by Chris Paton
“What do you think?” the doctor said as she drew level with him.
“It's rather fun, actually.”
“And it didn't take you long to get the hang of it.”
“Intuitive,” said Luise. “Just like you said.”
Wallendorf wobbled as he walked and Luise noticed him cast more than one anxious glance toward the steamjammer, The Regal Giant, as it plied back and forth in the waters outside Hamburg.
“Why doesn't she just come in to dock?” he said. “I just want to see my daughter. To hold her tight and see that she is all right.”
“Excuse me, Herr Wallendorf,” said Luise. “I must warn you that your daughter is not who she used to be. You must be prepared to accept that.”
“Not helping, Miss Hanover,” said the doctor and he picked up the pace in the direction of a rectangular box construction of wooden ribs and metal pipes. The Wallendorf Flyer, nicknamed Nachtfalter, resembled a triplane with three large wings layered at the rear, and two smaller canard wings at the nose. The wooden ribs were bound with leather lashings around the skinless frame, with bamboo acting as connecting junctions and support for the thin copper pipes that blasted air through the fans at the rear. Luise forgot about Wallendorf's daughter as her inventor mind analysed the flyer's construction.
“It looks awfully flimsy,” she said after a moment's pause.
“Herr Direktor?” said the doctor. “Would you care to comment?”
Wallendorf squeezed the pommel of his cane. The whiskers of his beard whisped as he mumbled something about wings and weight.
“Sorry, Herr Wallendorf,” said Luise. “I didn't catch that.”
“It looks flimsy because it is flimsy,” he said. “We had to keep the weight down. It is not fast, and certainly not streamlined, but it can stay airborne for hours, gliding on thermals and using the fans when not.” He puffed out his chest. “It is a most economical design, but purely in the prototype stage, you understand?”
“Thank you, Direktor,” said the doctor. “Why don't we...” He stopped and pointed up at the clouds. “It's coming back.”
Luise turned to look in the direction the doctor was pointing. She watched as the bow and bridge of The Flying Scotsman, the same bridge she and Hari had tumbled off, breached the clouds and dived in a steep angle of attack toward the steamjammer.
“He's going to ram it,” the doctor said and gripped Wallendorf's arm.
“Romney,” said Wallendorf as the stern of the airship ripped free of the last fingers of cloud.
Klaxons aboard the steamjammer could be heard as its crew – mostly demons recently released from the Passage of Time, and with no intentions of returning – scurried about the observation deck. Luise squinted and could just see them link hands and raise their arms upwards. A charge of blue energy rippled through the group, circling the ring of demons. The blue light extended from their arms and rippled upwards into the shape of a dome that extended out over the sides of the ship like a shield.
“They mean to repel the airship,” said Luise. “But Khronos will have anticipated that.”
“Who is Khronos?” said the doctor.
“The father of time. He intends to return all slow demons to the Passage.”
“That's good, isn't it?”
“In a way, yes, but his methods are brutal, and if we cannot stop him, hundreds more innocent people will be killed in the process.”
“So, we want him to succeed, but without the killing. I think I understand.”
“Good,” said Luise. “Now if you will excuse me, I need to find Fräulein Ense.” She pushed the throttle lever as far forward as possible and accelerated away from the flyer towards the edge of the dock. Emissaries bristled as their controllers fidgeted and worried at the wireless crystal transmitters attached to the harness on their chests. She ignored them and the men guarding them with muskets and rifles. She pushed on, darting beneath the legs of a mammoth walker full of troops, and narrowly missing a team of engineers jogging to a new position beneath the derricks. Luise slowed as she spotted Hannah von Ense's short blonde hair.
“Luise?” she said as the wheelchair coughed to a stop.
“I am out of fuel,” said Luise as she stretched her legs and eased herself out of the chair.
“I thought you were resting?”
“I was, but Khronos' arrival has encouraged me to get off my bed and into action.”
“He has slowed his descent, almost as if he is hanging in the air,” Hannah said and pointed.
“He is time, he can do anything he wants with it. That's what makes him dangerous.”
Hannah bit her lip as she looked from the steamjammer to the airship and back again. “He is clearly the greater threat. How do we stop him?”
“I have received help at different times during my research,” said Luise. “Each time I ran into a brick wall, I either got a letter, or an image of khronoglyphs, planted in my mind,that helped me continue.”
“Khronoglyphs?”
“The language of time,” Luise said and stared as tendrils of blue energy snaked out from the bow of the airship. “I have tracked the source of help to the city of Arkhangelsk in the north of Russia.”
“I know where it is.”
“Good. But what I don't know is the name of my mysterious helper. But I think Romney might, or rather, the slow demon called Khaos.”
Hannah bristled and clenched her jaw. “I have unfinished business with Khaos.”
“But if that can wait, I think she could give us that name and together we can defeat Khronos.”
“And if she doesn't cooperate?”
“She might not have a choice,” Luise said and pointed at the first of the tendrils as it lashed at the demon shield covering the steamjammer.
“Then we have to distract Khronos, and parley with the demon that has possessed Wallendorf's daughter. Simple,” Hannah said and laughed. She scanned the docks and looked up at the two wooden derricks towering above them. “Hey,” she shouted at the engineers climbing the derricks.
“Ja, Fräulein?”
“Can you fasten a catapult between these two derricks?” she said and waited for the engineers to respond. With fewer frowns than Luise expected, they answered smartly.
“Ja.”
“Good. Then do it now. As fast as you can.”
“Hannah, I am intrigued. What do you have in mind?”
“I think it is time to teach the emissaries to fly,” she said and slapped Luise on the shoulder. “Come, I need your help.”
Chapter 3
The Great Southern Plain
Arkhangelsk Oblast
June, 1851
Stepan Skuratov raised his hands as the Cossacks thrust the barrels of their flintlock pistols at his face. The horse snorted on the bank of the river as Lena settled it after the crossing. She turned to look at Stepan, shrugging an apology as she smoothed her hand over the horse’s nose.
“My name is Kapitan...”
“Stepan Skuratov,” a tall, lean and grizzled Cossack said as he made his way along the path between the trees, the leather of his heavy bandoliers squeaked with each step. The man stopped in front of Stepan. “What are you doing here,” he paused, “together with my daughter, Kapitan Skuratov?”
“Ivan,” Stepan began.
“Wait,” Ivan Timofeyevich held up his hand. “First, we must attend to unfinished business.” Ivan pulled back his fist and punched Stepan in the gut. “Now, Kapitan,” Ivan said and smiled. “Business is settled. For the moment.” He tapped the barrels of his men’s pistols and cleared a space around Stepan. Lena giggled by the side of the horse.
“Ivan,” Stepan said as he bent over, bracing his hands on his knees. “It is nice to see you again.”
“Is it?” Ivan laughed. “Then we should meet more often, Kapitan.”
“Only,” Stepan said and straightened, “if we are done with business.” He held out his hand.
“Da,” Ivan said and shook Stepan’s ha
nd. “I am satisfied.”
“Really? I tried to kill you. Are you so easily satisfied?”
“That was war,” Ivan said and waved his hand. He beckoned to Lena. He took a step back as she approached. “It was your job.”
“It was,” Stepan said and nodded, thoughts of the skirmish war between the Russians and the Cossacks flickered through his mind.
“You took a new job, I heard?” Ivan embraced Lena, smoothing away her hair and kissing her on the forehead. “What was it? Something with research?”
“I am Kapitan of a small submersible vessel.”
“A submersible? Really?” Ivan opened a pouch on his bandolier. He pulled out his pipe and pointed the end at the horse.
“I understand that belongs to my comrade, Kapitan Bryullov.”
“Yes,” Stepan said and waited as Ivan filled and lit his pipe. “He is working for Moscow.”
“You work for Moscow, too,” Ivan said and puffed a cloud of smoke between them.
“I did until they sold us to the German Confederation.”
“Us?”
“Arkhangelsk.” Stepan waved at the smoke. “You have heard what happened?”
“Da, of course.” Ivan poked at Lena’s arm. “Daughter, go see about your arm.”
“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 t
arget.”
“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 behind 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
