Trafalgar Boone and the Children of the Burnt Empire

by Geonn Cannon

  Trafalgar sighed and shook her head. “We’ve come too far to retreat now. But Felix remains in the lead position. If there is someone hostile down there, they might recognize him and be more amenable to his return.”

  “I believe that would be more than fair,” Felix said. “Shall we?”

  “No sense in stopping now.”

  Trafalgar noticed a change in the air as they approached the lake. It was a subtle shift in the air, something she wouldn’t have noticed if she wasn’t paying extremely close attention to her surroundings. Felix approached the overgrowth that hid the underground entrance and used his machete to cut away the extra foliage. Water cascaded over a stone lip, into a dark gap, and she could hear the echo of its splash far below. He started to speak, but stopped and choked on the unspoken words.

  “Captain?” Trafalgar moved closer. “Is everything all right?”

  “Fine, I... I think...” He looked at her and Cora as if he’d never seen them before. His face shifted and, for a moment, his skin was filthy with sweat. Even stranger, his beard was gone and then back in the space of a blink. Before she could say anything, his eyes widened and he brought up a pistol she could have sworn he hadn’t been carrying before. “Rute! Look out!”

  She turned and saw a man rushing at her with a club raised above his head, mouth opened in a scream she couldn’t hear. She planted her feet on the muddy ground, dropped her shoulder, and grabbed the man’s arm as soon as it was close enough. She used his momentum against him, rolling him across her shoulders and hurling him into the water. Felix cried out in pain, but she didn’t have time to deal with him. Another attacker, barefoot and bare-chested like the first but clad in trousers, had knocked Cora to the ground. Trafalgar drew her gun and shot him in the chest before he could further his attack.

  The gun was knocked from her hand by a club she hadn’t seen until just before it made contact. She swore under her breath as the latest attacker wrapped his arms around her waist and shoved her backward. Her foot slipped in the mud and she toppled into the water. The man she had tossed in earlier grabbed hold of her shirt and gave a primal yell as he threw her toward the cave entrance. Water rushed all around her, pushing her closer to the edge. She had no idea how far the fall was or how deep the water at the bottom might be, but it seemed as if she was about to find out in the worst possible--

  She was grabbed by the collar, her momentum stalled long enough for an arm to slip under hers.

  “Good lord, but you’re heavy!”

  The voice was unexpected but gloriously familiar. Trafalgar held on tightly and pushed her feet against the mud and stone to assist in her own salvation. They reached the shore and Trafalgar was released onto the grass. She pushed herself up on her hands, coughed up the water she had swallowed, and twisted to confirm what she’d heard was true.

  Dorothy Boone, soaked to the skin, gasping for breath and rubbing her shoulder. Dorothy looked at her with relief in her eyes which matched that which Trafalgar felt. Trafalgar stood and stared at the other woman as if she was a mirage which could disappear at any moment.

  “I’m not saying I regret doing it,” Dorothy said, “but honestly, how much do you weigh?”

  “You’re alive,” Trafalgar said.

  Dorothy smiled. “As are you. We may be a little worse for wear, but I think--”

  Trafalgar grabbed Dorothy’s face and kissed her. The kiss was too brief and Dorothy’s shock too overpowering for her to respond before it ended.

  “That was unexpected,” Dorothy said, her voice softer than Trafalgar had ever heard.

  “I apologize.” Trafalgar blinked away the moisture in her eyes, hoping Dorothy dismissed it as lake water. “I hadn’t realize how thoroughly I had given up hope of ever seeing you again.”

  Dorothy awkwardly plucked at her wet clothes. “Well, I suppose... I hadn’t stopped long enough to consider the same. But I’m grateful to see you appear to be in one piece. And Cora...” She turned to gesture and saw Cora grappling with one of the shirtless men. “Oh, crumbs!”

  Trafalgar ran to Cora’s aide, but another woman got there first. She grabbed the native by his long hair, pulled him back, and grabbed his throat in a crushing grip. She dropped him and spun on the ball of her foot to attack one of the other natives.

  “Rute, Trafalgar,” Dorothy said. “Trafalgar, this is Rute. She is a frightening woman, but I’ve found it helpful to be on her good side, and she’s proven to be the most reasonable member of the group.”

  “Noted.”

  Rute grunted.

  Matta and Viejas were also fighting, their faces and shirts bloodied but apparently winning their respective bouts. Trafalgar looked to see Felix was slumped where she had last seen him, twitching but seemingly unconscious. Cora got off two shots and dropped one of the natives. This was apparently enough to convince the attackers that the tide had turned against them. Those who were still on their feet switched to defensive tactics so those on the ground could get up and flee.

  “Looks as if we’ve won,” Dorothy said once all the men had vanished into rustling brush.

  “So it would seem,” Trafalgar agreed. “We’re fortunate you came along when you did. Where did you come from, anyway?”

  Dorothy said, “Those men, residents of the Burnt Empire, attacked us not far from here. We tried to fight them off, but Captain Neville insisted we continue on. He thought if we could reach the cave, they would stop following us. Some superstition. We arrived here and it was as though we were walking through a fog. You all looked like ghosts to us.”

  Trafalgar said, “I, for one, am grateful you recognized us when you did.” She looked at Matta and Viejas, who were now tending to Cora’s injuries. The woman Dorothy called Rute was kneeling next to a man Trafalgar had thought was with their attackers. “I assume that either you Slipped into our timeline or we Slipped into yours.”

  “You know about the Slipping theory?”

  “Mm. Captain Neville explained it to us. Did you have someone from his expedition in your timeline to explain it to you?”

  Dorothy looked at Felix. He was still unconscious in the grass. “Yes. Captain Neville. He also said there were two versions of him in the forest, but if he was with you...”

  Trafalgar walked over to the captain and rolled him over. He had a wild, unkempt beard and looked like he had been dragged across rocky terrain to his current position. “The man I spent the past few days with was clean-shaven and spent the past day moving like an Olympian. I assume this is the one from your timeline.”

  “You’re wrong.” Everyone looked at Cora. “This is their version of Captain Neville, but it’s also ours. The timelines merged. That’s why we’re all here together.”

  Dorothy said, “That... Is that...”

  “I don’t know if it means we’re too late to stop history from changing,” Cora said. “It may simply be a side effect of our proximity to the source. But if I were a betting woman, I would say we should make haste while we still have a chance to stop this madness.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I think we should discuss the kiss.”

  Trafalgar grunted. “Do you believe... our current situation is the optimal time for that conversation?”

  “Well,” Dorothy craned her neck to search for the next handhold. She found it, moved her hand, then risked moving her foot from the narrow ledge on which it rested. “We’re both the type to simply ignore something like that. We find ourselves in a moment of relative calm, when we might as well be talking, and I think that is the most pressing topic we could cover.”

  Tiny pebbles rained down on her. She squeezed her eyes shut until the small rockslide ended, then glanced up. Trafalgar was approximately half a meter above her on the stone wall. They were close to the halfway point of the cliff, which she estimated to be approximately ten meters high. Sunlight and water streamed through the cave entrance above them. They were close enough to the waterfall that Dorothy could feel its spray on her cheeks, bu
t she and Trafalgar were both already so thoroughly soaked that it barely registered.

  “You kissed me.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware.” Trafalgar took a deep breath. “I had been told you were most likely dead. I didn’t want to believe it, but the majority of the evidence did imply that conclusion. So while I tried to hold out hope, a larger part of me accepted the fact you were gone. And then there you were, saving my life, like some sort of dazzling angel. I was overwhelmed with emotion.”

  Dorothy moved down another step. She could see the cave floor below her, a jagged ledge between the river and the wall.

  “So there’s no need for a discussion?”

  “Beyond the one we’re having now? No, I don’t believe so.”

  Dorothy said, “No lingering feelings?”

  “None that I’m aware of.”

  “Was that... blast!”

  Trafalgar’s boots scraped on the stone. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I just grabbed a particularly sharp rock. I was going to ask if that was your first experience kissing another woman.”

  “Ah. It was. And to answer the question you’re actually asking, I had never considered being with a woman romantically or sexually before we made our acquaintance. Seeing you and Beatrice together made me consider the possibilities of a Sapphic relationship. I don’t know if I would ever take the leap. I am still very attracted to men. But perhaps if I met someone, I would be open to all options. Does that answer your question?”

  “It does, thank you. I’m just glad to know kissing me didn’t sour you on the idea of kissing women.”

  “Hardly.” There was laughter in her voice. “In fact, when we return to London, I intend to tell Beatrice she is a very fortunate woman.”

  “I’m the fortunate one,” Dorothy said softly. Her foot touched a wide, flat surface and she looked to confirm she had reached the bottom. She stepped away from the wall and rolled her shoulders, then examined her fingers to gauge the severity of any cuts or scrapes she had endured from the climb. A half dozen red marks of various length covered the pads. “Hm. I should have worn gloves.”

  “You weren’t wearing gloves?”

  Dorothy rolled her eyes, then turned to examine where she was as she waited for Trafalgar to join her. It was a tall tower of stone, with the Pratear River accumulating in a shallow pool before continuing on through a diamond-shaped hole in the far wall. Neville and Ketcham obviously hadn’t been in any state to make the descent, so Cora volunteered to stay on solid ground to watch over them. Rute, along with Trafalgar and Cora’s compatriots, were acting as security to ensure the Burnt Empire didn’t attack again.

  Trafalgar reached the bottom and brushed the dirt from her clothes as she caught her breath. “I have to say, I do enjoy this aspect of our partnership.”

  “The incredibly dangerous part, where we’re potentially trapped in a dark underground tomb with who knows what ahead of us?”

  Trafalgar smiled. “Yes, actually. When it’s just the two of us against who-knows-what. I had a sense of that before, when I was working with Leola and Adeline, but they treated me as the leader of our little trio. I suppose that’s partially my fault. But being in situations like this, with you, as equals... it’s what I was hoping for when I started doing this nonsense.”

  Dorothy chuckled. “I have to agree with you on that. Although I would prefer to be drier next time.”

  “Yes, that would be ideal. Do you have the torch?”

  Dorothy retrieved it from her pack and switched it on. She swept the area and moved forward to shine it into the tunnel. They had compared notes while they were still on the surface, combining what each version of Neville had told them to get a complete idea of what they might be facing. Unfortunately neither account was particularly enlightening about the underground portion of his journey.

  “Once more unto the breach?”

  Trafalgar grunted. “Perhaps our rallying cry shouldn’t be part of a speech which mentions ‘English dead’.”

  “Hm, good point. Nothing else comes to mind, so let’s just... go.”

  #

  Felix no longer looked like himself. Or rather, he didn’t look like the man she met a few days earlier. He looked like that man’s brother, vaguely familiar but also not. The Felix Neville she’d met had been clean-shaven but this man had a beard. He was wearing different clothing, and there was the pink scar tissue of an old burn under the collar of his shirt. He’d been unconscious since their arrival at the lake, but he woke as they moved him to lean against a tree next to the concussed man Dorothy had introduced as Mr. Ketcham. Felix sat silently, swiveling his head back and forth to take in his surroundings.

  Rute had quickly taken command of the men who were still capable of putting up a defense. They were currently establishing a perimeter to make sure the natives wouldn’t attack them again. She was tending to Ketcham’s wounds when she became aware of Felix staring at her. It was peculiar. She felt as if she’d built up a rapport with the man, but now he was regarding her like they’d never met.

  “How are you feeling, Captain?”

  “Your name is Cora, isn’t it? Cora... Hart.”

  “Cora Hyde,” she said with an understanding smile. “I’ll try not to be very offended. You have been referring to me by my given name, so it makes sense that the other might slip your mind.”

  He grunted softly and looked at the water again. “You’re like someone I once knew in a dream. Or the other part was a dream, and I’m...” He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “There was an airplane. Massive and marvelous, unlike nothing I’ve ever seen. Splendid even in decay. Was that real? You and I, we stood in that plane. I tied you to a chair.”

  “Afraid not,” she said.

  “God damn my brain,” he whispered. “I can no longer... I can’t know if I’m remembering a memory I lived, or recalling an event that happened to him, or just remembering a dream. I only know exactly what I’m looking at now, and even that seems to be through a haze.”

  Cora put a canteen in his hands and helped him take a drink. “Something definitely happened to you, Captain Neville. Something none of us have ever seen or could have prepared for. It’s bound to be traumatic. Soon we’ll be out of this forest and back to civilization where you can recover in peace and safety.”

  He lowered his head. “I pray you never have to feel this... uncertainty.”

  “I... actually have felt something similar, I think. I spent a while in a sanitarium. By choice, I assure you. I couldn’t trust my mind or my actions, and I had fallen into a deep depression. I worried I might harm myself just to silence the storm behind my eyes. I don’t know if that unsettled feeling will ever completely go away. But I’m learning to accept it as part of me. For better or worse.”

  Neville looked up and met her gaze. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. For now, rest.”

  She patted his arm and stood. She walked to the shore and focused on the point where the lake became a waterfall. The plan, established before Dorothy and Trafalgar disappeared over the edge and began their slow descent, was they would have ninety minutes to explore. At the end of that time, Cora would try to make contact with them. If they didn’t answer, she was supposed to gather everyone and head back to safety. Whether that meant the camp she and Trafalgar remembered or the airplane wreckage Dorothy had come from, no one could say.

  Cora stared at the cave entrance and tried not to think of another dark scar in rocky ground. An island in the Mediterranean, a beast she had never seen but felt deep in her bones. It elicited a feeling of sheer, primal terror in the unevolved part of her brain. It was the part of humanity that never quite left the forest, the part that let her see the movement of a spider from the corner of her eye or woke her in the middle of the night because there’d been a strange sound.

  She’d lost people the last time she saw a cave like this. She didn’t know what happened to them, if they had died quickly or in
terror, and that knowledge haunted her. She swore this time it would be different. No matter what happened here, she would not leave Dorothy or Trafalgar in the dark unknown.

  #

  Trafalgar was tasked with keeping an eye on the time, since Dorothy couldn’t be trusted to check her watch with any regularity in a situation like this. Climbing down the wall had taken twenty-three minutes of their exploration time. They had been following the Pratear for nearly ten minutes now. It stretched the width of the tunnel, which meant their boots and pants-legs were soaked. She wasn’t looking forward to a day-long trek back to camp in that condition.

  Ahead of her, Dorothy held up her hand. They both stopped, and Trafalgar tilted her head so she could listen for whatever Dorothy had heard. Water lapped against stone and the echo was almost musical. She was about to give up when the sound came again. A slap, louder than a wave would make against the stone walls, followed by a long sliding noise.

  “That’s not a good sound,” Dorothy whispered.

  “I can’t say whether it’s good or bad,” Trafalgar said, matching her volume, “but it doesn’t exactly encourage me to continue forward.”

  Dorothy said, “We could go back...”

  Trafalgar shook her head. “Whatever is happening, it started down here. We have to continue forward. Would you like me to take the lead?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She faced forward again. “With this echo, that sound was just as likely to have come from behind us.”

  “Comforting...”

  “Keep your eyes open, Miss Trafalgar.”

  They started moving again. “In the spirit of taking our minds off whatever that noise may have been, I want you to know I am not offended.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I was very emotionally vulnerable with you on the wall. I admitted that I feared you were lost forever and how that made me feel. But you didn’t reciprocate. You probably had some uncertainty as to my fate, and Cora’s. You could have expressed some relief at the discovery we had survived the attack.”

  Dorothy stopped walking but didn’t turn around.