Besides Sunow, there were perhaps twenty people inside the fort, half of them women and children—and with the gate barred, no help would be coming from outside. As Menichk and the other women and their children who had been working in the yard ran to the lodge, Norsemen swarmed out the door and around both corners to meet the attackers. There were maybe a dozen men to defend the lodge, and most were armed only with axes or spears. The two with rifles closed within about twenty paces and then dropped to a crouch and opened fire.
Three of the attackers quickly fell, but Sunow could see that the defenders would not be able to hold out long. Already the swordsmen had closed with the Vikings, and Mi’kmaq warriors, throwing off their cloaks, ran howling toward the two riflemen. Sunow saw that he only had a few seconds to get the women in children inside the lodge and bar the door before the attackers got past the guards. He ran to the door and threw it open, calling to the women and children cowering near the fence. The attackers were only twenty paces from the door and were rapidly pushing the defenders back. Menichk had gotten inside with their children, but several other women and children remained outside. If they didn’t get inside soon, they would be locked outside with the invaders.
The women and children ran to the walls of the lodge and then moved toward the door, dodging to avoid the wild swings of the tomahawk-wielding men who now swarmed around the defenders. Two of the axemen had fallen. One of the riflemen continued to fire, while the other was desperately defending himself against two Mi’kmaq using the butt of his rifle. The last woman, holding a small child in her arms, ran inside.
Sunow was about to slam the door shut when Menichk grabbed him by the arm. The baby, Kaleboo, was in her arms, and their little girl, Weiopek, clung to her skirt. “I told him to come!” Menichk cried. “I thought he was with me!”
David. Their son. He was still outside.
Sunow looked past the men fighting to the fence, where David was hiding behind a bush. He no doubt thought the running and bell-ringing was all part of the game—and this time, he’d picked a terrible hiding place.
“Sunow, you have to get him!” Menichk cried.
Several more men on both sides had fallen, including both of the riflemen. The odds continued to favor the attackers, who nearly had the defenders surrounded. At any moment, one of the attackers might break off from the battle and make for the door.
Sunow turned from the fracas to face one of the older boys. “Banook, I am going to get David. If it looks like the men are going to get inside, close the door and bar the gate. Do not wait for me. Do you understand?”
Banook nodded.
“You must save David!” Menichk cried. “You must!”
“I will protect David,” Sunow said. “Get everyone else upstairs to my father’s office. Go!”
Without waiting for a response, Sunow ran outside, past the men fighting, to the little boy hiding in the bushes. Naked except for a loincloth, David was wide-eyed and frozen with fear. Sunow dropped into a crouch, sliding across the damp grass on one knee toward the boy, scooped him into his arms and threw him over his left shoulder. He spun around and sprinted back toward the door. The defenders were now completely overwhelmed; only a half dozen were still standing. While the bulk of the attackers remained engaged with the defenders, two swordsmen broke off from the fight and moved toward the door. Sunow saw Banook standing in the doorway, eyes wide with terror, ready to slam the door shut.
Sunow sprinted toward the two men, drawing his hunting knife from the sheath at his belt as he did so. Still holding David over his left shoulder, he came up behind the closer man, slowing as he neared him. He wrapped his around the man’s neck and then drew the knife quickly across his throat. Sunow felt a splash of warm blood on his hand as the man fell. The other man, now only three paces from the door, heard his comrade’s gasp and glanced back, slowing enough for Sunow to drive his knife though the soft flesh below his chin and into his brain. The man’s body jerked and he stumbled backwards, slamming into the wall of the lodge. Sunow, leaving the knife in the man’s head, lunged through the doorway and Banook slammed the door behind him. Sunow lowered the heavy steel-reinforced timber to bar the door and they ran down the hall and upstairs.
The others were already waiting for them in the office. There were sixteen of them altogether: Aengus; Sunow and Menichk and their three children; and three other Mi’kmaq women and their children. The office was the safest place in the fort, for one reason: it was where Aengus kept all his books and the records documenting shipments for Pleiades. They did not know at this point who the attackers were, but it didn’t matter: if any of the papers in his office survived the attack, they might eventually fell into the hands of the Cho-ta’an or their other enemies. If that happened, Sunow knew, the project his father had worked so hard for was doomed. Aengus had records detailing shipments to Höfn and satellite locations throughout Europe. The records were encoded and written in Latin, but an enterprising individual with enough patience could identify patterns that would lead them to Camp Armstrong or one of the other satellite locations.
Aengus had already begun to pile books and papers onto the heavy wooden desk in the center of the room. The office was a square room, about twenty feet on a side, that had two large screened windows that overlooked the front yard of the fort. Menichk, still holding Kaleboo, stood at one of the windows, squinting down onto the yard below.
“Who are they, Sunow?” she asked.
“Franks, I think,” Sunow replied. He had met a few of the Franks who worked with the Eidejelans; they resembled the Norsemen but had slightly darker coloration as a rule.
“Did you see… anything else?” Aengus asked.
Sunow knew of what his father spoke: the beings called Cho-ta’an, who were the enemies of the human race. His father had told him many times that it was unlikely any Cho-ta’an still walked the Earth, but Sunow knew his father still feared them.
“I did not see anyone who was not a man,” Sunow said. “But there were many attackers, and they were disguised.”
As he spoke, a shout came from below. Sunow approached the window to see one of the Franks looking up at him. The fighting in the yard seemed to be over: corpses lay strewn about the yard, and Franks and Mi’kmaq meandered around, spearing the wounded and looking for others hiding in the bushes. Gunshots and shouts sounded in the distance as fighting went on in the woods around the fort. Sunow wondered how many of the Mi’kmaq had turned on them. Perhaps it was only a few, and the defenders only had to wait for the men loyal to Aengus to break down the gate and rescue them. Somewhere below, a loud, repetitive thudding had begun, and Sunow realized that someone was chopping at the door to the lodge with an axe.
“I am Bruno, King of the Newfound Land,” the man below the window shouted in Frankish. “I claim this fort and the territory around it. Throw down your weapons and open the door. You have my word you will not be harmed.”
Aengus had shuffled to the window next to his son. “I’ve read every history book of the tenth century,” he muttered, “and don’t know any King Bruno.” Below, the thudding continued. Sunow wondered how long it would take a man to hack through those doors. Ten minutes at most, he thought. And the door to the office was not nearly as strong.
“They’ve not yet written the books of my deeds,” Bruno shouted. “I am the first king of this new land, which is as of yet unknown in Christendom. Ballads of my greatness will reverberate through the ages.”
“Not likely,” Aengus muttered.
Sunow saw that the man at the gate had opened it, and a group of some forty Mi’kmaq warriors, many of them armed with rifles, filed in. No Norsemen were among them. Sounds of fighting in the distance had faded to silence. Sunow’s father, standing next to him, gripped his shoulder to steady himself. The day he had long feared had finally come: Orville and Wilbur had fallen.
“Look,” Aengus said, directing his attention to a tall man standing alone, near the fence. The man wore a cloak that nearly
covered his features, but Sunow could see the man’s unnatural gray skin.
“Is that…?” Sunow asked.
“Cho-ta’an,” Aengus said. “They’re persistent bastards, I’ll give them that.”
Before Sunow could reply, another man strode forward to stand next to Bruno. This was Keskoospak, the Mi’kmaq chief who had long been at odds with Makkapitew. It was no surprise to find that he was involved in this uprising.
“The reign of the pale men is over,” Keskoospak said. “My warriors have you surrounded. Surrender the lodge.” The thudding down below continued.
“What do we do, Aengus?” Sunow asked. “Is the fort really lost?”
Aengus chewed his lower lip, staring coldly at the cloaked man in the distance. Behind him, women and children huddled together, waiting for some word of encouragement from him. Several sobbed quietly; they had lost fathers, husbands and brothers in the fighting. Aengus turned to look at them a moment, and then focused his attention on the pile of papers on his desk. “I always knew this moment would come,” he said quietly. “This whole operation, Orville and Wilbur. It was too good to last. Still, I guess… I guess I thought we had more time.”
“We can give up the lodge,” Menichk said. “It’s just a building. We can rebuild somewhere else.”
Aengus looked at Sunow, who met his gaze grimly. Sunow understood: there would be no escape, not for the two of them at least. That gray creature down on the grass, and the men he had in his thrall, would never let them. “Keep the women and children safe, Sunow,” Aengus said. “I’ll see to the papers.”
Sunow nodded. He shouted down to the men, in Frankish, “You can have the fort and this land, but I want your word that our women and children will not be harmed.”
“No one will be harmed if you throw down your arms and exit the lodge,” Bruno said.
“My father and I will not be leaving,” Sunow said.
“What?” Menichk gasped. “What are you saying?” Most of the Mi’kmaq at the fort spoke little Frankish, but Menichk understood enough to know she didn’t like what she was hearing.
Bruno shouted from the yard again. “Everyone in the lodge will surrender, or my men will burn it down with you inside it.” The thudding continued.
“Don’t be a fool, Bruno,” Sunow called. “You gain nothing by burning down the lodge.” He then spoke in Mi’kmaq: “Does this white man speak for you? He threatens to kill our women and children.”
Keskoospak seemed displeased with this. Sunow doubted it was Keskoospak’s conscience troubling him; he was upset because women and children were valuable spoils of war. The two men conferred for a moment in what must have been a tense and confusing exchange: clearly neither spoke more than a few words of the other’s language. A small hope arose in Sunow’s chest that he might be able to take advantage of their disagreement. There appeared to be only ten Franks left alive, including Bruno. The Mi’kmaq were the ones in control.
“The white men want your magic,” Keskoospak shouted, when the conference ended. “The things that are written on paper.”
“We will die to protect it,” Sunow said. “All of us, if necessary.”
Another conference ensued. As the two men became increasingly agitated, the Cho-ta’an approached. Bruno, Keskoospak and the Cho-ta’an spoke for some time, gesturing animatedly at each other in an effort to be understood. At last, Keskoospak stepped away and spoke again to Sunow in the Mi’kmaq tongue. “They think I do not understand the importance of the magic to them,” he said. “I understand, but I do not care about magic. I am happy with land and women and children. If you send your people out now, my men will not harm them.”
“And what about the pale men?” Sunow asked.
“The women and children will be mine,” Keskoospak said. “I will protect them from the pale men.”
“No!” Menichk cried. “We will not go with these men!”
“It’s the only way,” Sunow said, turning to face her.
“Sunow! You would have your children grow up as part of this tribe? These men killed their fathers and brothers!”
“Menichk, please,” Sunow pleaded. “Can’t you see this is the only chance our children have? If you do not leave now, they will kill us all!” Down below, the thudding continued.
“And what about you?”
“My father and I must stay behind.”
“Stay behind! You will die!”
“We are dead either way. That thing down there… it wants to know where our friends are, and those men will terrible things to us to make use tell them. It is better for us to die here.”
“But you don’t know anything! You’ve never even been across the sea!”
“It doesn’t matter. They would torture me anyway. Please, Menichk. Go with them. Do not tell anyone you were married to Aengus’s son. They will not suspect you.”
Menichk turned to Aengus. “This is your fault!” she screamed. “Why did you involve us in this? Your grandchildren will be raised by the people who murdered their friends and relatives. Was it worth it, to build your ships to send across the sea, for people we have never met?” She turned again to Sunow. “You ask me not to mention that I am Aengus’s daughter-in-law? You needn’t worry. I will never speak his name again, and I will forbid my children from speaking it as well.”
“Menichk, please,” Sunow said. “You cannot say such things!”
“I can and I must, Sunow. I was a fool not to see it earlier. Aengus chose this path long ago. He knew it would end this way, and he did it anyway. Maybe it was worth it. I don’t pretend to understand such things. What I know is that you will be forgotten, old man, and every you built will turn to dust.”
Aengus had put his palms on his desk and he leaned over the stack of papers, his shoulders hunched, wisps of gray hair hanging down from his head. “Aye,” he said. “The woman speaks the truth, I’m afraid. I chose this path with my eyes wide open. I suppose I’d hoped I’d die before it all fell apart, but here we are. I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused, but truth be told, if I had it to do over, I’d have done it the same. My son, tell Keskoospak we’ll take his offer.”
Sunow rested his hand on his father’s arm for a moment and then walked back to the window. “I’ll send the women and children out,” he shouted in Mi’kmaq. “My father and I will follow after we attend to some business.”
“What? What is happening?” Bruno shouted. Sunow ignored him, turning to face the others. He noted that the thudding had stopped, for now. Sunow walked to David, who was crouched in the corner, dried tears on his cheeks. Sunow knelt down next to his son.
“Father, are you sending us away?” David asked.
“It’s the only way to keep you safe,” Sunow said. “Mama will be with you.”
“What about you and Grandfather?”
“We have to stay here.”
“Why?”
“We have some important work to do.”
“More important than me?”
“No, my son. We’re doing this work for you. And for Mama. A long time ago, some people came to Grandfather and asked for his help with something that was very important. Maybe the most important thing ever. Grandfather knew it was going to be very hard, but he said he would help.”
“And then Grandfather asked for your help.”
“That’s right.”
“And your job is hard too.”
“It’s very hard. But I will do it, because I promised Grandfather. And now I have to ask you to do something. And it’s going to be hard, but I need you to do it.”
“What is it?”
“I need you to take care of your Mama and your sisters. Can you do that?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Good. And I need you to do one more thing. One very important thing.”
“What is it, Papa?”
“I need you to remember your grandfather. Your sisters are too young, so you will have to remember him for them, and tell them all about him. His name is Aen
gus. Can you say that?”
“Aengus.”
“Good. His name is Aengus, but because you are very special to him, you get to call him Grandfather. Your grandfather is a great man. Do you know why?”
David nodded. “Because the people asked him to do a job, and it was hard, but he did it anyway.”
Chapter Forty-two
Gabe pressed the button again. Still nothing. He bashed the button several times with his fist.
“Motherfucker!” he shouted. How the fuck were they going to build a spaceship if they couldn’t even get a remote detonator to work reliably?
“What’s happening?” asked one of the archers.
“I’m going to have to trigger it manually,” Gabe said.
“You can’t go down there!” the archer shouted.
“I’ll do it,” another man said.
“I don’t have time to teach you how a detonator works,” Gabe said. He grabbed the rope that was attached to the bell overhead, extracting the excess from a peg on the wall. The rope was just long enough to be reached from the ground. He threw it over the sill on the north side of the tower, where the fighting was the lightest, and then took off his coat. He climbed onto the sill, threw his legs over, and wrapped his coat around the rope. “Cover me,” he said, as he pushed himself off the sill.
He clutched his coat as tightly as he could around the rope, trying to break his fall, but he wasn’t as strong as he once was. Fortunately, he landed on top of one of the attackers, who was engaged in a melee with one of the few defenders still standing. Gabe and the surprised man fell to the ground together, and Gabe felt something snap in his right arm as his elbow hit the ground. He rolled onto his back, momentarily blinded by the pain. Around him was chaos. Axes smashed into shields and men screamed as they were impaled by spears. He was vaguely aware that the man he’d landed on was lying, dazed, next to him. The man screamed as someone jammed a spear through his solar plexus.
The Voyage of the Iron Dragon Page 29
