one up to save dangling her prized guns over the edge. As the morning wore on, Miguel’s score surpassed her own. Determined to make up the difference, she focused all her attention down the sights. She slowed her breathing, waiting for the small projectile to launch overhead. A metallic ping sounded behind her, a flash of orange and her mind flew with the disc. She leaned into the shot, her finger squeezing the trigger just as the Hellcat rolled on an updraft. Intent on the target, she didn’t adjust her balance with the movement and her feet slid over the side.
A scream tore from her lungs as her body flew out the door in a rapid descent to the solid ground far below. Her nails clawed at the metal of the rifle as though she could use the weapon to paddle on an updraft. Her life never flashed before her eyes; she was too busy yelling, “Oh, fuck!”
Her head snapped. Her fall arrested as her body lurched backward. Eyes wide with fear, she turned to see Nate hanging on to her harness line and dragging her back into the safety of the hold.
“Shut it down,” he yelled, pulling Cara to his chest. “Breathe, I’ve got you,” he murmured against her ear.
Miguel jumped backward, out of the way as crewmen moved to secure the target launcher in its alcove, and others released the metal door. He shucked off his harness and stowed his weapon.
With the cargo door secure, Nate pried the rifle from Cara’s death grip and tossed it to Miguel. Then he took over from her shaking hands and removed her body harness. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
Her head nodded no before changing direction to nod yes, then stilled. She closed her eyes, drew a deep steadying breath and then opened her eyes to answer. “I’m fine, just slightly terrified to discover I can’t fly.”
“Now you know why we always secure outriders to the lines.” He tossed the harness aside.
She gave him a weak smile. “To think I used to worry about small, enclosed spaces. I’ve just given myself a whole new paranoia of the wide open.”
Once satisfied she was unharmed, he released his grip. “I came down to tell you we’ll land within the hour. You and I will accompany Sergei while the others will stay with the Hellcat.”
She gave a nod, words still trapped in her chest. “I’ll be fine, once my legs stop shaking.”
The airship landed at the forest’s edge. With snow deep on the ground, the hull sank into an enveloping pillow. Two crewmen threw down the gangplank and a cloud of frothy flakes shot up into the air to rain down again as the small party disembarked. Nate cast his gaze skyward. Night would fall fast and dusk already crept over the horizon.
“We’ll be back tomorrow,” he said to Loki. “Hunker down, it’ll be a cold night.”
Loki gave a thumbs up. “Don’t worry about us, we have plenty of anti-freeze.”
Cara pulled a fur lined hat over her ears, and followed the wake Sergei cut through the fresh powder. Nate covered her back, ever watchful.
Sergei carried the tea chest deep into the forest, his tree trunk legs leaving a wide furrow in the snow. Cara follow
ed his enormous back, questions racing through her mind. First amongst them, where the heck are we going?
The Hellcat lay far behind them and still they trudged through the never ending snow, laden conifers, and larch. Light broke through the trees and they soon shook off the verdant restraint and passed into a small clearing. A white covered hummock lay in the centre of the circle, looking like a prehistoric burial mound awaiting discovery. Two arms reached from either end of the burrow toward the darkening sky. Intermittent puffs of grey tendrils shot from what looked remarkably like chimneys.
Sergei turned and thrust the chest into Nate’s hands. “Wait here. I will light the lanterns.”
Turning back to the mound, he began scraping at the snow. He worked for several moments, disappearing deeper into the bank until he stood back to reveal a dark packed earth wall and a scarred wooden door. He grasped a cast iron ring―the size of a dinner plate―and yanked. A crack rent the air as a thin membrane of ice sealing the doorway split, and he pried open the door. His body eased into the darkness beyond and the door slammed with a whack, causing Cara to jump.
Evening crept closer around them, swallowing the surrounding Siberian forest and leaving them in a dim circle of light. As they waited, Cara’s old friend, curiosity, reared its head and burst forth. “How the heck does Sergei come and go from this deep in Siberia?”
The slow smile spread over Nate’s face. “Airships aren’t the only things that can fly.”
A thousand more questions burst into her mind. “If that’s smoke coming from the chimney, who keeps the fire going?”
“The same friends who offer him rides closer to civilisation.”
Too many questions short-circuited her brain, rendering Cara silent as she contemplated the implications.
Just as night reached out to embrace them, the door swung open. “Come, come.” Sergei waved them forward, and took the container from Nate. “Let us get warm.”