“What is it you plan to do, baronet?” She asked when she had a good sized fire was roaring in the hearth.
“It is a desperate chance, Nenetl,” I said honestly. “But if it works it will force our captors to open that door; after that, we will have to face whatever is on the other side with literally nothing.”
“I have to fear of fighting beside you, Athelestan.” The way she said it, implying she had no fear to die beside me, did me honour and I nodded my head in acknowledgement.
I found what I was looking for in the pile of castoffs – a flat board that would span most of the hearth- and then returned to Nenetl to explain my plan as we huddled by the flames for what warmth they could give us.
“I reason that if we could drive them from upstairs, make them believe that their lives and perhaps the building was in danger,“ I said, “They would have to come and get us-- to keep us alive-- for their plan to work.”
“That seems to make sense, Baronet,” she said. “But can that be done?”
“Yes, but there could be danger; It is a bit I learned some years ago from an old campaigner who taught a class in history at Sandhurst.” I continued, “At some point in ancient China they sometimes would siege cities by undermining them and then began burning goose feathers in the tunnels.” I held up the tattered comforter. “The acrid smoke from these are noxious to the point of poisonous. If we send them up the flue it will most certainly cause them to panic (if it doesn’t kill them). But-“
She nodded as she grasped the direction of my ‘but’-“But it might harm us as well?”
“Yes.” I was surprised, though I should not have been, when she laughed.
“That is one way to cover the shame of being taken like children by these fools.” Then she added, seriously, “What shall we do?”
“Here, here,” I said giving her a very unwarrior-like hug. “I think that if we block some of the hearth front with this board and stay by the window—once we break it to let in fresh air- we have a good chance to survive. I think the inrush of air will cause the fumes to be drawn up the flue more vigorously than will permeate the room.”
“The logic is good,” she said. “And as I said, if it is not, perhaps we can foil their plan by dying too soon to be of use.”
“That is not the most comforting thought,” I said, “but all for the Queen and country, eh!”
We set to tearing the comforter apart and set a pile of feathers in a partially broken drawer we found. Then I took one of the chair legs we had not used to start the fire and broke out the panes of glass in the window.
The temperature in the cellar immediately dropped with the rush of air, but it also had the effect of stoking the fire, which was exactly as I had hoped and helped our purposes.
I checked to see that the voices from above were still there and then said, “All right, Nenetl, toss the feathers in and I’ll put the board in front to act as a partial screen.”
My courageous companion did so with no hesitation, but not before scooping up her own chair leg for when --or if-- we received our visitors. I then quickly slid the board in place and the two of us raced over to huddle together by the window.
We stood with our arms around each other with our faces toward the fresh air while occasionally peeking back at the fireplace.
Thick white smoke almost immediately billowed up from the feathers with the breeze and the board helping to funnel it up the chimney though tendrils curled around the board, to a lesser extent, and I could smell the acrid scent. It would have been overwhelming if we did not have the cold, fresh air flowing in from the broken window. .
We waited tense minutes, watching the poisonous miasma as if it was a wild creature that might turn on us, which, in a way, it was.
We were shivering again, the torn remnants of the comforter doing little to cut the stiff breeze coming in the gaping window, but I doubt she felt it anymore than I did as we waited tensely to see if our gamble worked.
Chapter Nineteen
Upstairs To Death
I was hoping that the bit of history remembered from one of the few classes I could stay awake in at Sandhurst would work for us.
As I huddled, holding that intelligent, courageous warrior for the trade rival empire of Albion, I thought about all my time fighting for my Empire. All the time I had a purpose, the same certainty that Nenetl had for her Emperor. My Empire had discarded me, Mini had tried to salvage me, but I had only been just coasting along on a wind, drifting with whatever came. When I reacted to the plight of that undead girl in Louisiana it was just that, reacting my instinct. I had not plan, no frame for my life.
First Mini, then Sandhurst then the Highland Guards and the Skirmishers had provided a frame. But on The Pride I seemed to have been swept up in something that, aside from the very real and carnal tingling I felt from my association with Nenetl, had my blood pumping again like only my time in uniform had. As if fate had indeed chosen me for some purpose.
My jaguar companion noticed my sudden distraction and looked to me from the window with questioning eyes.
“Baronet?” She whispered. “Is there something wrong?”
“You mean besides our current residence?” I replied with a smile. “No, Nenetl, in spite of where we are—or maybe because of it, nothing is wrong—to the contrary.”
This puzzled her but just then our wait to see if our ploy had worked bore fruit.
Less than ten minutes after we launched out gas attack we heard the thud of feet outside the door.
Nenetl and I took a last deep breath of the cold, fresh air then swiftly ran to either side of the doorway.
The bolt was thrown back, the door flew open with two men came running in.
They were two steps into the room before they realized that we were not still tied in the chairs. By then, it was too late for them.
The one on my side of the door saw me was a large brute, a Metis, I suspect from his caste. He had a short billy club in one hand and came at me with it immediately.
My improvised chair-leg cudgel blocked his first swing at me and I soon found myself in a pseudo-hacking duel with him.
The second man, a slight fellow with a facial scar, paused at the sight of the naked Aztec maid-- a formidable and exotic sight-- but had no chance to attack her, for Nenetl sprang at him like a hellcat. Scar was bowled over and went down under a savage pummelling from the jaguar.
My opponent had no art to his attack, relying on brute force and ferocity, but I had sparred tomahawks with Mohawk warriors so I gave as good as I got. He made several painful hits on my left arm as I used it as a shield. I understood the weapon better than he, however, so when I took the second strike on my forearm I drove my cudgel like a spear into the solar plexus.
The Metis doubled with a gasp of pain and I snapped a blow to the back of his head to fell him.
When I looked up Nenetl’s opponent was dead and my jaguar companion was gone.
I spun toward the door just in time to see Nenetl giving the finishing blow to a third man who was just outside the door. She yanked him back inside.
“Well done,” I said. I grabbed boots from one of the fallen men and quickly stripped trousers, a coat and a pistol from another while Nenetl snatched up a coat to wrap around herself.
Then we raced out into what proved to be a narrow hall that ended in stairs.
“Hurry, Bartok,” a shadowy, hulking shape at the top of the stairs yelled, “We can’t figure out where the fire is coming from and this stuff is making everyone sick.”
I looked at Nenetl who nodded so I did not wait for the rogue to recognize I was not Bartok. I shot him directly through the body as I raced up the steps. He toppled over and slid down past Nenetl and I. He was one of the ones who had set on us in Parc Mount Royal.
There were enough cries and confusion above that the shot seemed not to have been noticed. We raced up now pursued, it seemed, by the toxic smoke that was leaking out from the room below us and we were heading up into a
cloud of it in the rooms above.
The building we had come up into was old, with small rooms and low ceilings but any other details were shrouded in the smokey miasma we had created.
We moved as quickly as we could to find a doorway to the outside.
I ran into one more of the men who had jumped us in the park but I saw him before he realized who we were and was able to club him with the gun barrel to render him unconscious and clear our way.
We made it out a side door into the early evening gloom, onto a snowy path beside the building. I took a moment to don my pilfered trousers, boots and coat and Nenetl threw on her coat. She had to use a scarf she found in a pocket to tie around her waist to keep from swimming in the large coat. She rolled the sleeves up to free her hands.
“You won’t get far in this cold in bare feet, “ I said.
“My pain does not matter,” She said and I knew she meant it.
“Not a way to think,” I insisted. “If you are incapable of walking or paralysed from frostbite you will not be able to save the ambassador.” I looked around and saw some of the occupants of the building spilling out of a door at the other end of the stone building. “Wait here a moment,” I said and ran off before she could argue, heading away from the building into the gathering gloom.
The three people who were standing at the far door were focused on the building, which turned out to be a two story, stone structure of some age, and not looking outward. I counted on that.
I made a long loop to around some scruffy looking bushes, thick with fallen snow and then came running back toward the building making no effort to hide my presence.
“Qu’est-ce qu'il ya?” I yelled.
“We don’t know,” one of the ruffians called back without even looking back at me.
This allowed me to get to within several yards of them before one looked back to notice who I was and attempted to draw a gun. By then I was close enough not miss and, with no guilt or compunction at all, I gunned the three of them down.
“Nenetl, come on!” I called. The jaguar was already racing toward me.
“Try his shoes, girl, they look about right.” I pointed to one of the fallen men.
While she took trousers and shoes off one of the fallen men I looked around to try and ascertain where we were. From distant light through the trees I had to assume we were south of Montreal proper, across the river from the city. I tried to remember the maps.
“I think we are in the town of La Prairie,” I said aloud. “It was the first settlement in this area, I believe.”
“We have to get over there?” Nenetl asked as she pointed toward Montreal. She looked like a disheveled urchin in her pilfered clothes and I could not help but laugh. She scowled at me.
“You are not so stylish yourself, Baronet,” she said.
“No doubt.” I agreed. “Let us get away from here, head toward the river, we will find a teleglass if we can or, failing that, some craft to get us across to the city.”
My stolen foot wear was not very comfortable, as I am sure Nenetl’s wasn’t, but neither one of us paid much attention, setting a good pace as we ran from the smoking building.
We were not twenty feet from the building before the sounds of shouting and the ping of bullets from behind us hastened out steps!
Chapter Twenty
Taking the Night Air
Nenetl was a better runner than I, even with her recently healed leg, but the bullets striking the dirty snow around me gave wings to my feet.
We were running parallel to the river, with enough moon light and city glow to allow us to avoid the trees as we dashed into the woods.
I managed to take a quick look behind me and saw that at least four figures were coming after us.
Another shot whistled past my ear but then a scream from behind me, “Stop firing, you idiots! They must be uninjured in the dirigible and have to die in the crash!”
“Well that is comforting,” I said. Nenetl shot me a look and I could swear she was grinning. She clapped her hands together then pointed her hands in different directions. I took her meaning and veered off from her, heading into a copse of trees.
Behind us I could hear confused shouts as our pursuers split to run after us. I put my head down and put on a burst of speed, dodging the dark shapes of tree trunks and studying the ground for any obstructions.
I heard my pursuers smashing through the underbrush behind me and heard them huffing and puffing. It made me smile; though I was not in the best shape after two years of dilettante existence (my exercises of the last two weeks with Nenetl not withstanding) I had been a fair match for my Iroquois soldiers in the Crimea. They had always outlasted and outdistanced me, but before my injuries I had given a good account of myself. My efforts always made them smile.
Now I was pulling ahead of the men behind me and began to look for a place to spring an ambush on them.
There was a shout and a gunshot in the distance and I had a moment on concern for Nenetl, worried that her leg had failed on her, but then a savage female war-cry followed by a male scream of pain that was abruptly cut off dispelled that fear.
“Good show, jaguar,” I whispered.
I rounded a dense stand of brush and saw my chance to thin the pursuers. I had a pistol, which had two more bullets but thought it best not to use them until I had no choice.
I found a good-sized stone and crouched behind my leafy rampart and waited for the first pursuer.
As it turned out two passed me at a staggering run, huffing and puffing, cursing in French. Both stopped about ten feet from me to lean against trees and catch their breath.
“Tabernacle!” one of them hissed. “This fox is going to kill me.”
“If I see him I will shoot him in the legs,” the other said.
“Sundiata will not like that,” the first man said.
“Then let him chase this Anglo in the woods, Jock!”
“Do you hear him any more?” The two men held their breath to listen for me and I followed suit, so that the three of us stood motionless and silent.
There were only night sounds for a moment then another muffled scream in the distance followed by Nenetl’s cry of triumph. I had a hard time stifling a giggle.
“It is that brown hellcat,” Jock said with horror in his voice. I had to stifle a giggle.
“I don’t like this job,” his friend remarked. “After we get this cursed Anglo I am quitting.”
That was the moment I let fly with my rock.
The missile struck true to the temple of the dissatisfied brigand and he fell without another word.
The startled Jock had not seen the blow and turned to his friend to ask, “What did you -?”
That was when I sprang.
I was on Jock with a barrage of blows before he realized I had attacked and it went down with little chance to protect himself.
Just as I rose from the brigand Nenetl appeared out of the night.
“That is the last of them,” she said. She was smiling, her eyes shining with excitement. I noticed she was limping slightly, however.
“Are the others-“ I began but her smile widened.
“They will bother no one again,” she said. She brandished a knife and stooped over Jock at my feet.
“No!” I said. She looked at me curiously. “There has been enough death; more than enough. These two we leave alive, we may need them as evidence later to be able to prove the Mali agent was involved.” She looked disappointed but I saw her consider my words.
“As you say,” she said, “But we must not allow them to interfere with us.”
“We can tie them to these trees with their belts.” She did not look happy with that choice so to cheer her up I added, “They could always freeze to death or be eaten by bears.”
“Poor bears, “ she said, “this sort would probably give it indigestion.”
I took a pistol from one of the men that had a full cylinder of cartridges, and broke and tossed away my own. “We have
to see if we can find a teleglass,” I said. “It is getting late, it must be near time for the dinner.”
I saw no wire towers that would indicate that a teleglass was anywhere nearby at all. Off to our right, though the trees I could see a few scattered lights from the little town of La Pairie.
“Should we not head into the town, Baronet?”
“I am not sure, my dear,” I said as I considered the lights. “We do not know who might be in league with the bounders who snatched us; these are locals, I think.”
“So perhaps we should head to the river and see if we can find some craft to make our way across the water to the city?”
“That seems for the best, Nenetl.” I offered her my arm, which she took and we strolled away from the bound brigands heading toward the shore.
“You are limping,” I whispered as we broke through the treeline to see the choppy waves of the St. Lawrence River. Across the river the lights of the city were visible through a low mist that was rising from the surface of the water.
“It is just a minor inconvenience,” she said. “I will survive.”
“Yes you will, jaguar,” I said. My tone must have sounded strange to her for she stopped and looked up at me.
“Do not patronize me, Baronet Grey,” she said. “A jaguar can endure, a jaguar always accomplices their mission.”
“I know, dear lady, and I believe you when you say it, for I have seen with my own eyes the strength and skill of this jaguar.” I stepped away with my hands on her shoulders to look directly into her eyes. “I have seen warriors on three continents and you have more spirit than any other I have seen. It is a spirit I aspire to.”
She tilted her head to one side and the line of her lips softened into a smile. “You have no need to aspire to anything, baronet.”
“No, dear lady,” I said. “I had once, I served once, I mattered once. Life mattered once, but I lost my path. Oddly enough in that dirigible I think I began to find it again; but I am beginning to think it is not a lone path.” She took my meaning and shook her head.
Gaslight Magick Page 9
