by Vered Ehsani
I reached another corridor and heard muted voices coming from one of the rooms further down.
Investigate or run for help?
That was the question.
If I ran for help (assuming I could find the exit), would I ever have a chance at finding Lilly and Gideon? And for all I knew, we could be in Naivasha or Nakuru, in which case I’d have an awfully long way to run.
I inched down the next corridor, glancing behind me with every step, expecting the tattooed man to leap out of the shadows at any moment. As I sidled closer to the voices, I could also just discern the click-click of metal balls.
The dwarf’s pendulum.
I stared at my hand. Could the wolf energy be captured as Gideon was? While I was still coming to grips with the power of the beast, I didn’t want to lose it to that madman.
I focused on the hand, and thought with as much mental force as I could muster, Go away.
The glow faded and I was left in the dark with only a glimmer of light creeping out from under the closed door where the voices were. How I sorely missed my walking stick and its heavy fist, which was a great asset when smacking people’s heads around.
A cessation in the muffled conversation alerted me and I pressed myself against the wall. Not that I could hide myself if anyone exited the room, but it often feels better to do something rather than nothing, even if the result is the same.
Someone giggled. For the briefest of moments, I thought perhaps it was Lilly having a nervous breakdown, until the giggling person spoke in a clear and penetrating voice, “I do believe Mrs. Knight has made her decision.”
The door opened and before I could shrink any further against the stone wall — a futile action in any case — the tattooed man reached out to grab me and yank me into the room.
I blinked against the glow of several storm lanterns. Despite the nature of the occupants, the room had a cozy feel to it, with a carpet flung across the stone floor and lounging cushions scattered around the edges.
Nameless reclined across the biggest cushion, looking far too comfortable and satisfied for my liking. On the floor near his head sat the pendulum, the silver balls clicking softly. Of the jar there was no sign.
“Clever, clever lady,” Nameless said, his tinny voice raking against my nerves as much as his smug smile. He glanced at the hand. “I didn’t notice any tools in that. So how did you escape?”
He held up a hand, as if to stop me from divulging my secrets, which I hadn’t intended to do. “Well, it’s of no consequence really, as it won’t happen again where we’re going. And your timing is impeccable.” He clapped his hands once to emphasize his delight. “Preparations for our departure are well nigh complete. Mrs. Elkhart has been escorted to her new abode, and now all we need from you is your agreement to accompany us to England, where we shall right the wrong and clean up that country from the scourge who invaded it. What say you?”
Indeed, what could I say? A bitterness coated my tongue that prompted an urge to spit at his feet. That would hardly have assisted any of us, but it would’ve made me feel better, even if only temporarily.
“My friends will come after us,” I said. “The moment they realize we’ve disappeared…”
The dwarf laughed at that, a high-pitched noise. “My delightful Mrs. Knight, I don’t think we need concern ourselves with them, now do we? After all, we shan’t be utilizing the usual modes of transportation and England is a very far away place from here.”
I refrained from informing Nameless that Lilly’s husband wouldn’t think so, and for a flying horse, England was hardly farther than West Africa. As for Mr. Timmons – well, I delighted myself in images of what he would do to this beastly little…
“Your answer?” Nameless said, his eyes glittering with the triumph he knew to be his.
“I want Gideon’s jar,” I said.
“That is not on the table for discussion,” he replied and stood up, puffing his chest out.
If the situation had been any different, I’d have laughed at his pretense at grandeur and power, but I found my sense of humor remarkably absent.
“It seems you leave me no option,” I admitted.
“Indeed not,” he gloated. “Shall we be off then?”
He snapped his fingers and rope fell about my arms, trapping them against my sides. This was followed by a gag against my mouth and a sack over my head that obliterated all but the hint of light and air.
A scourge indeed, I thought and that was my last coherent thought before a whiff of chloroform removed me from consciousness.
Chapter 24
I woke with the distinct suspicion that something was not quite right.
I wasn’t sure what put that notion in my head. Could it be the sack over my head, the rope around my arms, the gag in my mouth? Certainly those all contributed to my general misgivings, but there was something else.
I nearly despaired that the cloth in my mouth was less than clean. That wasn’t the source of my disquiet either, although I dreaded to contemplate the possible uses the cloth might’ve had before finding its way to me.
I remained still, breathing deeply as a sleeping person would, every muscle relaxed. A deep, thrumming reverberated beneath me.
He was moving me, I realized. I tensed up, for the farther we travelled away from Nairobi, the less likely my abduction would be discovered in time.
Deep breath.
The ground beneath me shuddered slightly and tilted almost imperceptibly. As I was lying on my side, my unbitten ear pressed to the surface, I could detect the subtle change.
After a few minutes of listening and not discovering anything more than that, I decided I needed some attention. The sack over my head suffocated me with a foul stench — which I hoped wasn’t issuing forth from my unwashed mouth or the cloth therein — and a cup of tea was most certainly in order.
I rolled onto my front and squirmed my way into a sitting position, my knees pressing through my skirt onto a wooden flooring that again lurched about.
A ship? But that would’ve necessitated a trip by train to the port at Mombasa. Surely Mr. Evans the stationmaster would’ve noticed a dwarf and a tattooed man carrying a bound, gagged and unconscious woman onto the train?
Then again, Mrs. Steward was of the opinion that men noticed remarkably little if it didn’t involve their stomachs or other aspects of their anatomy.
Still, I rather suspected it was no easy task to smuggle a body onto a train.
Someone heavy approached me. I could feel the floorboards quiver beneath my knees. This could mean only two things: it wasn’t the dwarf; and perhaps I could finally get something to eat and drink.
The sack was removed but that didn’t change my view much, for it was dark wherever we were. As I blinked a bit, my eyes focused in on some points of light in the distance.
Stars.
Except they couldn’t be, I rationalized. To see stars, I’d have to look up, and these lights were just out the window.
While my rational mind insisted on the impossibility, my eyes maintained their opinion: the twinkling bits of light were stars, no matter how improbable that was.
The surface beneath me tilted again and the view out the window reeled slightly. Jutting up amidst the twinkling lights was a large chunk of darkness in the distinct shape of a mountain. It was hard to judge how far away we were from it, but we were level with the top of it.
Two beefy hands blocked my study of the view. They wrangled the gag off my head and I smacked my lips together.
“Was that really necessary?” I asked, peering up into a tattooed face.
The big man grunted, shrugged his shoulders and removed the ropes binding my arms and legs. He turned and stomped away.
“Talkative, aren’t we?” I muttered.
My knees trembling slightly from lack of nourishment and tea — how many meals had I missed? — I followed him. I’d been tied and locked up in a small room (the dwarf really wasn’t taking any chances with me), which e
xited into a larger space lit by several glass globes. Brass gears, knobs and a ship’s steering wheel glowed in the warm light.
A ship’s wheel?
I focused in on the brass wheel, its eight spokes connecting at a wooden center. A small man stood on a box at the helm, his hands gripped on the lower portion of the wheel.
I glanced around. Behind me was the room I’d just come from, with the tattooed man standing next to the door. In between the small room and the outer wall of whatever this was, a dark, narrow corridor plunged into the depths.
The space that I was able to observe reminded me of a ship’s bow: the mahogany wooden floor was flat but the sides were curved slightly; the front of the room ended in a gently rounded point. The wall was lined with windows that were framed in bronze. Out the windows, wherever I looked, I could see glittering lights.
I expected to see open sky when I looked up, but was disappointed when my view was obstructed by rough wooden planks that lacked the luster and beauty of the flooring. So instead, I studied the little lights. The dark, mountain-shaped mass to one side had a wreath of clouds about it.
“Mt. Kilimanjaro,” Nameless announced in his slightly feminine voice. “Impressive, isn’t it? Tallest mountain on the continent.”
I cleared my throat. If ever I needed a pot of tea, it was at that moment. “Where are we?”
The dwarf pulled a lever to rest against the wheel, locking it in place, and turned to face me. “I just told you. We’re near the slopes of Mt. Kilimanjaro.”
“I meant this,” I clarified as I waved my hand about.
“Ah,” he said, smiling that smug, knowing smile which, in the shadowy lighting, made him look as close to evil as a humanoid could. “This,” and he imitated my waving motion, “is the engine car of a zeppelin.”
“But that’s not possible,” I said, even if it clearly was and even if the concept of impossibility was not one we normally tolerate in the paranormal world. Then again, I was still blurry in the brain from my second dose of chloroform in as many days.
“Why not?” Nameless said and gestured to the windows at the front of the room. “Direct your gaze out and slightly upward.”
I did so and restrained my gasp of astonishment, for clearly hovering above us was the front portion of a large cylindrical structure. The gondola we were in was connected to the blimp with metal ropes.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” the dwarf gloated as he sauntered over to a mahogany table upon which sat a teapot.
A teapot. There was hope after all.
“Indeed,” I said, struggling to remember a news article I’d read a year before. “However, Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin only recently patented his design. He just started working on the prototype last year. How could you possibly have a functioning model?”
The dwarf grinned conspiratorially. “I see you have some interest in airships, madam. Personally, I doubt if these flying craft have much of a future,” and he sniffed derisively as he poured tea into two cups. “I don’t believe people will overcome their fear of heights, crashes and other inconveniences. But for my purpose, it functions well enough.”
He gestured for me to come closer and handed me a cup. I inhaled the rich scent and warm tendrils of tea. “Bergamot oil,” I said, sniffing appreciatively. The first sip sent jolts of gentle energy through my bloodstream.
“Indeed it is,” the dwarf said as he raised his cup to me. “Count Zeppelin claims to be working on the first prototype, but in fact he had already tested his theories out with this smaller unit.”
“Ah,” I said. “And he managed to hide this from the world?”
Nameless chuckled. “You of all people should know how remarkably easy it is to hide reality from the general public.”
“I do indeed,” I conceded. “So Count von Zeppelin simply handed the world’s first working prototype to you, in order that you could fly it all the way from Germany to East Africa and kidnap a paranormal investigator and her cousin?”
“Exactly,” he responded, beaming at my alertness.
I eyed him, squinting at his energy field. He was clearly being deceitful.
I allowed my skepticism to surface and his smile widened. “All right, if you really must know, I stole it,” the dwarf said, thrilled at his successful heist.
“Now that’s a story I can believe,” I said and turned to face the view.
Far below, savannah stretched out all about the mountain, as if the grasslands had slid off the mountain’s tall sides and kept flowing out to all the horizons. I could see small clusters of lumps that I knew to be elephants.
“Speaking of my cousin,” I said. “Where have you left her?”
The dwarf giggled. If I hadn’t been desperately parched, I would’ve flung my tea into his self-satisfied face and followed that up by smacking the teapot against his head. Priorities first; retribution would be accomplished later, I vowed.
“Now, now, you needn’t concern yourself at this point with Mrs. Elkhart,” Nameless said in a sham of an attempt to mollify me. “Her comfort is assured…”
“As long as I betray all those who don’t fit your narrow definition of acceptable,” I finished his sentence, unable to restrain a tinge of bitterness from seeping into my words.
“Perfectly correct, my dear,” he replied, and filled my cup again. “My colleague Brutus will escort you back to your room.”
I glanced at Brutus. “An apt name,” I noted. “He doesn’t converse much.”
Nameless flicked an invisible bit of lint off his coat. “Not at all. He’s mute.”
I smirked. “A giant mute and a talkative dwarf. How quaint. It sounds like the start of a joke.”
Nameless glared at me. “I’m no joke.”
He closed his eyes and exhaled dramatically, as if attempting to regain control. When he looked up again, he was calm. “In case you should feel peckish during the night, you are welcome to this.” He reached under the table to a lower shelf, from which he retrieved a tray with a sizable portion of cheese, crackers and fruit.
Sighing at the sight of such a delightfully prepared platter, I placed my teacup on it, took it from the dwarf and allowed myself to be escorted to my cell where Brutus gave me a lantern, a grunt and a locked door.
As I ate the food — after all, it’s inadvisable to launch an escape attempt on an empty stomach — I stood by the one wall in my cell that was lined with windows. I tapped the glass; it was thicker than normal but certainly could be broken with a few good smacks of a club.
I had neither a club to create an opening, nor any means that would allow me to exit the craft and survive the fall. It was little wonder the dwarf felt it unnecessary to tie me back up.
But he did lock the door, I mused, which meant he didn’t want me near the controls.
As I chomped on a banana, I continued to plot. If I could find a way out of this room, there was a reasonable chance I’d be able to commandeer the craft. I would first have to incapacitate or eliminate Nameless and Brutus. I wasn’t too concerned about the big tattooed man; he was perfectly normal, apart from being excessively decorated.
The ponytailed dwarf, on the other hand, might present more of a challenge.
And what of Lilly and Gideon?
Weary of mind, I noted that the food was consumed, the tea imbibed, there was a narrow pallet in lieu of a bed in one corner, and I was no closer to determining a course of action. In such dismal circumstances, there was really only one option remaining for a kidnapped person: sleep.
And despite having slept for a good many hours under the influence of a drug and all bundled up like Christmas turkey, I did just that.
Chapter 25
I astounded even myself with my propensity to sleep. At some point though, I began to dream.
“Beatrice, come quick. Look, Bee, the baby arrived,” Lilly gushed, holding a bundle to her and rocking it against her chest.
While I knew little of such matters, I was certain the gestation period of humans
was a trifle longer than the short time that had passed since Lilly’s startling announcement.
“Are you sure it’s a baby?” I asked, leaning in to see what manner of creature she held so tightly.
“Of course,” she said. “Can’t you see its little wings?”
At that, the bundle shivered and the blanket fell away as a baby version of Mr. Elkhart sat in its mother’s arms, two bat wings flapping about with great urgency.
“Goodness, wrap that thing back up before someone sees it,” I ordered, at which Lilly began to cry.
Whatever I said to comfort her only increased the intensity of her tears.
“Beatrice,” she cried. “Beatrice, pay attention.”
My dream dissolved into the void.
“Lilly?” I called out, never more relieved to be in Mrs. Cricket’s nightmare creation as then.
“I’ve been calling you for ages,” Lilly said, appearing before me, her glowing form brightening the gloom. She was frowning at me as if it were my fault I’d dilly-dallied.
I glanced about, searching for Gideon. Wherever he was, he wouldn’t be able to join us here. To distract myself from the emotions that realization engendered, I blurted out, “As long as the baby hasn’t been born, we’re all right.”
Lilly stared at me, aghast. “Beatrice, do you know nothing about these matters? Of course the baby hasn’t been born. Where are you?”
I shook my head to clear the image of a miniature version of a bat man. “I’m in a zeppelin. And you?”
She placed her hands protectively over her stomach, although there was no indication of what was there, apart from a smaller, flickering energy field. “I… I’m not sure, really. I’m in a small room without windows, so I’ve no idea if it’s day or night. I think I might be on a ship though.”
A ship. My energy brightened around me. Was it possible she was also in the gondola swinging under the cylindrical balloon?
“That would make sense,” I answered myself. “Nameless wouldn’t entrust one of his goons to safeguard the one bit of leverage he has over me.”
“Bee, what are you blabbering about?” Lilly demanded, pouting at my incoherent statement. “And what’s nameless?”
