Absolute Heart

by Michael Vance Gurley

  THE WARSHIP Hibernia had struck the first blow. Blaylock, adorned in a black flowing robe with flames racing up the back, stood on the foredeck, a wicked grin across his face. Declan stood beside him, his sword in hand, vibrating with eagerness.

  Flight warlocks focused all their energy on keeping the mighty wooden airships aloft and propelling them forward with magick. Other warlocks used their power to hurl vicious fire and lightning toward the fleet of British ships. More warlocks in robes of green and red and brown stood with swords drawn and red glowing hands, preparing to join the fray.

  The warships of Eíre had circled around to come from the east, warlocks creating cloud cover when needed in the dark. They had sailed around the blockades of the Irish Sea to Irish-controlled Spain and back north to London. The warlock fleet cut Gavin’s path. So busy with repairs from the faerie attack and the hunt for the stone, Gavin never saw them coming.

  Blaylock’s fleet made their way after the solitary vessel that ran from the British armada. That was Blaylock’s target.

  “OH. MY. God!” Lucas shouted. “You are not going to bleedin’ believe this shite.”

  Everyone turned to look over the railings of the ship to see the Irish in full-scale battle with the British Navy. They were surrounded.

  Landa poked her head from inside the clockworks to see.

  “Whuh—”

  British ships, which were larger and more powerful, had gained on Gavin’s vessel to the point where he began to worry about what they would do next. They were close enough to see the pained faces of men dying as they took gunshots to the chest, or fiery red blasts from the warlocks as the fight engaged.

  “Do you think it’s time to tell me that thing now, Orion?” Gavin asked, his forearms straining against the levers as he tried to maneuver the ship away from the Irish ships.

  Anger flashed across Wish’s face. “You know something?” He grabbed Orion by his borrowed vest and slammed him against the wall. “You’d better start spilling right quick!”

  “It is Blaylock,” Orion explained. “He planned the whole time to manipulate me to do his bidding, but it was the threats against the queen, my great-aunt, he used most.” Orion gently pried Wish’s fingers from his vest. “I needed to give that to my queen. He must have scried it. He will come for me. For that,” Orion said, pointing at the pouch on Gavin’s hip below the belts he wore.

  “It was him all along,” Lucas interjected.

  “What do you mean,” Landa asked.

  “He somehow did all this. Blaylock. Orion, you said he is a manipulator. Maybe he got the faeries to attack, to destroy our defenses, not just to make it easier to send you in, but to make it easier for his armada to slip into the heart of the British Empire.”

  “How did you…?” Orion asked.

  “Lucas is a genius with puzzles, remember?” Gavin said, allowing pride he felt he had not earned to slip into his tone.

  “Well, it isn’t enough to simply get the ultimate weapon,” Lucas said. “He would have to use it too. You giving it back gave him all the excuse he needed to come now.”

  “And he must have foreseen it and set off for England with our military,” Orion finished the deduction.

  “Exactly,” Lucas said, thrusting one bloody finger in the air before placing his hand back on his facial wound.

  “Yes, Blaylock sent the faerie to be captured, to taunt your father, to encourage him to trigger an attack when he killed the faerie,” Orion said. “That makes the most sense.”

  “Wait, what faerie?” Lucas said.

  “My father captured and tortured a faerie to death. I… saw.” Lucas considered him, then put both hands up and shook his head.

  “There’s more,” Orion promised.

  “No time,” Landa said. “We have too many people shooting at us and each other up here. We need to get out of this air zone.”

  “Listen, Blaylock is coming. To this ship. He will find me. I am supposed to give him that,” Orion said, pointing at Gavin’s hip once again where the brown leather pouch contained the most dangerous weapon in the world.

  “And you gave it back to me?” Gavin asked.

  “Yes.”

  Lucas pointed out a British vessel closing in on them. Gavin flipped up the glass of the cabin. “I need to feel the wind to know what I’m doing.”

  He turned the wheel hard and pulled the lever to steer them starboard side and raise their bow. The enemy ship sailed past them without coming close enough to board.

  “I’m manning the cannon,” Wish said and ran for the deck gun.

  The air space above London and the River Thames had grown thick with cannon smoke, fires aboard dozens of airships, and screams of pain. Irish warlocks had boarded a British ship close enough for Gavin to hear their bitter ends.

  The British battle cruiser had joined the fray, booms from its forward deck gun ripping a hole in the Irish line as it set several ships aflame. Five Irish captains had turned their attention to the huge battle cruiser.

  Ahead there came an opening, a gap in the fighting. Gavin saw it and took his opportunity to escape. He brought in the ropes so the sheet would turn straighter and fill up with the speed they needed.

  “That’s some fine flying there, Gav,” Landa applauded.

  “Gavin, we have to help them,” Orion shouted. When Gavin turned to see what he was talking about, he saw only his father’s ship barreling full steam toward a smaller damaged vessel. That airship had caught fire and listed badly to one side.

  “I don’t understand. Why? This is our opportunity to escape. We have to go,” Wish said.

  “That’s my stepfather on that ship,” Orion said. “I know he’s not much, and I don’t really like him. But he… he was the only one to bother raising me after my mam passed. He’s not truly with the Brotherhood.”

  “He sure seems to be,” Wish said, his cannon turned to aim directly at that ship.

  “No! Stop. He said he wanted me to bring the stone for our family, not the Brotherhood.”

  Gavin cursed under his breath and steered their ship at a severe downward angle, the shifting momentum thrusting everyone back. He headed in the direct path of Jacobson’s ship, but he didn’t know if they would make it in time.

  The bigger ship abruptly changed course, but instead of a safe heading, it headed straight for the side of Gavin’s ship. When they grew close, Gavin saw the harsh reality of his father gripping tightly to the balustrade, leaning into the charge. The ship rammed the smaller vessel at full speed.

  The two hulls smashed into one another, gashes running alongside both, gigantic brass bracings flying off into the air. Support struts crinkled, and mangled columns snapped. The splintering wood and bending brass reverberated through the air. Soldiers recovered quickly and were cranking the grappling machines that would secure the two ships together for a boarding party to cross. Jacobson made his way to the edge of the railing and jumped the gap.

  “We’ve got company!” Lucas shouted.

  Wish busied himself shooting at Irish ships and, reluctantly, whatever British ones came too close. Landa had her head in the gearbox again, keeping the engines running.

  “We’ve been boarded!” Gavin yelled.

  Orion charged to his side, hands glowing, hair shock white, the metal clawed gauntlets covering his hands, eyes rolled over silver, ready for war.

  The Battle Joined

  THE BRITISH battle cruiser blasted many of the ships from Eíre from the air, sending them and their warlock crews to either the streets of London or the darkness of the Thames. It had caught fire in several places, and the main mast was in tatters, which slowed it down considerably.

  Blaylock shouted at Declan to look where he was directed. Two ships were locked in battle, lashed together with the filthy gearwork grapples of the English. Someone fired cannon shot after shot at the other vessel from a high deck gun, unable to dislodge the two vessels.

  Declan summoned his magick and turned the sails to send
them headlong toward Gavin’s and Jacobson’s ships. He was a true warrior, unaffected by the explosions made by science that happened all around him. Blaylock had told them he expected to mete out swift defeat. He would cherish the opportunity for an accident to befall the queen’s nephew if given the chance. He’d enjoy ending the life of the clockwork-worshipping pilot as well.

  Blaylock waved his hand, and the door to the hold flipped open. Cassandra stepped up from below to stand next to him, her twin swords at the ready, thirsty for action.

  “Your people have need of you, Cassandra.” She dipped her head in obeisance, and a wicked grin grew across her face.

  “Finally,” she said.

  The starboard side of a British vessel cracked against the weight of Blaylock’s airship when they slammed together. A bunch of young clockwork worshippers scrambled. The ships skidded to a stop, the flight warlocks using their combined power to lock the two together. Jacobson’s warship was still tethered to the port side of Gavin’s with dozens of machines clutching them together. Engines and magick worked hard to keep the conglomeration of wood and brass, balloon and sails afloat.

  The target had grown too large to miss, and most, if not all, of the available fleet had already directed themselves toward this as the center of the battlefield. The British battle cruiser saw it as a large target and began peppering Gavin’s ship with their cannons. Fire and smoke billowed from a dozen places, choking soldiers gripped in mortal battle.

  “WHAT CHANCE do you have here?” Jacobson shouted at Gavin over the din. “Be smarter than you’ve been acting lately. Leave that warlock’s side. Come with me, and this can all be over.” Jacobson took a few steps forward onto the smaller vessel.

  Gavin and Orion stood shoulder to shoulder, preparing to fight Jacobson and his Grenadiers with magick, as little of it as Gavin knew.

  More ships collided into the boarded vessels and grappled to it. Soldiers started to fill in behind Jacobson, Masheck, and Abberline. Masheck’s arm had changed to a close-range cannon, steam hissing from his elbow and shoulder joints. Jacobson didn’t bother to turn to see who approached, as if certain of victory.

  “Not so fast, Councilman,” Blaylock said, one hand grasping a rope leading down to the deck to stabilize himself, one hand a burning black ember in the night. His hatred dripped through his fingers, turning the flames the color of obsidian.

  “That’s not possible,” Orion said.

  “What do you mean?” Gavin asked.

  “I’ve never seen flames so dark,” Orion said to Gavin before turning his attention. “Blaylock!” Orion cried out.

  “Orion, I assume you have not failed us? You have what I sent you to retrieve? Or was my vision true?”

  “I….”

  “You’ll never get it. You’ve failed,” Gavin said.

  Blaylock glared at Gavin, not having paid attention to him before. He raised his hand, dripping in obsidian, and then smiled. “Ah, there it is. Stupid boy,” Blaylock scoffed and pulled back his hand toward his chest, closing it. The bag ripped from Gavin’s grasp by magick and was flung across the void toward Blaylock.

  “No!” Gavin shouted.

  Orion thrust out both hands and pushed the bag farther into the air, away from Blaylock. Gavin darted up the rope ladder attached to the mainsail after the bag, which had landed on the crow’s nest.

  “Traitor,” Declan said.

  “It is time for you all to die,” Blaylock said as if it were a decree. “Including the son of Oberon.”

  With that he waved at Cassandra. Her swords dripped blood of countless British soldiers she must have waded through on her way to the deck of the ship at the center of the melee.

  The combined ships exploded into all-out war again. Gunfire and blasts of magick erupted, swords slashed midsections, spilling guts and dreams onto the decks. Declan blasted holes into the ships from his perch; Wish pounded the Irish warriors with his deck gun. Jacobson threw himself toward the stairs to the hold to avoid blasts of magick.

  Cassandra leapt onto the deck in front of Jacobson and pulled her swords in front of her face, cross style. He stopped in his tracks, taken aback by the grin he saw peek out from behind the crimson blades. She had bloodthirst in her eyes.

  “Masheck, a little help here,” he commanded. Masheck finished shooting a warlock in the chest and turned to help.

  “Little missy, what do you propose to do with those?” Masheck asked.

  A soldier swung at her from a rope attached to a sail, but when he came close, she flung herself forward, spun, and sliced the man in half with both blades crossing each other in the middle. She landed as the soldier fell in two places.

  “Need a spot of help, sir?” Abberline asked.

  “I wouldn’t be opposed,” Masheck answered.

  “Assassin?” Abberline asked.

  “Assassin,” Masheck confirmed. “Go,” he said to Jacobson over his shoulder. “We’ve got this.”

  Cassandra crossed one leg behind the other as she circled the two men. She tried to keep them from getting behind her, split up. Masheck shot at her, but she dipped her body at an impossible angle quicker than a person should be able to move, and the bullet missed. He snapped his machine arm down, and it transformed with a series of clicks and whirring into a hook and bayonet blade. Abberline had his sword held at twelve o’clock, ready.

  They charged the assassin.

  GAVIN HAD reached the top of the crow’s nest and saw the little brown pouch perched precariously on the edge. He lunged for it. Blaylock slammed the main mast with a circle of flame. The pouch tipped over the edge before Gavin could grab it.

  Blaylock held his hand up to receive his prize. Wish swung across the whole scene on a rope sliced from the masts and grabbed the pouch midair. He twisted and tossed it at Landa, who caught it, turned, and threw it to Orion.

  “That is mine!” Blaylock summoned darkness to him. It built onto itself until his eyes were as black as midnight. A cold blast jumped from the ends of his fingers toward Orion, and the pouch tumbled to the deck. Its leather ties had come loose, and the Knowledge Stone fell out and knocked across the planks, out of Orion’s reach.

  CASSANDRA JUMPED sideways and corkscrewed through the air, both blades spinning madly. One caught Abberline in the chest and sent him hurtling back and over the deck, a spray of blood splattering the wood around him.

  The other blade clanged off Masheck’s mechanical arm. It severed a steam line, and powerful mist peppered his face, burning his neck and cheek. He grunted while he reached behind himself up the middle of his back and turned a knob to seal it off. He got up and risked a glance to see if his partner was all right.

  Cassandra charged during his hesitation. He brought up his arm to block the sword strike, but his other arm was not fast enough. Before her sword could strike his face, a long oar appeared above his head, and the blade buried itself deep into the wood.

  She and Masheck both turned their heads to see who had blocked the blow. Wish stood triumphantly above them, grasping the oar with both hands. Before Masheck could warn him, the assassin jumped backward while flinging a series of throwing knives at him, which buried in a clean line across his chest, and he fell.

  Masheck used the distraction to raise his sword to Cassandra’s stomach and pushed it in. Instead of screaming in pain, she smiled and laughed, pushing herself farther toward him, reaching for another knife. With his arm’s gears overwhelmed with holding off one sword and one hand on the other, she was free to stab him.

  Clang! A metal mop bucket banged off Cassandra’s skull, and she slumped over. Masheck shrugged her off and got up.

  “Tallyho, I say,” Abberline said. Masheck grinned.

  “I’m growing to like your timing,” Masheck said. “Now help me see if that boy is alive.”

  AN IRISH warlock charged Landa, who came up with an oversized monkey wrench and connected it with the man’s head. She sent him tumbling over the rail and down hundreds of feet to certain dea
th. She stared at the wrench, disbelieving. Killing was so easy, and this terrified her to her soul. Lucas grabbed her out of her stupor and ushered her away.

  Lucas looked at Landa’s shocked expression, concern crossing his face. He pushed her along the railing until they could hide against the sidewalls for a tick. It was long enough to catch their breath, to make sense of the insanity happening everywhere they looked.

  “He’s….”

  “Dead. Oh yes. I saw,” Lucas said, then realized his folly. “I mean, Landa, you had no choice. This… whatever it is… war is costing so much.”

  Landa looked up at Lucas holding her like a brother would. A caring, gentle brother. She caressed his face. “You haven’t lost him, Lucas.”

  “What do we have here?”

  They both looked up to see a large Grenadier, his crisp white belt and silver buckles gleaming in the firelight. The man reached for them, grabbed them both by their collars, and pulled them up.

  “I’ve had about enough of this,” Lucas exclaimed. He pushed the soldier back until his legs hit the edge of the ship, and he toppled over. The Grenadier still had his hand on both of their collars and pulled them half over the railing with him.

  He screamed at them to hoist him up. Panic overtook his face. Landa clawed at his hands to get him to let go. Lucas punched the man in the face. Over the soldier’s red coat, they could see the black outline of what must have been the River Thames surrounded by the twinkling lights of London far, far below. He tried to bring them with him into the abyss.

  Lucas frazzled at the prospect of going head over heels to his death. The soldier had their clothes held tightly to keep from falling. They were edging closer to tumbling with him. Lucas looked like he suddenly remembered something. He reached inside his vest and pulled out the jeweled dagger he’d taken from the cavern. He sliced it across the man’s hand that was firmly entrenched in his vest, which caused him to let go and lurch forward. Lucas fell back onto the deck but Landa was nearly over the rail. Lucas reached up and quickly undid the two buttons of Landa’s vest and jerked it open. When it slipped off, the frightened soldier lost his grip. Landa and Lucas slumped against the inside of the railing, hands clasped tightly to one another, their chests rising and falling.