The Derring-Do Club and the Empire of the Dead

by David Wake

  “Graf.”

  The Graf seethed, but he turned away, pulling Charlotte around as he did so. It was frightening, not knowing what was happening, and Charlotte could hear Doctor Mordant mixing chemicals behind them.

  “You may look,” said the Doctor.

  Everything seemed to be the same as before they turned away.

  “Now,” said Doctor Mordant.

  An operative by the side of the room adjusted a dial and then threw a huge switch. It sparked as it made the connection and then the lightning arced across the room blasting the colour from the scene.

  The Crown Prince’s body, strapped to the table, convulsed, his entire form jerking in a parody of the life: once, twice and then again.

  “Lights, lights,” Doctor Mordant instructed. Strange electric lights on cables were brought forward.

  “Again,” Doctor Mordant shouted.

  By the side of the table, Charlotte saw the Crown Prince’s dead hand twitch and move.

  Doctor Mordant turned triumphantly to the assembly: “It’s alive!”

  “Ja,” said the Graf.

  The Crown Prince screamed: an awful noise conjured from some circle of hell. It was as if his human soul had a whole lifetime compressed into a single heartbeat, a brief knowledge before its gibbering, drooling mockery of existence took hold again.

  “Long live the King,” said the Graf.

  “Long live the King,” came a reply.

  “Long live the King!”

  “Long live the King,” came the response.

  “Long live the King!!”

  The chant was picked up by all: “Long live the King.”

  The Graf let go and Charlotte, suddenly bereft of support, stumbled away to fall on the floor. In the flickering light, the Princes gazed upon their father, gibbering amongst the technicians, with expressions of disgust and anger, and with a terrible resigned despair. Charlotte crawled away on her knees, her hands to her ears trying to blot out the appalling, almost religious fervour.

  “Long live the King!!!”

  “Long live the King!!!”

  “Long live the King!!!”

  Chapter X

  Miss Deering-Dolittle

  Earnestine ran down a long path that zig-zagged to descend the steep gradient of the mountainside. At the end was a battery built from stone on a flat area and beyond the cliff dropped away. The buildings appeared deserted and the cannons were unmanned. The guns were old, there to fire warning shots to any incoming airships in case of fog as if this was some aerial lighthouse. Hurriedly, she completed a circuit of the two main buildings, which was enough for her to examine the circumference of the enclosure. It was a dead end. The path led to the battery and nowhere else, so she was trapped. The long back-and-forth walk, uphill this time, awaited her.

  Still she was not a young lady to flinch at that.

  She jumped – a noise came from the largest building, a clatter, something knocked over perhaps.

  Flattened against the wall, she saw the castle towering above her, huge and impressive with numerous windows all of which gave an excellent view of her movements. If anyone had seen her, then soon enough soldiers would be descending, back and forth, back and forth, down the long path.

  She realised she was fiddling with something: a ring… from Pieter, a red ruby in a silver clasp setting. She didn’t have time for nonsense.

  Inside there were a few rooms, basic amenities for the gunners who manned the battery in bad weather. There were boxes of supplies, barrels, presumably of gun powder, covered in tarpaulins. Earnestine had a sense that she wasn’t alone, something piqued her senses, a sound perhaps. Glancing round she saw a ramrod leaning against the wall, which struck her as a useful weapon, but when she picked it up, a variety of other detritus tumbled and clattered to the hard stone floor. The racket ended with a definitive ‘eek’ from the far side of the room.

  Earnestine raised the rod, flipped it round so that she led with the heavy end and carefully crossed the floor.

  Hang on a moment, she thought, she was the one who was decamping, so she should be hiding.

  There was a clear ‘shhh’.

  The shape in the folds of a tarpaulin ahead seemed to change. Perhaps they actually moved or perhaps it was simply that her perspective changed, but, like one of those picture puzzles that refuses to be anything other than a vase throughout an entire rainy afternoon suddenly becomes two faces in the evening, Earnestine could see the shape of a figure: a leg, the bend of a knee, a torso… that seemed to go on and on making the hidden person at least ten feet tall – a giant!

  With rapid steps, Earnestine went around the shape. The tarpaulin reacted, shifted, contorted and then split into two. The foot end revealed a well turned ankle, then a ragged dress until finally it disgorged a round, beautiful and shocked face.

  It was Georgina.

  “Ness!”

  Earnestine lowered her ramrod.

  “Gina?”

  “You’re alive.”

  “Evidently.”

  “Oh thank God, you’re alive.”

  Tears welled in the middle sister’s eyes, a quite detestable display of emotion. Something had to be done.

  “Georgina, don’t be such a baby.”

  “Sorry Ness.”

  Earnestine waited until her sister had wiped her eyes.

  “And pray tell,” Earnestine said, “why aren’t you in school?”

  Georgina opened her mouth to protest, but at that moment the rest of the tarpaulin moved to reveal a man of some sort. Earnestine considered him disapprovingly.

  “Who’s this?” she asked.

  “I’m–”

  “I didn’t ask you!” Earnestine told him. “We haven’t been introduced.”

  “This is Arthur,” Georgina said.

  “Arthur!!!”

  “Sorry, I mean, Earnestine may I introduce Captain Merryweather,” Georgina said, and she signalled back and forth between them with an open palm. “Arthur, this is my sister, Earnestine.”

  It appeared that Georgina was on first name terms with some army type.

  “Glad to meet you, Earnestine,” he said, with the added temerity of holding out his hand to shake.

  Earnestine stepped back as if struck: “Miss Deering–Dolittle!”

  “My apologies,” the man said. “Glad to meet you, Miss D– D– Deering–Dolittle.”

  Earnestine ignored his proffered hand and gave him instead a tiny angry smile to put him in his place. She tugged Georgina to her feet and then pulled her to one side to converse privately, although the room was not big enough to avoid being overheard. However, this Captain Merrywhatever took the hint and pretended to examine the barrels of gunpowder.

  “Georgina, what were you doing under that blanket with a man?”

  “We were only hiding.”

  “Hiding? What vile practices have you been up to that you need to hide from your own sister?”

  “It’s not like that?”

  “What is it like?”

  “Arthur and I have–”

  “Arthur!? You’re on first name terms with some…” Earnestine looked over her shoulder at the man whistling silently to himself. He did look tall and handsome in some rugged outdoor fashion with a fine blonde moustache, but he was still a man, and she’d found alone with her sister hiding under some tarpaulin, so clearly he had to be some sort of bounder.

  “Merry and I–”

  “Merry!?”

  “Captain Merryweather and I came to rescue you.”

  Earnestine didn’t know where to start: “Rescue me? I am clearly escaping without any assistance and now – oh, do think, Gina – and now I have to chaperone you as well.”

  “But…”

  “Don’t whine.” It was truly exasperating. “Why didn’t you just wait for me by the train station?”

  “Ness?”

  “Oh, give it to me?”

  “Give what to you?”

  “The timetable.”
/>   “What timetable?”

  “What sort of rescue have you been organising, if you haven’t even come equipped with the timetable of the trains from here to Calais?”

  “Calais?”

  “For the ferry.” This was impossible. “Gina, you have a plan to get us out of here, don’t you?”

  “No, we didn’t really think–”

  “No, you didn’t really think, did you? That’s your trouble, isn’t it? You never think.”

  “We had a plan.”

  Earnestine was aghast: “A plan? What was this great plan? You thought you’d stroll in here, find the first man you came across and canoodle under some dirty covers getting your dress all filthy and–”

  “I say, steady on!” said Merryweather, stepping forward.

  Earnestine raised her finger to threaten.

  “I have,” she said, “enough on my plate, what with Austro–Hungarian plots to overthrow the British Empire without you and your…” She looked at Georgina: “Floosie! Getting in the way.”

  “We’re hardly getting in the way,” Merryweather said.

  Earnestine ignored him: “Did you do your homework?”

  “What?” Georgina squeaked.

  “Your homework: Latin and that poem you had to learn.”

  “The school was attacked and everyone was killed.”

  “Yes,” said Earnestine, putting on her long suffering calm voice. “But did you do your homework.”

  “The college was attacked and everyone was killed!”

  Earnestine was incandescent with rage: “Yes, but did you do your homework before the college was attacked and everyone was killed?”

  Miss Georgina

  Georgina was crying and she didn’t care, Earnestine was a monster. Georgina sat on some hard box with her tiny lacy handkerchief in her lap, so white against her besmirched skirt, and sniffled.

  Away from her, Arthur – and she didn’t care that she thought of him as Arthur now – was explaining everything: how he’d found the school, the bodies of the girls and the staff, the village, the train ride, the… something about a mad scientist and unnatural science. The three ‘Gentlemen Adventurers’ hadn’t thought to mention that to her, oh no, but one glance at the regal beauty of the oh–so–wonderful Miss Deering–Dolittle and they were as thick as thieves.

  Another snivel escaped; her nose was so full of unladylike gloop.

  The awful thing was that, in addition to all the horrors that she had experienced, Earnestine had made her feel guilty about not doing her Latin homework: amazo, Amazon, I’m–a–spot, am–as–gone, am–as–lost, as–an–ant.

  Her lip quivered.

  She stood and the act was one of defiance, which silenced both her sister and her Captain.

  “We found a body at the base of the cliff,” Georgina said. “It was dressed in an Eden College uniform and… Arthur examined the body. It was… the name tag was ‘C. Deering–Dolittle’. Charlotte’s dead.”

  Earnestine looked at her kindly, a proper caring expression, but said: “Don’t be ridiculous! Charlotte is up in the castle probably in a wedding dress by now.”

  “Wedding dress?”

  “Yes,” said Earnestine. “She’s getting married. I tried talking to her, but you know Charlotte. She never listens! Such a silly girl. She’s got them all thinking she’s royalty. In fact, I imagine that the girl you found was probably the equally silly girl who Charlotte swapped clothes with. You know what Charlotte’s like with her belongings, she doesn’t look after them at all. It’s not Charlotte you found, but Her Royal Highness, Princess Whomever.”

  Georgina looked at her empty palm where the remains of a mountain flower had been blown away. It seemed so long ago.

  “She’s alive! We must save her,” Georgina exclaimed, rushing to the doorway.

  “No!”

  Georgina was incredulous: “No!?”

  Of all the daft things to suggest, of course they must save their little sister. It was their lot, their family responsibility, to look after her: Earnestine, as acting head of the family, must surely realise that.

  Earnestine spoke, her harsh words grating: “She’s made her bed. We have our obligations to the British Empire.”

  Georgina couldn’t believe what she was hearing: “Mother said–”

  “Mother didn’t anticipate the greater responsibility.”

  “Ness, I’ll–”

  “Tell Nanny if you want.”

  Georgina’s face burnt.

  Earnestine turned to Arthur, which was a relief because he would put her right.

  “You’re a Captain?”

  “Yes, M– Miss?”

  “Then you must do your duty.”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  Earnestine tugged something out of her pocket, it was an envelope: “Then get this to England with all haste.”

  Merryweather took it: he didn’t even raise a single objection.

  No, no! Never, Georgina thought. How could that witch of a sister leave little Lottie behind? She rushed away to the door, out of the door and started up the path, a path that zig–zagged up the mountain towards the castle, a path full of soldiers, soldiers unslinging their rifles and aiming… they moved slowly as if they were in a dream…

  Merryweather grabbed her from behind physically picking her up and manhandling her back into the battery house. Bullets whined and ricocheted.

  “How long?” Earnestine demanded.

  “Minutes,” said Merryweather.

  “How did–”

  “Climbed, ropes.”

  “Get her down,” Earnestine ordered, her words muffled as she wrenched an axe from the wall. “I’ll follow.”

  “You can’t fight them off with that.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  Earnestine swung the axe and split one of the barrels. Black powder split across the floor.

  “Flint!” Merryweather threw a metal object across the space which Earnestine deftly caught. He then pulled Georgina across the building and out the far side. A glance back: Earnestine splitting barrels and then spreading gunpowder.

  At the edge of the precipice, Georgina looked down and froze. Merryweather tied the rope around her waist and slipped it across his shoulders.

  “Use your feet to keep away from the cliff!”

  “What!? I can’t–”

  Merryweather pushed her: she dropped, swinging out into the void, flailing her arms to grab the rope as Merryweather took the strain. She plummeted in sudden jerks as the man above let the rope play out. Georgina’s feet bashed against the granite, shattering loose rocks away that tumbled, as she tumbled, down to be smashed to pieces below.

  She tried to scream, but there was no air in her lungs, and then she was an untidy heap on the path, a ledge barely any distance down the cliff.

  Somehow Earnestine’s shout reached her below: “Go!”

  Merryweather swung out on the rope, his legs kicking only air! Who was holding the other end? Surely not her sister!? As he went down hand over hand, gut wrenchingly falling and catching himself again, Georgina realised that he’d tied the far end to something. As he got bigger and bigger, Georgina grovelled across the path and then he reached the ground with a thud and a grunt.

  Shots came from above: sharp cracks.

  Merryweather picked himself off the floor and looked up.

  Above, Earnestine stood silhouetted against the darkening sky, such a small figure so high up, as she struck the flint. A spark, vivid bright… another, and then a flare of light like fireworks and was gone as soon as it had started. Her sister stood on the edge and, as a fiery explosion rent the sky, she jumped!

  Jumped?!

  A rope caught, she’d held the other end, and she swung at the mighty cliff like a conker on a string.

  Dark, massive shapes swirled and filled the burning, fiery explosion. The noise hit Georgina like a hammer.

  Merryweather grabbed her and they ducked into the cliff wall as boulders, stones, cann
ons and soldier’s bodies thumped all around.

  Georgina heard a scream, loud and appalling, and doubly frightening when she realised it was her own. The rope tied to her waist snatched tight and threatened to drag her out and down. Whatever she was tied to had been blown over the cliff.

  Rocks, pebbles, bits of shrapnel fell in a deadly hailstorm.

  Georgina pulled back; the rope tugged and then went slack as the landslide buried the end.

  Merryweather stepped out into the maelstrom to pluck Earnestine out of the chaos. Earnestine let go of the rope, her black patent leather gloves were scarred and torn across her palms, and her face was cut and bleeding, but also flushed and alive. She was in her element. She was on an adventure.

  “Shall we run?” Merryweather suggested.

  “I should bally well think so,” said Earnestine.

  They ran.

  Ten yards on Georgina was grabbed from behind, lifted off her feet and thrown to the ground.

  Merryweather came at her with a knife, cutting the taut rope around her waist before pulling her to her feet and hauling her along after Earnestine, who darted, surefooted, ahead. With a shock, Georgina realised that Earnestine might have actually used the ‘b’ word!

  “Your sister’s quite something,” that man Merryweather said.

  Georgina had no breath to reply.

  Further along the path opened up: shots were fired and bullets pinged into the ground.

  They raced on, rushing past the unmarked grave as they ran for their lives.

  Miss Charlotte

  It wasn’t until the dowager left that Charlotte felt herself start breathing again. She was pressed hard against the wall of the laboratory wanting to be absorbed into the comforting solidity.

  Doctor Mordant busied herself with her equipment and then went to check on the Crown Prince… the thing’s bonds. As she checked the straps, the creature lurched, snapping like a wild dog as it tried to attack the Doctor.

  Charlotte jumped.

  Doctor Mordant was impassive: “It’s safe. These leather straps are quite adequate.”

  It took a moment for Charlotte to realise that the Doctor was talking to her, but they were the only two present who were truly alive.

  “Nah… ah,” Charlotte managed.