Iron Horsemen

by Brad R. Cook

  She raised her revolver and fired down into the conning tower. She reached for a drop line, but they were all gone. “Mutinous cowards!”

  I looked at the grappling line and then at Zerelda. All that stood between her and escape was me. Her jaw clenched as she saw the Storm Vulture pitch downward, hanging by only a couple of straps. Then her eyes widened in rage, and she raised her revolver and pointed it at my heart.

  With nowhere to run and no place to hide, my heart pounded in my ears, and I couldn’t draw a breath. Terrified, I squeezed my eyes shut

  A click. An empty chamber. A stream of curses. And then I opened my eyes as Zerelda charged with her cutlass raised. I raised my Thumper and bowie knife. A club and knife in a swordfight, those were bad odds.

  I tumbled backward as she swung and quickly righted myself to prepare for her next attack, but instead of pursuing me, Zerelda grabbed the grappling line.

  She glared, her eyes pools of seething anger, as if molten lava hid behind them. “I’ll remember this, boy. I’ll remember you.”

  Zerelda cut the grappling line with her cutlass and swung out over the water. She soared in an elegant arc over to the Storm Vulture, and her crew pulled her to safety.

  I couldn’t believe my plan actually worked. I ran for the conning tower and slid down the ladder to find Genevieve. She and Hunter leaned out the cargo door. I called her name and she spun around.

  “Alexander!” She pushed her wind-blown hair out of her eyes and smiled. Her relief that I was okay was obvious, but she had other things to worry about, too. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” She returned her attention to the cargo door. “Indihar!”

  Remembering that he still dangled in the Mediterranean Sea, I leaned out as far as I dared and saw Mr. Singh just above the waves. Genevieve’s hand went to her mouth and I noticed slack in the line. Mr. Singh looked deep in concentration. He was levitating just above the white tips of the water.

  “How is he doing that?” I asked.

  Hunter smiled. “Indian magic, he is a powerful and mysterious warrior.”

  Genevieve nodded. “When my father and I were in India we heard tales about men who could twist into amazing shapes, levitate, and even disappear.”

  Hunter grabbed the rope and tossed part to me. “Help me pull him up.”

  Hunter and I drew the rope hand-over-hand until Mr. Singh grabbed hold of the cargo door and pulled himself in.

  Mr. Singh dripped water on the metal grating and his long hair clung to his face. He smiled at the three of us and said, “Thank you. I thought all the blood in my body was going to start coming out my ears.” He turned to me and extended his hand. “I witnessed your actions on the Storm Vulture, very brave.”

  “Brave,” Genevieve said. “Foolish is more like it! You could have been killed.”

  “I could have been killed? You were the one in a swordfight with a pirate.”

  Genevieve scoffed and put her hands on her hips. “I’ve trained with the blade, you … you could have slipped and fallen into the sea.”

  Hunter chuckled. “Both of you are too young to care about the danger, but that’s probably why you survived. It’s good to have you back on board, Mr. Singh.”

  “It is good to be back. Luckily, my god did not want me this day.”

  Hunter closed the cargo door as the Sparrowhawk pulled away from the listing Storm Vulture. The four of us headed for the bridge.

  As we entered, Captain Baldarich hugged Mr. Singh like a bear. “That sky-witch couldn’t drown you!” Then he turned and grabbed me. “You damn fool, that’s the bravest and dumbest move I’ve ever seen. Wish I’d thought of it.” He tried to calm down and made a grand gesture of bowing deeply to Genevieve. “Wonderful skill milady, I salute you. And Zerelda’s damn good, too.”

  Genevieve curtsied and I sighed, relieved to have Zerelda’s Sky Pirates off the Sparrowhawk.

  Baldarich spun on his heel and said to Coyote, “Good you’re mostly unhurt. Head for that bank of clouds to the North. We’ll use them to cover our escape.”

  Coyote pulled back on the wheel, though he winced in pain. “We’re leaving captain.”

  I walked up to the copper tubes. “She got away, I couldn’t stop her. She said that she’d remember this, that she’d remember me.”

  “That’s not the last we’ll see of her,” Baldarich winked. “But it’ll take her days to fix what you did. You bought us time. Maybe your dad named you right after all.”

  I smiled.

  My father and the ship we were following had vanished, but I wondered if he was even on it. I had a feeling in my gut he wasn’t. The baron’s voice crept into the back of my mind—they needed my father in Malta to translate. Just thinking the word reassured me. Malta was where I would find him.

  Genevieve put her hand on my shoulder, “I’m sorry we didn’t recue your father.”

  “It’s okay; we’ll find him in Malta. I know we will.”

  CHAPTER 16

  MALTA

  Genevieve and I joined in to help as the crew worked feverously to finish the repairs. We both felt like Sky Raiders now and were grateful everyone on the crew seemed to feel the same.

  I held the outer hull plating in place as Ignatius welded, turning my head and squeezing my eyes shut to avoid the intense light. Each flash reminded me of the Storm Vulture’s lightning cannon and made me wonder what Col. Hendrix was paying Zerelda for. As the metal liquefied and filled the seam, my mind wandered to the island of Malta. Where was my father? Was he being tortured? I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of dread, but I couldn’t let myself get obsessed, either. My priority had to be my father. I had to find him, rescue him, and get him back home. And then Genevieve. I had to help her find the antidote to her father’s poison, too. I had to help her because….

  Ignatius pulled the torch away and lifted the dark-lens goggles to his forehead, “Hey, the plate’s slipping.”

  “Sorry,” I shook my head and held the plate firm. “My mind wandered.” I looked over at Genevieve who was helping Gears repair the steam pipe.

  Ignatius chuckled. “I see why.”

  “What? No! She’s a noblewoman. I mean….” I stumbled over my words and looked up as she wiped sweat and grime from her face. A smudge of grease crossed her cheek and a slight smile brightened her face when she saw me looking at her. “No,” I blushed and turned back to Ignatius. “I was thinking about my father.”

  Ignatius shook his head. “Yeah, my father makes me smile like that, too.”

  The gunslinger fired up the welding torch again, lowered his goggles, and returned to sealing the hull.

  Gustav came into the engine room carrying a large platter balanced on his shoulder. “Stop working everyone, I have treats for the brave champions of the Sparrowhawk,” he bellowed, trying to be heard over all the activity. He walked straight over to Genevieve. “Ladies first. For your amazing swordfight with the sky-witch.” He displayed the platter before the young noblewoman with an air of gentility I’d not thought possible. “Potato bread smothered in a honey-butter glaze, my specialty.”

  Genevieve wiped her hands with a rag and picked one of the rolls. “Thank you, but I only kept her busy.”

  “A hero’s modesty,” Gustav passed over Gears, who reached with his grimy hand to snatch one, and laid the platter before me. “You’re next, young man. You get two for your brazen, foolhardy, and incredibly brave attack on Zerelda’s ship.”

  I looked to Ignatius who nodded his head. I let the steel plate go and grabbed two rolls. I bit into the first one and moaned in delight. It was so good, so rich and sweet. I closed my eyes as I devoured the first one, but took my time with the second, savoring every flavor on my tongue. They smelled like grandma’s house and tasted like ambrosia.

  Gustav smiled and put the platter in front of Ignatius as Gears tried to reach for another.

  The hatch swung open and Captain Baldarich strolled in. He saw Gustav’s platter of rolls and rushed forward, forcing Gears to
divert around the damaged engine. “Potato rolls! And you drizzled them in honey butter. This is why I’ll never have another chef.”

  Gustav smiled and swung the platter around. “Only the best.”

  Captain Baldarich snagged two rolls and pulled Genevieve and I closer. “Gustav is the best chef I’ve ever known, he probably would have served the Kaiser if he’d been born to a higher station. But the Kaiser’s loss keeps my belly round.”

  Gustav chuckled and offered the captain another roll. With a sweep of his free hand, he looked around the engine room at the sweaty, greasy group and said, “Who wants to serve the Kaiser when you can see the world and meet a much better class of people?”

  We all laughed and Baldarich swiped two more rolls. He tossed one in his mouth. Gears came around the engine and reached for one, but Gustav swung the tray away from him again.

  Baldarich, his mouth crammed with rolls said, “Gears … just who I was lookin’ for.” He held up his hand and swallowed. “Can we repair the engine on route?”

  “Yeah, I think I can get her running. Give me half a day and one of those rolls. I’ll have her purring like a kitten.”

  Gustav eyed Gears, and Baldarich asked Ignatius, “We all patched?”

  He lifted the dark-lens goggles and smiled. “Aye captain. There wasn’t as much damage as there could have been.”

  Captain Baldarich swiped another roll and stopped at the door. “Ignatius, I want you to verify that all the repairs have been made. I want everything water tight. Gears, get that engine purring. I want all three engines by the time we get to Malta.” Pointing his roll at Genevieve and I he said, “You two, clean up in here, and thanks for all your help. Gustav, give Gears some rolls and then make another batch.”

  The captain left and Ignatius followed. Gustav huffed and stood with the platter on his shoulder. A few inches short, Gears took the needle-nose pliers from his belt and snagged a roll, but before Gustav could walk away, he tossed it to his open hand and snagged one more. Gustav swung around and saw the smug look on Gears dirt smudged face. Gustav begrudgingly smiled and left as the contented engineer stuck his head back into the engine.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at Gustav and Gears, Baldarich and Ignatius, men whom I now considered my friends, and pledged that I would live up to their example. For a start, I made certain I thoroughly cleaned the welding torch and placed it in the storage locker. As Genevieve picked up the tools she and Gears used to fix the steam pipes, I stepped over and swung around the pipe in front of her. As the hot metal seared my palms, I let go and jumped back, waiving and blowing on my hands for relief. Genevieve laughed as I danced around, but she reached out to check my palms, a hint of concern in her eyes. I smiled to make light of it, but I’m sure my “smile” was nothing more than a pained and red-faced grimace. I tried to cover up the mistake by leaning oh-so-nonchalantly against the hull and ignoring the red blooming on my skin. The injury could have been much worse and was probably only a first-degree burn. The real injury I suffered was from third-degree embarrassment.

  Rodin flew through the door and fluttered around Genevieve. He landed on her shoulder with a roll tucked between his claws. Rodin tore into the top of the bread where the drizzled honey butter pooled. Genevieve and I looked toward the door wondering if Gustav would be running through.

  No knife-wielding, yelling chef appeared; the little dragon was safe.

  We slipped down to our room on the gun-deck and sat on the crates. Rodin flew over to his spot and tucked up with the last of his roll.

  “I didn’t think he’d like bread. I assumed he’d be a meat-eater.”

  “Don’t let him fool you, he wanted the honey. He has a taste for sweets.”

  I laughed. “We have a lot in common, then. I like sweets, too.”

  Genevieve was quiet, and I wondered what she was thinking. I shifted in my seat trying to think of something else to say, but I was afraid anything that came out of my mouth might be mushy or sound stupid, so I said nothing. After a moment, she spoke again. “I wish you could have seen Zerelda’s face when she saw her ship.”

  “I heard her, for sure. She sounded none too happy.”

  “You’ve made an enemy of a dangerous pirate, aren’t you afraid?”

  “Nah, I don’t plan to become her friend, and besides if she comes around again, you’ll be here to protect me. You and your sword.”

  “You Americans, so cavalier, so free, sometimes I envy you.” She got up and climbed into her hammock. “Instead of sword fighting, I’ll end up having to attend to my husband’s courtly obligations, imprisoned in bejeweled high collars and caged in whalebone corsets.”

  “Never!” I jumped on a crate and drew out an imaginary sword. “You’ll end up like Shakespeare’s Kate.”

  “You call me a shrew?” Genevieve protested.

  “No!” I sputtered. “I’m just saying … you’ll never be tamed by a corset, whalebone or otherwise.” I chuckled. “I think Shakespeare must have had you in mind when he wrote the tale.”

  Genevieve closed her eyes and a wide smile crept across her face. My heart thudded in against my ribcage. I jumped and almost fell off the crate when she sat up suddenly, her hammock swaying. She looked down at her dirty hands, “I’m a mess. I’m going to wash up before dinner.”

  She scooted out of the hammock and headed for the door, then stopped. She turned, walked back to where I was still standing on the crate. Puzzled I gazed down at her, and she rose to her tip toes, slipped her hands along the side of my face, drew me down to her, and kissed me lightly, her full lips brushing mine for what must have been just an instant but felt like an eternity. Electricity coursed through me and I was still standing there dumbfounded and dizzy as she turned and darted through the door. My fingertips rubbed the spot where her lips had been mere moments before, and my smile grew to goofy dimensions as everything went blurry.

  I now understood Zerelda’s interest in electricity.

  After dinner, Genevieve and I strolled up to the bridge with the captain. Ignatius sat at the engineer’s station, and Coyote was at the wheel, but I noticed the crew wasn’t gathered on deck the way they usually were in the evening. Tension tugged at faces, pulling smiles into grim, tight frowns. Few spoke and then only in murmured tones. What was going on?

  Ignatius’s eyes focused on something in the distance, and I turned to see faint dots of flickering lights amidst a sea of black. An island! I snapped a questioning gaze at the captain.

  “Malta.” He nodded and walked to the pilot’s wheel. Scanning the darkness, he pointed to an open patch of sea. “There, put us down on that moonlit patch, the water’s calm enough.”

  Coyote pushed the wheel forward. “Aye, captain. Shouldn’t be an issue, I could probably set down on the edge to hide us in the shadows.”

  “Very good,” Baldarich said and turned to Ignatius. “Make certain nothing leaks.” Ignatius nodded and the captain flipped open all four copper messaging pipes. “Extinguish all lights and prepare for a water landing.”

  I ran to the window and watched as the black water moved ever closer. The silver moonlight shimmered on the tips of the seemingly small waves. We were really going to land on water? This ship never stopped surprising me. What could be next?

  The captain leaned into the middle-right copper tube. “Retract the wingsails and seal the outer hatches.”

  “The Sparrowhawk can float?”

  The captain winked. “She can do more than that.”

  “Can it travel below the water as well?” Genevieve asked.

  Baldarich just nodded and smiled as the Sparrowhawk skittered across the waves until it settled in, cradled by the water. I looked out and saw about a third of the ship submerged below the waterline. Propellers churned the water and pushed the Sparrowhawk forward, cutting through the black and leaving a frothy wake trailing behind us. The vessel moved like any other ship I had been on.

  Then the farthest left copper tube popped open and Gears’ thick a
ccent echoed out. “Engines are purring captain. Engine one will be completely fixed by sunrise, especially if I can turn it off.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Ignatius walked on the bridge. “Any leaks?” the captain asked.

  “Not even the patches.”

  “Good job,” the captain said, with a quick glance toward me. We all watched as the island drew nearer, and I found myself breathing faster, hands clasped tight on the railing. The captain and Ignatius climbed up the ladder and onto the conning tower. I couldn’t wait. I put my foot on the ladder and turned toward Genevieve. She gave me an excited smile, and up I went with her following close behind me. As we climbed, Rodin flitted around and finally landed on her shoulder.

  The captain raised a telescope to his eye, extending the brass and wooden optics with a brisk snap. Ignatius kept an eye on the surrounding sky and sea looking for any trouble. I walked along the top of the vessel toward the bow and heard Genevieve behind me with Rodin’s wings clicking softly as they ruffled in the breeze.

  I stared toward the city of Valetta. Malta didn’t look very big, but it was big enough to make finding my father nearly impossible. I sat down, and Genevieve lowered herself beside me. Rodin flew around us then soared out over the water. I felt the light pressure of Genevieve’s hand on my shoulder and took comfort in it.

  She leaned in, speaking into my ear as if telling me a secret. “Maybe we can sneak onto the island and ask some of the Maltese if they’ve seen your father?”

  “I can feel him, almost see him. I know he’s close.” I stared at the island, but what I felt wasn’t longing. More like an intense sense of knowing. “I can see the room he’s being held in, it has bars on the window but it looks out to sea.”

  “What else do you see?”

  “A white building with arches, a walkway of columns that leads to his room. He walks this way every day to go to the library. A white house, but the base is different somehow. There is another room in the bowels of the villa. It’s dark … I don’t want to see anymore.” I rubbed my hands over my eyes and then threw my hands up and turned toward her. “This is ridiculous. How am I seeing these things? They seem so real, but how can they be? And if they are real, somehow, why am I seeing places instead of my father.”