Iron Horsemen (16 page)

My father worked at a fevered pace. He stepped back and looked at a series of rocks on a ledge just above the door. He started climbing up toward the ledge.
Where was he going?
The clash of swords behind us echoed through the cavern and kept pulling my attention away from the door. I knew the symbols on the door probably triggered another booby trap, but I had to do help my friends. Seeing Genevieve in the swordfight with Lord Kannard was more than I could bear, and she was not going to be able to hold him off much longer. Col. Hendrix and the other henchman continued to rain gunfire on Ignatius and the others, and if I didn't do something fast, they would likely shoot Genevieve in the back.

Springing the trap door would cause one heck of distraction.

With one last look behind me, I pushed the symbol in the center of the stone door. Water started to seep out of the depressed edges as the sound of grinding stone echoed through the cavern. I pulled my hand back and rubbed my wet fingers together.

My father looked down at me and yelled, “No! Not that one.”

What had I done?

The door burst forward slamming into me and knocking me backward as a torrent of water followed rushed into the cave like a tidal wave. A deafening roar filled the cavern drowning out all sound and blinding everyone with the salt and grit of seawater.

I gasped and tumbled, struggling for a handhold as the raging river swept over me. Through the spray and foam, I saw Genevieve drag herself onto the ledge. She looked at me, and then to Lord Kannard who struggled to stay mounted in the rising water. I kept my head above water long enough to see the dripping iron steed rise out of the water and the rider reach up to grab my father from his perch above the door.

Genevieve dove in and the water swept her toward me. I felt her grab hold of the leather strap wrapped around my body and pull me to her. Rodin darted down into the churning mix and snatched me with his claws, but he was too small to pull either of us out of the roiling river. He dove again and again to no avail, though his actions marked us for the others.

Genevieve struggled to keep my head above the rushing torrent. She grabbed a gnarled tree root sticking out of the stone wall and held fast. I felt her pull the leather strap from my shoulder and wrap it to the tree, securing us while the water continued to flow down the passageways.

Genevieve pushed me up out of the water, and Rodin snagged my pants with his toothy snout and pulled with all his might. As the water receded around us, she collapsed beside me and Rodin landed and flicked his forked dragon's tongue out, licking both our faces. Disoriented and almost drowned, I smiled up at them both and gave myself up to oblivion.

Nothing but darkness and stone. Closing in. Surrounding me like a clenched fist. I run until my breath is ragged, my chest heaving. Stumbling, I fall through darkness toward a maze cut in stone on the floor of another great cavern. A river cuts across the top of the maze and spits me out, leaving me falling, spinning wildly until I crash down on the stone floor in a sickening heap. Struggling to my feet, I look around the darkened chamber and wonder if I've landed at the gates of Hell. As if caught in Cerberus's jaws, stalactites and stalagmites grow like razor-sharp teeth, ready at a moment's notice to bite down. Ancient symbols are etched into an arch at the back of the chamber, and atop four marble pillars, I recognize four beating hearts encased in iron bands
.

From out of the depths, the sound of charging horses echoes around me and an inferno fills the room. I spin in every direction seeking the source of the pounding hooves until four nightmare steeds burst into the chamber through a wall of flame beneath the arch. They smash the stone teeth, shake the ground, fill the air with the stench of death. Red eyes blaze from their bronze and iron bodies and a foul black smoke rushes from their flaring nostrils
.

“Alexander! Alexander!”
Through the smothering chaos, I hear my name, as a sweet voice, like a choir of angels calling to me. I turn toward the voice and float up toward it, out of the darkness
.

I snapped awake and sat up, almost hitting Genevieve in the head. She leaned over me, her brow wrinkled with concern. As she fell back to avoid me, I flipped onto my knees. “Are you okay?”

Then, to my utter surprise, she snatched me up in her
arms and gripped me tight, and I found my arms wrapping around her instinctively, as if that's why I had arms in the first place. We held on to each other, and I reveled in her embrace, not only because feeling her against me was amazing, but also because I was still dizzy and unsettled from being caught in the river.

“You dragged me from the river,” I said, finally.
She had saved my life!
“How many hours have I been out?” I asked. “Is everyone okay?”

“Hours, no you've been out for only a few minutes.”

“How can that be, so much happened?”

You got swept away by the water, but the captain and his crew are back near the door. Lord Kannard took your father.”

“I had the strangest dream.”

“What did you see?” Genevieve asked as an excited Rodin, his tail whipping back and forth, squeezed up between us, looking at me as if he couldn't wait to hear what I had to say.

Rubbing the dragon's head, I looked in Genevieve's eyes. “I know where they're taking my father, and I saw that the horsemen will be born from fire.”

The underground river had receded and settled into its banks, and Genevieve and I made our way back up toward the door to reconnect with Captain Baldarich and the crew of the Sparrowhawk.

It didn't take long to find the passage down which Kannard had taken my father. I stopped at the entrance, held back by the putrid odor of death and decomposition mixed with the musky smell of dust and ancient stone. Everything around me seemed bizarre and otherworldly. So much had happened in such a short time that nothing felt real. I focused on my dream, on the beating hearts bound by iron bands atop the pillars. They couldn't truly exist, could they?

Light filled the chamber as Captain Baldarich stepped forward with his kerosene lamp. The passage's rough walls descended ever deeper into the rock. Staring into the darkness I knew my father, Kannard, and the secret of the four horsemen lay within its depths. With the nightmare vision fresh in my mind, the last thing I wanted to do was step into the darkness. But it was either that or admit my terror. And abandon my father. Looking into Genevieve's determined eyes, and seeing the captain and the rest of the
crew willing to confront the unknown dangers before us, I felt less afraid. With Baldarich illuminating the way, I forced myself to take the first step.

I heard the hooves of the iron horse before I saw it. The sound of Col. Hendrix barking orders and my father's excited calls echoed up the passage and let me know we were on the right path.

We arrived at the end of the descending passage where the ground flattened out beneath our feet. We were at the bottom, and just like in my nightmare, the teeth of hell stood in our way. Beyond the gaping mouth of jagged stalactites and stalagmites and on the other side of a steaming fissure slicing through the bedrock, I could see the arch of cut stone looming over Lord Kannard and his henchmen. My father, his back to us, stood studying the symbols carved into the arch. Col. Hendrix had his rifle-arm pointed at my father's chest.

Lord Kannard turned on his bronze-plated steed and locked eyes with me. “So glad you could join us, boy.”

“Let my father go!”

Lord Kannard threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, you are endlessly entertaining. When are you going to realize you're not in control here?”

“Father!” I called out. “Don't help them!”

My father started to turn toward me, but Col. Hendrix pulled back his sleeve, and gears twisted and clicked as the serrated blade slid into place. He pushed the knife's edge up against my father's throat.

“You are a brave young man, I'll give you that,” Kannard said, “but I hold all the cards. Now tell those annoying shipmates of yours to lower their weapons.”

Captain Baldarich holstered his lightning cannon and motioned for everyone to do the same. Genevieve sheathed her saber as Mr. Singh secured his Katar in his sash. Ignatius twirled his two Colts and holstered them in a one
quick motion. The other crewmen stowed their weapons but I kept a hand on my Thumper.

Lord Kannard sat back as a wicked grin crossed his face. “Now Professor Armitage, if you would please continue your translations. Just remember death is not something you can control, but once I have what I want, you can determine how it affects you.”

“Damn you,” my father swore. He struggled to turn back toward me, but the Colonel pushed him toward the symbols. “If it was easy, you could have done it yourself.”

“Why should I bother when I've got such a learned scholar to do the work for me?” Kannard said.

My father turned away from Kannard to study the symbols on the arch, and the henchmen formed a line between him and the Sparrowhawk's crew. They raised their rifles and swords, taking aim at the Sky Raiders like a firing squad. Captain Baldarich made certain to keep his crew from making any sudden movements. Everyone watched my father, who stopped several times to look at me.

Anger built within me. It wasn't fair that the Knights of the Golden Circle would succeed after everything we'd done to stop them. I studied Lord Kannard.
What was his weakness?

The noblemen twirled the glass vial in his fingers, causing the milky yellow liquid to tumble inside. I glanced at Genevieve, her gaze never left the vial. Turning back to Lord Kannard, the gloating smile never left his face. The man delighted in toying with other people's lives, and it disgusted me.

“I know you want this,” he taunted, “but what are you willing to do to save your father's life?” He chuckled. “Life is about control, Genevieve, especially for people like us. We blue bloods were born to rule these lesser men. In time you will come to understand this. Your father does.”

She turned away in disgust. “I will never be like you.”

“You already are, my dear. You were born that way.”

My father looked up and said, “I've found it.”

Lord Kannard goaded his steed forward until he was positioned between my father and me. He drew his revolver. “Reveal the hearts of the horsemen, or I will shoot your son.”

“I said I would do it as long as you don't hurt him.” My father looked at me and then back up to Lord Kannard. “We have a gentleman's agreement, and since you claim to be a gentleman, you must keep it.”

“I will keep my end of our agreement as long as you do exactly as you are told. Now, reveal the hearts of the horsemen or your son will die.”

My father turned back to the arch, reached up and pressed the symbol of a four-pronged crown, then a four-lined spiral, a double chevron, and finally the hieroglyphic symbol of the horsemen. He did it slowly, deliberately, as if filled with dread.

The sound of grinding stone filled the fissure and dust fell from the archway. Several stalactites fell from the ceiling and crashed around me and the Sparrowhawk's crew. The stone archway spun around entering the floor on one side and rising out of the rock on the other. It stopped. Four symbols were chiseled at the top of the arch. Four large urns dropped out of holes on its underside, ringing sharply in my ears with a piercing echo as they shattered on the rocky floor.

“No!”
My father ran over to the broken artifacts and fell to his knees, his face contorted in a grimace of horror. Picking up the pieces, he exhaled. “Just simple undecorated earthenware.”

He searched among the shards of pottery and within the shattered remains found a second smaller red urn and pulled it free. A mix of iron and ceramics, the base and topper were iron, and bands of iron surrounded a bulbous
ceramic middle. The urn split in the center, but was locked in place by a sliding latch. “They're unlike anything I've ever seen before.”