Assassins of the Lost Kingdom (Airship Daedalus Book 1)

by E. J. Blaine

  The next morning dawned behind high layers of scattered cloud, but the weather didn’t suggest rain. Rivets led one more sweep of the ship looking for damage before he finally declared her ready to fly. Deadeye reported that he’d fired a little more than half the ammunition for the Hotchkiss guns. Because of the control difficulties, Jack had barely fired the Lewis guns. Their magazines were almost full. They could fight if they had to.

  Duke returned from a trip into town and reported that nobody in Almora had seen the Luftpanzer. The airship was able to remain aloft for weeks at a time, limited primarily by food and water for the crew. They knew Silver Star tactical doctrine encouraged keeping away from towns and cities when possible to avoid being observed and tracked. That suggested that Maria might not pursue them here and try to destroy them on the ground. On the other hand, Jack thought, now that she knew they were in the area, she might well suspend normal tactics in her zeal to destroy the Daedalus. They would need to be ready to take off at the first sight of anything in the air.

  By midday, there was nothing left to do, and Jack had had time to consider their next move. He called the crew together in the ship’s main saloon. They gathered around and the jokes and banter faded. They looked to Jack for leadership, and this was a situation that called for it.

  “So, it looks like the Twin Pillars are real,” he began. “Maria Blutig’s in the neighborhood, and the Silver Star is conducting operations. I wasn’t easy to convince, but it all adds up. I think we have to accept that there really is a place the locals call the Eye of the World back there in the mountains. The Silver Star found it, and they found at least one very dangerous thing there. There may well be more. Now it’s our job to stop them. Doc, have you got a solid map of the region we flew over yesterday?”

  Doc nodded. “As good as we can get from sketches and photographs. I wouldn’t stake out building plots quite yet, but I can get us back to the Twin Pillars again.” Then she added, “As for what’s beyond them, well, take a look at this.”

  Doc had brought a folder with her. She opened it up and took out a half dozen photographs. “I took a few shots with the Leica before we hightailed it out of there.”

  “Tactical withdrawal,” Jack said with a grin.

  “Call it what you like,” she said, then winked at him. “I made some enlargements. Take a look.”

  They all crowded around to study the photos. There were the pillars, two gnarled, weather-beaten hooks of stone. They looked even more ominous closer up. Below them were sheer rock cliffs plummeting down into the clouds, cracked and crumbling stone plates that overlapped to create a maze of crags and seams. And off to one side was a shadowed gap. It was hard to make out, but Jack could tell it was the mouth of a canyon. At some point, probably millions of years ago, the mountain had strained under the impact of the collision between Eurasia and the Indian subcontinent. The bedrock had folded, and finally it had split, pulled apart by the patient forces of gravity and erosion. Those forces had created a rift that led into the mountainside.

  Duke let out a low whistle. “Will you look at that?”

  “Can’t tell how far back it goes,” said Deadeye, rather dubiously.

  That was true enough, but Jack knew the canyon wasn’t just a dead end. It led to something. “Those Silver Star pilots flew it,” he said.

  “Well bully for them,” Duke shot back. “But I don’t see how it matters. We’re stuck. There’s no way the Daedalus is going to make it into that. Even if we could keep her steady at that height. And you saw how hard she is to handle up there.”

  “You’re right,” Jack admitted. “We can’t take the ship in there. But a small plane could do it. The Silver Star’s proved that.”

  “But we don’t have a small plane,” Deadeye protested.

  This was the part they weren’t going to like, but there was nothing else for it. Jack took a deep breath and plunged in.

  “Actually, we do,” he said. “Padger’s Bristol.”

  For a moment, they all looked at him as if they didn’t quite believe what they’d heard. Then there was a chorus of protests—from everyone but Doc, Jack noted.

  “No! Absolutely not!” Duke nearly shouted. “You are not going in there in a two-seater and leaving the rest of us behind! That’s not how we work.”

  Rivets and Deadeye chimed in agreement behind him.

  “It’s the only way,” said Jack. “You said yourself the ship can’t make it.”

  “That doesn’t mean you two go flying off on your own,” said Rivets. “What if you get in trouble in there? We won’t be able to help you.”

  “I don’t like it either,” said Jack. “But it’s a chance we’ve got to take. Somebody’s got to go in and find whatever’s back there. It’s the only way to stop the Silver Star.”

  “No, it isn’t,” said Duke. “If we need planes, then we go back and get planes.”

  “No time. Maria Blutig’s troops are back there now. By the time we get back with a full expedition…”

  “Then we hunt down the Luftpanzer in the mountains and shoot it down,” Duke replied, his voice taking on a hint of desperation. “We did it before. We can do it again.”

  “This isn’t the Amazon,” said Jack. “We’re not going to catch her on the ground. She’s got an advantage over us in the mountains. She’s big and heavy, so she’s more stable. They can fly their ship. Best we can do is keep from flying into a mountainside.”

  Duke had run out of objections. As he searched for another, Jack turned to Doc.

  “You haven’t had much to say. You’re the poisons expert. You’d be the one to go with me. What do you think?”

  Doc looked up at him, and her voice was clear and confident. “You’re right,” she said. “We have to stop the Silver Star, and that’s the only way to do it. And if anybody can fly through that canyon and make it out again, it’s you. I’ll go with you.”

  She smiled at him. “Besides, don’t think you’re going in there without me, Jack.”

  ###

  Once it was settled there was nothing else to argue. They did what they could to prepare. Rivets checked over Padger’s Bristol from the propeller bolts to the tail flaps and announced he was satisfied with the way Padger had maintained the airplane.

  “And if that engine’s a Sunbeam Arab, I’ll eat it,” he added. “You called it, Duke. He’s got a Rolls engine in there. Looks like he’s jury rigged the air intakes and the carburetors for this altitude too. She’ll get you where you’re going, if you don’t come to your senses before then.”

  Jack and Doc spent the time thinking through what supplies they would need and assembling portable kit bags that would fit into the airplane. Doc’s was mostly taken up with scientific equipment. If they found the source of the poison where they were going, she first had to be able to handle it safely. Then she would have to identify it, analyze it, and search for an antidote. Jack worried about more mundane survival needs. He loaded a few days’ worth of food and water, cold weather gear, a small canvas tent. He was endlessly weighing things and trying to decide if they were important enough to add that much more weight to the airplane. The Bristol should be able to operate at the altitude where they’d found the Twin Pillars, especially if Padger had modified it to breathe the thinner air. But Jack didn’t know what he’d find past the pillars, or how challenging the flight would be. Overloading the plane could prove fatal.

  On the second morning, Duke left on the ship’s electric motorcycle and headed off down the road that led south out of Almora toward the lowlands. He returned near sunset with the sidecar loaded with oxygen cylinders and gear.

  “Personal breathing apparatus,” he said as the others looked over his haul. “Or at least they will be when I’m done. Oxygen tank, breathing mask, flow regulator. They’ll keep you from blacking out up there.”

  “You know how to make something like that?” Doc asked in surprise.

  “Germans used them during the war,” Duke said. “We started shoot
ing down the Zeppelins they sent over to bomb London, so they started flying higher. So high the crews needed these to keep conscious and working. I might have seen the plans at one point.”

  “Stolen the plans, more like,” Rivets said with a grin. Duke only spoke about his wartime experiences in broad hints, and then only rarely. Jack assumed it was because he was still bound by the Official Secrets Act. But they all knew he had worked for British Intelligence in an extremely covert capacity for much of the war.

  “Let’s just say I know how they work,” Duke replied, and winked at Doc. “The tricky bit was finding the right parts out here.”

  “Thanks, Duke,” Jack said, and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t mention it,” Duke said quietly. Then he went off with his parts and got to work. Jack knew it was his way of saying he was on board with the plan. Even if he disagreed, he’d do everything he could to keep his friends safe.

  Finally, after four days of preparation, they couldn’t think of anything else to do. Rivets had rigged an external drop tank to let the Bristol carry extra fuel. Their kits were optimized and measured down to the ounce and stowed aboard the plane. And Duke had completed his breathing kits, one for each of them.

  The weather was clear and bright. It looked like a perfect day for flying. They gathered on the airstrip with the Bristol and the Daedalus lined up behind them.

  “You be careful,” Deadeye said, giving Doc a hug. “Jack,” he added. “I know you’ll take care of the both of you. Just keep an eye on your back. There’s bad guys up there.”

  “Watch your fuel mix,” Rivets said in a conspiratorial voice. “Padger’s done a good job juicing up that engine, but the air’s awful thin up there.”

  Jack promised that he would.

  Duke hugged Doc as well and made her promise to be careful. Then he turned to Jack. “Hey Jack,” he said. “What’s the best thing about having a wooden leg?”

  Jack smiled. It was a ritual they’d begun in the war and kept up until now.

  “I don’t know, Duke. What?”

  “I’ll tell you when you get back.”

  They grinned and shook hands, then Jack helped Doc into the Bristol as the others unmoored the Daedalus and prepared her to fly.

  As the Bristol’s engine sputtered to life, Jack hoped Padger wouldn’t be too upset that they were flying his beloved Biff into danger. He suspected Padger would mainly be disappointed that he couldn’t come along.

  Then the Daedalus lifted off and rose into the morning sky. A moment later, Jack taxied the Bristol down the runway and took off himself. The two aircraft headed north, up into the high mountains.

  Jack realized he’d missed flying this way as he put the Bristol through its paces and got accustomed to how she handled and how she responded to wind conditions. He loved the roar of the engine and the wind over his face in the open cockpit. The Daedalus had the edge in stability, in cargo capacity, in safety; obviously the future belonged to the airship. But Jack would miss this experience when the airships had driven the fixed wing plane from the sky.

  “You all right?” he called back to Doc in the observer’s position.

  She gave him a thumbs up. She was practicing putting on the breathing mask Duke had made for her. Jack’s was in his lap in case he needed it. He hoped they’d acclimated somewhat to the high altitude by now. The headaches they’d suffered in the first few days seemed to have faded. But Jack knew he would need to be razor sharp once they flew into the canyon. Every reflex had to be honed to perfection. There would be no room for a second run at something. He checked the gas gauge and studied the Biff’s controls to make sure his vision remained clear. At the first sign of haziness or confusion, he’d put on the mask.

  The trip was uneventful as they flew high into the previously uncharted mountains once more. They saw no sign of the Luftpanzer or her flock of small planes. The green slopes gave way to bare earth as they climbed, then quickly to rock and ice. Jack breathed carefully, and checked the gauges again. The lines all appeared straight and clear. There was no blurring. He seemed to be getting enough oxygen. But there was no reason to risk it, he decided, since Duke had gone to the trouble of providing an oxygen supply.

  “Masks on,” he called back to Doc as they turned into the long, straight corridor where they’d spotted the Twin Pillars on their last flight.

  “Roger that,” she shouted back.

  Jack got his mask on and started oxygen flow through the regulator. He did feel the effect, like drinking really strong coffee, except it hit him all at once. He looked back to confirm that Doc had her mask on.

  She pointed over his shoulder, and Jack looked ahead to see the Twin Pillars looming above them. It was time.

  The Daedalus was off to Jack’s left, the midday sun gleaming off her silver skin. Ahead he could make out the canyon entrance, a sudden slash in the jagged line of the mountaintops. He checked the fuel and dropped the external tank. It had gotten them this far and left them with a full fuel load. Jack hoped that would be enough.

  He waved to the Daedalus and waggled the Bristol’s wings. He thought he could make out Deadeye in the upper gun position waving back at him. Then he pushed the throttles open all the way and flew straight into the mouth of the canyon.

  Chapter 13

  As soon as the Bristol entered the canyon, Jack felt the stick steady itself in his hand, and the plane settled into a smooth course down the long rift in the mountainside. He’d stopped noticing the winds and turbulence around the high mountain peaks. Countering the buffeting of the Bristol had become a matter of simple, instinctive reactions. But here the winds were suddenly absent, and the air was calm. He glanced up and saw a wisp of high cirrus cloud whip across the canyon and vanish beyond its lip. The winds were still just as brutal up there, but the canyon’s interior was shielded from them.

  That would make it easier to fly here, Jack thought. But it also left him no option to pop up out of the canyon if he found himself boxed in. Go too high, and the winds would seize the small plane and batter it against the cliffs. No matter what he encountered here, his only choice was to stay low and thread his way through the canyon. It was all right, he reminded himself. The Silver Star pilots had managed it, so he could do it. But his maneuvering room was considerably tighter in here than he would have liked. He throttled back his speed, took another breath from the oxygen bottle, and focused on the feel of the Bristol and the slope of the cliffs around him.

  The first turn was easy enough, a gentle bend to the left that revealed another long, straight gallery. This one was pierced by several tall fingers of stone that rose nearly to the top of the canyon. It looked too tight to try and go over them without catching the wind. He picked the widest spot he could see and aimed the Bristol into it. He would be about eighty feet above the canyon floor, he estimated. And there was room to clear the Biff’s wingspan if he rolled her slightly.

  “Jack, what are you doing?” Doc shouted as he dove into the maneuver. He could hear her voice rising.

  “I’ve got it,” he called back. Then he rolled the plane up to the left and slipped through the spires in a moment. Within a few seconds he’d settled the wings back to level, and the spires fell away behind them.

  “Is there going to be a lot of that?” Doc asked.

  Jack just shrugged. He was already looking ahead to the next maneuver, but he couldn’t see it. The canyon appeared to simply end in a blank wall of rock. That wall came closer with each second, and Jack still couldn’t see a way forward. He scanned the sides and floor of the canyon but saw only jagged rock. He glanced up and saw nothing else above but the lip of the canyon, where the winds waited to slam them into the mountain. He slowed the plane as much as he dared, but they still swept relentlessly toward destruction. There had to be something else here!

  Jack was on the verge of yanking back on the stick and taking his chances with the winds when he saw it. On his right was an outcrop of rock that hid a sharp twist in the canyon
as it curved almost completely back on itself and went into a steep downward grade. On pure instinct, Jack dove toward the canyon floor to regain speed that he knew he would need in a moment.

  “Jack!” Doc screamed.

  He ignored her. Every fiber of his being was focused on the plane, its speed, its lift, the drag of gravity. He couldn’t have done the math, but he knew he could make this turn. He dove almost directly into the stone wall, then pulled back hard and cut the throttle. The Bristol pointed up to the sky with its wheels only feet from the sheer wall it was now climbing.

  His airspeed fell away precipitously. Not yet, he told himself, not yet. The airspeed indicator was sliding toward stall speed. Jack could feel the plane beginning to lose its grip on the air. Now!

  He rolled off to the right, and the plane tumbled away from the cliff face, slewing to the side and falling back into a sort of loop. Doc had gone silent behind him, and he wondered if that was good or bad.

  Then he looked up over the wing and saw the canyon floor coming up fast. The Bristol was upside down and plunging toward the ground. But he wanted to go down to keep inside the canyon. Jack knew he had made it, and suddenly he was laughing with the sheer joy of it. He slammed the throttle open. The V12 Rolls Falcon engine roared in defiance, and Jack roared with it. The plane surged forward, and Jack rolled it back upright and leveled out. He was almost perfectly on line with this new descending leg of the route. A minor yaw correction and they headed down the clear center of the canyon.

  A long scar in the stone caught Jack’s eye. Beneath it, a streak of debris lay scattered down the canyon floor, twisted fuselage and shattered wings in Silver Star colors. Down there somewhere was whatever remained of a pilot who wasn’t as good as he was, Jack thought. Or one whose instincts betrayed him just once. It was a horrible way to die, even for an enemy. The Silver Star might have found a way through, but they’d paid a steep price for it. The first pilots must have been incredibly brave, he thought. They flew in here not knowing if they had a chance of coming out the other side or if they’d been dead the moment they flew into the canyon.