Talyen considered and nodded. “I’ll go look for her, wait for me to return,” she said, moving her way through the semi-circle of her team. She trudged back to descend the steep hill, then stopped in her tracks. I heard rocks grinding against the sole of her shoes. She slipped. I’d never seen Talyen lose her footing on the whole journey. Something was wrong.
I rushed over to her. My heart sank into my belly when I arrived. “No!” I slid to a stop.
We’d found Marina on the hill. She stood at the head of a whole company of Wyranth soldiers. She grinned, her eyes dilated in the way I’d seen several of the Wyranth soldiers. “Ahh, the captain and the Baronette together. Perfect. Please deposit your weapons at your feet.”
The Wyranth held so many guns trained on us that the mere act of moving would be dangerous. I glanced at Talyen, and she nodded. I saw defeat in her eyes, another thing I would have thought was an impossibility an hour ago. Marina had too many soldiers for us to handle, and they’d cut off our return route to the airship. I still hoped Talyen would think of something. We’d already been in circumstances with impossible odds, and come out the other side with a few scrapes and bruises. Did she truly have no plan here?
“Make sure your little strike force behind you does the same, if you would,” Marina said to Talyen.
“Everyone, drop your weapons,” Talyen said loudly. “I mean it. We can’t win this one.”
Some of our team turned back to see what the commotion was, having the same reaction as I did. Everything had been going so smoothly before. How could this have happened? And Marina? The single person on the Liliana who befriend me, who respected and listened to me? “Marina, why?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Because I am loyal to my country and my emperor, of course. Someone had to be on board that blasted airship to make sure the infamous Captain von Cravat and her new sidekick Baronette Von Monocle didn’t muck up this war,” she said. “If you hadn’t noticed, we’re about to win it.”
“But you were so…” Something had changed inside her. This wasn’t natural, not the way she spoke at all.
“I am a spy, Baronette. This is what I excel at. You’re a lovely girl, you really are, but that’s not what’s important here. Enough of this talk. Men, seize them!” Marina motioned with her pistol and two soldiers came to grab each of us by the arms. They didn’t take any chances to allow us leeway.
I exchanged several glances with Talyen in hopes that she would give direction, but she made no move. She didn’t have a plan. This couldn’t be happening. We were so close!
In a flash, our mission to save my father had been snuffed out. My gut wrenched. What would they do with us? Were they going to kill us? Use us as hostages to take the airship? “If you were spying, why wouldn’t you help your people before, when we were in the air?” I asked. Keeping Marina talking couldn’t be a bad thing.
“Baronette, you have much to learn. I assess tactical situations and present information to the Iron Emperor. There was nothing to gain from saving a couple of low soldiers’ lives. They were not going to succeed on equal ground in capturing the illustrious Liliana with her whole crew in their finest element. Home advantage is what was needed and, as you see, my instincts were correct. It’d be a valuable lesson for you, but I doubt you’ll live to use it. Anyway, onward! To the capital dungeon!” she shouted her last words. No sympathy, nothing of the old Marina. She had been a Wyranth soldier through and through. Merciless.
The Wyranth soldiers forced us to walk toward the capital, the destination we would have been headed in anyway. We’d been stripped of our weapons, helpless. One of the commandos struggled, punching his captor in the jaw.
The commotion gave me hope as I watched, seeing if the distraction would spur others to action. It didn’t. There were too many Wyranth soldiers. They surrounded the man who’d resisted, and one of them knocked him in the head with the butt of a rifle. He fell to the ground.
I turned away, horrified as they fired several shots into his head.
We passed through the gate, all according to our original plan, except for that one little hitch where we were supposed to break up into smaller teams. The Wyranth capital streets were made of cobblestone, rough on the feet after so long a journey. Even in the middle of the night, a horse and cart passed us by followed by another contingent of soldiers. No civilians could be seen.
The soldiers led us to spiral steps and down to a large iron barred door that marked a dungeon. Inside, torches flickered through the underground passageway. Something dripped, and the place felt damp and dark despite the torchlight. It was a relic from the past, before clockwork and steam technology changed the world with gas-powered lanterns. A smell of mold wafted in the stale air as we continued down the corridor. One of the soldiers closed the gate behind us and locked it. I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with a profound sense of dread and hopelessness.
After the hallway, we came to an open room with a guard behind a desk and a second locked door that led to the cell block. The soldiers stripped us of our Wyranth uniforms, down to our undergarments. I tried my best to turn away from the soldiers’ view, embarrassed, though truth be told Talyen had a far ampler bosom to conceal than I did. I shivered from the cold and wrapped my arms tightly around myself. The soldiers tossed our packs off to the side, including the one that had Toby inside. He didn’t squeak at the jostling, the poor brave soul. I didn’t say anything for fear they would have killed him.
The soldier at the desk processed us, giving us prisoner numbers and writing down our descriptions. Another Wyranth opened the door to the cell block and escorted us down the next hall. At each open cell, the Wyranth deposited three of us, pushing the group into their prison before locking the door. After the fourth cell, where they sent Talyen and one other, I moved as well, but the guard stopped me. I stood there alone.
Marina sauntered down the hall and joined the guards. She motioned for them to follow, and they took me deeper into a complex dungeon with multiple pathways containing cells, to an area where very little light penetrated, and the stench overwhelmed every other sense. Marina grabbed me by the wrist, causing me to lose my balance, then pushed me into a solitary cell. That dark corridor stretched on both left and right for what seemed forever. An empty cell lay across from me, barren, as if they wanted to keep me from seeing the others. The barred door slammed shut.
“Why?” I whispered, mouth dry.
“A Baronette deserves her fiefdom,” Marina said. With no further fanfare, she left me behind those iron bars and took steps back down the hall. The pitter patter of her feet echoed the whole way.
My cell contained a cot, a small pot of water, and a second pot, that one empty. It was obvious what it was for. Would they really expect me to use it in the open like this? These conditions could be considered barbaric. They’d stripped us of our decency and humanity. Worse, in this cell, I had no one to share my torture. I almost envied the others’ lack of privacy.
I heard the crew down the hall chattering between their cells. Then more footsteps sounded. A guard slammed a baton against several bars. “Quiet in here. Next person to talk gets a beating,” he said.
The prison fell silent immediately. I heard drips of moisture echoing, but I couldn’t tell where they originated. It was going to be impossible to sleep with that constant drip combined with the cold. All I had was a thin blanket, nothing further to protect me from the elements.
I laid down on the cot all the same, curling up into a ball. Everything moved so fast I had so little time to think about it. But now that I had nothing but my thoughts. Had my von Monocle luck run out? It’d done so well for me before in situations where I may not have had the most experience. After the airship battle, I’d thought we were unstoppable, unbeatable. How could we have been so blind to a traitor in our midst?
We trusted each other. Everyone on that ship relied on one another, and Marina took advantage of that. How long had she waited with the crew before this day? Years
? The patience she displayed astounded me. The mark of a true soldier dedicated to her empire. Come to think of it, she may have been responsible for my father’s capture. I imagined her informing the Wyranth of the Liliana’s movements.
I’m sorry, father. I failed you. I thought that bleak mantra over and over as that continuing drip droned on through the night. Of course, I did. I was a farm girl pretending at being a pirate, a soldier. Mr. du Gearsmith and Captain von Cravat had been right to warn me off. I could have been…
Where? Home? My home had been destroyed by these very Wyranth soldiers. I could have been cozy in the capital, fretting over news of this mission. I would have been kicking myself for not helping Talyen and the others, especially if I’d found out the rescue attempt failed. No, despite anything else, I tried my best. Even if that was a failure, at least I had that.
Those thoughts brought me no comfort and no closer to sleep in the cold dungeon cell that night.
King Malaky wept at the news. I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. He wants us to strike hard again at the Wyranth, to send them a message at the border river. I’m happy to oblige, and so is the remaining crew.
An excerpt from Captain von Cravat’s log
Day 1 of the Month of Princes
17th Year of Malaky XVI’s Reign
I woke to a guard prodding me with a baton. “Up with you, girl,” he said.
I grumbled, stirring. I tried to push away the baton, but with little luck. When my eyes focused, I remembered where I was. This prison hadn’t been some horrible dream. I had a new reality, and it meant a Wyranth dungeon until they executed me, or worse. Crewmen on the Liliana had told horror stories about what was done to prisoners here, all of which rumor, but the vivid detail of the torture was enough to give me chills.
“I said up with you. Quickly. You don’t want to keep him waiting,” he said, a warning tone in his voice.
I pushed myself to a seated position, stretched my arms from their cramped position, and then slid off the cot to my feet. The cobblestone floors brought a chill to my bare skin. I would have given anything for shoes or even socks. “Who am I meeting?”
“No questions from prisoners.” The guard scowled at me. He motioned with the baton toward the opened gate of the cell. I could see nothing else other than iron bars and the cold, dark stone of the hallway.
I moved from the cell. The guard locked it behind me. He led me down the hall, through the first gate we entered when we were captured yesterday. My guard nodded to the one seated at the desk, then he took me through another door that led to a second stairway.
Though the winding corridors made it more difficult to get a sense of direction even compared to the innards of the Liliana, I saw that this hadn’t been the door we came in through the prior evening. The door was smaller, and the stairway had been outside of the dungeon before, not within. Was this the way to the torture chamber I’d heard about? I imagined being chained, hung from the ceiling, and beaten to within an inch of my life as I screamed for mercy. It would be fitting with the tales I’d heard. This guard, at least, wouldn’t be my torturer. Though he was wore the Wyranth soldier uniform, he struck me as a man simply doing his duty. He didn’t have that cold, dilated eyes look that some of the more vicious Wyranth had. That, and he hadn’t used much force with me in the cell.
We passed through another locked door, and I noticed a change in the architecture. The stones were still there, but now it had some ornamentation. Carved molding adorned the ceilings and windows. Glorious windows. Light burst in through them. With the utter darkness of the dungeon, I had my first semblance of any time since the prior evening. Though I’d only been in the cell through one sleep, I thought I’d never see natural light again. My eyes took a moment to adjust, but the sight gave me hope.
As we passed through this corridor, I saw rugs, decorative tables, goblets, and beautiful purple curtains. It reminded me of King Malaky’s palace. Wherever I was, the person who owned this was wealthy. Servants moved down the hall, and I did my best to cover myself, remembering I wore only my smallclothes. There was nothing I could do about my bare legs, exposed for all to see. My face went hot, flushing.
My guard didn’t seem to notice or care how I was dressed as he ushered me through some carved double doors. He opened the door and stopped there. “Inside,” he said.
The room had a couch made of lush velvet and a wall of books. Those books were old, I could tell by the smell. I found that mustiness strangely comfortable. Though at the same time, this furthered my confusion. Why would someone bring me, a prisoner, to somewhere so elegant?
I passed through the door, and it slammed shut behind me, giving me a start. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I crossed to the couch and sat. The velvet seat molded against my body, soft and comfortable. I could have fallen asleep right there and caught up on the rest that I’d missed from tossing and turning through the night.
Someone else came through the double doors. A wiry man, similar in build to Mr. du Gearsmith but younger, dressed in all black save for a ruffled white shirt beneath and a yellow kerchief protruding from his coat pocket. He held a pipe in one hand, which he puffed intermittently. What struck me most about him was his youth. He couldn’t have been much older than me.
The man moved over to a chair across from the couch where I sat, not seeming to notice me for a long while. He puffed his pipe, as if in deep thought. When he helped himself to a seat on the couch, near to me, it brought to light his clean shaven face and penetrating blue eyes. The most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. I could stare at them for an eternity. I stifled a gasp.
Those eyes stared at me, almost expectantly. But what did he want from me?
For a long moment, the man didn’t speak at all. He only sat, watching me, and soon, his eyes closed. He took another deep puff of that pipe, blowing smoke coolly out from one corner of his mouth.
Before I could say anything, the ground and walls trembled around me. I gripped the armrest of the couch, hanging on for dear life.
Though the third such quake I’d experienced in recent times, the violence of this one gripped me with fear. It was more an abrupt pounding than the others that had been more of a shake. I clung to the couch for dear life. Books fell from the cabinet. The jolt had to have been as rough as the landing when I crashed the Liliana.
“Wonderful, isn’t it?” the man finally spoke. His eyes fluttered open and glued on me. The fallen books around him didn’t seem to bother him in the least.
“Terrible,” I said, my knuckles turning white from gripping the armrest. As much as I was curious at first, this frightened me. He frightened me. Something about him screamed that he caused the quake. Could a man have such power? I’ve heard strange tales about my father, but nothing like that.
“Such an overreaction, but what else should I expect from a von Monocle? It’s not terrible, no. It’s a mere reminder. Of power. That there’s some greater than all of us out there, and we’re not in control.” He reached over the side of the couch to a table and tapped his pipe on an ashtray. “What is interesting, is that power can be harnessed. Do you understand?” the man said. He took a deep puff of his pipe this time, blowing the smoke in my direction.
I coughed and waved the smoke away as best I could. “What do you want from me?” I asked. It may have not been the best tack to take with this odd man, but I had never been one for subtlety. You learn that in King Malaky’s court, not growing up on a farm. My neighbors didn’t have time for anything but direct as they worked sun up to sundown, sure as I did. This man couldn’t know anything of such an experience.
His lip curled upward on the right side of his mouth, and then he stood again and paced over to the bookshelf behind him. He bent down and picked up one of the books that hit the ground. Smoke trickled into the air from his pipe as he thumbed through it. “Interesting, this book that fell. Fated, really. Strategies of War, by Jasyn Wahrpeg, one of the greatest tactical minds that ever lived.” The man licked his t
humb to turn the page, then glanced up at me. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard of him?”
I shook my head. As much as this man’s beautiful blue eyes enraptured me, he gave me chills when those eyes turned away. I had no idea why he would bring up a book on war, or why he rambled like a madman. What would my father do? He would find some way out of this, something to use as a weapon, perhaps? Picking up books on the floor and chucking them at this man didn’t seem to be a viable option.
His eyes returned to me. That piercing gaze made me feel more naked than I already was. I wrapped my arms around as much of my body as I could.
“A pity. I can tell by the way you look at me that there are gears turning in your head beyond most others’ abilities. Baron von Monocle was foolish to hide you on a farm, ignoring your raw talents for so many years. A girl with such a simple life doesn’t read books on the art of war, if you read books at all. And you should. In your blood is the legacy of a great man, and it’s a shame to waste such a mind.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, one of the main philosophies of Warpehg’s strategies is that it’s not enough simply to subjugate your enemy. You must either woo the populace to think of you as their leader, or push them to believe a fight would be so hopeless they resign their hearts and minds to your rule. Anything else creates rebellion, endless fires to put out. A perpetual disaster. Either way, full subjugation can take several generations.”
I still didn’t see what this had to do with me, but I’d lost my nerve to say anything else. I bit my lip.
The man came over to me and ran his fingers through my hair. I froze. Had I been given to some strange Wyranth as some sort of toy or plaything for him? Could this be the torture they devised for their prisoners? Horror filled me. “Don’t touch me,” I said defiantly, fighting back the bile in my throat from the thoughts of what he might do.
He pulled his hand back, quirking a brow at me for a moment. Our eyes locked, those beautiful blue eyes on his awkward frame. Then he dropped his head back and laughed. He laughed harder than I had ever heard anyone laugh before. “Oh, that is grand. Just grand. Is that why you think I’ve brought you here? Do you think I’m some kind of monster?”
For Steam and Country: Book One of the Adventures of Baron Von Monocle Page 18
