The Ethereal Squadron: A Wartime Fantasy (The Sorcerers of Verdun)

by Shami Stovall

  Then she had a second revelation.

  I’m invisible. Geist stared down at where her body should have been. Fully invisible. I’ve never managed this before.

  The feeling of the door passing through her arm sent a shiver through her body.

  Unbelievable. God, I feel invincible.

  Geist threw open the unlocked door and charged forward, her rifle at the ready. She was a true specter in her new state—incorporeal and unseen by naked human eyes. Percival’s magic had pushed her to heights she hadn’t imagined possible.

  Per the mission packet, the zeppelin crew was twenty-eight men strong, and more than a third of its fighting force stood before her. One by one, she shot at the soldiers manning the machine guns and ammo lines, her bolt-action rifle gunning down man after man. Their eyes were wide, but there was nothing for them to see—only the cracks of gunfire gave away her location.

  The gondola erupted into a firefight. The Germans swiveled their machine guns around and fired wildly in her direction. Bullets passed through her body and clothing, burying themselves in the duralumin shell of the airship. Geist’s bullets left her sphere of magical influence and became visible only just before they pierced the bodies of the lightly armored German soldiers. Their caps and windbreakers, suited for the blustery cockpit of an airship gondola, provided little protection against a point-blank rifle shot.

  It didn’t take long for the narrow space to fill with corpses. Ten of the twenty-eight crew members would never man the machine guns of a zeppelin again.

  Percival clawed his way inside once the last shot was fired. The wind slammed the door shut behind him, but he didn’t flinch. Geist exhaled and allowed her magic to drop, rendering her visible once more.

  Such power, she thought, nearly overwhelmed by adrenaline.

  She glanced back at the panting and bedraggled Percival. Maybe she had underestimated him.

  “We’re going up,” Geist shouted, motioning to the hatch above them.

  Percival nodded as he shambled forward, the slick mess of blood on the steel floor making his boots slip and slide. Before he made it to the hatch, he grabbed the body of a downed German and ripped off the parachute, but bullet holes from the firefight had rendered the chute useless. Percival manhandled a second corpse as he searched for a parachute that wasn’t ripped to shreds.

  Geist pushed open the hatch to the inside of the blimp. “We don’t have time for that! Albatross will get us to safety! Get up here!”

  With a furrowed brow, Percival ignored her. He scrambled through the carnage until he found what he had been looking for—a parachute in working condition. Percival threw it over his back as he jogged to the ladder. Geist shook her head. If things went south, falling would be far from their biggest problem.

  The inside of the blimp was massive. The metal ribcage of a frame held the blimp canvas taut, keeping the wind and noise at bay. Separate steamer-sized gasbags, eighteen in total, were held in place with nets. A central walkway, stretching the full five hundred feet of the blimp, connected all gondolas through hatches and ladders. Despite the dim lighting, Geist rushed forward, her gaze up and locked on the white ballonets of hydrogen gas.

  I’ve only got two grenades. I’ve got to make them count.

  “Wait,” Percival called out. “Geist, you can’t get too far.”

  Sure enough, as Geist made it halfway down the walkway, Percival’s magic waned, as if there was an invisible tether between them. She stopped and allowed him to catch up. I need to keep in mind he’s my battery.

  “Look out!” he gasped, pulling up his rifle.

  Percival fired the half-second after. Geist whipped around and spotted a German soldier diving onto the floor of the metal walkway. The bullet ricocheted off the blimp frame and through the black outer canvas, tearing a tiny hole.

  “Careful,” Geist said, glancing up to the bundles of gas. She had no idea what would happen if they were shot, and she didn’t want to find out.

  Percival fired again, hitting his target who went flying to the floor. He ran up to Geist, but an unexpected jolt of the zeppelin sent him tumbling to his knees. Geist grabbed hold of the railing and steadied herself as a far hatch blew off its hinges from a powerful gust of wind.

  Albatross and Captain Meier exploded into the blimp compartment, both men locked in combat and barely turning their attention to their surroundings. Captain Meier, twenty years Albatross’s younger, moved with the grace of a summer breeze. The gale force surrounding him prevented Albatross’s bullets from finding their mark and allowed Meier to fly into the open areas of the blimp, unhindered by gravity.

  Despite the sheer spectacle of the fight, Geist forced herself to return to her task. She pulled out the incendiary grenades and ran to the gasbags. Shock overcame her when she glanced up to the metal beams between the giant white ballonets. There was magic embedded in the very steel around her. She could sense it—a cold pulse of power no metal should have.

  Geist lifted an unsteady head and grazed her fingers over the blimp’s foundation. How is this possible? Is this Captain Meier’s work? Or is it like the GH Gas—magic fused into technology?

  Albatross and Captain Meier landed hard on the walkway. Percival ducked back behind the first ballonet, staggering into a defensive position. Geist, shimmering into her invisible state, tied her grenades to the metal supports beams between gasbags.

  Wind kicked up throughout the blimp.

  Albatross attempted to calm the squall, but his magic couldn’t overpower Meier’s. Instead, Albatross held out his hand. Blue-white electricity arched from his palm with a powerful crack that popped Geist’s ears. The jagged strike of raw lightning flew past Meier and struck the canvas on the far side of the blimp, ripping yet another hole. Meier, his face set in a stony neutral expression, swept his hand out in front of him.

  The wind spiraled at deafening speeds, ripping the breath from Geist’s lungs and shattering her focus. Her magic dropped.

  Sorcerers were all different, even if they studied the same school of magic. While Albatross let loose lightning strike after lightning strike, his ability to control the wind paled in comparison to Captain Meier’s. Likewise, Meier didn’t seem to have the ability to control lightning like Albatross could. He stood back, biding his time, using defensive maneuvers and guile while he waited for the best opportunity to strike. Nothing Albatross threw at him seemed to hit, and soon the ferocity of the wind would leave everyone unable to breathe.

  The ballonets shuddered and quaked thanks to the sheer intensity of the magical hurricane. The strain on the zeppelin sent the groans of creaking metal echoing throughout the blimp. Geist waited to pull the pin her grenades until after the confrontation—they would only have two minutes afterward to make their escape.

  Struggling for air, Albatross turned around and shot a bolt of lightning directly at the ballonets.

  “What are you doing?!” Captain Meier yelled, his German one angry unpunctuated shout.

  The white-blue bolt had been aimed for a gasbag, but the strike of energy curved around and instead hit the metal between the hydrogen containers. The support beams glowed with the intake and, like lightning rods, diverted the energy and absorbed it all, leaving the ballonets unharmed.

  Captain Meier let out a heavy breath, his body relaxing as he watched the magic disperse harmlessly. Albatross craned his neck back to stare in disbelief.

  Oh, God, Geist thought as she took a step away from the supercharged metal. This isn’t powered by Captain Meier’s magic at all. It’s just like the GH Gas… some sort of magic-technology hybrid.

  Albatross lifted his rifle and fired upward. The wind ripped his bullet from its path, protecting the shaking ballonet. He pulled a knife and Captain Meier did the same. Albatross charged, but all Captain Meier did was release the hold on his weapon.

  In one sick instant the fight ended. Meier’s trench knife, propelled forward by the wind, sliced through Albatross’ throat in one precise plunge. Albat
ross flew backward, head first, and hit the walkway limp. Without his magic fighting against Meier’s, the storm intensified, throwing Albatross’s twitching body into the ribcage of metal at the back of the airship.

  Geist couldn’t breathe. She gritted her teeth and blinked her watery eyes.

  Percival stepped back and fell from the force of the wind. He tumbled off the walkway and landed on the taut black canvas of the underside blimp, half-bouncing, as if hitting a trampoline. Captain Meier snapped his attention over to the younger man, and Geist took the opportunity to shift back into her invisible state.

  But with each passing second it became harder to concentrate. The roar of the deafening wind, the thinning air, the unsteady feeling when caught in the current… Geist squinted. Captain Meier strode straight towards Percival, and Percival didn’t have the magic to fight back. He flailed about the canvas with a frantic energy—even his empowering magic felt as though it could slip from Geist’s grasp at any moment.

  Pull it together, Geist! He needs you.

  Through sheer willpower she ghosted more and more of her body—allowing the wind to pass through her without resistance—while simultaneously staying aboard the aircraft. The possibility of slipping straight through the floor and falling to her death kept her focus sharp.

  Percival pulled a Lancaster pistol from his belt and fired four rounds at the captain as the man drew near. They never made contact, but Geist understood what he was doing. While Meier focused on diverting the bullets, Geist lunged forward. Without the storm holding her back, she unsheathed her Bowie knife and stabbed, fueling the strike with all the rage and anguish brought on by Albatross’s death. To her surprise and momentary disbelief, her incorporeal state allowed her hand and knife to slip through Captain Meier’s torso without harm.

  He gasped upon “impact” and turned on his heel, his eyes frantically searching the chaos of the wind spiraling all around him.

  Geist slashed again, this time allowing her magic to drop mid-swing. The blade, along with a portion of her hand, became solid inside the body of the captain, just beneath his ribs. When she pulled out, her knife and knuckles took a satisfying chunk of raw flesh with them.

  Captain Meier screamed, the fillings in his back molars gleaming. The hurricane petered out, and Geist took in a deep breath of much-needed air. She kicked Captain Meier and sent him stumbling back.

  While the captain cradled his mangled torso, Geist took the moment to lean over the railing and outstretched her hand. Percival clambered to her and managed to pull himself back onto the walkway with her assistance. His shaky hands betrayed lingering terror.

  “I won’t let you have the ship,” Captain Meier said in haggard German as he bled out over the walkway. “I won’t.”

  “I don’t want your damn ship,” she growled.

  Geist turned to run back to the grenades, but slowed herself halfway to her destination. Did she want the ship? The commander needs to see this, Geist thought, her gaze trailing up to the magically enforced steel framework rising all around her. This ship would prove my theories. He would have to listen then.

  The entire zeppelin jerked to the side. Geist flew off her feet and slammed onto the unforgiving walkway floor. Percival followed suit, but upon impact, his magic finally failed. Geist felt his strength dissipate, leaving her weaker than she’d ever felt before.

  Metal creaked and groaned. The ballonets jostled in their nets. Geist heard the sound of canvas ripping. She looked up. Captain Meier had managed to stand, and his magic returned in full force. He wasn’t using the wind inside the blimp, however. He was controlling the plummet of the zeppelin, ensuring the airship would crash to the ground below.

  Geist fired her last two handgun rounds, but the German officer deflected them with ease. Before she could formulate a new plan, Vergess opened the cockpit door, his uniform stained crimson with the blood of the pilots.

  Captain Meier turned to face him, but it was too late. Vergess sprinted forward, his celerity in a league of its own, and grabbed the man by the neck before the wind could push him away. The moment Vergess’s skin made contact, a blackness spread across the captain’s skin, rotting away the man’s throat and spreading to his clothes. He choked and spasmed as Vergess lifted and tossed him aside.

  Captain Meier crumpled into a pool of rotted flesh and blood.

  But that didn’t stop the zeppelin’s fall.

  Barely able to get to her feet, Geist hobbled for the far exit hatch. “Vergess! The cockpit!”

  Percival jumped to his feet and ran over. “We have to get off this thing! It’s going to crash!”

  “It’s heading for the fort,” she said between the crushing groans of metal that echoed all around them. “Someone has to turn it.”

  Vergess nodded and headed back inside, stepping over the pile of bodies.

  While he adjusted the course, Percival slid off his parachute and handed it over. “You put this on. I’m going to search for another one.”

  Geist took it with a grimace. She glanced up at him, frowning.

  “I’m sure there are more,” Percival said over the sounds of the airship ripping apart. “Go! I’ll meet you on the ground!”

  Before she could comment further, Percival turned toward the stern of the airship and ran off down the narrow walkway. Geist slung the parachute over her shoulders and fastened the straps as tight as they would go.

  She had never used a parachute before.

  Geist hobbled for the nearest hatch as the zeppelin tilted downward. Walking on a slanted surface didn’t help her speed. She half-slid to her destination and threw open the hatch as fast as her hands would allow.

  Breathe, she told herself. You’re almost out. Just stay calm.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Geist kept her eyes fixated on the cockpit hatch. Seconds passed as hours, every breath a lifetime. She didn’t want to leave without knowing Vergess would escape, but staying much longer could prove fatal.

  Slowly, but obviously, the zeppelin changed course. Vergess had succeeded. She forced herself to take even inhales and exhales. Did he find his own parachute? Has he already jumped?

  As if to answer her unspoken questions, Vergess reemerged inside the blimp, a parachute on his back. He ran over and examined the exit hatch.

  “Jump!” Geist commanded.

  He regarded her with a hard look, his eyes narrowed. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine. I need to watch over Percival.”

  Vergess nodded and leapt out of the zeppelin. Not a trace of hesitation.

  Hurry, Percival.

  Geist knew she couldn’t go without him. She wouldn’t lose another teammate.

  Then she saw him. Percival climbed up from the gondola and into the blimp. Then he jogged to her side. His pale expression was clear as day—nerves slowing his movements. He relaxed the moment he reached Geist.

  “You waited?” he shouted, his voice taken with the rush of the wind.

  “Hurry!” she yelled. Percival stumbled as the metal ribcage frame tore asunder. “Did you find a parachute?”

  “There were none.”

  Fuck.

  “Go,” he said, his voice weak. “I’ll try to find another.”

  “There’s no time! Tie yourself to me.”

  His face drained of color. “Will it hold?”

  Geist removed her belt and slipped it through the parachute straps. She secured it around Percival, creating a makeshift tandem attachment and securing them close. We’re Team Teensy-Weensy, for fuck’s sake, she thought with a dark smile. If anyone can do it, we can.

  The zeppelin turned, slowly spiraling, and Geist pulled Percival to the open hatch. They jumped together, sailing straight out of the vehicle and entering a freefall. The weightless sensation and vertigo caused Geist’s muscles to seize up.

  The few seconds it took to hit terminal velocity were among the worst in her life.

  The black of night surrounded them. She couldn’t tell how close to the gr
ound they were, or how fast they were falling. The lights that dotted the landscape whizzed by in a blur as Geist tumbled through the air.

  After a terrifying moment of fumbling, her fingers found the string of the parachute and pulled. The sudden painful jerk of the chute catching left her winded. Percival hit the end of his makeshift attachment, and the belt and straps held strong. He threw his arms around Geist’s body and dug his nails into her skin through her uniform. She didn’t protest—she couldn’t protest, couldn’t breathe—and instead tightened her grip as well.

  The evening wind caught in the chute and dragged it away from the falling zeppelin, throwing it back away from Fort Souville and straight beyond enemy lines. Geist didn’t know where it would take her. She didn’t even know if she could control her descent. Twisting and turning, the parachute bobbed through the air, dragging her with it. They only thing she could feel beside the cold sting of the wind on her face was the mad beating Percival’s heart.

  A horrifying crunch preceded the massive explosion. The zeppelin hit the ground only to rupture moments after. The incendiary grenades, still mounted to the inside frame, went off at the impact point, causing a chain reaction that turned the whole airship into gargantuan ball of flame. The fire that ensued lit up the surrounding area like an erupting volcano. Geist could only make out part of it as she sailed away, farther and farther from the sounds of battle.

  An updraft rocked the chute and spun Geist around. Percival’s panicked breaths were stifled by her uniform collar.

  Geist had no sense of time. Everything had happened so quickly that even gliding on the wind felt rushed and frenzied. She wondered when the ground would meet them. Despite having a parachute, they fell so fast she was sure they would suffer severe injury—assuming they didn’t die on impact.

  The trees were upon them before Geist could draw a breath. Branch after branch snapped as they hurtled through the canopy, shredding the chute above them. Percival grunted but otherwise kept silent. His grip grew weak. The chute caught on the trees and ripped, swinging them in frenzied circles.