Along Came a Wolf (The Yellow Hoods, #1): Steampunk meets Fairy Tale

by Adam Dreece

  Isabella gave Nikolas her nod of approval. He kissed her quickly and bounded up into the cart. “I love you with my heart, and all,” he said awkwardly.

  His wife waved, smiling, as her knight went off on his noble quest. As he passed out of sight, she turned toward the house. “Children, come! We have supplies to put away, and guests are coming. We need to get everything ready.”

  When Nikolas arrived, the boys were still at the town’s entrance. He pulled his horse and cart to the opposite side of the road and onto the grass, out of the way of the people coming and going.

  He climbed over and sat on the back of his cart, facing the boys. After a while, he gave them a nod of acknowledgement. The boys noticed him, but otherwise ignored him.

  Experience had taught him it was too early to engage them. He’d been in this situation before. Trust would take a little time to build.

  Nikolas usually kept to himself in public, but now he made an effort to greet and chat with as many of the people he knew as they passed by. He wanted the boys to see he was friendly, and well known.

  Some town guards came by and asked Nikolas what he was doing. He explained his concern, and the guards confirmed his suspicion. Early in the morning, the mother had abandoned the boys. The guards went over to the boys to explain who Nikolas was and how long they’d known his family. The boys stared at them, saying nothing.

  The second hour rolled by. Nikolas unpacked some of the food. He cleaned the fruit and cut several slices of bread and cheese. He laid everything out on the cart’s edge for the boys to see. He didn’t offer anything yet, but he could see he had their attention.

  He watched them kick a rock around for a while as they tried to keep their minds off their hunger and bleak situation.

  Nikolas gestured to the sky and said to the boys, in a warm, friendly tone, “Do you see rain is coming? Those clouds will bring a hard rain, but not a long one. It will rain for a couple of hours, no more.”

  The boys looked at him. The eldest then looked at the sky, and back at Nikolas. “I don’t see rain. You’re lying—and you’re trying to trick us.”

  Nikolas sighed. This would be harder than he’d hoped, but he could persevere. “No tricks. But maybe I see things you don’t, yes? Maybe you see things I don’t—and if you do, then I will learn. Maybe you’d like to learn how I see things?”

  The boys looked at each other. It was clear that food was foremost on the mind of the three-year-old, but his brothers shushed him. “Why do you talk funny?” asked the eldest.

  Smiling, Nikolas replied, “My wife says it is how my ideas come together from different languages—and that they get spoken all mixed up. It does not always happen. But, while there are many things I have mastered, this is not one of them.”

  Nikolas shrugged and continued, “I have done many things in my life, lived in many places, made many things. I grew up in one of the eastern kingdoms, which is why I have this accent.”

  He stood up, took a step toward the boys, and continued, “Did you know I was once like you?”

  Nikolas thought back to his privileged upbringing and its harsh end when war had broken out. At the age of thirteen, he and his family had lost everything, and shortly afterward, he’d lost his family too. He’d lived by his wits for two years, learning harsh lessons—lessons which he hoped to help these boys avoid.

  He pointed at the clouds again. “The rain is coming soon. Five minutes, perhaps. Time for a tent, yes? I, for one, don’t like being wet.” He climbed into his cart. Using the poles and blankets, Nikolas made a simple roof. He spread some of the wax dust onto the blankets, which the boys thought was quite odd.

  As he finished setting up, another town guard came by. “Monsieur Klaus, there is nothing you can do here. You should go home and be with your family.”

  Nikolas smiled at him, saying, “Gabriel Archambault, my friend, it is always good to see you. Do you really believe that?” He beckoned the guard to look at the boys again.

  Gabriel glanced at them and leaned on the cart. “Honestly? It’s amazing you don’t give up. We’ve known each other a few years now. You’ve tried this twice before, with no success. I think of you like an older brother, so I’ll say what I mean. You, of all people, have better things to do.”

  Nikolas shook his head. “Ah. Like making such things to help my friends involved in their secret affairs?”

  Gabriel was a bit taken aback by Nikolas’ frankness.

  “You suspected, yes?” said Nikolas. He smiled, letting his friend off the hook. He scratched his short dark beard and ran a hand through his thinning brown hair. “Helping a society starts with its children. If these boys can be taught how to help society—or if they can simply be taught how to harm it less than is their nature—then it is worth it. It is rare that we have an opportunity to shape society at such a pivotal point, yes? Anyway—my time and energy are mine to lose.”

  Guardsman Archambault sighed, stroked his bushy mustache, and looked at Nikolas. “You’re a better man than me. I don’t know where your drive comes from. I hope”—Gabriel paused, wondering—“I hope someday I have kids, and that you’re there to advise me.”

  Nikolas smiled. “I hope so too, but if I’m not, remember— rules are fine to guide you, but not to keep us from doing the right thing.”

  The rain started. “Oh! It appears my time has run out,” exclaimed Nikolas.

  Gabriel walked over to the boys, and then bent down to eye level with the eldest. “You have no idea who this man is, and what he is going to offer you. He’s a saint. Take Monsieur Klaus up on the offer. You only get one chance like this in life.” Having said that, Gabriel felt lighter. He wondered if there was some truth in what Nikolas had said.

  He stood up and waved at Nikolas. “Good luck.”

  Nikolas nodded, and returned the wave as Gabriel resumed his patrol.

  The boys huddled under a tree, trying to stay out of the cold summer rain as it came down faster and faster.

  Nikolas spoke loudly, to overcome the rain’s roar. “You know, I spread wax dust on the blankets to make the rain slide off. I have a friend—she is a master of candles—and she taught me the trick.”

  He turned, looking at his handiwork, but then pointed out a few leaks. “Still, it is not perfect. Many things in this life, they are not perfect, but we must seize the opportunity to try and make them better, yes?”

  The boys looked at Nikolas, bewildered.

  “Am I speaking too funny? Maybe some food will help you understand me,” he said.

  The boys came over to the cart. They looked at the food, but stood there, uncertain.

  After a minute, in a squeaky, small voice, the middle brother asked, “May I please have some food?”

  “Of course, you may,” said Nikolas gently. He then lifted the boy up and onto the cart. “Take what you like.”

  Nikolas looked at the youngest one next, who was nearly as tall as his middle brother. “You, I think, like apples, yes?” He handed one to the boy.

  “Oh, yes,” replied the husky, little voice. Nikolas reached down and lifted him onto the cart. “You are a big boy!” he said, surprised at his weight. “Do you eat rocks?”

  “No,” said the boy, giggling. He then bit into the apple.

  Finally, Nikolas turned to the eldest, who was staring at the ground. Nikolas paused, thinking back to how he’d felt when a hand had been extended to him, long ago.

  “I learned a hard lesson once,” said Nikolas in a serious but warm tone. “It is not weakness to accept help when one needs it. It is strength. Do you believe this?”

  For a moment, the eldest boy just stood there. He looked up at Nikolas. Tears were in his eyes. Nikolas smiled the same compassionate smile his wife had given him. “You have taken good care of your brothers. I do not want to take that from you. You will continue this, but my family and I will help you. I lost my family once and a stranger helped me. Now, let me help you.”

  The eldest boy started to tremble
. Emotion and tears streamed out. The boy threw himself into Nikolas’ arms. Nikolas lifted him onto the cart to join his brothers. “I heard her say she was going to do this,” he sobbed. “I heard her—and I couldn’t stop her.”

  The younger boys burst into tears. Nikolas pulled them into a hug as tears rolled down his own cheeks.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tricky Prey

  Richy nearly dropped the telescope. “There are men on horses! And smoke! I think—I think they have guns!”

  Elly started jumping up and down—a nervous habit she’d had since she was little. “Um, um, um,” she repeated. After a moment, her eyes lit up and she grounded herself. “Okay—I know what we’re going to do.”

  She raced downstairs to the wall of cabinets. Opening one particular empty cabinet, she knocked out its secret back panel and grabbed one of the three pairs of dull-gray metal rods. The rods were each a foot and a half long, with a small handle near one end.

  “I’ve got my sticks. I’m going down to get her!” Elly said, furiously cranking one of the handles.

  Elly had discovered the sticks a month before. Unlike her fellow Yellow Hoods, Elly had a natural feel for the sticks, and had quickly figured out how to use them effectively. The sticks felt solid and perfectly balanced in her hands—neither too heavy, nor too light. She practiced with them every day.

  “You’re planning on going down there?!” Richy’s deep blue, almond-shaped eyes were open wide. “That’s crazy! What am I supposed to do—stay here and watch you both get shot or run down?” He was freaking out and breathing fast.

  Elly was concerned Richy might pass out if she didn’t do something; he’d passed out once before. She looked at Richy and said slowly and sincerely, while stroking his tousled hair, “Richy, we need you. I need you.”

  Richy started to calm down. “But… we’re just kids.”

  For a moment, Elly felt like that simply stated truth might erase her own courage. “No, Richy—we’re not. We were kids.

  “Just think of that game we always play. The one where we pretend someone is chasing one of us, and the rest of us must come to the rescue.”

  Finished with her first stick, Elly started cranking the second, while keeping her brown eyes locked on Richy.

  “Um… okay.” Richy seemed to be accepting the idea.

  “Your mission, Richy, is to find some town guards. Bring them to Tee’s grandfather’s house, okay? We’re going to save her. You’re going to be a hero. We’ve done this a million times before.”

  Richy took a breath and nodded. “I know, but—” he said, starting to panic again.

  “We’ll be okay. I promise.” Elly gave him a light-hearted wink and smile. She wished she felt as confident as she sounded.

  With a final sigh, Richy said, “Okay—get help. Go to Tee’s grandfather’s house. Got it. Wait… why his house?”

  “Because when Tee’s the one playing the hunted kid, that’s where she pretends to go.” Elly then deftly placed both charged shock-sticks into her homemade yellow cloak’s special pockets and then flipped up her hood.

  “This’ll all work out. I promised, remember?” said Elly. She dashed out of the treehouse, grabbed the wooden handlebar of the pulley system, and started flying down the mountain.

  Richy nodded to reassure himself. “I can do this. Elly’s going to distract the horsemen and not get killed.

  “Everyone is going to be fine,” he repeated to himself before finally racing off at top speed in search of the town guards.

  Tee stumbled as she stepped away from the second-to-last pulley leading up the mountain. She was exhausted and starting to worry she wasn’t going to make it. Even if she did, she didn’t know what she’d do when she got there.

  LeLoup’s three horsemen were having some trouble getting up the steep mountainside, but they were slowly gaining on her. They had fired their flintlock pistols in hopes of scaring Tee into stopping—and she almost had.

  Tee tripped and fell. She lay there, unable to find the energy to get up again, until she heard the familiar zipping sounds of pulley, weights, and ropes.

  “Lala! Lala!” came a heart-warming yell from Elly.

  Tee picked herself up. Her eyes welled up as she saw Elly flying down toward her, in her own yellow hooded cloak.

  Elly landed and with a quick look and nod, and Tee instinctively knew what Elly had in mind. While Elly was shorter than Tee by a couple of inches, and had fairer hair, both expected the horsemen wouldn’t notice the difference.

  “Richy’s gone for help. Go to your grandfather’s house,” said Elly quickly and decisively.

  As she started to head out, Tee grabbed her. “Use my cloak. They might realize the color’s not quite the same.” She handed Elly her cloak, keeping hold of her slingshot. Elly slipped her sticks into Tee’s cloak and then pulled it on.

  Elly then set off down the mountain at top speed. As she approached the first horseman, she pulled out one of her sticks, pressed its activation button, and threw the stick at him.

  Sparks flew as the stick connected with the rider. He flailed and fell off his horse. Elly’s second stick missed the next rider. As she passed the two remaining horsemen, they turned to pursue her.

  They took the bait, thought Tee. She lay on the ground, breathing heavily. She knew she had about two minutes before the pulley system reset.

  Tee imagined for a moment that the treehouse and its incredible pulley system had been the work of mysterious little elves. It was a ridiculous idea, but that silly, little-kid thought made her feel better.

  Then, with a familiar wooden clonk, Tee knew the pulley system was ready. She sprang up and headed back down the mountain.

  The Cochon brothers tried to keep up with Nikolas as he moved through the thick forest with renewed energy and drive. He had abandoned his old-man demeanor. For a man in his late-fifties, he actually could put most of the town guards to shame.

  All of a sudden, Nikolas stopped and put a finger to his lips. “Do you hear that?” he whispered.

  The brothers listened for a moment.

  Squeals shook his head.

  Bakon and Bore looked around.

  “Wait—I hear something,” whispered Squeals.

  Nikolas looked up to the trees. “One of the pulleys! Someone’s coming down—and fast.”

  The brothers looked at each other, confused. They looked up and around, but couldn’t see anything.

  Then something zipped by overhead. “Big yellow bird!” yelled Bore, pointing.

  “That’s no bird—that’s a yellow-cloaked kid. Get the kid, Bore!” commanded Bakon.

  Bore tore off into the forest, with his eyes narrowed and his head down.

  Nikolas appeared startled at Bore’s sprint. The brothers smiled knowingly.

  Bakon chuckled. “He’ll get her, no worries about it,” he said, slapping Nikolas on the shoulder. “That brother never fails.”

  A minute later, following the tunnel of broken branches and bushes that Bore had left in his wake, they found him singing and dancing around with Tee on his shoulders. She was singing along, enjoying the ride. Bore looked surprised to see them, having been lost in the moment.

  Tee acrobatically leapt off Bore’s shoulders, landing expertly. “La-la!” she exclaimed triumphantly.

  Nikolas smiled in relief. “Tee! I’m so happy you’re okay. But I am surprised. You were not frightened by my big friend?”

  Tee shrugged. “I guess there are parts of your life I don’t know.” She turned to look at Bakon. “Um—sorry for hitting you with my slingshot. I… ah— sorry,” she finished awkwardly.

  Bakon smiled in response. “Ah, so it was you. That explains it. One day we’ll talk about it, but not now.”

  “Also, Grandpapa, Bore didn’t give me enough time to be scared. Before I knew it, he picked me up onto his shoulders and started singing Mister Nik is going to be so happy. I joined in, and he started dancing.”

  Something caught Nikolas’ eye.
He examined Tee’s cloak. “This isn’t yours?”

  Tee suddenly remembered. “Elly!”

  Andre LeLoup was frustrated. When his men had gone after Klaus and his granddaughter, he had returned to the house to search for the steam engine plans.

  Simon St. Malo had told him to expect to find the plans in a long brass tube or on one of the worktables. He’d figured they should be easy to find. That hadn’t been the case.

  LeLoup kicked over a pile of books. “This place is such a mess! How does he find anything here?” He tried angrily to overturn one of the worktables, only to discover it was bolted down.

  After calming down, he rummaged through every cabinet, every drawer, and examined every scrap of paper he could find. He stared angrily at the stupid little red box on the floor in the middle of the mess. He wanted to stomp it flat.

  Not only had he found nothing regarding a steam engine, he hadn’t found anything that could serve as a potential substitute to appease St. Malo.

  He started to wonder if this guy really was the famous, inventive genius behind the Tub? Maybe he was a fraud? Klaus’ life seemed too simple and mundane. To LeLoup, it was almost offensive.

  He decided he needed a break—to make a cup of tea, and reflect. At least he could appreciate Klaus’ selection of tea. After making a cup, he sat down and gazed around the small kitchen. It was so… common that it was almost painful to look at.

  LeLoup was one of the whispered names in the western kingdoms. He was known to get you what you wanted—whether a message delivered, or an item acquired. He avoided assassination work; it lacked a certain amount of class, in his opinion.

  He wasn’t yet the most infamous ‘messenger’ in the profession, but he wanted to be. He had only ever failed once, and though it had happened very early in his twenty-year career, it still haunted him. If he didn’t return with what St. Malo had asked for, or better, his career would be over.

  Simon St. Malo had offered him three times his usual fee—a great amount of money—to get some drawings from an old man. That amount had made Andre suspicious, so he had done some research on Klaus and St. Malo. He’d learned about a rivalry that stretched back decades. St. Malo seemed to make it his business to take and twist whatever Klaus invented. Though St. Malo was also an inventor, he was nothing compared to Klaus. In fact, St. Malo seemed to be insanely jealous of the man’s pure genius.