by Chris Paton
“Good luck, Kapitan,” Lena said and smiled as she left.
“She is a good girl. You found her in Arkhangelsk?”
“Yes, she helped me get out of the city.”
“Da.” Ivan sucked on his pipe. “Submersibles are expensive. No?”
“Not as expensive as walkers and emissaries,” Stepan said and kicked at a root as they walked.
“Hmm.” Ivan removed his pipe from his mouth, pressing the tobacco with his thumb. “In the short time you have been gone, they have ringed the city.” He stopped walking. “It will not be easy to get inside.”
“I must,” Stepan said and turned to face the Cossack. “My wife and child...”
“Da. I know Anna Skuratova, your wife. She is safe.”
“What? How?” Stepan turned and gripped Ivan by the bandoliers. He let go as the Cossacks guarding their leader drew their pistols and jabbed them into Stepan's ribs. “I am sorry,” Stepan said and let go.
“My men opened a hole in one of the city walls,” Ivan said and tugged the leather straps of his bandoliers flat against his tunic. There were many refugees. Your wife was with them. She is at our camp, east of Arkhangelsk.”
“And my son?” Stepan reached for Ivan’s arm. “What of Nikolas?”
Ivan looked down at Stepan’s hand. “Kapitan,” he said and waited until Stepan loosened his grip. “We have not found your son. I am sorry.”
Stepan clenched his fists to his side. He turned and walked to the nearest tree. Leaning against it, he pressed his knuckles into the bark.
“We have heard of resistance in city. Many people are hiding. Some are working with the Germans.” Ivan said and shrugged. “It is to be expected.”
Stepan pressed his forehead against the tree. “Will you help me, Ivan?”
“Help?” Ivan laughed. “Are we to be comrades, Kapitan Skuratov?”
“Yes,” Stepan said and turned away from the tree. “I need your help, comrade.”
“And I need...” Ivan stuck the pipe between his lips. He clamped the stem between his teeth, he grinned. “I need something more, Kapitan.”
“What?” Stepan scoffed. “I have nothing to give.”
“You have a submersible,” Ivan gestured in the direction of the city. “Maybe I want one?”
“Ivan,” Stepan said and laughed. “What would you do with a submersible? You are a Cossack.”
“Da, I am Cossack. Maybe I want try to something new? Maybe I will be a pirate?”
“A pirate?”
“Da. Why not?”
“All right,” Stepan said and stepped away from the tree. He paused as Lena approached, her arm swinging in a brown sling. “I can give you a submersible.”
“And train me and my men,” Ivan said and jabbed at the air between them with his pipe.
“Agreed.” Stepan turned to Lena. “Can you fight?”
“Pah,” Lena said. She tilted her head and raised her eyebrow. “You have to ask?”
“I thought so,” he said and smiled. He turned to Ivan and fiddled with a hole in the elbow of his jacket. “I will need a new set of clothes.”
“And he will need a weapon, father. You cannot retake a city without a pistol, Kapitan.”
“A pistol?” Ivan said and shook his head. Reaching forward, he grabbed Stepan’s wrist. “Look at this.” He wrapped his fingers around Stepan’s watch band. “Kapitan Skuratov was a sniper.” He let go of Stepan’s wrist.” He will have a rifle. Maybe a long one. If we have one.”
“I vowed not to kill again, not like that, but I will do what is necessary,” Stepan said and took a long breath. “Anna will forgive me, if I am to find our son.”
“Da, you can talk to her later,” Ivan said and wrapped his arm around Stepan’s shoulders. “We have much work to do. My men, they have started, but we are waiting to hear from the other Cossack bands across the plains. We need more men.”
“And women, father.”
“Da, okay,” Ivan said and nodded at Lena. “And women. Good Cossack women.”
“And when we have them?” Stepan stopped. “What is the plan?”
“The plan?” Ivan shook his head. He turned to Lena. “He is not as smart as I remember.”
“What have I missed, Ivan?”
“The plan, Kapitan Skuratov,” Ivan said and grinned, “is to retake the city.” He stuffed his pipe into the pouch, and wrapped his arms around Stepan and Lena’s shoulders. “Now, before we begin, I must hear more about a man called Vladimir. I have heard,” he said and pulled at Lena’s ear, “my daughter is falling for a Russian.”
“Ow,” Lena slapped at her father’s fingers.
“Vladimir is here?”
“Nyet,” Ivan said and dropped his arms from Stepan and Lena's shoulders. “He is hiding in the city, and my spies cannot find him. This is good. He is hiding well.”
“He could be dead,” Stepan said.
“I don't think so. My spies would have found body.” Ivan pulled Lena into a rough embrace. “They have not. And, if he is tough enough for my little kaza'ki, then he is tough enough to fight.”
The trees thinned as Ivan led them into a clearing. Between the crates of muskets and boxes of ammunition, the Cossacks ate while they cleaned their weapons. They made room for Stepan at the rough-hewn log table. A woman pulled a long rifle from a crate and placed it in front of him. She tossed him a rag and sat down opposite, pushing her bowl of stew across the table. Stepan nodded his thanks, admiring the rifle as he ate.
Stepan recognized the rifle to be a standard long rifle. Unlike the Lightning Jezails, there was no charging handle and the shot was lead, with no infusion of copper. Stepan thought it looked heavy, and at just under five and a half feet long it was. The heavier it is, he mused, the lighter the recoil. Stepan pushed his bowl to one side and stood up. He lifted the rifle in his hands and the men and women hushed as walked a few feet from the table.
The woman walked past him and chose a forked rest from a pile resting against the wheel of a wagon. She gave it to Stepan, along with a horn of powder and a handful of bullets. Stepan nodded his thanks and pressed a round bullet of lead into the rifle with the ramrod attached in a pipe that ran the length of the barrel. He primed the flintlock firing mechanism and slipped the rifle into the fork of the rest. He scanned the opposite bank of the river, looking for a target. The Cossacks began to whisper behind him, exchanging coins, bets, and jibes as Stepan prepared for his first shot.
“Wait,” Ivan said as he put down his bowl and swaggered between his men. “Mishka.”
“Da?” said a small Cossack man wearing two bandoliers of bullets criss-crossed over a long, thin jacket.
“Go across the river and give the Kapitan a good target.”
“Ivan?”
“Wear this hat,” Ivan said and removed a ushanka from one of his men.
Mishka looked at Stepan for a moment before reaching inside his jacket and pulling out a leather bag of coins. “If he kills me, I don't need this. If not, I want double.”
“I will take that bet,” said Lena as she joined her father. She tossed a small coin bag of her own onto the table.
“When you are finished talking,” Stepan said as he leaned into the stock of the rifle, “I would like that target.”
Mishka's bandoliers creaked as he walked up to Stepan. He stood in front of him and looked the Russian in the eyes.
“Are you a good shot?” he said.
“You are about to find out.”
“Da,” Mishka said and turned to look at the river. “Da, all right. Double or nothing,” he yelled at the Cossacks around the table.” Mishka grinned at Stepan, turned and jogged to the river.
Stepan tracked the Cossack with the tiny iron sight at the end of the barrel. He followed him with his eyes as he climbed the opposite bank of the river. The Cossacks hushed as Mishka folded his arms and shouted that he was ready. Stepan turned the wrist of his left hand and glanced at the smallest of three watch faces, the one be
hind which was a picture of his wife and child.
“Forgive me, Anna,” he whispered. “But I will do what I must to save our son.”
Ivan lit his pipe and called to his men. “Some of you are too young to remember the Wolf of Arkhangelsk. But, I promise you will remember him today. Kapitan?”
“Yes,” Stepan said and leaned into the rifle.
“Let us make it more interesting,” Ivan said and tossed his own leather purse onto the table. It landed with a heavy thud of coin. The Cossacks hurried to add more money to the pot as Ivan took a long draw on his pipe. He breathed out a steady stream of smoke and then shouted, “Mishka.”
“Da?” came Mishka's distant reply.
“Jump.”
Chapter 4
Hamburg Dockyard
The German Confederation
June, 1851
With both hands on the levers of the control box, the operator commanded his emissary to climb the iron rungs of the ladder at the rear of the mammoth walker. Two more mammoths, walking side by side, pulled the catapult sling tight as the mammoth with the emissary moved into position in front of it. If they get the angle wrong, Luise mused, the catapult will drive that walker straight off the dock and into the sea. She watched as the operator positioned his emissary at the very rear of the mammoth walker, one step at a time, until the base of the globus tank was nestled in the leather bucket of the catapult. Each emissary was built around a large round boiler with a comparatively small cylindrical head on top, and powerful arms and legs poking out of the sides and beneath the boiler. Without its appendages, the emissary resembled a large, round missile. In effect, when the boiler was fully stoked, each emissary was a ball of fire encased in a brass shell.
“Be sure to have your emissary tuck its knees up and lock its elbows tight against the boiler,” Hannah said to the operator of the first emissary missile. “Have it hold the broad sword straight in front of its chest plate, like a lance. Remember, it needs to puncture that energy field.”
“Ja, Fräulein,” said the operator and gave the necessary commands. The emissary drew the broadsword from the scabbard bolted to a plate at the rear of the tank. The exchange of energy between the steamjammer and the airship was forgotten for a moment as the emissary's sword screeched out of the metal scabbard as it described a perfect arc above its head.
“And just what are you doing with my emissaries?” said Schleiermacher as he marched up to the base of the derrick. His gaze flicked between the activity on the docks and the battle on the water.
“We need a diversion,” Hannah said and pointed at Luise. “It seems, as much as I am against it, we need to take sides and help the demon Khaos, if we are to defeat the greater enemy.”
“By launching emissaries like shot into the sky?”
“Ja,” Hannah said and nodded. “Basically.”
“And you are ready with the first emissary?”
“We are,” said Luise from her seat in the steamchair.
“Miss Hanover, are you recovered?”
“Enough, for the moment at least. I will ask your doctor to assist me once the outcome of the battle at sea has been decided.”
“Fräulein von Ense,” shouted the lead engineer from the top of the left hand derrick. “We are ready.”
“Good. Fire at will.”
The engineer lifted his hand, as did another engineer on top of the right hand derrick. Using the arms of the cranes as cross hairs to which the ends of the catapult were attached with huge maritime bolts, they signalled the men to open and close the cranes. At the base of each derrick, emissaries turned great iron wheels, inches at a time, until both engineers were satisfied. They clambered down the derricks, seeking shelter from the crane's skeleton. An officer, standing astride the two mammoth walkers used to stretch the catapult, lifted his arm and gave the command to clear the mammoth walker in front of the sling. He lifted both his arms.
“On my command,” he said.
“Ja,” said the men standing by the quick release straps holding the catapult. The sling quivered as the emissary settled within it.
From her position on the dock below, Luise could just see the emissary's head, and the glow of the lodestone behind the grille in its faceplate. She gasped as the emissary caught her eye and winked.
“It can't be,” she said and looked around for the operator. The man was deep in concentration and, his hands poised on the controls, seemed incapable of expressing emotion of any kind. Luise focused on the emissary once more, but it had shifted its gaze and was now locked on target and staring at the forward deck of The Flying Scotsman.
“Fire,” the officer said and snapped his arms to his sides in a swift arc.
The catapult launched the emissary high into the sky above the port of Hamburg. The wind shrieked through the gaps in its brass armour, creating a sharp whistle as it flew toward the airship. The operator ran between the derricks to ensure contact with the emissary via line of sight, as the engineers and the firing officer set up the next shot.
The emissary, for its part, maintained a perfect poise, locked in position with the very tip of its blade like a lance protruding from a cannonball. It slammed into the column of energy pressing down from the airship and onto the dome of demon energy protecting the steamjammer directly below it. The emissary's sword tore a rift in the column of energy as it slipped and sprawled onto the polished surface of Khaos' demon shield.
“It cannot grip the shield,” the operator said as he stared at the emissary. “We are going to lose it.”
“Use the sword to cut a hold in the shield,” said Hannah.
“I cannot. He is slipping too fast.”
Luise pushed herself out of the steamchair and walked to the edge of the dock just as the emissary slid off the bottom of the dome and over the side of the steamjammer. A plume of white water was the last they saw of it.
“Damn,” said the operator and closed the lid of his control box.
“Fire,” shouted the officer from the mammoth walkers behind Luise. She looked up as a second emissary whistled through the sky.
“It is higher this time,” Schleiermacher said and pointed at the emissary's trajectory.
“Ja,” said Hannah. “It is much better. Where is the operator for this one?”
“Here I am,” said a young girl as she ducked between the legs of the derrick. She hurried across the cobbled dock to stand at the edge. Luise smiled as she watched the girl let go of the controls to tuck her long brown skirt beneath her bottom and sit with her legs dangling over the side of the dock.
“She is just a girl,” said Hannah and waved her hand at the male operator. “Take her control box.”
“No, Hannah,” said Luise. “Just wait a moment.”
The girl stuck out her bottom lip and puffed her hair from her eyes and squinted at the emissary.
“Good trajectory,” Schleiermacher said again. “I think it is going to strike right on the foredeck.”
“Ja, and what good will that do if it is up to this girl to choreograph a fight with a super demon?” Hannah ran her hands through her hair. “Set up another emissary,” she said. “And send a real operator this time.”
“You know I can hear you,” said the girl. “Don't you?”
“I don't care if you can hear me, little girl. This is not a game.”
“I agree,” said the girl. “So stop distracting me. My emissary needs me.”
Luise covered her ears as a sudden screech of rending metal cut across the water as the emissary punctured the blue column of energy and crashed into the bridge of The Flying Scotsman. The girl tweaked the control levers once, and then lifted her fingers. She placed her hands either side of the control box and started to sing.
“What on earth are you doing?” said Luise as she walked across the cobbles to sit by the girl.
“Kettlepot likes it when I sing. It helps him concentrate,” said the girl.
“Kettlepot?”
“Yep. That is what my
emissary is called.” The girl turned to look at Luise and smiled. “Don't think I am rude, but it is best if I keep singing. I don't want him to feel all alone over there.”
“No, of course not,” said Luise as a smile teased at the corners of her mouth.
“I can see the emissary,” said Schleiermacher as he pressed the Severinson telescope to his right eye. “There are huge splinters flying out of the bridge, and, wait, yes, I can see a flash of broadsword. He is putting up a terrific fight.”
“The energy column is failing,” said Hannah. “Look.”
Luise flicked her head in the direction of the airship. The column of energy pulsed once, and then a second time, stronger than the first. The steamjammer leaned heavily to the port side as the column flattened into a palm of intense energy that hurt Luise's eyes. The Regal Giant listed and the protective shield dissipated as the demons on deck lost their footing and began to slide toward the railings.
“The passengers are falling overboard,” said Schleiermacher. “Will they survive?”
“The demons die like humans,” said Hannah. “I watched Herr Bremen die as the demon in his body was killed. If they cannot swim, they will drown before we can get to them.”
“Then we must hurry,” said Schleiermacher. He handed the telescope to Hannah and ordered the men on the dock to organise as many boats as possible. “And quickly. Find Romney Wallendorf, and bring her here alive.”
The energy emanating from the airship crackled once and was gone as The Flying Scotsman resumed its dive toward the surface of the sea. Luise held her breath as the bow of the airship lifted in staggered increments, juddering through the air until it was skimming along the water, and heading toward the dock. The bow began to lift higher and higher as the airship powered over the dockyard, heading for the clouds. At the last moment, just as the very tip of the bow was about to pierce the clouds, a bronze figure was cast from the bridge.
“Kettlepot,” said the girl and stood up.
“He has thrown the emissary overboard,” said Hannah as she followed its descent through the telescope.
“And distracted Khronos long enough to break his hold on the steamjammer,” said Luise. “I would say the diversion worked. The girl got the job done.” She shrugged at Hannah.
