“Yield and I’ll kill you swiftly.”
Damn your pride. “Atoq!”
The saber-toothed cat roared and bounded down the hill, his heavy paws thumping and crashing through the light ice crust on top of the snow.
Salvator’s eyes flicked to the left, toward the cat.
Lorenzo lunged. Not his own lunge, the destreza lunge taught by his dear old master Carranza. This was an Italian lunge, a lunge many considered to be perfect, a lunge crafted by the master Ridolfo Capoferro.
Dear Lord, thank you for the gift of Silvio de Medici’s pride.
He felt his espada scrape down the length of the Italian rapier toward the man’s belly. Fabris twisted at the last moment and the espada sliced into his coat, piercing his flesh at the farthest edge of his kidney.
Salvator froze, his teeth clenched in a terrible rictus of surprise and pain.
Lorenzo held the strike for only half a moment before sliding his blade back out. Salvator pressed his left hand to the wound and grimaced, his own sword drooping toward the ground. On reflex, Lorenzo raised his boot and brought it down sharply on the Italian blade, snapping it just below the golden hilt. As Fabris raised his hilt to smash down upon the Espani’s head, Lorenzo snatched up the broken blade and shoved it through the Italian’s hand and deep into his side.
The hilt fell from Salvator’s hand and the Italian stumbled aside. His eyes were twisted into a miserable squint, his jaw shook, and a pinkish trail of spittle hung from his bloodless lip.
Behind him, Lorenzo heard Atoq growling at the horses. He raised his hand without looking back and the cat fell silent.
“You cheated,” Salvator rasped.
“I used what God gave me.” Lorenzo sheathed his espada.
Salvator glanced down at the wound. “You haven’t killed me.”
“Good. I haven’t killed anyone in almost four years. I would hate to start again now.” Lorenzo began walking back toward the horses.
“Why break my sword? You’re fast enough to have beaten me fairly. You drew first blood. You might have ended it cleanly. Why destroy something so beautiful?”
“You can dress up death in a hundred shades of gold and silk and pearl, but it’s still just a sharp stick for killing people.” Lorenzo shrugged. “Now there’s one less stick in the world.”
“I’ll just get another. I’m the killer, not the sword.”
“That’s right.” Lorenzo took the bag holding the skyfire stone from the Italian’s horse and then swung up into his saddle. “You’re the killer. And may God have mercy on your soul.”
He trotted up the hill to the gates of the compound with Atoq padding silently beside him. At the turn in the road he glanced back and saw Fabris pull the broken blade from his side, and then stagger toward his own horse. Lorenzo grimaced. “I should have killed him. If not for his past crimes, then to prevent more in the future.”
“You’ve done enough, Lorenzo,” Ariel’s voice answered from the medallion on his chest. “You took back the stone, shattered his sword, split open his hand, and bled his flesh. You’ve upheld the Father’s command for justice and answered the Son’s call for mercy. And you walked away alive and unharmed. You’ve done well. Very well.”
Lorenzo called out to the lone guard at the gate. “I’m looking for my wife. You may have seen her a few moments ago. Black hair. Blue hat. Riding a giant bird.”
The guard smiled and opened the gate. “You must be Don Lorenzo.”
Chapter 29. Taziri
The Mazigh pilot peered up at the new steel plate bolted to the tail of the Halcyon. She sighed. Poor thing. Isoke’s going to stop trusting me with her aircraft one of these days.
“Is it broken? Or fixed?” Qhora asked. “What is it, exactly?”
“Technically, it’s an aeroplane, but these pontoons make it a seaplane.” Taziri climbed up into the cabin and glanced over her instruments. Everything was right where she left it. Sitting in her seat, she worked the pedals and watched in the mirror as the tail swung left and right, just like it was supposed to. She climbed back out to stare at the steel plate again. “On the one hand, they did a terrible job. On the other hand, they did fix it. And if she flies, then you can’t argue with the results, can you?”
“I suppose not.” Qhora wandered back toward the hangar doors.
Taziri circled back around to the nose of the plane and opened the engine cowl. For a moment she wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Then she giggled.
“What is it?” Qhora asked.
“They tried to wire it back into itself,” Taziri said. I can’t believe I laughed at that. I must be exhausted. “They must have thought the loose wires were disconnected from each other. I guess it never occurred to them that there was a piece missing.”
“What piece?”
Taziri set down her bag and pulled out the battery with its tangle of electrical leads. “The piece I’ve been carrying around all over this country.” She stepped up onto the end of a pontoon and carefully set the battery back down into its slot. As she twisted the wires back together, she said, “I’m sorry about all the trouble I’ve caused you and your husband. If it wasn’t for me, you never would have needed to leave your home, and those boys wouldn’t have been hurt, and Dante…”
“The obnoxious Italian with the eyebrows and the nose? What happened to him?”
Taziri focused on checking her wires. “Fabris. Dante and Shahera both.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry. I liked that girl.”
Taziri turned to the little woman in the tailored soldier’s coat. “Aren’t you worried?”
“About what?”
“Lorenzo. Your husband is out there right now with that psychopath. What if Fabris hurts him or…or kills him?”
Qhora glanced briefly at the open doorway. “When I first met Lorenzo, I could barely believe that such a skinny boy with such a skinny sword could have made it across the Empire, let alone into Cusco past our warriors and past the Pizzaros. And weeks later he stumbled out of the jungle, all alone, wasted and thin. He could barely stand, but somehow he led a hundred men out of Cartagena and down to the ships. I’ve seen him duel men taller and stronger and more seasoned than him, again and again. It took time for me to accept it, to really accept it, but Lorenzo is a survivor. The plague couldn’t kill him, the forest couldn’t kill him, and two armies couldn’t kill him.” Qhora smiled. “Salvator Fabris won’t kill him either.”
“But he’s still just a man. What makes him so special?”
“Maybe he’s blessed by that god of his.” They looked up to see the hidalgo framed in the open doorway. “Or maybe he’s just lucky.” The hidalgo sauntered inside and behind him another shape filled the doorway. Atoq sat down and licked his fangs. Qhora smiled. “Or maybe his wife made sure there was a hungry saber-toothed cat nearby with a certain Italian perfume stinking up his nose.” Qhora held up a stained handkerchief and then tossed it away. “Lorenzo is good. He’s very good. But he’s also an idealist. Fortunately for him, his wife is more practical.”
Taziri finished up her work on the engine and closed the cowl. She crossed back to the door and climbed inside the cabin just as she saw the little woman in the faded soldier’s coat wrap her arms around her husband’s neck and pull him down to kiss her.
In the cockpit, Taziri pulled out her pre-flight checklist and began checking her gauges and needles and lights and controls.
If the wind plays nice, I should have enough fuel to make it to Tingis. Then I can report in, get refueled, and come back for the major and Kenan. I hope they’re all right.
She smiled.
The big ape is fine. I should be more worried about poor Kenan.
She poked her head out and saw the wide doors at the end of the warehouse were wide open. She called out to the couple still kissing passionately beside the yawning saber-toothed cat, “I’m ready to leave. I’ll be back as soon as I can to find my officers. Thank you both so much for your help. And good luck wit
h that rock of yours. I’ll look forward to seeing what you learn about it.”
Lorenzo extracted himself from his wife and approached the plane. “Actually, captain, I’d like to come with you. With the warship missing, I’d like to see if we can spot it on the way to Tingis. It’ll help to know where it is. And I can confirm your report about Fabris to your superiors. Now that my little matter is resolved, I want to stop this war before it starts just as much as you do. After Tingis, I’ll be going to Tartessos to protest this entire matter to Prince Valero straight away.”
Taziri nodded. “Thank you. And you, Dona?”
Qhora shook her head. “I have to get my babies home and open the house for the boys. With the servants all on holiday, someone will have to look after them until you bring my husband back.” She reached out and gently shook the pilot’s hand. “It was nice meeting you. Please try not to crash again anytime soon.”
Taziri smiled. “I’ll try.”
Husband and wife said their goodbyes as Taziri fired up the Halcyon’s engine and the propeller vanished into a blurry disc of flashing white and silver. Behind her, she saw Lorenzo come inside and lock the hatch behind him. He set down his bag in one of the passenger seats and came to sit in the co-pilot’s seat beside her.
“What’s with the luggage?” she asked over the drone of the engine.
“It’s the stone,” he said.
Taziri tightened her grip on the controls. “The stone that can set half a mountain on fire?”
“I’ll need it when we go to see Prince Valero. Nothing makes a stronger impression on that man than a ridiculous spectacle. And setting the entire Rio Tartero to boiling should convince him that Magellan is looking to plunge his country into a war that no one will win.”
“All right.” Taziri turned the Halcyon to point out the open warehouse doors. “Just don’t take it out of the bag while we’re in the air.”
The seaplane roared across the warehouse floor and rocketed out into the late morning sky over the Valencia harbor. Taziri wrestled the flight stick and pumped the pedals to keep the patched tail on course, but she soon had the feel for the damaged bird and swung about to head to south to the Strait. Below them, the Espani coast meandered along the edge of the Middle Sea between the glittering water and the shining snow-scape.
“Nice day,” she said. The sky was nothing but blue on blue across the horizon with only a few gray wisps of cloud.
Lorenzo nodded. “Hopefully we can alert everyone and have this whole business wrapped up without anyone else being hurt.”
“Do you think Valero will listen to you?”
“He’s a fat old man who just wants to enjoy his declining years and be remembered fondly. The only reason he hasn’t passed the throne to his son is that he doesn’t want to give up all the attention,” Lorenzo said. “Although, all this excitement over Magellan and the warship might just be the high note he’s looking for before he bows off the political stage.”
Taziri nodded. She didn’t care. All that mattered now was getting home, reporting in, and rushing home to hold her little girl and Yuba.
How long has it been now? Nine days? Ten? They must be going out of their minds.
The hidalgo fell silent and after a few minutes she glanced over to see him sleeping with his head at an uncomfortable-looking angle.
Two hours later she saw the distinctive outline of the narrow spit of land the Espani called Gibraltar Point below them and she eased the Halcyon south across the Strait. She could already see the dark line on the southern horizon.
Marrakesh. Home!
Halfway across the water she began angling west again to make better time to Tingis. To her right she saw the afternoon shipping traffic criss-crossing the Strait. Squared-off barges and sleek steamships cruised the choppy waters leaving trails of white steam above their wakes. Lateen-rigged yachts raced before the wind. A dozen old galleons, frigates, and brigantines rocked on the white-capped waves, slowly making the long crossing with only their huge square-rigged sails to catch the inconstant wind.
A strange outline caught her eye and she nudged the hidalgo awake. Pointing at the shape in the water, she said, “There it is.”
He peered out the window. “That’s the warship?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s enormous.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s putting out a ferocious wake. The engines must be huge. And it’s plowing straight through the shipping lanes.” Lorenzo pressed closer to the glass. “It’s hard to tell from the wake trails, but it looks like they just barely missed the nose of that steamer behind them. And there’s a barge coming up ahead of them. I can’t be sure, but it almost looks like…oh no, they hit the barge!”
Taziri banked the plane over so she could see what was going on for herself. Below them, she saw the mighty warship plowing through the midships of a small barge that was now sinking beneath the waves. More than half of the crippled vessel had already disappeared under the warship’s hull. “Are they insane? They’re killing innocent sailors and passengers. What the hell could they be thinking?”
But she already knew what they were thinking. They were racing to the Mazigh coast to launch their attack, to fire the opening salvo before a defense could be deployed. They were going to use their secret weapon while it was still a secret.
And it’s all my fault. It’s all because I flew over the ship. It’s not even Kenan’s fault for going off-course. It’s my fault because I had to make a second pass over the ship. That was my call. My order.
“They’re heading to Tingis,” she said softly.
“But we can get there first, right?”
She shook her head. “It won’t matter. We’re down to minutes. By the time we land and I tell someone what’s happening, that ship will be within firing range of the city.”
“God help us.” Lorenzo leaned back into his seat to stare at the ceiling. “How long, do you think?”
“Maybe thirty minutes. Maybe less.” Half an hour until those sons of bitches start shooting at my baby girl. Her eyes burned with tears. Maybe I can get there in time. Maybe if I run straight off the landing field and grab a trolley I’ll get home in time to get them out. Yes. I can get them out. I may not be able to save everyone else, but I’m damn well going to save my baby girl. She leaned on the throttle and felt the harsh vibrations shaking the Halcyon’s frame as the engine roared up to full power. Two needles edged past their red lines.
“Taziri!” Lorenzo shouted over the noise of the engine. “When does steel melt? How hot?”
“What?” She wiped the stillborn tears from her eyes. “I don’t know. Two thousand degrees, I think.”
“What about the skyfire stone? Could it melt through steel?” He grabbed her shoulder and looked back at the bag on the seat behind him. “Could it melt through steel quickly?”
She almost didn’t bother thinking about the question. She was so consumed with planning her route from the airfield to her house, and where to check if Yuba and Menna weren’t at home, and where she might be able to hide them during the shelling that she barely heard Lorenzo. But then his words sank in and she realized what he was proposing.
“Drop the stone on the ship?”
He nodded emphatically. “It burns on contact with anything except that clay. If we drop the stone on the ship, can it burn through the hull and engines and things?”
I have no idea, but if it can save my little girl… “Yes! It’ll work! Get the stone!”
Lorenzo scrambled back to the bag, crouching low to keep his balance as the plane banked back around.
Taziri shoved the sticks forward and let the nose of the plane drop. The Halcyon shot down out of the clear winter sky and streaked low over the choppy waters of the Strait, curling back around toward the enormous warship. On its deck, the massive cannon turrets were slowly turning toward the Mazigh coast.
“Open the door!” She yelled over her shoulder. “I’ll take us across the length of the ship,
bow to stern. Drop the stone in the middle of the stern. Even if you miss the engine completely, you’ll still tear apart the prop shafts, or their supports. It should be all we need to stop them.”
Lorenzo waved his acknowledgement as he knelt at the cabin door. With one arm wrapped around the hand rail, he unlocked the hatch and let it swing open. Taziri felt the sudden change in cabin pressure, and the drop in temperature, and the clawing wind whipping her hair into her eyes.
Up ahead she saw the first few muzzle flashes of mechanized guns and the bright lines of tracer fire streaked by the Halcyon’s wing. It’s just like before. They’re going to shoot us out of the air. “Get ready!”
In her overhead mirror she saw Lorenzo take the clay-studded harness out of the canvas bag and open the clasps on the clay-studded straps. He grabbed the steel handles with his free hand and reset his grip on the hand rail. “Ready!”
A second salvo of rapid gunfire screamed through the air just behind the wing. They’re getting closer.
“Almost there!” she yelled.
A third chatter of gunfire clattered up from the deck of the warship and erupted into a high-pitched cacophony of shredding aluminum as the bullets tore through the Halcyon’s fuselage. Lorenzo screamed and Taziri looked back to see him fall back from the open door clutching his chest. Half his face was painted red.
No, not him too! And where’s the stone?
A frozen spike of adrenaline stabbed at her spine as she caught sight of the stone rolling out of the harness and back into the small baggage compartment in the tail of the plane.
Nononono!
The Halcyon roared over the bow guns of the warship.
Out of time! Nothing I can do! I can’t help him and fly the plane at the same time!
The Halcyon was juddering and rattling as though the engine might tear free of the plane and leave the metal bird to plummet into the seat.
“UP!” Lorenzo hollered. “UP! Go up! Straight up! Now-now-now!”
He’s alive! She glanced back once to see the entire inner tail of the plane glowing bright orange. Brilliant gold cinders were flaking from the walls and tiny white tongues of flame were dancing in the back of the baggage compartment. The first wave of heat flooded up into the cockpit as she felt her rudder controls growing looser and less responsive.
Halcyon (The Complete Trilogy) Page 63
