by John Booth
“Were the rebels found as we expected?”
The Captain laughed. “They could not move more than a few inches. We have followed your orders to the letter.”
“Show me.”
The Captain led the General into the first house they came too. A woman and young girl screamed in horror, unable to move. In front of them were two dead men, one an old man with white hair and beside him a younger man. Both had been bayoneted in the stomach and bled to death.
“Excellent,” the General’s eyes ran round the room and saw a boy who could have been no more than eleven by the wall. The boy’s eyes darted around the room and he looked paralyzed with fear as much as by Laura’s bind.
“Give me your weapon,” the General demanded and the Captain drew his sword.
General Brent-Smyth thrust the sword into the boy’s chest and then handed it back to his Captain.
“Shoddy work, Captain. I said kill all the boys old enough to hold a weapon. Consider yourself lucky I don’t put you on a charge.”
“Sorry sir. It won’t happen again, sir.”
“Make sure you drill that into all the men. Then tell them they can have all the women they want once they finish up. Do you think they’d prefer the bind broken for that?”
The Captain considered. “Leave it on, sir. They can still wriggle.”
“I will tear it at dusk if it hasn’t already gone up in flames. Pass my congratulations on to the men. This is a famous victory, Captain. There will be medals for everyone, especially our most talented Spellbinder.”
11. Plots
Daisy woke feeling far from refreshed. Many visions of deaths, including her own and Laura’s plagued her sleep. She felt sure they were approaching a crisis point and Daisy, for once, had no idea how it would work out.
Imminent danger approached Tom and Dougal, in more than half of her current visions at least one of them died. She could do nothing about that except trust to luck. She felt it was about time some of it came their way.
Daisy was still trying to convince herself of this when Captain Trentwood burst into the room, a malicious grin on his face.
“Time to get up, ladies. The General has already started out and we must catch him up by noon. I am afraid that means you miss your breakfast.”
“Where are we going?” Laura asked sleepily. Captain Trentwood stepped to the bed and put his mouth close to Laura’s ear.
“GET UP.”
Laura sat up in bed, shocked by the venom in his voice.
“You may be a Class A, but I am in command and if you make us late for the General, I shall have you whipped.”
“Get out, Captain,” Daisy said in a voice that brooked no argument. “If you do not, Laura will not perform her magic to the General’s command and I shall inform him it was a result of your disrespect.”
Captain Trentwood stepped forward, raising his hand to strike Daisy. She stood her ground and he thought better of it. “You have five minutes. A second more and I shall send my men to drag you out.” He strode from the room acting as though he had won the argument.
“I think we better get dressed,” Daisy said and Laura nodded. He most probably would send men to get them.
As soon as they stepped from the room the soldiers waiting outside their door hurried them to the same wagon they arrived in. Daisy and Laura were not so much helped as pushed inside it. Daisy ended up sprawled on the floor between the two plank benches that formed their seating. They sat on opposite sides of the wagon so they could talk; sitting at the rear, so Laura could take glimpses of the outside through the canvas flaps as they travelled.
“I think they forgot to load our chests,” Laura said. The wagon rolled from side to side as its wheels crossed the deep ruts in the ground where the artillery wagons had past by.
Visions flitted across Daisy’s eyes. “I think we will not need them.”
When Laura looked at her in query, Daisy shook her head. The visions were changing as they moved and to explain them further would be a mistake.
The road to the town was in an even worse state than the trail to the mansion. It was as much the girls could do to hold onto their seats as the wagon bounced through countless ruts.
By the time they reached the town they were exhausted and tried to catch their breaths as the wagon vibrated over cobbles. Something hit the canvas next to Laura’s head with considerable force and Daisy pulled her into the middle of the wagon.
“Someone is throwing things at us.”
Daisy’s words were confirmed as stones smashed into the wooden frame and canvas. The canvas tore towards the front of the wagon and a ragged cheer broke out, quickly followed by the sound of rifle fire. The girls dropped to the floor.
“Are they shooting at us now?” Laura asked. The shooting ended, to be replaced by female screams and pleas for mercy.
“I doubt it. That was our escort shooting at the crowd.”
“They are shooting at unarmed people?” Laura was horrified.
A piece of tile flew through the tear in the canvas and shattered as it hit the plank seat, scattering shards over them
“Not completely unarmed, it seems,” Daisy said wryly. A ragged salvo of shots from their escort created a renewal of screaming and the sounds of people running.
Sergeant Wainwright poked his head through the canvas flaps and smiled at them. “Trust you ladies are managing all right in here? We had a spot of bother with the locals, but we seem to have scared them off.”
“We are in good health, Sergeant,” Daisy said as she brushed tile out of Laura’s hair.
“Corporal now, Miss. The Captain did not approve of the consideration I gave Miss Young last week.” Despite the demotion, the Corporal seemed happy with his lot.
“Why are they so upset?” Laura asked. “Capturing their menfolk should not merit such anger.”
Wainwright gave Laura a quizzical look and shrugged.
“Can’t say, Miss. Probably get strung up if I did. Glad you’re safe.”
He exited from the wagon and fastened the canvas flaps together from the outside.
“What do you think he meant by that, Daisy?”
It was Daisy’s turn to shrug and quickly look away.
Tricky knocked on the door to be greeted by the same large woman he saw the last time he visited. Her face broke into a happy smile
“Ebb will be so glad to see you. Oh, and I see you brought a friend.”
Alice mumbled a ‘hello’ and they stepped into the mansion that Tricky now knew was a ‘sanatorium’ even though he didn’t know what the word meant. There was a brass plate on the gates they had read. Tricky and Alice bunked-off school to visit their friend as he had memorized the route.
The nurse took them up to Ebb’s room. As on Tricky’s last visit, Lucy was sitting by Ebb’s side. Ebb smiled when he saw them, but it was obvious that even doing that much was an effort. His face was even thinner and his skin had a pallor that reminded Tricky of the way his grandmother had looked just before they closed the lid of her coffin.
“We contacted, Tom. At least I ’opes we did. We ‘ad to use Arnold and you know what ’es like.”
“I ’elped,” Alice put in quickly as nobody seemed to have noticed her.
Neither Ebb nor Lucy seemed impressed with their news.
“A think ’es goin’ to be too late,” Ebb said weakly. “But thanks fer tryin’.”
“You got weeks in yer yet,” Tricky said cheerfully, though he didn’t believe his own words. Ebb looked as though he might not last the night.
“You have to keep on fighting,” Lucy said, taking Ebb’s hand in hers. “If you give up on me and die, I shall never forgive you Ebenezer Sweeting.”
“Mi mum and dad ‘ill be ‘ere tonight,” Ebb said. “Be nice to see ’em one last time a’for I go.”
Lucy squeezed fingers hard and Ebb winced.
“Knew she’d do that. Couldn’t get mi ‘and away in time.”
“Then you should not have
said it,” Lucy said primly. “I did not come here to waste my time watching you die.”
“Best be off then,” Ebb said in a whisper.
Tricky expected Lucy to squeeze his hand even harder, but she surprised him by leaning over the bed and kissing Ebb on the mouth. It was a lingering kiss.
“Knew that was goin’ to ’appen too,” Ebb said when she finished. He smiled and looked more animated, but that faded in seconds.
“I am not leaving until this is over,” Lucy said. Tricky saw a tear run down her face. “One way or the other.”
Tom was out of bed as soon as the sun rose. Antonia, a natural early riser was still in the process of waking up. She struggled to think.
“There is no hurry; you cannot get back to England in less than three weeks and by then the boy will be dead.”
“The Hubris could do it in three or four days.”
Antonia sat up, her mouth hanging open in surprise. “You cannot possibly mean to steal the airship.”
“Ebb put himself between Laura and a bullet that would have killed her. What do you think I should do?”
“But you cannot even fly the thing.” Antonia paused. “You cannot fly it, can you?”
“It seems simple enough. I shall ask Dougal to let me take the helm today.”
“Stealing it with a crew on board will not get you very far. Even you must sleep.” Antonia could still not believe Tom would steal the airship simply to save a child. They would hang him for sure.
Tom gave the matter some thought. “Not today, but tonight when no one is aboard. It really takes two to fly it though. The navigator at the helm, and another controlling the engines and the ship’s attitude.”
Antonia had a short sharp mental conversation with her sister.
“Take me with you today and I will learn how to help you.”
It was Tom’s turn to express surprise
“You realize we will both be shot when they catch up with us?”
Antonia laughed, “They may shoot you, but Telepaths are kept as virtual prisoners at the best of times. We are far too useful and in much too short a supply to kill. I will simply be reassigned to continue relaying messages.”
“But why would you help me?”
Antonia got out of bed and came to his side. She was naked and a thrill went through his body as she hugged him. Her breasts pressed against his shirt and he could feel her nipples were hard.
“Because it will be fun. However, my sister has set a price for her silence in this matter.”
“And what is that?” Tom’s hands strayed while they talked, Antonia had so many delightful places.
“You must do to her what you have been doing to me, and do it to the best of your ability, if only the once.” Tom pulled gently at her hair.
“Yes, a lot of that sort of touching. I am relaying her words.”
“Very well. I agree to your terms, provided I am not in a military prison awaiting execution,” Tom said. He considered Andrea’s proposal ludicrous and was sure it would never happen, so it did not matter if he agreed to it.
“Then I had better get dressed. Tell me what you know of what the man controlling the engines does.”
Sir Ernest Trelawney offered Belinda a glass of Brandy, which she refused, preferring to continue with her knitting. For the first time since he met her she seemed to be knitting something he could recognize. It appeared to be an item of baby clothing. A fact that left Trelawney nonplussed.
Thus it was Belinda who spoke first.
“What does Camilla plan to shoot us with?”
“She will use a four shot pistol with an extended barrel for added accuracy.”
Belinda smiled. “I take it that there is such an item missing from the gun room?”
“One should only be shot with the very best of weapons, my dear. It would have been ungracious not to let her select one when she visited.”
“Will Miss Shultz be joining her in this enterprise?”
“There is that risk. I will arrange for Arnold and others to stand close in the moments after we are shot.”
“And Camilla?”
“A door at the side of the church will be left open for her.”
Belinda nodded, though she was still concerned for Camilla’s safety. Who knew what the police or an MM3 operative might do? She would have to rely on the incompetence that seemed to be the general standard of both organizations. However, there was something else she wished to raise with her husband to be.
“On another matter; I understand that there was a break-in at Mercury House. My contact in MM1 suggests that a man was involved. Do you think that…?”
Trelawney smiled, “I do not believe we should speculate on the matter.”
Belinda said nothing, returning to her knitting.
Trelawney sipped his brandy and smiled. “It would be good to think my harsh words had something to do with it. At least I would know that my talents have not yet fully deserted me.”
“Permission to bring Lieutenant Wright onto the bridge, sir.” Tom said as he stepped onto the bridge. Dougal turned from looking out of the window and smiled.
“I’m surprised that she wants to go anywhere on this ship after what happened to her last time. But I grant her permission. I think we have proved that the Hubris is safe enough to risk a Grade 1 Telepath in it.”
Antonia smiled as she came onto the bridge in her army uniform. Tom thought she looked particularly pretty in it. For practical reasons her skirt fell to just below her knees, showing more leg than was usual in Victorian society.
“Lieutenant Wright reporting for duty, sir.”
Dougal ignored her as there were no duties for her to perform.
“Can I learn how to steer the ship, sir?” Tom asked.
Dougal looked pleased, rather than displaying the annoyance that Tom had expected. “I think that would be a good idea. Stevens, step aside and let Lieutenant Carter take the wheel. Explain the controls to him.”
Tom felt a thrill of excitement as the navigator stepped away from the wheel and showed him the compass and explained the basics of steering.
“Perhaps Lieutenant Wright would like to learn how to operate the attitude and engine controls?” Dougal suggested.
“I certainly would, my lord.”
It was almost as if Dougal knew they were planning to steal the ship and had decided to help. He could hardly have been more cooperative.
Tom was given instructions on how to steer the ship out of the building and then to the west. It turned out that the attitude and engine controls were much more difficult to learn and when Antonia took charge of the controls the ship swayed up and down so much that Tom began to feel sick.
“It takes time before any change takes effect. Have you never steered a boat, Miss?” the man who had stepped away from the controls asked.
Antonia shook her head and accepted his help. With his hands over hers guiding them, she began to get a feel of the ship and how to counteract the effects of over-steering. As the ship settled to level flight she began to enjoy the experience.
“Tom, let Stevens take the wheel. I have something else I want you to try.”
Tom reluctantly let go of the wheel and followed Dougal off the bridge, patting Antonia on the shoulder as he walked past her.
Jeremiah French and three other men were waiting for them in the large room. Tom raised a hand in greeting and French nodded in reply.
“Going duck shooting, today.” French said, smiling.
“I’d like you to teach Tom how to use the Gatling Gun, Mr. French. I will take a turn on the other gun.”
French looked unhappy. “Perhaps when we’ve tested the guns, but this is their first firing.”
“First firing in the air, Mr. French. The guns have been extensively tested on the ground. I think Lieutenant Carter can handle it.”
“Yes, sir.” French lifted a hatch in the floor on the port side while one of the other men opened up the starboard hatch. Tom descended the
ladder that led to the gun and gulped as he saw so much glass around him. It was like there was nothing beneath his feet and it was a long way down. He sat in the gunner’s seat as French came down to stand beside him.
“You have three controls, the elevation and training wheels to left and right and, of course, the trigger that fires the gun,” French explained. “I will guide the ammunition belt into the gun, though that is not strictly necessary since we developed the new guides. You can spin the gun around as many times as you like, but you can’t go lower than zero elevation or high enough to hit any part of the ship. Your seat is linked to the gun.”
“I just point the gun and fire it?”
“Well, we ain’t exactly certain about the pointing. If you fire from a steam engine you have to take account of the speed you’re moving and we think that’s true of firing from this ship.”
“I think I understand,” Tom said, though he was certain he did not.
“Try shooting at something,” French suggested. Tom wound the wheels and was shocked at how easy it was to swing the gun around. In fact, the main problem was stopping it spinning when he reached the target. Tom spun the other wheel and the world tilted. It was very disconcerting.
There was a tree to one side of the ship. Tom held the trigger down for a few seconds. The rattling sound was incredibly loud and for a moment he was back at Hobsgate, hearing a similar gun firing against the coach of the Prince of Wales. Back in the real world the gun’s bullets churned up dust forward of the tree. As French had suggested, the velocity of the ship had been added to the bullets and they missed the tree by more than a dozen feet.
“It is easier to fire straight ahead,” French shouted. There were both deafened by the firing and French’s voice sounded far away and tinny in Tom’s ears. Tom nodded and picked a tree in front of the ship. He was about to fire when he saw movement. Native children stood next to the tree.
“Why aren’t you firing?” French shouted.
“There are people down there.”
French peered forward. “They’re only Indians.”
Tom took his hands off the gun and well away from the trigger. Suddenly, firing the gun was no fun at all. The gun on the other side of the ship opened fire and for a second Tom thought it was firing at the children. He sighed with relief when he saw a bear over to the right of the tree fall to the ground.
