by Brad R. Cook
Genevieve popped around the corner, still dressed as a noblewoman, but now carried her saber and a large bag. “There you are.” She dropped the bag beside me and leaned on my shoulder. “My father, your father, and the chieftain have all departed for the docks, but I got a look at the letter, and I know where the Sparrowhawk is docked.”
“Did you go home? Get your … clothes? From before?” He kept himself from blushing at the thought of seeing Genevieve dressed in pants again.
“No.” She bit her lip. “I brought them with me. I was hoping we’d do something impulsive and all together very American, like running off.” Genevieve scrunched her shoulders and cocked her head to the side.
I chuckled. “What can I say? We’ve learned from the best.”
She laughed, but fell silent as someone approached. Owethu poked his head around the corner. He emerged dressed in a tailcoat and ascot.
“Why, look at you,” Genevieve said as walked over to Owethu. “You look quite dashing. Doesn’t he, Alexander?”
For a moment I wondered why he didn’t dress like a Zulu, but I stopped myself. Owethu could wear whatever he wanted. He was an honor to his people no matter his clothes. “So, are we ready?” I said, but Owethu shushed me.
“There are people nearby,” Owethu whispered. “I had to avoid them. We must be careful.”
We were all suddenly very aware of our surroundings. Every creak in the night intensified with my nervousness. I took a deep breath and gathered up my bag. “I’m set.”
“Finn is nearby ready to take us.”
“Wait, won’t he get us in trouble?” I asked.
Genevieve smiled. “No, I paid him.”
“I can see that being effective with Finn,” I said with a laugh. “So, why bring your things?”
“In case you already had transportation. You weren’t very specific on how we’d get to the London airdocks. Maybe you had already formulated a plan.”
“I had a plan,” I said as we started down the corridor. “Finn is just a better plan.” I turned and walked backward, looking at the two of them, and pointed to myself. “But I did have a plan.”
Owethu shook his head and Genevieve stifled her laughter. We slipped out to the main street where the steam carriage waited. Owethu and I sat across from Genevieve, but he spent the whole ride staring out the window, while I tried to keep from staring at Genevieve. All too quickly the carriage stopped.
My mind had run over the how of our plan, and although I still didn’t have a solid plan, I knew what was at stake. I knew the why. Finn opened the carriage door. I stepped down and stared up at the airdocks as Owethu joined me. Finn helped Genevieve to the ground.
“Thank you,” Genevieve said. “And remember …”
“Ne’r a word, Miss.” Finn ran his fingers across his mouth as if it were a zipper.
Airships from around the world hovered above the river. As we walked toward the docks, I searched for the familiar aero-dirigible.
“There!” I pointed. “Third one over.”
Owethu’s eyes grew large.
“The Sparrowhawk.” Genevieve said, her voice barely concealing her excitement.
Perched on the airdocks, the aero-dirigible tugged against her moorings. She might only be treated-canvas over a metal ribbing, but to me, she rose above the rest. To me, the Sparrowhawk was splendid freedom and adventure, with iron cannons running along her sides.
With her wingsails retracted, she looked like a bird about to spring into the air. The captain had refurbished her, or at least repainted her. The brilliant blue ribbed-canvas humpbacks of the airship looked like waves, while brass fixtures and wooden yardarms, trimmed the ship along with thick ropes running forward and aft. The dull grey belly hid in the clouds with ease, and the wooden frame held secret hatches which hid its true nature as a raider of sea ships and zeppelins.
“Now what?” Owethu said.
“We sneak aboard.” Although I said this with confidence, I wasn’t quite sure just how we were going to do it.
“That may not be the smartest plan. Last time we were nearly electrocuted,” Genevieve reminded me.
“But they won’t let us come unless we’re already there.”
Both looked at me with scrunched brows. Genevieve shook her head. “That’s not really a plan.”
“Sure it is.”
Owethu’s eyes went from the airship to me several times and then he rubbed his head.
I pushed back my hair. “We hide out in our old room until we are far enough away that they can’t come back. That’s a good plan.”
“It’s a plan,” Genevieve said. “I’m just not certain it’s a very good one.”
Undeterred, I said, “It’ll work; you’ll see. First things first though, we have to get on board.” I stood there trying to think of a plan, when Genevieve grabbed my arm and pulled me along the metal grating. “Come on,” she said. “And keep an eye out for our fathers.”
Owethu followed.
We walked up the docks to the Sparrowhawk. No one stood guard at the open cargo doors, but the faint echo of people within the ship spilled out.
“Come on,” I said, taking the lead. But at the opening, I stopped. I wanted to step aboard. I tried to step aboard. But my feet wouldn’t move. Visions of Captain Baldarich loomed before me. I feared that once I was on board, he would know. He’d just sense it and blast me with his lightning cannon.
Summoning all my courage, I stepped on the gangplank of the Sparrowhawk and stepped inside. Tranquility settled over me. These decks felt more real than Eton, like coming home. I took a deep breath, tasting all the familiar smells—the metal, the treated canvas, oil, with just a sprinkle of gunpowder.
Before I could take another breath, a man stepped in front of me, startling me, and cutting off all my warm fuzzy feelings. The blue turban identified him immediately, but I hardly recognized Mr. Singh.
“Indihar!” I clasped his hand and shook it fiercely, gripping his arm with my other. His arm rippled as his muscles bulged from beneath his vest. Having to look up at his face, I realized he’d grown taller than me. I’d grown, too, but the last time I’d seen him, we were the same height. Plus, he had a full beard now. I could barely grow stubble.
A bright smile let me know he wasn’t angry. In fact, he didn’t look surprised to see us. He released my hand, threw open his arms, and hugged me. “Alexander! Genevieve! It is so good to see you. I feared I would miss you yet again.”
“Hello Indihar. I hope life has been good on the ship.” Genevieve bowed and Mr. Singh returned the gesture.
I motioned and said, “This is Owethu, our new friend.”
Owethu bowed, but Mr. Singh reached out, and shook his hand. “So,” Mr. Singh said, “come to say farewell to your fathers?” Then he saw our bags and crossed his arms. My old friend Indihar vanished, and only the airship’s boatswain, Mr. Singh, remained.
Genevieve and I both nodded, although she leaned toward me and smirked, “I told you it wasn’t a very good plan.”
Mr. Singh’s scowl deepened, so I piped up. “Mr. Singh, you of all people should understand that we have to help. The KGC are back. We’re chasing Hendrix. The battle the three of us fought last year isn’t over.”
The gears of his mind twitched in his eyes as he listened to my words. Now I just needed them to find his heart, or at least his sense of justice. He eyed me for several moments more before speaking. “Your parents will not like this.” Both Genevieve and I nodded in agreement. “The only reason the three of us fought a year ago was because the chosen warrior—the baron—couldn’t. This is their fight.” I could see through the relaxation in his posture, that he wasn’t convinced at his words.
“Mr. Singh,” I said, “They’re going to need us. All of us. You know as well as I—this tyranny has to be stood up to. All I’m asking is that you not tell anyone until we’re over the channel … please.”
“You want to stowaway on my ship?”
I leaned toward
him. “Yes,” I said. No sense lying. He knew Genevieve and I too well.
Mr. Singh raised an eyebrow. “Take the forward storage compartment. You’ll have to stay there. If the crew spots you, we’ll all get in trouble.”
I pumped my fist. “You got it.”
“Thank you, Indihar.” Genevieve touched his arm and bowed her head. “We’ll do whatever you say, and when everyone does find out, please assure the captain we will pay for our passage.”
“Good. That will help. A little.” Mr. Singh turned to escort us to the gun deck. He acted like he was none to happy about being put on the spot, but at least he wasn’t going to give us away. “Wait till you see her,” he said as we descended to the belly of the airship. Chain railings led down to an open deck lined with two cannons and a Gatling gun on each side. Everything had been repaired and repainted. Any signs of the chaos from the battle with the Sky Witch were gone.
“I see you fixed the place up,” I said. “She’s looks beautiful.”
“Of course. Can’t be prowling the skies in a piece of junk like the Storm Vulture, can we now?”
We laughed as he led us into the storage room. The large canvas tarp still hung down the center between our bunks. Seeing the odd expression on Owethu’s face, I said, “Mr. Singh hung it last time we flew on the Sparrowhawk for Genevieve’s privacy.”
Genevieve pushed the tarp aside and let it drop back into place as she inspected her old quarters. I pulled two hammocks from the wall, and showed Owethu how to hook it to the support beam. “We’ll stay in here. This is the gun deck, the lowest deck of the dirigible. Above us are the crew quarters, and above that is the bridge. The engine room sits in back, but Gears doesn’t like visitors.”
“I like these airships very much.” Owethu jumped into his hammock, pushing against the floor to make it swing.
“Me too.” I climbed into mine, sitting with my legs hanging off one side.
“Then we are in agreement.” Genevieve’s voice slipped over the tarp.
The engines whirled to life as the boilers whistled. The sound silenced us.
Slowly, the bow of the Sparrowhawk rose into the air. My stomach dropped as the hammocks swung with the tilting ship, staying level as we climbed ever higher.
Throughout the ship, the crew moved in syncopated motion. They released the wingsails by unfolding the wooden yardarms on the sides of the airship. They stoked the engines to build the pressure for the propellers, and inspected the helium bags ensuring we stayed aloft. The groan of cannons straining against the ropes that held them in place mixed with the creaking of the metal struts. Music to my ears. As we climbed skyward and leveled out, the wind buffeted against the outer treated-canvas skin of the hull. I closed my eyes and felt the turbulence ripple through me. I was flying again. I was home.
CHAPTER 11
BUSTED
After we’d leveled out, I jumped down from my hammock. Owethu was sitting upright in his hammock, gripping the edge of the material, causing red whelps on his knuckles. Still, he smiled.
I looked around at our quarters. ‘Nothing’s really changed.”
Genevieve slid the tarp aside and said, “A few more crates, but they even left Rodin’s bed.” She pointed to the mass of cloth tucked up along the curve of the wall.
“What is a Rodin?” Owethu asked.
As I opened my mouth, the sound of beating dragon wings filled the deck.
A flurry of bronze wings whipped in through the open door. Genevieve sat up in her hammock, and Rodin landed on her shoulder. She nuzzled her forehead against his horned nubs. “Hey Rodin. It’s good to see you, too.”
“Buddy,” I said, “good to see you.” I waved, but he looked too happy tucked up against Genevieve. I didn’t stand chance. They’d been born on the same day and shared a bond deeper than any other I’d seen.
“Is that a lizard?” Owethu stood up out of his hammock.
Rodin popped his head up and flared out his wings, which made him look much bigger, thicker. He flicked his forked tongue in and out of his mouth and eyed Owethu.
“Uh oh, you’ve done it now.”
“What have I said?”
Genevieve smiled, “You called him the “L” word.” She scritched under Rodin’s chin. “It’s okay. Owethu doesn’t know your greatness yet.”
I held out my hand toward Rodin. “Owethu, meet Rodin, a Draconis arcanus gigantigus,” I said proudly. “He’s the Kensington family dragon. A bronze dragon, as you can see by the coloring, which makes him one of the desert dragons, right?” I turned to Genevieve to see if I’d gotten it all correct, and she gave me a slight nod.
Rodin bowed and curled back into Genevieve.
“Do you have dragons in Zululand?” I asked.
“Never have I seen one. The dangerous serpents tend to slither not fly.”
“He was my first dragon, too.”
We all laughed and then remembering that we were stowaways on the ship, fell silent.
Just then I felt a small pang in my stomach. It wasn’t the intense danger I’d felt during earlier episodes. But something was up. Owethu was facing the door. He stiffened and before I could turn around, a sharp gasp erupted behind me. I whipped around. The baron stood with his arms crossed, staring at the three of us.
Although I was shocked, I didn’t move or say a word. I had hoped we’d be further away from London before they found us, and then I was hoping for one of the bribable crew members.
“Father!” Genevieve popped up and fell out of her hammock. Rodin growled and soared in a circle around her. She quickly stood and composed herself.
“Baron,” I said as I stepped forward, “I can explain.”
“Silence! I need not an explanation to understand this.” He pointed to the three of us, but stared at his daughter. “We talked about this. You were supposed to remain behind.”
“I will not be pushed aside because I am a girl.”
“That is not the issue, Genevieve, and I will not have this discussion in front of others.”
She huffed and spun around, turning her back to him.
Rodin landed back on her shoulder turned his back to the baron and fluffed his wings as he folded them back. The baron pursed his lips, but did not chastise his daughter further.
I held up my hand, but the baron stopped me.
“Do not start with me, Alexander. Might I say, your father will be incensed when he sees you. He’s already against this journey, and now, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He spun back to Genevieve. “How … how could you bring Owethu? Do you know what you’ve done? This could cause an international incident.”
She refused to turn around but said, “He has every right to be here, Father. The Knights of the Golden Circle are trying to frame his people for murder.”
The baron sighed but did not respond to this truth. . He tried. He raised his finger and opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped.
“All three of you, on the bridge. Now.” He stood aside and pointed to the door.
“We’re only here to help,” I said, knowing the baron, and especially my father, would insist on returning to London. “Besides, we’re a year older and wiser.”
“Wiser?” the baron said. “A knight would have done as he was ordered.”
His words pierced like a dagger that found its mark. I was worthy. Wiser—and a better warrior. So was Genevieve. But every time I tried to prove this to one of the Templar, all they wanted was for me to stay behind. “With respect, Baron Kensington, if we’d done that last year, it would have ended in disaster.”
Seeing the baron and Genevieve’s eyes pop open, as did Owethu’s, I wish I’d held my tongue. But the words just slipped out. Would I never learn? The baron pointed toward the stairs, and in a clipped voice said, “March.”
Genevieve turned so the baron couldn’t see and winked at me, but it faded as she brushed past her father. Owethu and I followed, neither of us saying a word as we approached the door. Rodin flew around the gun de
ck and then soared back and slapped the baron in the back with his tail. I tried not to laugh as Rodin landed on my shoulder. I rubbed his head, but didn’t look back to see the baron’s reaction.
As we walked to the bridge, I stared at the Sparrowhawk’s interior. This saved me from the endless scenarios forming in my mind of the scolding I’d have to endure between my father and the captain. She looked the same, but with a few improvements, upgrades, and new embellishments. “Hey they fixed that,” I said pointing to the brass fixture holding the railing to the wall.
Mr. Singh stepped off the bridge and shut the hatch. Seeing us, he stopped. His mouth slightly agape. Immediately, he spun around, opened the door, and walked right back onto the bridge. I guess he wanted to watch our thrashing.
We stepped through the open hatch onto the bridge. My father stopped mid-sentence, and along with Chief Zwelethu turned to us. Both their faces dropped. My father removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose like he did when he’d been peering over his books too long. Chief Zwelethu narrowed his eyes on his son, but did not speak, either. We we’re in trouble with a capital ‘T’. This must be what stepping in front of a firing squad felt like.
Captain Baldarich, sat on his chair upon the raised platform in the center of the bridge. He stared at us, and a large smile spread across his face as he stroked his mustache, which ran along his cheek and joined to his sideburns. He hadn’t changed at all. I grinned, openmouthed. I couldn’t help it.
“Well, well, well. Master Alexander, it seems you have a bad habit of stowing away on my ship.” He leaned forward putting the worn elbows of his red leather jacket against his knees. “And you know what I do to stowaways.” He clapped his hands together and stood. “Mr. Singh, prepare the gangplank. We’ve got three thirsty crew members.”
Mr. Singh nodded. He looked at me and shrugged.
My father spun around to the captain. “Surely, sir, we can discuss this. Let us take the kids back, and then we can continue.”
