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

by Shami Stovall

  “You don’t look it.”

  “That’s what they keep telling me.”

  Blick smirked. “Mind if I…” he motioned to his golden eyes and then to Dreamer, “…have a look? I see through all sorcery, no matter how strong.”

  “Blick!” Victory barked. “Now isn’t the time.”

  The word blick meant look or sight, and Geist knew the codename fully explained Blick’s abilities. Not only could he see through illusions, but her notes on his magic included heightened sight in all regards, which would always be useful for surveillance missions.

  However, it was considered a most heinous intrusion among sorcerers to use magic against another, even if the effect was harmless. Asking to use a certain school of magic without first explaining it could be taken as impolite at best—or a threat at worst. Geist sighed. They already had enough trouble between Vergess and Battery; they didn’t need to make enemies of Dreamer as well.

  “Geist,” Major Reese said, motioning her forward. “You and your team will be heading to Germany-occupied Belgium.”

  She stepped up to his desk and nodded.

  “You can’t cross the front lines,” he continued. “Instead, you’ll be taking the train to the port city, Le Havre. From there you’ll be meeting with American shippers who will deliver you to Belgium.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “All information, money, and field codes will be given to you within the next ten hours. Your destination: the German frontline command compound, the OHL. It was mapped out months ago during a recon mission by our boys up north. You’ll need that intelligence to navigate your way through the myriad buildings.

  “I hate to be so grim, but if you fail, the Central Powers are sure to advance the timetable of their New Schieffen Plan and Paris will fall, and we’ll likely drown in GH Gas. You’re the best we’ve got for the mission. I can’t send a backup team, not with the few sorcerers here in Verdun. Getting Dreamer was the best I could do, and even then I had to fight to get him.

  “I’ve put all my eggs in one basket, but I’m banking on it being one damn amazing basket, do you understand me, gentlemen?”

  They nodded somberly.

  Major Reese focused his gaze on Geist. She straightened under his scrutiny.

  “Victory will help you strategize, Blick is for counter-intelligence, Dreamer will help you infiltrate the compound, and Battery is there to empower you. Your team needs to be sleek and efficient, but is there anyone else you think you would need to complete your objective?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I need Cross.”

  “What?” Major Reese balked. “Cross? Our Matron-in-Chief?”

  Victory narrowed his eyes, his jaw tight, but otherwise said nothing.

  Geist nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Impossible. She can’t go on this mission.”

  “Sir, you said the mission was paramount. That is was—”

  “Belgium is a hellhole, son,” Major Reese cut her off. “The Germans’ losses in Calais have prevented them from moving west. They’ve taken their frustrations out on the Belgium women and killed most of the able-bodied men in the surrounding cities.”

  Geist gritted her teeth. She had heard of the horrors of the German-occupied territories. The Rape of Belgium, some called it. Resistance groups had sprung up in opposition to such brutality, but they didn’t stance a chance against Germany’s military might.

  “If you’re caught, you’ll be taken to a prison camp,” Major Reese said. “But Cross… Well, let’s just say, they won’t be gentlemen to a captive woman.”

  Geist ran a nervous hand over the back of her neck. After a moment of thought she said, “Then Cross should be part of the offensive against Fort Douaumont.”

  “Why are you so insistent on her participation?”

  “She’s a talented sorcerer,” Geist blurted. “If these are the turning point missions of the war, we need everyone we can get. Cross is more than willing to be part of the front line. She may even make the difference between success and defeat.”

  Major Reese seemed to consider this. Blick, Battery, and Dreamer exchanged confused glances, but Victory took the moment to interject.

  “I think it’s a good idea,” he said. “Cross has proven herself steadfast in the face of danger. She’s just as talented, if not more so, than the majority of the medics.”

  Geist restrained herself from smiling. Cross was right. He did take her wishes to heart. A small piece of Geist feared that Victory would ask for Cross to be kept from harm’s way, but it was clear she’d underestimated him. Cross had wanted to travel with the medics to the frontlines for a long time. There was no better way than stopping the dangers of the GH Gas and enemy magi-tech than with her amazing sorcery.

  “Very well,” Major Reese said. “I’ll assign Cross to the offensive. Anything else you want to say?”

  Geist nodded. “I also need Vergess.”

  Victory didn’t chime in this time. He, Blick, and Battery exchanged small glances. Dreamer, on the other hand, perked up and leaned in closer.

  “Vergess is a German defector,” Major Reese declared.

  “I knew it,” Battery muttered. “I knew it…”

  “We all knew,” Blick drawled. “You can’t hide that sort of thing for long.”

  Geist shook her head. “He helped me through Fort Douaumont. It’s not fair to treat him like—”

  Major Reese held up a hand. “That’s true, but Vergess was once an Abomination Soldier, and one of the Kaiser’s Guard to boot. He may be recognized.”

  The revelation of Vergess’s past twisted in Geist’s stomach. She hated that they judged him, especially since her own past was filled with so many lies.

  “Perhaps Vergess can’t hide his heritage,” Dreamer interjected, smiling. “But I can. That’s why I was brought in, correct?” He twisted his hand in the air and a white glove formed across his fingers, the display of sorcery chilling the room. “He won’t be recognized under my watch.”

  “Commander,” Geist said, “Vergess is a valuable asset. Our team currently doesn’t have much firepower, and Vergess can fill that role. If you trust Dreamer’s abilities, there shouldn’t be a reason to hesitate. This mission is too important.”

  She turned to Battery hopefully. Battery looked at Victory, then back to Geist with a furrowed brow and gritted teeth. He said nothing, and his gaze went to the floor.

  Fine. I’ll convince Major Reese myself.

  “We need someone who can think like an Abomination Soldier,” Geist insisted. “Vergess worked for the Kaiser. He knows their movements inside and out.”

  “You’re right,” Major Reese replied. “Vergess would know the ins and outs of the German High Command, but it would only take one slip-up to compromise the entire operation. Are you willing to risk that? To risk the whole war?”

  The weight of the question hit Geist the moment Major Reese uttered it. The others in the team were certain. They wouldn’t risk it—not for Vergess, not even for her. But Geist had seen how Vergess handled himself behind enemy lines. And when she asked him to keep her secret—when she was falling unconscious on the French countryside—he had been the one to bring her back and keep her safe.

  But if I’m wrong…

  Geist set her jaw.

  “I think Vergess’s information is invaluable at this point,” she said. “We need him on the team. It would be a mistake to leave him.”

  “Very well, son,” Major Reese said. “I’ll inform Vergess. You have your team.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TRAIN TICKETS

  EVEN FAR FROM THE WESTERN front, war left scars across the land.

  Geist had seen it all a million times. Shy citizens hid in their homes, fields lay barren, and the wreckage from air raids could be seen from miles away. But the trains still ran, delivering soldiers, mail, and travelers all across France, fighting or no fighting.

  Geist laced up her boots, her mind preoccupied with distant worries.
The white noise of commotion filled the station platform. All manner of people, no matter their social standing, used the trains for travel. She blended with the patient citizens, wearing casual slacks, an undershirt, a button-up shirt, and a frock coat. A regular gentleman.

  The commander didn’t want the members of Prometheus dressed as soldiers. No one could know the purpose of their journey. Their instructions included destroying all preparation paperwork before they entered Belgium—a contingency should they be discovered.

  Geist stood and smoothed her clothes. Without the heavy tunic of her uniform, she felt vulnerable, but the long frock coat helped her relax. No one would see her curves under the thick fabric, two shirts, and Cross’s wrappings.

  With a small rucksack slung over one shoulder, Victory walked through the crowd to stand by Geist’s side. He wore similar clothing but, unlike Geist, everything fit well. Too well. Tall, muscular, commanding—his pinstripe vest and dark coat enhanced his already dapper appearance. She stole glances from time to time, though guilt hounded her thoughts. I need to stay focused. Ever since Vergess had teased her about shaving, her thoughts had gotten all muddled.

  Or maybe this is Cross’s doing. She speaks of Victory like a princess speaks of a knight.

  Victory’s quiet confidence drew even passing women. They smiled and nodded, slowing for lingering looks once they caught sight of him.

  For a prolonged moment, Geist allowed herself to think of life after the war—building a home, finding a husband, making a family. Outside of dying, she’d either be dishonorably discharged or ending her service still disguised as a man. In either scenario, it wasn’t likely that a man would find her desirable—especially a man like Victory, who stood as though the blood of kings flowed through his veins. He could have any woman he wanted. Cross was a lucky woman.

  Victory glanced over. Geist flicked her gaze off into the crowd, hoping the man wouldn’t confront her.

  “Geist,” he said.

  She tensed. “Yes?”

  “I’ve been meaning to thank you for bringing Battery back alive.”

  “Ah. Right. Of course.”

  “I also need to thank you for nominating Cross to take part in the offensive.”

  Geist could feel her stress waning. “It’s what she’s been asking for.”

  “You spend a lot of time with her.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t.”

  She’d dreaded this conversation. There couldn’t be rifts between teammates, especially with her, the team leader. If Victory though they were fighting over a woman…

  “Look,” she said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m not after Cross.”

  Victory sighed. “She told me that there’s nothing between you. I believe her. This isn’t about that.”

  “What’s it about then?”

  “This is about how your actions reflect on her.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “I know you’ve never had to worry about your chastity, but it’s different for women. When you associate with her late at night, outside the walls of the fort, you’re igniting rumors. It might be all fun and games for you, but the mere hint of impropriety could have her discharged.”

  Geist turned away. Victory was right, and she hated herself for not realizing it sooner.

  “I’ve reassured Major Reese the rumors are groundless,” Victory said. “Just keep it in mind. For her sake.”

  As the train screeched into the station, Geist found herself lost in thought once more. Victory hadn’t even raised his voice.

  I can’t believe the commander thought I would do a better job at running the operation.

  Victory must sense it, too.

  The blue, red, and white of the French flag waved in the wind and smoke as the train’s passengers filed out onto the already packed station. The smell of sweat and coal blanketed the area with a nauseating thickness.

  Geist lifted her gaze to meet Victory’s. “Do you resent me for being the one in command?” she asked.

  “No,” he replied. “I understand the commander’s concern. I’ve told him about my sorcery… He’s been nervous about relying too heavily on it in the past. I saw Battery’s death when he left with you for the zeppelin. I thought it was inevitable. I hadn’t even considered Albatross.”

  “…I see,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about me. Keep your focus on the operation, and the others will fall into line.” Geist breathed a sigh of relief. Battery had said that his older brother always said the right thing. It’s his sorcery, Geist reasoned, almost laughing at herself. It must be. Does he glance into the future just to make hard conversations easier? She shook her head. Why not?

  “Besides,” he continued, “whenever you need to step down, I’ll be waiting.”

  Could he see when that happened as well?

  Blick and Battery made their way through the crowd. Battery’s rucksack, twice as large as the others, hung heavy on his shoulders. At a glance, Geist could have mistaken him for a high school student or college freshman—his outfit pressed and fresh, laboring under a load of books and homework. Blick, on the other hand, had a small bag and relaxed posture. His coat was open, his vest unbuttoned, and his dusty brown hair, though combed, ruffled in the breeze.

  “Pack enough, there, did you?” Geist quipped, motioning to Battery’s rucksack.

  Battery huffed. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m the only one taking this assignment seriously.”

  “What car are we traveling in?” Blick asked, ignoring his younger brother.

  Geist withdrew the tickets from her pocket and passed them over. Blick gave them one quick glance and rolled his eyes.

  “Coach? That won’t do.”

  “We’re not spending extra money on luxury accommodations,” Geist stated. “We’ve slept in barracks and camped in trenches for days at a time. What’re you complaining about?”

  “It’s because we’ve been out in the fields for so long that we should be staying in a luxury car.” Blick turned to Victory and smiled wide. “C’mon, brother. Get us into the luxury car. I know you can.”

  Victory shoved his hands into his pockets. “I won’t use my sorcery for that. And we don’t need a first-class car, anyhow.”

  “We’ll have more privacy to discuss tactics,” Blick replied with surprising quickness.

  For a long moment, Victory remained silent. Blick shoved his shoulder, grinning wide, and finally his brother smiled too.

  “Ugh… Very well,” Victory groaned.

  He closed his eyes and exhaled, feigning defeat. Geist straightened herself as the chill of magic filtered onto the train station platform. Faster than she had expected, Victory opened his eyes and motioned Blick close.

  The two brothers walked over to the far brick wall of the platform. Victory guided Blick until his back was against the wall and his small bag next to his feet, almost like Victory was getting his brother ready for a photograph. Once satisfied with his position, Victory placed all six train tickets inside Blick’s vest breast pocket. He took several steps back and waited.

  Battery turned to Geist with a look of mild annoyance. “They were awful as kids. You should’ve seen what they pulled on mum and dad. They always got their way.”

  “What’s going to happen?” Geist asked, never taking her eyes off Blick.

  “I don’t know. Something ludicrous, no doubt.”

  Almost as soon as the words left Battery’s month, a train attendant exited a nearby ticket booth to assist an elderly couple with their luggage. It was clear to Geist the couple was moving—to escape the war, she figured—as their trunks were stuffed to the brim and both husband and wife were carrying a half-dozen parcels each in their arms.

  The train attendant hefted a bag and stumbled backward from the unexpected weight, bumping straight into Blick at just the right angle to lose his balance. Flailing about, the attendant fell, throwing the trunk onto the cement of the railway platform. It bu
rst open, slinging knickknacks across the concrete, including an elegant glass oil lamp, which shattered upon impact, sending a fountain of oil splashing up onto Blick’s slacks and coat.

  “I’m so sorry, monsieur,” the attendant stammered out in hurried French. “Forgive me, forgive me!”

  The elderly couple shook their heads and attempted to gather their scattered belongings. Blick stopped them with a wave of his hand and took up the task in their stead. The attendant muttered apology after apology as he gathered an armful of items.

  “It was a complete accident,” he said. “I should have been paying more attention. I will pay for any broken possessions.”

  Victory walked up to the scene, feigning disbelief. “Brother,” he said, his French perfect and clear. “What happened? Your coat is ruined.”

  Blick reached up with oil-covered hands and examined his clothing. The oil stains dappled everything. Either out of curiosity or worry, Blick reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the train tickets. Oil had soaked through the thin fabric of his vest, destroying the tickets entirely.

  “Those were so we can get home,” Victory continued in a scolding tone. “Mother has prepared our homecoming. Now what will we tell her? We’re stuck on the frontlines until her coxcomb of a son can find new tickets?”

  “You’re soldiers?” the attendant asked, wide-eyed. “Veterans? Home from the war? How rude of me.” The man continued to berate himself as he finished gathering the scattered materials. Once finished, he brushed off Blick and snatched the oily tickets out of his hand. “I will fix this matter immediately. Wait here, wait here.” He hurried away into the ticket office, his face red.

  The old woman, thin and wan, bowed her head to Blick, careful to keep her wide-brimmed hat in place. “Thank you for your service, young man.”

  Her husband, hunched at the back, straightened his suspenders and nodded in agreement. “You’re doing a great deed.”

  “It’s my honor,” Blick replied, effortlessly lifting two of their trunks by the metal handle. “Where do you need these?” He was broader-shouldered than his two brothers—not as tall as Victory, but close enough—and he made lifting the trunks seemed almost effortless.