I nodded. “Right away.”
Traversing the stairs two at a time, I ran down to the gun deck and pulled open the hatches in the floor. The rocky ground drew closer and I leaned out to check the landing struts. In an airdock it didn’t matter, the moorings held the airship in place, but landing on the ground, the Sparrowhawk rested on two landing struts and the wooden underbelly of the gun deck.
I heard the grinding and clatter of the wingsails being retracted and kept my eye on the front struts to make sure they were secure. The one was close to the edge and looked like it was about to slip off. I was about to run up to the bridge, but the Sparrowhawk pivoted and the strut landed on firm ground. I breathed a sigh of relief and closed the hatches.
Rushing into my room, I got everything I might need, including a coat, and dropped out of the hatch. I wasn’t certain if they were going to ask me to go or not, but if joined them it would be harder to say no.
The baron, with Rodin on his shoulder, the captain, and Ignatius strode down the gangplank. I met them at the bottom. The baron smiled, but the captain gave me a look. He didn’t say anything; he just motioned for me to follow.
Tiers were cut into the mountainside, each one supporting brightly colored buildings constructed from brick and stacked stones. The houses weren’t one or two colors but several. Reds, yellows, blues, and greens. The bright colors brought a vibrant glow to the whole village. Ropes strung between the tiled roofs held colored flags with writing on them. Everyone watched us and I got the feeling airships didn’t land that often.
The people we passed were dressed in fabrics as colorful as the buildings. A woman passed by with a coat of beautiful embroidery. She smiled but scurried off.
We approached a house partially destroyed by the Milli-train. An older man, with deep wrinkles on his face, was lifting stones to rebuild the corner of his home. The baron approached and said something in a language I didn’t know. The man shook his head and placed the brick. The baron thanked him, turned to the captain, and shrugged. Together they looked around at the village, and the captain pointed toward another building that had been damaged. I watched as the old man labored to pick up the next stone.
After he set the stone and wiped his brow, he took several labored breaths. I moved forward. I couldn’t stand here and watch him struggle any longer. I picked up a stone and pointed toward the wall. The old man smiled, and nodded, then showed me where he wanted it to go. After I placed the third stone, the old man took a drink of water. I kept rebuilding the wall while the old man walked over to the baron. He pointed off toward the east. The baron thanked the old man who then walked back over to me, he said several things, I had no idea what, but from the look in his eyes I thought he appreciated my effort. The walls were done. He only had to fix the roof.
The baron came up and Rodin jumped onto my shoulder. “That was very noble of you to help rebuild this man’s house.”
“I couldn’t watch him struggle.”
“Well it made him want to talk to us. The Milli-train passed by here a couple of days ago.”
“How close are we?”
“I’m not sure.”
The captain joined us, “In this terrain we should be able to catch up to them.”
We all rushed back to the Sparrowhawk. As we ran up the gangplank, Lord Marbury waited at the top. “Did you get answers?”
The baron nodded. I remained to retract the gangplank and close the cargo door as the others ran to the bridge. Once the Sparrowhawk was sealed up, I walked down to my room with Rodin. I pulled out some jerky I had in my bag and tore off a bit for the dragon and shove the rest in my mouth. Rodin curled up in his bed and I jumped into my hammock.
The Sparrowhawk lifted off, and I exhaled slowly. I heard Rodin do the same.
“We’re close Rodin, I can feel it. I just hope she’s okay.” I put my hands behind my head. I wanted to believe I was days away from seeing Genevieve, but something in the back of my mind screamed it wouldn’t be that easy.
CHAPTER 12
THE LADY AND THE OWL
Heavy eyes and thoughts of Genevieve sent me spiraling from the belly of the Sparrowhawk into the darkness.
Torchlight flickered against blackened walls of a large room and flames danced atop candles on the heavy tables. I ran through tables and chairs, tossing them aside as if Genevieve lay under one, and I, desperate to find her, had only to discover the right one. The room was full of dark, heavily bearded men and I ran up to them, demanding they tell me where she was, but from their blank stares I knew they didn’t know. The sound of wings flapping, a heavy pounding against the air, drowned out all other sounds. The doors to this place blew open and the wind rushed in with a terrifying thunder. I was hurled across the room, tumbling end over end until I landed at the tiny feet of a young woman. She leaned over, her short black hair covering most of her face. On her arm sat a large owl with feathery horns above its eyes. She reached down but I fell away and slammed against something hard.
I sat up, on the floor, below my hammock. I rubbed my head and looked up at Rodin who stared down at me from his bed. He cocked his head to the side as if to say, “Again?”
“What, you’ve never fallen out of bed before?”
He shook his head.
I stood up, rubbed my back, and then sat on the barrel. “I wonder what that meant. Who is the lady with the owl?”
Rodin curled back up and ignored me. I guess he figured I was okay and so he wasn’t interested in my dream. Or was it another vision?
Even here in my room it was cold. I could see my breath with each exhale. I figured the snow-capped mountains would be colder, but winter was supposed to giving way to spring. At least in the rest of the world it was spring.
I stood up and patted my shoulder. Rodin stretched and then flew over and landed. I left my room and slowly walked up the stairs to the bridge. The captain spun in his chair as I stepped through the hatch. He smiled and waved me over.
“What do you think of the roof of the world?”
I leaned against the railing around his chair. “It amazes me people live here.”
“I’ve almost been around the whole world, and you want to know something? From the highest mountain, to farthest island, I’ve found people. We’re all over the place.”
I smiled. The baron came up and stood beside me. “These mountains were home to some of the first cosmopolitan people. Traders from the east and the west traveled the Silk Road, the first trade route, and met here in the high plateaus.”
“Fascinating.” I looked out at the vista surrounding us. “They are majestic.”
The baron tapped his cane on the deck, “The Buddhists and the Hindus both claim them as their own. There are more sacred places in this range, than cathedrals in Europe.”
“I feel like we’re getting close to Genevieve.”
“I pray that we are.” The baron looked at me. I could see the pain in his eyes, even if his face remained as stoic as always.
Hunter, who still stood by the window, turned and said, “Captain, the Milli-train’s trail ends in that village.”
“Heinz, find a place to set her down and let’s ask some questions.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Heinz pushed forward on the wheel, and slowed our speed.
The captain smiled, flipped open the copper tubes, and in a booming voice, said, “Attention, prepare for a landing.”
The baron nudged me with his cane. “Get your things together, and bring Rodin with you.”
I nodded and rushed off the bridge. I had a feeling this was the place I’d learn about Genevieve. Hopefully, I’d find the lady with the owl from my vision, and she would know the way. It was a longshot, but my visions had been right about my father’s kidnapping and the village in Zululand. I had to trust they were right about Genevieve, too.”
I loaded my bag with some rope, my dad’s monoscope, a powder charge from one of the canons, a couple of pieces of fruit, and the extra Thumper. I slipped my bowie
knife and my Thumper in the leather strap that wound up my leg, around my body, and down one arm. I pulled a long wrapped bundle from a hidden space tucked up behind a pipe and tied it to my back. Lastly, I hooked the pouch of percussion caps on my hip and pulled on the heavy coat with a fur collar. I patted my shoulder for Rodin and he flew over and took his place. “Don’t worry,” I told him, “I brought plenty of jerky for you.”
Together we walked up to the gangplank as the airship gently settled on a mountain ledge. The crew threw open the doors and slid the ramp out. The captain, Ignatius, and the baron came down the hall with Hunter carrying Gretel, his elephant gun behind them.
The captain turned to Hunter, “Perch yourself on top of the Sparrowhawk and keep an eye out for trouble.” He then walked over to Mr. Singh. “You’re coming, too. Get your gear and weapons and meet us outside.”
He smiled and bowed ever so slightly. “Yes, sir!”
As we walked down the gangplank, I surveyed the town for the building from my vision. Like the last village, this one was built on tiers cut into the mountainside. Some of the buildings had multiple stories, and all were made of stone or brick. Again, bright vibrant colors burst forth from each one. This village was bigger than the last, and it was difficult to see all the buildings. I was eager to rush off, but we waited for Mr. Singh. Finally, we followed the path into the village with the baron and the captain leading the way and me sandwiched between them.
The captain walked with his usual wide smile and pirate swagger, but his eyes darted from one person to the next. I watched how he assessed each new section of the town. The baron strode on the other side of me. He, too, had an ease to his step, but an intense look in his eyes. The others were less subtle, Ignatius kept his hands on two of his pistols, and Mr. Singh had one hand on his sword, and the other on his Katar dagger.
I wasn’t certain how to walk because what I wanted was to run. This processional took forever, but I had to stay with my crew. It would be foolish to run off. I could be ambushed—or worse—miss a clue that could lead us to Genevieve.
As we came to the center of town, the doors of one large building swung open. I stopped. Inside flicker flames rose from torches on the wall. It looked big enough to be the right room, and an uneasy feeling rippled through my core. Everyone stopped and looked at me.
The captain leaned in. “What is it, lad?”
“This is the place. We’ll find answers here.” The captain and the baron exchanged glances.
“Then lead the way,” the baron said.
I walked up the few wooden steps to the doors. The aroma of food and a warm breeze enveloped me. I exhaled, letting some of the tensions slip away, and stepped inside. The others followed.
Inside, tables and chairs were scattered about the main room. Small groups of people filled the room. They all turned as we entered. In the dim light, I saw four swarthy guys sitting at the center table drinking, another couple eating by the fire, and a group of foreigners, like us, sitting around two tables on the far side. A woman rushed from the back and welcomed us in a language I didn’t know. The baron answered her, and she motioned us over to a table where we arranged our chairs so we could watch the other patrons.
It was so odd to hear a language I knew absolutely nothing about. Besides Africa, everywhere I traveled, I knew all the languages, or at least enough of them to understand the gist of what was being said. But here, every word spoken was unusual and completely foreign to me. I kind of liked it, though, and I realized that besides Zulu, I had a lot of them left to learn.
The baron spoke to the woman and held up five fingers. She scurried off. He leaned closer to me, “So now what?”
Ignatius motioned his head toward the four swarthy men, “I say we kick over some tables and start demanding these varmints tell us where that train is.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m looking for someone.”
They all turned toward me. They knew I wasn’t telling them everything, and the baron looked annoyed by my vague answer, but the captain smiled.
I noticed Rodin hadn’t moved, he sat on my shoulder but I could feel him staring at a ratty blue curtain hanging over a doorway at the back of the room. “I’ll be back,” I said. “You stay here in case some of these guys are protecting her.”
“Who?” The baron asked, but I stood up without a word and walked through the tables. I heard the baron ask, “Do you know what he’s talking about?”
The curtain hadn’t been pulled all the way over, leaving a slight gap. As I drew closer, I peered through trying to see anything inside. A man appeared before me, he filled the whole gap, and passed through, throwing the curtain aside. I stepped aside and he brushed past me and disappeared into the kitchen across the room. I could smell the cloud of spices, alcohol, and tang of smoke that swirled around him. I started to follow him when I heard the hoot of an owl.
I spun around and stepped through the curtain. A thin strand of smoke trailed up from a long pipe with a bulb on the end. The pipe rested on a cushion, one of several back here but tucked in the far corner, perched on a stool sat a young woman. Short, black hair covered her face, and she wore a long, flowing silk garment with pants peeking out from underneath. The color, once a beautiful red that had faded over time. She wore tiny embroidered shoes, just like my vision. If I needed even more evidence, sitting on her arm, which was propped up by a cane, was an owl with clockwork wings.
I gasped. I wanted to say something, but the piercing eyes of the owl mesmerized me. Two feathered tufts above the large golden orbs looked like horns, and her tawny feathers dotted with specs of white, were accented by brass gears and pneumatics that made up her wings.
Rodin shifted on my shoulder and dug his claws in. The pain snapped me out of my trance, and I realized the two animals were sizing each other up. Neither made an aggressive move, but the owl shifted back and forth on his talons as Rodin puffed out his chest.
I knew I had to say something, I was bordering on the verge of rudeness. I wanted to speak with her before the man returned.
Without moving anything but her head, she lifted her gaze, only one eye stared at me. The other was covered by her silky black hair, but I stepped back from her intense, icy stare.
I had to speak now. I placed my foot back where it had been, and held my palms out in sign of peace. “Pardon my intrusion, but I think you know where my friend might be. I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?” I smiled, hoping she understood English. I quickly flipped through the various languages I knew, wondering which would be best known in these parts. Alexander hadn’t traveled this far, but I thought I’d try Greek, just in case. “Synchorisi eisvoli mou—”
“The boy with dragon,” she said in English. “But you are only a dream.”
“Whoa—” Not only did she speak English, but she’d seen me in a dream. A flood of questions rushed through my mind, but I forced them away to focus on Genevieve. I didn’t know how much time we had. “I had a vision you’d help me find my friend.”
“The girl with the sword,”
“Yes!” I nodded. My heart soared. If anyone could describe Genevieve in five words, those were spot on. I stepped toward her. “Do you know where she is?”
“On the train with legs.”
“Yes!” My excitement boiled over. This woman knew exactly who I was talking about. “How long ago did it pass through here?”
“The monk told me you couldn’t be real.”
“I am,” I said. “My name is Alexander.”
“The invader’s name.” Her head lifted higher and with her free hand, she pushed back her hair. She was stunning in a way I had seen few times in my travels. I’d seen many exotic and beautiful women, but with her soft features, dark eyes, and smooth intensity, this woman stood out among all those I’d met. She cocked her head to the side. “In my vision, you freed me and guided me to my destiny.”
“You’re not... free?”
She pulled back her sleeve and it folded ove
r the owl’s talons. An iron manacle encircled her bruised wrist, as a thin chain dangled below. “I am the bound falconer of the Spice Master.”
“What is your name?”
“He calls me Ershou Long.” Her smile lit up the dreary room as she motioned to the owl. “This is Kō’ilā.”
“This is Rodin, and we’ll do whatever we can to free you.”
CHAPTER 13
A FIGHT FOR FREEDOM
I looked at the chain and manacle holding her to this stool. She eyed me and Rodin.
“Your dragon is not a machine?”
“No, and I see your owl isn’t, either.” I didn’t have a lock pick and I debated if my Thumper would be too loud. I was more worried about hurting her. “Where is the key?”
“The Spice Master wears it around his neck.” She motioned to the chain. “The chains are iron, forged in China. They are unbreakable.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” I pulled my Thumper from its holster. “Cover your ears.” I glanced at the dragon on my shoulder. Rodin, “Go to the baron. You might want to send the owl off, too.”
She let a leather strap tied around the owl’s leg slip through her fingers, and motioned with her other hand. The owl flew off and landed on the other side of the room. I folded the chain in a loop and hooked it on the end of the baton.
“Turn your head.” I pointed the Thumper away from us and pressed the button. The piston slid forward, and the shockwave obliterated the chain in a thunderous blast that shook the walls of this building. The manacle still surrounded her wrist with seven links dangling below, but the rest fell to the dirt floor.
She jumped up, grabbed her cane, and thrust her arm out. The owl flew back and landed on her sleeve. We turned to leave, but there filling the doorway was a thin spindle of a man, eyes burning with anger and lips curled into an ugly snarl. I glanced at Ershou. Her eyes were on fire. This must be the Spice Master.
The man started screaming in Chinese; Ershou yelled in return. She didn’t act like a timid slave, but had the same fire I’d seen in Genevieve. I had no idea what they were saying, but as he reached into his coat, I raised my Thumper. Before I could strike him, Ershou lifted her arm, and Kō’ilā’s feathers bristled.
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