by Eric Asher
We eventually reached a tent city where I suspected we’d find Park. Several tents lined the common area, with more under construction. It was obvious where the command center was, as that tent was at least twice as long and three times as wide as the others.
Zola paused while the sounds of men and women driving stakes into the ground with hammers echoed around us. She put her hand over her heart and watched as one pair repositioned a stake after they hit a large stone in the ground, and then drove it in at another angle.
“You okay?” I asked.
“If these tents were linen, and heavier cloth, you could mistake this for an encampment from the Civil War. It’s … Ah didn’t expect to see that. It caught me off guard.” She shook her head and nodded to herself. “Let’s find Park.”
We wound our way between the tents, and around the third or fourth corner, I realized that they had been placed in a very specific pattern. It would make it hard to for anyone to charge blindly through their base camp. It was defensive, and I suspected a sound strategy, but I didn’t think it would slow the deadly arts of the water witches. It was a much greater distance from the river though, so I supposed they’d learned something.
We reached the command tent a minute later, and the MP stationed outside the door was the first to question our presence.
“What’s your business here?”
Zola gave him her best old woman smile and leaned heavily on her cane. I’d seen her do it before, and it was damned effective at eliciting sympathy. “Ah was told my friend Master Sergeant Park was here. Do you know if that’s true?”
“He’s inside …” The soldier frowned, as if realizing he shouldn’t have given that information away so freely. He studied Zola for a moment and seemed to relax.
I managed to keep my composure.
“Could you give him a message for me?” Zola asked. “Ah don’t want to interrupt if he’s busy. Although it is mighty hot out today. And Ah could use some shade.”
“Let me see if he’s done,” the MP said. “Just wait a moment, and I’ll get you a chair.”
The MP vanished into the tent, and I wondered just how fresh out of boot camp he was. I was afraid Zola might’ve gotten him a good punishment.
“Ah do like him,” Zola said.
“I bet.” I gave her a half smile, and turned my attention back to the opening flap of the tent.
Park appeared a moment later. “I would appreciate it if, in the future, you would refrain from manipulating my MPs.”
“Manipulating?” Zola asked. “Ah have never been accused of such deception.”
Park crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. Zola flashed a knowing smile.
“It won’t happen again,” she said. “Certainly not today.”
“It’s a little warm out,” I said. “That rain really helped the humidity.”
“That’s all Missouri is sometimes,” Park said. “Trees, hills, and humidity.”
Zola dropped her pretense. “What are the tents and men doing down by the river?”
Park frowned. “Let’s not talk about that here.”
“Why don’t you walk with us for a moment?” Zola asked.
Park hesitated, clearly weighing his options for a moment before nodding.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Give me a minute,” Park said. He dipped back into the command tent. Zola and I had barely exchanged a glance when Park reappeared in the entryway.
“Let’s go. I need to check on the troops. Walk with me.”
We followed Park without further question. He walked to the southern edge of the tent, which gave us a straight path back to Main Street. Park moved fast, and I had to push my normal stride to keep up. Zola didn’t have any such problems, and more than one soldier took notice of the lively octogenarian. We turned the corner, and Park marched in silence with us trailing him. His boots stomped on the old brick sidewalk, and it wasn’t until the next intersection, that he looked behind him.
“Finally,” he said with a sigh. “Every time I leave, every time I try to make a call, the major has someone on my ass. I can’t get away.”
“Why are they setting the tents up so close to the river?” Zola asked. “Ah believe yesterday’s events prove what a bad idea that is.”
“FUBAR,” Park said.
“You’ve got tanks down there,” I said. “It’s a convenient box for drowning soldiers.”
“The commanders want to control the point of attack by setting Casper’s unit out as bait,” Park said.
“Bait for what?”
“That’s not clear. The captain who survived the skirmish at our last camp took notice of how you charged in to protect us. He’s close with Stacy.”
“Are you kidding?” I said, unable to keep the shock from my voice. “Those people just went through hell.”
Park remained silent as we passed the storefront of a print shop. Brilliantly colored designs and papers hung in the window, advertising sales that had expired over a week ago. Beside it was Main Street Books, my go-to store for any modern reading. It was a strange multitiered shop. Staircases joined the various parts of it, leading up to landings and even a second story, where display shelves mingled with a small kitchen.
Times like this I, sometimes wished I could vanish into one of those bookstores, and leave everything else behind. But the threat to my friends and my city kept such thoughts in the realm of fantasy.
Park led the way across the street, and we headed for the visitor center that held the old museum. “Casper’s setting up on the second floor,” Park said. “They tried to tell her she couldn’t go to higher ground, but we had it out. Not letting your snipers go to high ground is idiocy.”
The cobblestones on Main Street gave way to the rough flagstone sidewalk in front of the visitor center. Long ago, it had been the capitol building, when Saint Charles had been the capital of Missouri.
Park pushed his way inside, and the humid air vanished in a gloriously air-conditioned entryway. A gift shop waited inside the front door, where stacks of books on the history of Saint Charles lined the shelves to the right. A welcome desk sat on the far side of the room, directly across from the door. I hadn’t visited in a long time, and I felt that I’d been neglecting my study of the city. I suppose I had a decent excuse, as chaotic as the last few years had been.
“Casper,” Park shouted. “You here?”
Casper’s voice came back, “Upstairs.”
Park took a sharp right turn and led us up the old staircase. It leaned slightly, and I wasn’t sure if it was a structural integrity issue, or if the footsteps of centuries had simply worn down one side of the staircase. Either way, it felt sturdy enough, though I was fairly certain buildings like this had to pass inspections to stay open to the public.
The top of the stairs left us in an open loft, where the banister surrounded all four sides of the room except for the entry to the stairs themselves. I glanced around the open area, taking in the plaques and diagrams and maps along the wall. Until my gaze fell on Casper. She’d built a nest of sorts, with a high table, and a series of gun mounts. It was an odd sight, seeing a modern soldier, with a .50 caliber rifle, set up among the old Civil War artifacts. We followed Park in and watched Casper as she sighted down the scope of the rifle and frowned.
“We don’t have ammunition for that,” Park said.
Casper nodded to the side, indicating the M16 in the corner. “Just keeping up pretenses.”
Park crossed his arms. “Outstanding.”
“I’m afraid they aimed two of the tanks at that pirate ship,” Casper said.
“At Graybeard’s ship?” I asked.
Casper blinked. “Was there more than one pirate ship out there?”
Zola chuckled under her breath. “Oh, Ah like her.”
“I’ve seen some of the skeletons running around. What are they?” Casper asked.
“Same as last night,” I said. “Graybeard’s crew can be a little unnerving at first, I know. But t
hey’re all right. Can’t take them to the bar or anything, but they’re all right.”
Zola smacked me in the arm. “Just tune him out.”
“It’s funny you say that,” Casper said. “Aideen said the same thing.”
“What?” I said. “That’s not very nice.”
“People,” Park said. “Let’s focus on the issue at hand. The colonel has ordered troops to the riverfront. It’s hard enough to keep order in the ranks. We have to show a unified front.”
Casper looked out the window. “Maybe our pirate friends can give us a hand by the river.”
“How so?” Park asked.
“Well,” Casper said, “in my experience, if the men get spooked, they’ll move. And even if they don’t get spooked, it might give us quicker access to a warning.”
“They’re putting some of your squad down there,” Park said.
“I know,” Casper said. “They’ll catch on fast.” She gave Park a small smile.
Park stepped up to the window and looked down at the troops milling about on the riverfront. “Worth a shot. If anyone can make it down there without raising suspicion, it’s you.”
“Are you not coming?” Zola asked.
Park shook his head. “I’ll leave it to Casper, and you.” He nodded to Zola.
Zola laughed without humor. “Ah’m not the best one to convince the pirate of anything. You’ll need my student for that.”
Park glanced at me. “If you’re half as good as Frank says you are, then I believe Casper is in good hands.” He hesitated at the door and looked back at Casper. “Take care of yourself.”
And with that Park left.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Casper gathered up a rucksack in the corner by her M16, and I led the way back out of the visitor center. We cut down the first street, where the cobblestones changed to bricks and eventually asphalt. Once we made it down to the crosswalk, I stopped at the edge of the street and looked behind us. The backs of Main Street’s buildings weren’t so uniform as the front. Decks and balconies protruded at irregular intervals, giving way to a mixture of wood and iron stairs.
At the highest point on more than one building, I could see soldiers making ready. Most of them milled along the balconies, but a few had braved the rooftops. I wasn’t sure if they were taking up posts there. At least one was adjusting what appeared to be a telescope, and I suspected it was a camera, too.
“What are they placing on the roofs?” I asked.
“Cameras,” Casper said.
We continued down the street, and about the time we made it to the entrance to the park where Graybeard was docked, I began to think we should have driven. Saint Charles’s Main Street was not terribly long, but in the heat with the cobblestones, it could wear you out.
We passed the roundabout and had almost reached the docks when Casper paused. “That is somewhat more intimidating up close.” Her gaze climbed the bone masts of Graybeard’s warship, lingering on the ship’s cabin, before sweeping back down toward the skull of the harbinger on the bow.
“Come on,” I said. “You need to meet the parrot.”
“I thought Foster was joking about that,” Casper said.
“Oh no,” I said. “He talks through a parrot. A dead parrot, but I guess it’s an undead parrot. I’m probably not helping this, am I?”
Casper didn’t answer. I looked back, and the look on her face said it all. Her lips were pulled tight, and her eyes narrowed.
“Just don’t shoot him, and I’m sure you’ll get along fine.”
Zola blew out a breath and smacked her forehead, pulling the wrinkles out of her skin as I suspected she tried to control her temper.
“Right then,” I said. “Let’s go meet the captain.”
Casper followed us onto the wooden docks, her boots much quieter than my own clunky footfalls. I wondered if it was the material of her footwear, or if her training was just that good. Casper jumped when a pale bony hand reached out of the water, and one of Graybeard’s crew hurdled the railing, clattering to a stop a few feet in front of us. The skeleton rapped his forearms together, creating that familiar staccato that the crew used to communicate.
“Graybeard will be here soon?” I asked.
The skeleton nodded and dropped into the river once more.
“Was that Morse code?” Casper asked, taking a tentative step to the railing before peering down into the waters. The skeleton rose to the surface and raised a hand in greeting. Casper waved back hesitantly, and the shadowy skull vanished beneath the waters.
“You brought a guest,” Graybeard said, his voice booming from the deck of the ship above us.
“Oh my god,” Casper said.
“Lass,” the parrot said before the skeleton tipped its hat.
“Let’s not feed his ego,” Zola said.
“How does his beard stay on?” Casper asked.
“Ye likely need to ask the two necromancers what stand beside you.”
I grinned at the parrot. “Casper, Graybeard, Graybeard, Casper.”
“I thought Park was leading you. Or did you cut out his heart and take his ship?”
“What? No.” A confused look crossed Casper’s face.
Graybeard sagged against the railing. “The military folk have no humor.”
“Now now,” I said. “Let’s try not to scare off your new best friend.”
The parrot danced on Graybeard shoulder. “A friend, eh?”
“She’s the sniper some of your sailors saved. And she has rounds able to put down a water witch.”
The skeleton straightened out and took a few steps to the plank, before descending that stretch of bone and sinew. “Perhaps I judged ye too quickly.”
Graybeard’s skeleton wasn’t short, and with the hat on top, he cut a rather imposing figure. The parrot knew it, and I shook my head as he stepped ever closer to Casper, leaning over the young sniper.
“Does your crew communicate with Morse code?” Casper asked. If she felt any hesitation in the presence of the old pirate, she hid it completely.
“Why do you be asking?”
“Because I’m fairly certain the fine crewman that we met on the dock summoned you here by calling you a dingy piece of roadkill.”
Graybeard’s ship erupted in a clatter of bones and rhythmic staccato laughter. The teeth of two dozen skulls chattered together, before beating on the railings in an overwhelming tide of Morse code.
Casper grinned up at them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”
“Aye,” Graybeard muttered. “’Tis indeed how they communicate.”
Casper smiled at the bird, and said, “I can tell they have great respect for you. I’ve served with enough units to know, to recognize that kind of respect.”
“Well then, Miss Casper, what mad plan of Park’s do you bring?”
“Not Park’s plan,” she said. “My plan.”
The skeleton ran its bony fingers through its beard, while the parrot cocked its head. Casper ran down the idea, leaving out any extraneous detail, and only giving Graybeard what he needed to know to both understand and execute it, should he choose. I was impressed. She’d taken a rambling conversation with Park, and distilled it down to a few distinct orders. But she didn’t deliver them like orders, and there would be no way for Graybeard to be insulted by it. Although I suspected Graybeard’s crew would allow him to be insulted by it.
“I like your cut, lass. I like your cut.”
Casper beat out a rapid staccato on the railing of the dock, and Graybeard released a haunting laugh.
“What was that?” I asked.
“She says I look good for a dead man.”
“You are nicely feathered,” I said.
The parrot’s glowing eyes shifted to me, and he deadpanned, “It’s more likely me beard.”
“How will you signal us?” Zola asked. “If there’s a sighting of the water witches?”
“If it is but one water witch,” Graybeard said, “I doubt I’ll be
signaling you at all. But if we see more, there will be no mistaking the signal.”
Some of the crew chattered up on the deck of the Bone Sails.
“A horn?” Casper asked, looking up at one of the crewmen.
“The boys are right,” Graybeard said. “You’ll hear the horn.”
“A horn?” I asked. “You’re riding on a ship made from a harbinger’s skull, and your early warning system is a horn?”
“Aye.”
I pursed my lips and nodded. “Fair enough.”
“It’s been a pleasure, sir,” Casper said, bringing our introduction to Graybeard to an end. “I have to check on my squad. My superiors have placed them down by the river, and I’m afraid they’re in danger there. Can you help us?”
“I’m afraid they’re in danger everywhere, lass,” Graybeard said. “Should’ve picked a different profession, if they did not wish to be in danger.” Graybeard stared upriver, and the parrot danced on the skeleton’s shoulder. “Reckon I could send another bag of bones your way. Might be helping you stay alert, and give me a better view of things.”
Casper shot him a sideways smile. “Just don’t steal any of my squad away for your crew. If you do that kind of thing.”
“Not for a very long time. A very long time indeed.”
“Thank you.”
We were halfway up the dock when Graybeard shouted after us. “Boy! You might want to be considering cleaning out some dust bunnies.”
I looked back at the parrot and nodded. Jasper had crossed my mind too, but if we were going to recruit the dragon, I had to be sure that Vicky was safe. And right now, I couldn’t be sure. We didn’t know where the water witches were coming from, or if they would strike Saint Charles. We still had Rivercene and Falias as likely targets, and our friends were in danger at both of them.