Master of Myth (The Antigone's Wrath Series Book 1)

by Starla Huchton

  “Departure protocol omega initiated,” Iris called into the communication tubing that ran throughout the ship. A few grumbles of disapproval came back, but the crew complied. The gas pressure gauges rose. On a leisurely cruise, the sails would fill over the course of several hours. For a fast take-off, the heat of the gas in the pipes would build until near to bursting in order to fill the sails in a matter of minutes. While the method worked in a pinch, too many uses of the technique could result in exploding pipes, or worse. Rachel gripped the back of the pilot’s chair to keep steady and glanced down the pier. Her pursuers had cleared the far end of the docks.

  A gruff voice called through the tubing, giving the “all go” for engineering. More confirmations followed. The crew topside would give her visual indications of readiness. When the final call came in, Iris waited. “Captain?”

  Rachel gave a terse nod and took her place at the wheel. The first mate released the brake and pushed the engines to ahead one-eighth. “Give her a bit more, Iris,” she called over her shoulder. “I need speed, and I need it now.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Iris clucked her tongue at the reckless pace.

  Pulling away from the dock was not the time to experiment with piloting accuracy, even if she was a master helmsman. There was little chance another ship would be ready or notified in time to intercept them, regardless of their speed. Rachel knew Iris wanted to say something, but a single look told her that it was not the time for helpful suggestions. Iris set her jaw and went back to monitoring dials and flipping switches.

  “Stop fuming back there.” Rachel sighed. “I’ll explain it all later. I’ve a good one for you this time.” It was sadness, and not amusement that colored her words. In times past, the need to be away quickly was always accompanied by a jovial laugh and a bawdy story. She only wished it were so now.

  Rachel took a rough turn to avoid the path of a barge and cursed under her breath. “How are the gauges looking, Iris? We need to get airborne.” She yanked down the periscope with one hand and adjusted it to the rear view. “I won’t relax until they’re a good fifty leagues behind us.”

  Iris cocked an eyebrow at this. “They? Who are they?”

  Rachel cringed and let the periscope go. “I don’t know, Iris. I honestly don’t. I told you we’d discuss it later, and I won’t discuss it until it is later. The gauges?”

  “We’re nearly to the mark. Another minute, and she’ll be there.”

  Rachel corrected course to avoid a cargo ship, then sighed to see the remaining path before them was clear.

  “Make ready for air travel,” Iris said into the communication tube.

  Gears ground in protest as the deck crew loosened the rigging and wound it into the spools attached to the masts. Rachel watched them lock the reels in place to secure the cable. “Fill the sails!” she said.

  Bracing her foot against the wall, Iris grabbed a lever with two hands and heaved, a muffled bang indicating the gas was on its way. The six flat sails grew to resemble giant, withered fruit hanging on either side of the three masts, and fully inflated in minutes. The ship lurched, fighting gravity, but the superheated gases in the balloons insisted on taking them into the skies. Iris crossed the pilothouse to the panel that controlled the engines and switched them over to flight mode to adjust the ship for air travel.

  When they reached cruising altitude, Rachel flopped back in her chair and released a relieved breath. After sounding the “all clear,” Iris approached her with arms crossed, awaiting explanation.

  Rachel’s head lolled to the side to look at the first mate in exhaustion. “All right, all right, but not here. Fetch Danton and meet me in my quarters.”

  Chapter Two

  The Brotherhood

  As Iris approached the mahogany desk in the captain’s quarters, Rachel placed the ring and confiscated dagger on its surface. At the sight of the ring, Iris clasped her hands tightly behind her back in an effort to restrain her excited grasp.

  Danton strode in with his usual swagger, hands deep in the pockets of his brown, pinstriped trousers, tweed jacket swaying loosely about his waist. At ten paces from her desk, the master-at-arms came to a dead stop, his eyes fixed on the hilt of the knife she had taken from the fight.

  “Danton?” Rachel said, but he seemed not to hear her. “Monsieur DuSalle?”

  Iris laid a hand on his arm and his entire body recoiled. A trained killer’s reflex tightened his face and shoulders, but only briefly. He hadn’t lost himself in thought so much as to lash out at a friend, but the Frenchman’s knuckles were white in his clenched fists.

  “Apologies, Capitaine.” He seated himself in one of the guest chairs but remained distracted by what lay on the desk.

  In the ten years she knew him, Rachel never saw him react to anything with such obvious hatred. With a quick calculation, she decided she would ask him what he knew of the weapon, but not right away. She would do better to let its presence and possible meanings rest with him for a few moments.

  Iris lowered herself into the chair next to Danton. He continued to watch the knife as though it were a snake that might strike at any moment.

  “You’re aware of my regular meetings with Mrs. Tweed here in Grimsby, yes?” Rachel asked. They nodded in acknowledgment. “Danton, you’re likely unaware she was the woman who cared for me as a child while my father was away at sea. She was kind and thoughtful, though not always encouraging of my chosen profession.” She stopped as small bits of memories flitted at the edge of her awareness, threatening her composure. “She was a very dear friend.”

  “Was?” Iris asked, worry creasing her forehead. “Rachel, what’s happened?”

  Ignoring the question for now, she continued. “This ring,” Rachel jabbed a finger at the object in question. “Is no simple piece of jewelry. I discovered this shortly after I boarded this morning. What it does exactly, I don’t know. I’m not at all sure I want to know. When I realized it was one of these objects you have such an affinity for, Iris, I immediately set out to return it to Mrs. Tweed.”

  Iris opened her mouth to speak, but Rachel held up a hand to stop her. “In this case I was not inclined to hang on to it to turn a profit. I cannot tell you why, but I have the distinct feeling that this isn’t one of those innocent trinkets. That sort is positively commonplace in comparison. In the five seconds I held this ring between my fingers, its power was undeniable. While true that I hold no love for Aether Manipulation, the feelings I get from this one…” She shuddered, remembering the strange sound and stench in the air. “No, Iris. Not this one. Selling it to the highest bidder is out of the question. And, no,” she sighed as the first mate reached a hand forward, “you may not have it. Not until I know exactly what it is and what it does.”

  The disappointment was evident on Iris’s face, but Rachel would not concede. She generally overlooked her first mate’s trading in illegal magical items, but they’d never come across anything quite so obviously dangerous before. It was because of items like this ring that those objects were rendered contraband by her Majesty Queen Victoria in 1840. In the forty-two years since, governments worldwide followed suit and became intolerant of any trade in such things, even if the one in question were completely benign.

  “When I attempted to return the ring, there were four gentlemen already there, surrounding Mrs. Tweed. One of them used this to pin her to the building while the others got out their clubs.” She flicked the dagger in disgust. “From what I overheard before the violence began, they were probably looking for this.” She indicated the ring, but her gaze was trained on Danton now. “They managed a few swings before I could intervene, and by the time I’d secured the situation… it was too late.” She closed her eyes, fighting to contain her anger and sadness. “Before she died, Mrs. Tweed told me that this ring belonged to my mother, and that I must keep it safe.”

  Iris stifled a gasp and Rachel shared a meaningful look with her. They understood each other perfectly.

  “So that is wha
t I know.” Rachel studied them each in turn, brushing a lock of dark brown hair from her face. “I look to you to help me fill in the rest.”

  Iris said nothing as she pondered. Danton looked like he would rather crawl out of his skin to leave the room than discuss the items before him. “You’re a fool, Monsieur DuSalle, if you think I’ll believe you know nothing of at least one of these articles.”

  “I…” He paused, then seemed to resign himself. “You would do best to toss that,” he pointed to the knife, “and I would put as much distance between yourself and that ring as you possibly can.”

  “And why is that?” Rachel would not let the matter drop. She didn’t like being in the dark with regard to her enemies. With a quick motion, she snapped up the dagger and weighed it in her hand, still scrutinizing Danton. “Who, precisely, does this belong to, why did they beat an innocent old woman to death, and why is this little piece of metal of such interest to them?”

  “And you think I have all the answers to your questions?” Danton squirmed in the chair.

  Clearly he had no desire to discuss this matter. She didn’t relish putting him in this position, but she had no alternatives before her. “If you do not have them all, I suspect that what you do know will go a long way in determining the rest.”

  He passed his hand over his face wearily, stretching out the aging skin as it pulled downwards. It was times like these that every second of his forty-four years were truly visible. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth seemed to get a little deeper, and his dark hair, barely touched with silver at the temples, seemed to fade. “That knife belongs to a group known as the Brotherhood. When the angle is correct, you can see the insignia when the light hits the end of the hilt.”

  Rachel twirled it around and studied the weapon. On the silver, ball-shaped end of the ebony shaft was a crest. She only caught a glimpse of it at first, but as she turned and twisted the dagger more carefully, she was able to study the seal. It was very simple, being only a few words of Latin engraved in an unbroken circle, surrounding a heart with a bolt of lightning piercing it. “Evinco, in toto, cum cor et sententia unum,” she read.

  “To conquer, entirely, with one heart and one way of thinking,” he translated, saving her from having to ask.

  She set the blade down and waited patiently for his explanation. She never pushed Danton to talk about his past, as much out of respect for him as to avoid talking about her own, but it seemed now she had no choice. If he weren’t forthcoming, she would have to force him. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  When he spoke, his accent thickened, as though the story pulled him back to his French roots. “Back in my youth, I knew my father’s family had ties to them. It seemed a point of fact, rather than anything out of the ordinary. My grandfather was always encouraging me to take their pledge, as he and my uncles had done. I had no interest in causes, so I avoided it for a long time.

  “When my parents died and the estate was left to me, there was an assumption I would step into my expected duties. Again, I avoided it by making excuses, being busy with the management of family affairs, and, soon after, settling in with my new wife, Sabine. We had only been married a year before our son was born.

  “One evening, as I rummaged through some old diaries of my father’s, I came across a strange sketch. It depicted a hidden panel to a safe I had not known existed. Naturalement, I had to investigate, lest there be anything of value I had to account for in the estate holdings. Sabine, the curious thing she was, was at my side the whole time. When I was finally able to open the safe, the things we found inside were not what we expected. I cannot accurately describe everything it contained, but Sabine informed me that all the objects were highly charged magical items. I had no care for such things, but it was a fascinating subject for my wife. I saw no harm in it, and left her to do as she would with them.

  “As you might imagine, this was not a wise choice on my part, but, lovely as she was, I could deny her nothing. I had all but put it from my mind when the Brotherhood came calling one evening. There were three of them, dressed head to toe in black, but only one of them spoke. He told me I could either join the Brotherhood or hand over the items my family had been charged with keeping. I promptly told him I had no intention of doing either, to which he said no more, and the men departed.

  “Time passed, and I forgot the incident.” He slouched in the chair, weary. “One of my uncle’s shops had been struggling, and I went to see if I might lend some assistance in his efforts to save it. It was only a few hours away, so I saw no reason not to go. Five days later, as my carriage passed through the outskirts of town on my return, fire brigades rushed past, nearly running us off the road. I suspected then what I would find when I reached my address, but I refused to believe it.” He swallowed hard and took a deep, steadying breath. “The flames were visible for blocks before I came to my home. I watched helplessly as men tried to douse the great bonfire. The house and everything, everyone, in it was consumed. Later, there were unconfirmed reports of shouts and breaking glass before the fire started, but nothing could ever be proven. The day I buried my family, I received a telegram thanking me for the return of the items to the Brotherhood.”

  Rachel closed her eyes and leaned her chin against her templed fingers. “My deepest regrets to you, Danton. I did not wish to bring back forgotten pain.”

  He didn’t meet her gaze, and his voice was cold. “Your sympathies are noted, Mon Capitaine, but do not confuse my reluctance to relate the story with having forgotten it. I remember it every moment of every day. It is why I have trained so hard and for so long to achieve proficiency with weapons. It is so when I meet one of those bastards, I can kill him with the mercy they denied my wife and child.”

  Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Then you will have no objection to killing any one of them on sight, should they cross our path in the future?”

  A grim smile crossed his mouth. “Quite the contrary. It will be a nice change to have your permission.”

  Rachel’s focus returned to the ring. “Would you have any insight as to why they would want this particular piece?”

  Danton shook his head. “Apologies, but, non. All the documentation I had on anything to do with the Brotherhood was reduced to ash. There is very little I recall about the journals, although…” He trailed off and leaned in a bit more closely to the desk. “I do remember seeing a series of sketches that had particular significance to my father. It was some sort of machine, but the various elements were not identified in the drawings. Could be they were still building the thing or searching for parts.”

  Rachel looked at the first mate, who quietly contemplated the story. “Iris, is there anything you might be able to add? Or perhaps some contact you might know that would be of use?”

  Iris looked pensive. “If you don’t mind, could I examine the ring for a moment? It will help to discover what we’re dealing with.”

  After a brief hesitation, Rachel acquiesced. The first mate did not pick up the bauble, instead letting her hand hover above it as she concentrated, eyes closed. Rachel and Danton waited in silence for her verdict.

  “Very strange,” Iris murmured. “I cannot determine the elemental alignment of this object. However, its power is incomparable to anything I’ve ever felt before. I agree with your assessment that it is dangerous.”

  Rachel frowned. Everything about this ring left her on edge. “And as for anyone who might know more?”

  Iris cocked her head, as though paging through her mental list of possible sources. “There might be one…” She paused. “Yes, I think I know of one person who might have the knowledge we seek. It will require a trip to Tibet, however.”

  “The monastery?” Rachel asked.

  Iris nodded. “My teacher at Zhuqing should be able to tell us more.”

  “And you feel this is our most viable option?”

  Rachel watched the stubborn look settle onto Iris’s face. “I know it is. And yes, I do realize the risk we fac
e in heading that direction.”

  Rachel looked at Danton, who only shrugged with upturned palms, indicating his lack of a better idea. With a sigh, she decided. “Very well then. We’ll set a course for Singapore after our stop in La Rochelle, and pray Yong Wu doesn’t object to our surprise visit.”

  “What news, my Brother?” the raspy voice hissed from beneath the cloak at the top of the stairs. The dark figure perched on the twisted wooden throne, face shrouded, malice simmering beneath the hood.

  “We determined the identity of the woman to be Captain Rachel Sterling, Highest One. We believe she is in possession of the object, but she eluded us before we could capture her. She killed two of my best men and maimed a third. I only barely managed to escape her myself.” As he spoke, his fingers dug into the brim of the bowler hat.

  “I’ve heard of this woman, but I do not believe you did much to detain her upon your meeting,” the figure said. The cloak shifted as he leaned forward, waiting to hear an explanation.

  “She took us by surprise, Highest One. Had I not escaped with my life, the Brotherhood would never have known of her at all.” He shifted his weight nervously.

  “A weapon is missing,” the cloaked figure said. “Has she taken that, as well as our ring and your dignity?”

  He braced himself for reprimand. “Yes, My Lord. She stole it from one of our dead brothers.”

  “Then at least do something useful. If she has it, you can use it. Get into her head. Find out where she’s going and what she intends to do with our prize.”

  “Yes, Highest One.” The man bowed again and backed out of the hall. “I shall do as you command me.”