by Michael Rigg
Pandora nodded slowly. "The genie offers him three wishes. The man immediately wishes for wealth and power."
Hearse nodded as the space between them closed. "Let me guess,” Hearse chuckled, “His name is Bradford Thorne." His eyes fell to her hand, her crossed fingers.
"You know what he asks for on his third wish?"
"Haven't a clue."
"He asks for three more wishes."
No witch had ever thought to use their own magics to imbue themselves with power not reliant upon a physical tell. None to her knowledge had ever thought to "wish for more wishes." Maybe it was the ghoul blood coursing through the thing in her womb. Maybe it was as simple as asking for three more wishes, but Pandora prepared herself before coming here by placing a permanent magical hex on herself that would no longer require a tell.
Hearse stopped and raised his eyebrows.
Pandora stopped and uncrossed her fingers. Then she slowly smiled. Then a sword made of glass appeared in her other hand.
Hearse's slight smile curled into a sneer as he raised the cane and thumbed the switch that produced the long glass spear tip from its end. "Is this how it's going to be? You're going to force me to kill an unborn child?"
"I would never ask a ghoul to do something I fully intend to do myself."
And with that Pandora dove forward and swung the sword at Hearse's head. The ghoul raised his cane and blocked the blow before counter swinging at her legs. Pandora jumped back and parried the strike.
As the glass sword and spear clashed on the open gangway of the Victory, their ringing edges lost in the roar of airship engines and revving warplanes, the Imperial fleet around them turned and charged their guns.
~~~~~~~
Bryce terminated the call to the Independence and called back over his shoulder to his co-pilot and trusty butler. "The Imperials have been warned of our approach by their spotters on the mainland. I just informed Lady McFerran. Our fleet is goin' to engage the enemy while we attempt to board the Imperial flagship."
"Board?" Lucien shouted. "But Bryce, I hate to tell you this, my good man, but I'm no soldier!"
"No, but you are my man, Lucien, and I'll need you by my side, and if Alice is going to be anywhere she's going to be there!"
Lucien only hesitated a second before nodding and setting his jaw. "Of course, sir. I'll fight with you to the bitter end as your loyal batsman!"
"Let's hope that won't be necessary."
"Indeed."
~~~~~~~
In the sky high above the Atlantic Ocean, Imperial airships came alight as the hatches and covers over their guns opened. Appearing like twinkling cities in the sky, the golden glow beyond their gun slats and portals beaming, the airships turned and positioned themselves to form a wall with broadsides ready to unleash hell. The far side of each airship prepared to fire on the Confederate planes as they passed over or under the wall, taking them out from behind.
Far below, on the ocean's surface, the warships charged their guns and Tesla canons, and aimed them up toward the sky.
On the bridge of the USS Victory, the wireless operator burst in. "The scout planes report contact, sir!"
Terrace nodded. "All guns on my word... hold steady."
Throughout the Imperial fleet, on the sea and in the air, hundreds of men tensed at their guns and squinted out into the starry night for signs of the approaching Confederates.
A gunner on the Victory pointed into the blackness. "There!"
As the others strained to see what he was looking at, tiny sparks of light winked in the distance, a sprinkling of glitter in a line that told them their fighters had engaged the enemy.
~~~~~~~
Hearse fell backwards and landed on the thin grated catwalk with a metallic thump. He laughed up at Pandora. "My my, you're quite the enraged woman. Hormones?"
Pandora, her teeth clenched in rage, swung the glass sword at him. Hearse turned and covered his face as the weapon missed his ear and connected with the railing next to him, shattering into a million glinting shards of crystal. Then he vanished and re-appeared behind her, lunging forward with the glass-pointed cane.
Pandora knew he'd do that, so she was already spinning on a heal, a fresh glass sword appearing in her hand to parry his lunge. "You didn't expect me to be this strong, did you, ghoul?"
Hearse cringed. "I wish you'd call me Teivel, my dear. That is, after all, what you whispered when I was inside you."
"Aaaarrrraaahhh!" Enraged, her long braided hair coming loose as she swung and lunged and whipped the sword through the air, clashing against Hearse's cane with increased savagery, Pandora concentrated all her strength and anger on him, slashing and screaming as she surged forward.
Hearse allowed her advance, backing away and only defending against her blows, storing his strength while he provoked her and drove her toward exhaustion.
~~~~~~~
Lucien called out, “Bryce! Fighters!”
The wave of black biplanes and kites, silhouetted against the starry Atlantic sky looked like moving tears in the fabric of space as they curled into formation and opened fire.
Sparks of white hot light, the phosphorescent tails of 50-caliber tracers, tore into the fibrous protective outer coating of the smaller Confederate support airships far off to their left. The resulting bright orange glow when the Imperial planes ripped through the engines of the HMS Liberty offered a lingering picture of the enemy phantom attack. As the Liberty slowly sank like a deflating Jack-o-lantern, scores of Confederate fighters launched from two carriers near the rear of the fleet's formation.
Lucien cried out, "Bryce! Ten o'clock high!" as a trio of Imperial delta-winged kites veered toward their plane.
Bryce looked up and to his left and caught site of the sputtering flares from the enemy machine guns before banking down and hard to the left. A tracer punched a quarter-sized hole through one of their wings, but they managed to dodge the initial attack.
Bryce called over his shoulder, "We have to get to the center of the Imperial fleet! Their vanguard is the SS Victory!"
"Bryce, this is madness! How do you expect us to—"
The air around them screamed with flashing tracers as an enemy plane closed in behind them, its guns blazing.
Bryce called back, "We'll hold out as long as we can between Lady McFerran's gunships, then we'll make a break when the sky opens up."
Just as the enemy plane behind them surged closer, its pilot tensing on the triggers of his wing-mounted guns, a burst of fire exploded nearby as the flak cannons of the Independence opened up. The Imperial plane disintegrated and fell behind them, raining fire on the dark ocean below as Bryce and Lucien wove between the airships.
"That was too close, old man!"
"I have every faith in my former fiancee," Bryce called back with a smile and hoped he really could trust Lydia to deliver them to Atlantis in one piece.
~~~~~~~
A flash of orange light as a plane exploded nearby illuminated Lydia McFerran's profile. She stood as steady and strong-jawed as the stalwart sailors around her, watching the battle from the wide forward viewports of the HMS Independence.
"Steady as she goes, port," the admiral called out. "Keep us on drive along this course. Mind for updrafts, Cassady. The Imperials should be straight on a ways."
"Aye, suh!"
Lady McFerran pointed to the small plane that banked across their view. "Make sure your gunners protect that plane, admiral."
"Already have our elite wing on it, M'Lady."
~~~~~~~
Bryce banked left when he should have rolled right—straight into an advancing wing of Imperial fighters.
"Oh, damn."
"Bryce!"
"I
see them!"
Weaving from side to side, teeth grinding until he tasted blood, Bryce did the only thing he could do; he flew straight at them with the hope he would miss their blazing stream of gunfire and bank between the two middle planes.
Lucien called out, "Bryce, behind us!"
A wing of Lady McFerran's elite fighters, beige kites painted with red and white stripes, banked down behind Bryce and Lucien and opened fire with a volley of steam-trailing missiles.
Bryce rolled to the right, his plane's left wing pointing straight up, and roared between two of the advancing enemies as the missiles from McFerran's kites struck their targets. The resulting explosions buffeted Bryce's plane, but he managed to hold her steady. Up ahead, Bryce spotted the wall of airships turned broadside, black fish shapes of different sizes with rows of glowing gun ports.
"There they are!" He called back to his hapless co-pilot.
"Tell me again what the plan is, Captain," Lucien shouted back as two planes roared past just behind them, one black streaming flames and one beige spitting fire.
"Get on the wireless and tell Lydia's vanguard to concentrate their attack there." Bryce pointed to one of the smaller airships next to the largest one in the fleet. "Cause a big enough ruckus with the Victory's support ship and it'll distract them while we slip aboard."
"Slip aboard, right," Lucien grumbled as he turned the crank on the wireless. "I suppose it's that easy for you, is it?"
Bryce responded by holding a thumbs up over his shoulder. Then he banked a hard left to avoid the incoming fire from the wall of Imperial airships.
~~~~~~~
Aboard the HMS Independence, the wireless operator handed a message to the admiral who relayed it to Lady McFerran.
Chin up, green eyes flashing with intensity as they reflected the bursts of fire and showers of sparks outside, Lydia McFerran ordered the attack. "Left wing advance on the Victory's support craft. Right wing concentrate fire there." She pointed out the wide viewport toward the Imperial's second largest airship, a behemoth bristling with canons, harpoons and kite launchers. "Let's break their spine."
The admiral nodded curtly. "Aye, m'Lady." To his crew, he said, “Concentrate fire on the Advantageous!”
While it was frowned upon to see a woman in a position of power or management, it was a rare treat to the liberal-minded to see one step up into a command role, especially during a battle. In fact, it was more than a rare treat. It had never been done. The Ladies of Grace maintained a silent posture, most of them anonymous to all but ADAM and EVE. No Lady ever showed her face or made a public statement without express order from the bank of thinking machines in Baton Rouge, but everyone knew how powerful they ultimately were.
If she survived the battle, it was a given that Lady Lydia McFerran would be immortalized in statues across the Confederacy, her name remembered not only as a corporate liberator, but a liberator of women in both nations.
Even now, across the Empire, the Confederacy and overseas, word of the battle over the Atlantic was waking people out of a sound sleep. Militia men armed themselves and reported for duty. General Strong mobilized his Air Cavalry and sent them north as General Gehrels did the same against the south. Bryce's unit, the Dixon Overwatch Guard, were the first to respond, manning Tesla canons along the border between the two nations. Corporate leaders of both nations roused secretaries to draft memos ejecting—or holding—citizens from the opposing faction. Everyone was gearing up for the next war. They didn't know what started it, but as word spread of Bradford Thorne's commandeering of the Imperial fleet, everyone quickly became suspicious that a long-standing corporate feud was the trigger behind this new war.
As Lady McFerran's gunships surged forward, directly into the streaming hot orange fire from the Imperial airships, explosions rocked the bridge of the Independence.
A sailor to her far left shouted, "We're losing pressure on number four!"
The admiral, as calm and poised as the woman next to him, said, "Re-route through auxiliary. Adjust for ballast, Bring down number one by forty percent."
"Aye, suh!"
Lydia turned to the admiral. "What will that do?"
That admiral bristled slightly. "It'll slow us down and make us an easier target, m'Lady."
She turned to the main viewport and watched as Bryce's tiny plane wheeled in and out of explosions of flak and flaming debris. "Do what you can, Admiral. Call the HMS Grant to our flank to protect us but have all fighters advance on the enemy blockade."
"Ma'am?"
She flashed her eyes at him. "My orders weren't clear, Admiral?"
Nodding once, the Admiral relayed the orders to the wireless room. He then took a deep breath and held it as he surveyed the battle rippling across the sky before him.
~~~~~~~
Pandora's blade slashed through the air just above Hearse's head, then back again. The glass tipped cane parried the swipe with a resounding ching! Hearse then spun and grabbed her arm as she grabbed his. Their eyes met as they locked momentarily.
"I don't want to kill you," Hearse breathed as they strained against each other's grasp.
"Good. It'll make killing you that much easier."
Breaking their hold, Hearse lunged and caught Pandora's upper thigh. She shouted in pain before raising her hand toward him and willing a blast of air to force the ghoul back. Hearse lifted from the catwalk and hurled backwards. He hit the far side of the walkway with a clank just as a bright orange explosion flashed up from below.
As he pulled himself to his feet, he said, "It seems your Confederate friends aren't too picky about their targets."
"If they take us down, they take us both down," Pandora spat and surged again. She slashed an X in the air with her blade before lunging toward Hearse's heart, but instead of piercing the monster's skin, her weapon found only air. A thunder clap followed the ghoul as he vanished from her view and reappeared behind her.
Pandora was ready. Mindful of his magics as he was of hers, she ducked and reeled on him, slashing and thrusting.
Hearse countered each attack with an expert parry as the duel on the catwalk over the Atlantic clanged on.
"Very well, Dorothea," Hearse sneered. "I suppose I can find another witch to carry my child." He shrugged. "Guess I'm done with you." And, with that he surged forward with the strength he had been holding back. The reinforced cane sliced the air inches from her face. Pandora stumbled back, weakening, as she tried to fend off his blows. One swipe tore through her jacket. The next one opened a gash on her forehead.
Hearse's eyes burned as he gritted his pointed teeth, hell bent on slicing Pandora to pieces. The cane swung again, thrust high, swung back. Pandora's glass sword shattered in a glittering shower on her last parry and she fell back on the deck before she could conjure a new one.
The ghoul stood over her, screaming with rage as he raised the cane over his head and aimed the glass point for her chest.
Then his own chest exploded in blossoms of dark blood and torn fabric as a gun roared repeatedly behind him. The final shot, tearing through the back of his head, spun the ghoul around as the cane fell from his grasp and fell into the ocean far below. Teivel Hearse twisted drunkenly before doubling over against the railing and tumbling after his cane.
Pandora quickly scrambled to her feet and watched Hearse's body fall toward the dark waves below, periodic orange flashes from the battle illuminating his shrinking form all the way to the surface. Then she looked to see who the shooter was.
Bryce stood there, his pistol still smoking, Lucien fish-mouthed behind him. "Bryce!"
"Pandora?" Still holding his pistol at the ready, Captain Landry stepped forward slowly. "Pandora? What's happened to you? You're—"
"Older, I know. It's a long stor
y I'll tell you another time." She glanced back to the black water far below. "Tell me, that Colt of yours. Does it have glass bullets."
"Glass? I—"
"Nevermind." Then she put one foot on the railing and raised her other leg over the top.
"Pandy, wait!"
"He ain't dead. I gotta finish this!"
Bryce understood, or at least understood there was nothing he could do to stop the headstrong witch. Instead, he called out, "Where's Alice!?"
Before jumping over the side, Pandora flashed him a smile. "See ya on the other side, Cap." Then she winked.
As Pandora sky dived toward the dark water, she waved a hand. Bryce and Lucien vanished in a clap of thunder.
~~~~~~~
The teleportation spell left Bryce disoriented. His ears were ringing. His fingers and toes tingled. And his head felt full of molasses. It took a while for his body to adjust to its new location roughly three miles straight down from where he had been standing seconds earlier.
Spinning around, he looked for Lucien. The butler was nowhere to be found. It was then that he heard a voice, a man's voice, distant and echoing. He recognized the whiny twerp immediately.
"Thorne."
Bryce's eyes widened slightly as he took in his surroundings and realized he was within the silent walls of Atlantis, the lost city. The dark green phosphorescent walls curved up and over him, carved into flawless duplications of the nature he knew back on Terra-firma. "It's real," he muttered, awestruck.
And then he saw her.
Peering through the darkened doorway to a dim corridor beyond, he saw Alice, her red hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. He drew a breath to call out for her, but then he saw how she was moving, half-crouched with her head darting from side to side as if prowling for something, a pistol in her right hand held at the ready. If he shouted for her here, Thorne would pick up the echo and be on them like a pouncing cat—if he wasn't too busy filling a loot bag with gold from this long dead city—or Alice herself might become startled and shoot at him.
Bryce moved forward slowly, gradually gaining speed and almost slipping on the ice as he closed the space between he and Alice.
