Authors: Sharon Joss
Arvel brought the
Il Colibri
around to the front of the great hangar doors and slowly descended, hovering in
place while Gregorio threw out the lines to the waiting crewmen below. Already,
the afternoon breezes were beginning to gust unpredictably. Five minutes later
and Simon would not have been able to make the dive. As it was, their
performance had been flawless; he could not stop grinning.
He waited until Rudy gave him the thumbs up before shutting down
the engines, then slid down one of the dock lines to walk the ship toward the
back of the hangar. No sooner had they tied down the
Il Colibri
properly, than Arvel heard a voice calling his name.
“Captain Paretti? Captain Paretti!” Mr. Figgs came rushing up, his
face flushed with excitement. He was accompanied by a soldier in fancy dress
uniform, his hand on the saber at his waist to keep from banging against his
leg.
“Yes?”
The soldier stood at attention. “Her Royal Highness has requested
Captain Paretti to join her on the viewing platform.”
Arvel’s heart skipped a beat. This was it. Everything they’d
worked so hard for. After seeing what the
Il Colibri
could do, she wanted it for the British air service! He and
Gregorio exchanged a grin.
“She’s inviting all the airship pilots to join her!” Mr. Figgs
gasped. “Need I say this is a huge honor?”
Arvel reached for his lucky comb.
Not just us, but we’re still in the running.
“Where’s Simon? What
about the rest of the crew?”
Figg’s expression dimmed. “Ah, no. Just the Captains, I’m afraid.”
Arvel ran the comb quickly through his moustache. He glanced
around the hangar, but Simon was nowhere to be seen. “All right. Gregorio,
you’re in charge until Simon arrives. Tell him I’ll be back as soon as I can.” To
the crew, he mouthed
The Queen
and
their laughter followed him as he accompanied Figgs and the officer to the
pavilion.
“Hurry!” Figgs grabbed his arm. “This way!”
But as they neared the hangar doors, a well-dressed,
familiar-looking fellow with a thick shock of silver-white hair approached. Arvel
frowned as he tried to remember his name. Sir Something or other--.
“Captain Paretti, a moment, please.”
The gentleman’s dark eyes held Arvel’s attention with surprising
intensity. Arvel hesitated, but Figgseys grip on his arm propelled him forward.
“Sorry, I haven’t the time, Sir.”
“Who was that dashing diver?”
Arvel felt the man’s gaze compelling him to answer, even as the
distance grew between them. “Ah, that was my dear friend Simon Atters. Quite
the daredevil, eh?”
Atters!
Sir Magnus took a staggered step, feeling as if the world had
suddenly turned sideways. Sir Hillary had sworn the boy had no gift. Just
before he’d killed him. In his quest to eliminate every wizard in Europe, Sir
Hillary had been among the first to die.
He lied to me!
The fleeting memory of a
fair-haired youth with a horrified expression, staring through the window at
him as he stole the last of Sir Hillary Atters’ magick came to him. The boy had
run from him that night. Twenty years ago, if it was a day.
And I let him go.
At the time, it hadn’t seemed important. The boy hadn’t yet come
into his magick, and Sir Hilary, a weather wizard of air and water was not much
of a threat. A civil servant, of all things. The boy’s mother had died years
earlier. But she had been a fire mage, he remembered. It was entirely possible
that the boy had inherited her affinity. And now the young fire mage had
returned to England.
A sudden shiver of fear crawled up his spine. Good heavens, what
if Atters had multiple affinities?
What
if he were a wizard?
The idea of facing a fire wizard… almost too
terrifying to think about.
Gunshots rang out as the German ship,
Jarvis
, made a pass at the targets on the field. Good heavens, he’d
completely forgotten about the Queen!
Sir Magnus lunged after Figgs and the Italian captain, but they
had already entered the viewing platform. The Queen had arrived, and was seated,
watching the German’s demonstration. Better get back before--.
A pair of soldiers in the Queen’s livery barred his way to the
stairs leading to the viewing platform.
“I’m sorry sir. Her Majesty is on the viewing platform. Only those
with explicit invitations from Her Highness are allowed. I cannot allow you to pass.”
“I am part of the reception committee.” He drew himself up. “Sir
Magnus Vetch. Councilman of both Millwall and Cubitt Town.”
The Lieutenant was not swayed. “My orders are to keep all
uninvited guests off the viewing platform.”
Sir Magnus clenched his fists. Ten minutes alone with this oaf
would have him begging to serve him, but there were too many people about. He
spoke in his most commanding and persuasive tone. “You
will
allow me pass.
The Lieutenant put his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Stand
down, sir.”
Sir Magnus fought to contain his temper. “Listen to me,
Lieutenant. I have an invitation right here--.” He fumbled in his jacket
pocket, then cursed in silent fury as he realized he’d left it on his chair to
save his seat. “I dashed off the platform for just a minute. I’m afraid I left
my invitation on my seat in the second row. If you’ll only check--.”
But even as he said the words, he knew from the determined
expression the soldiers faces, that he’d pushed as hard as he dared. He’d
missed his chance yet again. This time, however, he would not be turned away
again. The
draugs
it is.
Inspector Greenslade grabbed Simon by the shoulders and shook him
hard. “You can’t deny you’re a wizard. I just saw those green flame of yours.
You’re the only one can stop him.”
“Who?”
But Simon wasn’t interested in hearing what Greenslade had to say.
He only had eyes for Welsie. She was coming across the field toward them;
nearly running, her copper hair flying out loose behind her.
She was crying. Her hands were covered in blood.
Suddenly, the policeman caught sight of her, too. The argument
forgotten, they raced to her as one, but Simon reached her first. She threw her
arms around him, her frantic words making no sense. She reeked of chloroform.
“It’s John Raikes,”
she sobbed. Simon could barely understand her, but her body trembled beneath
his hands.
“What happened?” Greenslade demanded.
Simon grabbed at her bloody hands. “Are you hurt?”
The German airship, Jarvis, made another targeting run, and the
sound of gunfire drowned out the first part of her reply.
She shook her head. “—knacker! He tried to force me into his
carriage!”
Greenslade pulled them toward the back of the hangars. “This way,”
he murmured. “Let’s get away from the noise, shall we?” Roman urged them toward
a sheltering copse of poplar trees at the bottom of the hill, where they
settled themselves behind a screen of vegetation.
Still breathless, she told them how the knacker, John Raikes, had told
her that Hamm was sick and waiting for her with Father Martin in the chapel.
“Father Martin? Was he part of it?” Greenslade asked.
She gripped Simon’s hand tightly in hers. “I don’t know, After I
got away, I was too scared to look. I ran until I saw you.”
Simon scanned the hill above them. “There’s no one coming.”
“Don’t you see? That’s it, then,” Greenslade answered. “Sir Magnus
owns the slaughterhouse. It makes perfect sense.”
“What?” Simon shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
Welsie began to sob.
“Welsie. I know you’re
upset, but I need you to listen to me. It was--.” Greenslade took a deep breath
and he seemed to give Simon an apologetic glance. “During the war. After our
defeat at Balaclava, that night, Sir Magnus raised the dead. All of them. Even
Archie.”
Who’s Archie,” asked Simon. Greenslade was making no sense, and
all he wanted to do was get Welsie away from this mad policeman.
Welsie’s hand went to her mouth. “My brother.”
Simon stared at both of them.
“And my best friend,” Greenslade said, and with that said, he told
them about Sir Magnus Vetch, the royal wizard who’d raised the dead in the
Crimean War to defeat the Russians after the disastrous charge of the light
brigade at Balaclava.
A sick feeling rose in Simon’s gorge.
“And then, when it was all over, and Sir Magnus withdrew his
magick, General Somerset ordered all the bodies burned, even our good British
boys. Even Archie. He was just as sick as I was at what Sir Magnus had done,
and he put Sir Magnus under house arrest. I was ordered to escort him back to
England on the very next ship.” He turned to Simon. “You’ve got to help me stop
him.
A wizard!
Simon pressed his
lips together in a thin line as long-repressed anger coursed through him. “
What do you expect me to do?”
His hands curled into fists.
“I don’t know exactly what he’s planning, but I believe he’s going
to use that thing we saw last night and others like him against the Queen. You’ve
got to stop them. They could attack at any minute.”
With Greenslade's intention finally clear, Simon shook his head. “The
dead can only be reanimated with earth magick. I don’t know a lot about it, but
I do know the undead avoid daylight. He won’t be able to use them until
nightfall.”
Greenslade paused. “That’s it then. He’s going to take her. Tonight.
From the Alberta.
Bollocks!
” He grabbed
Welsie’s arm and shook her, his eyes wild. “Don’t you see? That’s why he needed
Hamm! He’s already got a crew, he needed a pilot!”
Greenslade described the disappearance of the crew from the
Norwegian lumber ship,
Valkyrie
. “He
needed someone who knows the Thames, and no one knows the river half as well as
Hamm Foine. “I just don’t understand why he didn’t take the ferry boat.”
Welsie tensed with excitement. “Because the
Hound of the Mist
isn’t fast enough! Not nearly fast enough to
outrace the Royal Navy! But the
Slough
Maid
is. Last fall, Hamm told me his old paddle steamer was being refitted
with a new steam engine. The new owner was planning to have it completely
refurbished. He said it would be just about the fastest ship on the Thames. And
it’s docked in that shipyard right next to the knackers.”
“That’s it, then,” Roman said. “He already had the boat. Then he
got the crew. All he needed was a captain; someone who knew the local waters.”
Greenslade turned to face Simon. “How do we stop them?”
Simon stared at the two them. He’d planned for every contingency
except for this one. And now the Queen was already in play. If so, there was no
chance of taking the jewels. They were staring at him as if they expected an
answer. Simon shook his head. “What makes you think I can do anything?”
“You’re a wizard. You can stop him.” Greenslade was still pale,
but determination had replaced the mad expression in his eyes.
Simon squirmed in his seat. There had been a time when he dreamed
of having real magick. Bitter dreams.
A
boy’s dreams
…
“No, I can’t. My flames
aren’t real. Just something I was born with. Mum was a fire mage. She’s the one
I inherited those flames from, but she died when I was too young to control
them.” He rubbed his forehead. “She took them from me and passed them to my
father to keep until I was old enough to control real fire, but he was killed
in a duel with another wizard. I never got my magick.” Simon gave a humorless
smile. “I’m sorry. That thing last night that attacked you was a creature of
earth magick. They can’t be killed, they’re already dead. Only his maker can
unmake him.”
A tic pulled at the policeman’s eye. “Then help me kill the
wizard.” Greenslade had gone rigid, like he was about explode. It was an order,
not a request.
Even through his
anger, Simon scoffed. “An hour ago, you were ready to lock me up for thievery
and throw away the key.”
Greenslade shrugged. “There’s no one else I can turn to. They’re
after me too, mate.” The inspector described how the police were stationed at
the exit roads, looking for him. “I sent my father to warn the Queen’s guard,
but he doesn’t know what’s going on. I didn’t put it together until just now.
He could end up right in the middle of this thing.”
Welsie put her hand on his arm. “She’s your Queen, too, Simon.”
Both of them were looking to him to do something. Simon knew too
well the power of a wizard. The memory of his father’s dying face and his
lifelong guilt that he couldn’t stop it had never left him. He would not be
able to live with himself if something like that happened to his Queen.
There would be no job tonight. No jewels. No fleet of airships.
Nothing was more important than this. But Greenslade wanted to kill this
wizard.
“What do you want from me? I’m
no killer.”
“You won’t have to,
Simon,” Welsie said. “All we’ve got to do is to sink the
Slough Maid
.”
Simon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Alright, I’m in. But we do it
my way. We’re going need some help.”