Iron Zulu Page 10

  “Only named after him,” I said, and Owethu nodded.

  Genevieve’s expression hardened. “The Knights of the Golden Circle are definitely complex.”

  “So, how do we cut through their knot?” Mr. Singh asked.

  I sat up straight. “The Black Knight could do it.”

  We all laughed. Mr. Singh jerked up as if something just came to him. “Alexander, help me with the airship. Let’s see what can be salvaged.”

  I shrugged. “Sure.” We walked over to the pile of wood and canvas. “The kite sail is in good shape,” he said. “Here, help me.” We lifted the canvas flap to reveal the bronze burner. “At least we still have a way of inflating the balloon.”

  “That is good news.” I looked over the parts of the crippled ship.

  “Gather the wing sails, ropes, and any wood that is not damaged.”

  “This might work, Mr. Singh.”

  “If anyone can make her fly, we can.”

  For the next few hours, by firelight, as we pieced together a jigsaw puzzle of parts, Mr. Singh and I told Owethu about the battle in London last year. Genevieve didn’t contribute; she only stared at the dancing flames. Not even the hint of a smile crossed her face when I mentioned her using the Bronze Knight to rip the heart out of the Iron Horseman last year.

  Once we’d finished crafting our makeshift aircraft, with a grand arcing gesture, I said, “We christen this vessel the Kite Flinger.” One of the winglets dropped to the ground. “It will be a miracle if we don’t plummet from the sky.”

  “That does not inspire confidence, Alexander,” Owethu stated.

  “I can fling us into the sky. How long we stay there …” Mr. Singh shrugged.

  Genevieve opened her locket and stared at the image inside. I knew she was thinking about her mother. I’d seen the look before when the baron’s life was in danger. She stood and slipped off through the ruins. With Mr. Singh rechecking every connection, I went to find her. I wandered over to a crumbled wall. She sat on the base of a toppled column looking out at the castle across the valley.

  “There has to be an explanation,” I said as I dropped on one of the column drums.

  “This must be some sinister plot, but for how long? My parents fought the knights for years. Was my mother part of this … all along?” She looked at me as if I could give her the answer.

  “From what you’ve said about her, I can’t believe that.”

  She shook her head as if trying to make sense of it. “My mother mysteriously returns … and is an assassin for the Golden Circle?”

  “We’ll figure out what’s really going on.”

  “I will make her tell me when next we meet …” She swiped her eyes to whisk away any tears before they fell. “My heart can’t survive losing her again.”

  We sat in silence. I wanted to tell her it would be okay, but in truth I had no idea what the future held. Every time I tried to wrap my mind around the diabolical plans of the Knights of the Golden Circle I blew a steam pipe and it all jumbled back together.

  I extended my hand. “Let’s go back to the fire and get warm.”

  She nodded and slipped her fingers through mine. I sat by the fire with her beside me. A cool winter breeze whipped the flames about, and Genevieve curled up against me. I pulled her close, wrapping my arm around her. Rodin coiled up between us.

  Mr. Singh stepped off. “I’ll take watch.”

  CHAPTER 18

  PLUCKED FROM THE SKY

  I woke suddenly with two aches. One in my shoulder where Genevieve still lay against me. The other, my gut, twisting into knots. Danger. I stiffened.

  Genevieve sat up and looked at me. “Trouble?”

  Mr. Singh ran into the alcove. “Several men on horseback, riding out of the castle. Heading this way.”

  I got up and helped Genevieve to her feet. We peaked through one of the openings in the dilapidated cathedral. A line of horses were charging toward us across the broad valley. “That is more than we can handle,” I said.

  “Oh no. The Black Freighter is taking off.” She pointed toward the castle as the airship rose above the stone.

  We turned back to see Owethu and Mr. Singh prepping our creation.

  “We don’t have much time, Mr. Singh.”

  As Mr. Singh lit the burner and inflated the balloon, the craft started to take shape, and my confidence grew. Struts now secured the balloon above us, and the kite sail was ready to unfurl.

  Still, the ship looked rickety. “Do you think she’ll hold together, Mr. Singh?”

  “Of course,” he shrugged and chuckled. “But the real question, is, for how long.”

  “They’re getting away,” Genevieve said, “and the….”

  “Just a moment longer, milady.” Mr. Singh tightened a rope as Owethu continued to stoke the fire in the burner with each exhale.

  I turned back around to find the Knights of Golden Circle, halfway across the valley. I’d never felt more like a castle guard in my life. Pivoting to the Kite Flinger, I saw the balloon was almost taut, and Mr. Singh was testing his controls. Moments later, thick cables shot over the ruins. Soon a mesh of wires above prevented our escape.

  Owethu joined me and Genevieve at the edge of the wall. The front ranks of KGC cavalry surrounded us, as the rest formed up in lines to the south. A soldier, his sword drawn, called out, “Renoncer, Templar racaille.”

  “He wants us to surrender,” I said.

  Owethu asked, “What do we do now?”

  “I don’t know.” My heart sank in my chest. “We can’t fight that many soldiers, and now, we can’t fly.

  Genevieve reached over and grabbed her sword that rested against the wall. Pulling the belt through the buckle, she secured the sheath, and snarled, “He left off the part where they called us scum.”

  We laughed, but Mr. Singh, still filling the balloon, shouted, “Almost ready.”

  The soldier called out again, and I could hear them debating how best to strike.

  Genevieve drew her saber. “We’re out of time.”

  I heard the soldier yell, “Charge de cathedrale!” The order had been given. In moments, we would be surrounded, or worse, they’d charge in and cut us down. The thought of dying here on consecrated ground didn’t appeal to me. Everything inside me screamed to run away, but there was nowhere to go, and if we fled, all of this would have been for nothing. I had to stop Kannard. I pulled the Thumper from my belt and we all retreated into the center of the cathedral, far from the doors, amongst the pews for protection. I steeled myself for the sound of hooves galloping toward us.

  “Listen!” Genevieve gasped. The sound of hooves drummed against the crumbling walls around us, but in the distance we heard a distant thunder, and then a trumpet blared.

  Genevieve laughed. Then she started pounding my shoulder with her fist. She rushed over to a crumbled wall. “Templars! … On metal steeds,” she shouted.

  “What?” I darted to her side.

  Cresting the ridge to the east, a long line of silver horses, with the rising sun behind them, swarmed down into the valley. They shook the ground as their dazzling hooves tossed clods of grass in their wake. Two knights, each in the white tunics and chain mail of the Templar Knights, rode atop one silver steed. Once they were within range, small cannons slid out the steed’s chest and fired upon the soldiers. Explosions tore the ground around the cathedral, and disrupted the ranks of the KGC cavalry. At a full gallop, the Templar’s silver steeds plowed through the enemy, knocking the enemy cavalry from their horses, crushing the men, their horses galloping back to the castle, leaving the soldiers surrounded and trapped within the Templers ranks.

  “They’ve done it!” I cried.

  As Mr. Singh and Owethu finished prepping the craft, Genevieve and I stepped out to face the only lone rider on a silver steed as he approached the cathedral. He appeared as nothing more than a shadow, with the morning sun behind him.

  I shielded my eyes from the gleaming sleek silver steed as it
continued to approach, hoping to see the knight who’d seized victory and rescued us. The darkness held and I only saw the outline of a figure with his hand raised. As horse and rider entered the ruins, the shadows disappeared, revealing Eustache de Moley.

  My heart soared. “Eustache!” I knew a more formal greeting was the custom, but I couldn’t believe my eyes. My friend was alive. I rushed forward. “You’re alive!”

  Eustache smiled and dismounted. “I’m a Templar, death is nothing more than a return to god, and my work is not yet done.” He made a cross over his heart. “Surely, you didn’t think that Four Thieves Potion was the only little treasure I had developed.”

  “But I saw Hendrix stab you.”

  “And it hurt a great deal.”

  “I’m just glad you are okay.”

  “Me as well.” He turned to Genevieve, who stood with the grace of a noblewoman. She curtsied, and he bowed. “Milady, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Thank you, but it is I who must express my joy at seeing you. We feared you had saved my father’s life at the cost of your own. A price too high; but I owe you everything for returning him to me.”

  “It was nothing more than my duty, milady.” Eustache nodded. “And it is a price I would have paid gladly. Thankfully, the fates have another plan for us.”

  “Thank you for saving us,” I said, then pointed at the pieced-together airship. “We’d never have escaped the KGC without your intervention.”

  “What is that?” Eustache asked, pointing to the airship.

  “The remains of our Kite Skipper.” I smiled proud that she was still airworthy. At least I hoped she was.

  “The remains?”

  Genevieve smiled. “They shot us from the sky, but Mr. Singh here, can fly anything. Isn’t that what Captain Baldarich always says?”

  Mr. Singh chuckled, “Aye, ’tis true.”

  Eustache smiled and grabbed the reins of his steed. “Then you must get going. Follow them. My knights and I will storm the castle. I shall tell the baron you all are well, and where you have gone.”

  “But the ropes,” Owethu pointed to the cables crisscrossing above. “We cannot fly from here.”

  “I’ll deal with this web.” Eustache jumped back on his horse. “God speed to you all.”

  “Wait. You should come with us.” I reached out for him but quickly drew back. Pleading for his help seemed unbefitting a knight. Eustache was an important member of the Templar Order, and even in times like these, protocol must be maintained.

  “Master Alexander, I have the utmost confidence in you. It is my duty to inform the others. Now go!” He pulled on the reins and the silver steed leapt atop a large cut block of stone, reared on his hind legs, and then sprang over a fallen wall, landing on top of a column no longer supporting the ceiling. When Eustache twisted the pommel, two spinning saw blades emerged from the silver steed’s shoulders. He pulled back the reins and commanded the silver steed to leap upward, cutting through the cables. When the horse landed, it felt as if a monumental earthquake erupted. Eustache continued toward the castle without looking back.

  With open skies now above, we strapped ourselves into the contraption, and with a strong gust of wind, the aircraft soared out of the cathedral. Mr. Singh pulled a strap releasing the kite sail, which pillowed in the stiff breeze and drew us up into the clouds. Mr. Singh steadied our vessel with the kitesail and winglets. It was good to be in the sky again, and the warm winds from the Mediterranean ended the stinging cold.

  As the wind subsided, though, the craft began a swift descent.

  “What is happening?” I grabbed the struts as the pit of my stomach suddenly pushed up against my lungs.

  Mr. Singh pulled on the ropes. “There’s not enough hot air to keep us buoyant.” Being the sailor he was, he managed to scoop enough of the wind with the kitesail and push us forward.

  We cruised into a wind stream and it pulled us along like a boat in a river. Mr. Singh kept us on the leading edge at top speed and darted through cloudbanks. Ahead of us, the Black Freighter chugged along, puffing black smoke and leaving a perfect trail.

  As the day continued, Mr. Singh used air currents to soar high above the Black Freighter, and then glide downward until we dipped below the airship. I worried about being seen, but soon realized Mr. Singh’s navigational expertise prevented that. They’d need a really good eye and perfect timing to see us.

  We followed the Black Freighter to the coast and then out over the Mediterranean Sea. My worries about the wind dying down exploded. Had trouble happened over land, Mr. Singh would have dropped us gently to the ground. But now, if the wind failed, we would plunge into sea, never to be found.

  The Black Freighter pulled away, and as I feared, the wind changed direction over the water and we began to slow down. I prepared myself to get wet.

  I pivoted to see how far from land we were, and saw a familiar dot in the sky. An airship soared far behind us, but even from here I could tell it was a dual-color, aero-dirigible. My heart soared. “I think the Sparrowhawk is behind us.”

  Everyone peered over their shoulders at the airship. Genevieve pulled Rodin close and whispered in his ear. He spread his wings and soared off toward the airship, quickly lost among the clouds and endless blue sky.

  Moments later, as a current of wind rushed beneath us, Mr. Singh pulled back on the ropes of the kite sail to take us higher into the sky. As the Sparrowhawk soared up underneath the Kite Flinger, Mr. Singh pulled back hard on the ropes and we smashed down on the aero-dirigible. The broken wood struts of our makeshift craft slid along the taut canvas hull of the airship. He quickly let one rope slip through his hand and the kitesail lost its shape and waffled in the wind, finally falling flat. The balloon of our craft rippled as it deflated. We hurriedly untied ourselves and tumbled onto the Sparrowhawk. Mr. Singh grabbed a corner of the kitesail and quickly rolled it up.

  I kissed the canvas of the Sparrowhawk as its top hatch flipped open. Hunter climbed out, followed by a couple of crewmen. They hooked lines onto our belts, and led us one by one back to the hatch. Three more men gathered the pieces of our craft to bring inside.

  As I peered down into the open hatch, I saw my father’s stern expression. Alongside him, the baron and the captain stared back at me, too. I pulled back, no longer wanting to climb inside. I wondered if a plunge into the ocean wouldn’t have been easier.

  CHAPTER 19

  CROSSING THE MED

  Mr. Singh nudged me toward the ladder of the open hatch. Reluctantly, I descended, knowing that each rung plunged me deeper into trouble. I wanted to climb back up but Mr. Singh was already on the rung above me. I jumped off, the heel of my boot clanging the metal grating of the floor. The clatter sent a chill through my body.

  My father’s voice prickled my skin, “Alexander. Over here, please.”

  I stepped through the crowd of stern faces, until I caught a glimpse of the captain. He smiled and winked. My expression didn’t change, but inside, my heart soared. The grounding I was certain to get would be worth it. We chased our enemies across all of France by ourselves, and even after being shot down, we’d persevered. We reconnected with the Sparrowhawk, and no one got hurt. No, this wasn’t a time for scolding. This was a time of celebration.

  Eustache stepped through the crowd and extended his hand to me. I shook it and he patted me on the back. He stepped off toward Genevieve and her father.

  My father stepped to far side of the ship, and I stepped confidently up to him. I stood straight and proud, refusing to allow his harsh stare to wither me. I resisted. I stood my ground.

  “Alexander,” My father began. He clasped his hands behind him. “Leaving the Sparrowhawk during a battle … without my permission … was foolhardy. Not to mention taking to the skies in that makeshift craft. You could have been …” My father snatched me close and his hot breath pushed through my hair. “I’m so glad you’re alive.” He pulled away from me, his eyes brimming with tears, and said, “Gre
at work.”

  I froze. Obviously I heard him in error. He’d never once in my life told me I’d done anything great. Even after arriving at Eton, when I’d aced one of the tests meant for his students. Instead of telling me I’d gotten them all right he said, ‘I guess I need to rewrite it’.

  Eventually, I managed a, “Glad to be back on board, sir.”

  I looked around and searched for Genevieve. She was on the arm of her father. Rodin clung to the baron’s aiguillette atop his shoulder.

  Mr. Singh was warmly greeted by Captain Baldarich and the crew. “That, Mr. Singh, was a right bit of flying there. I doubt that craft would have held up much longer.”

  “Long enough, Captain,” Mr. Singh said with a smile.

  “Yes, it was.” Baldarich slapped his back and pulled him off. “In celebration, we’ll have Gustav fix something very sweet for dinner tonight.”

  My father pulled my attention back to him with a hand on my shoulder, “What did I just say?”

  I stared at him, blank. I had no idea. I’d been focused on Genevieve, Mr. Singh, and Owethu. My newest friend was in the least amount of trouble. His father embraced him and that was it. They’d already headed off to the bridge with the rest of the crew. I was the one still under interrogation from my father. “Ummm.”

  “Try not to run off again.”

  “No, sir. I mean yessir. I will.”

  He ruffled my hair and we followed the others toward the bridge. As we entered, our allies stood around the map table. Captain Baldarich manipulated two bronze mechanical arms to separate positions over the sea.

  “This is new,” I said. “What is it?”

  Baldarich pointed. “This arm keeps track of the Sparrowhawk’s position on the map. The other I set to the Black Freighter’s position. Then we just have to make a few adjustments along the way. The Tinkerer’s gift for the help we rendered in London.”

  “Fascinating.” I leaned in, starring at the intricate handiwork of the Templar’s engineer.