Iron Horsemen (17 page)

He twisted the lid from its base. Reaching inside, my father pulled up a crumbling dark red powder. Rubbing his fingers together he sniffed at the powder then touched one finger to his tongue and quickly spit on the rocks. He turned to Lord Kannard. “It's bloodbone, dried powdered blood.”

Lord Kannard leapt off his horse and dug through one of the ceramic pots. He removed an ashen white urn. He clutch it close as if more precious than gold. He turned back to his iron steed and said to the crew of the Sparrowhawk, “Now you will learn the true nature of the Horsemen. For you see, the iron steed requires a heart to unleash its terror, and a rider to become a scourge of the Earth.”

The bronze plates on the chest of the iron steed slid open. Inside, oil dripped on spinning gears and rows of pistons moving in synchronized precision. Kannard placed the urn in the chest cavity and secured it. As soon as he did, the urn began to glow and pulse. The bronze plates closed and a low rumble rattled from within the steed.

Kannard slipped his boot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle.

The ground began to tremble, and I wanted to scream as the iron steed's eyes started glowing with a haunting fiery light. The metallic beast grew in size and snorted twin columns of black smoke. An eerie aura surrounded the rider as Lord Kannard's skin darkened and his face hardened, his visage looking more and more like a stone statue than a flesh and blood man.

He pulled hard on the reins and his steed rose up on its hind legs, hooves pawing the air before slamming down, making the earth shake so it knocked us all from our feet. Stalactites shattered as they fell from the ceiling, sending
showers of rock across the cavern floor and into the fissure.

With his arm raised high, Lord Kannard rode toward us. “Attack!” he yelled and his henchmen rushed forward. One by one, we scrambled to our feet and tried to run, but we were blocked by Kannard's men and forced to fall back further into the passage.

“Stay back!” My father yelled above the chaos, and I watched as he stepped up on a raised stone pedestal triggering the third trap.

The crevice broke open wider and wider, separating us from the iron steed and Golden Circle henchmen. The pungent smell of rotten eggs and ammonia burned my lungs, and I saw one of the men lower his torch to stare into the crevasse as it grew ever wider. The gas ignited and sent a fireball roaring up to the ceiling. Fire engulfed the henchmen and blew the crew of the Sparrowhawk further back into the passage.

I shielded my eyes and squinted through the burning air looking for my father. The Iron Horseman was surrounded by flames, but Kannard and his steed were unaffected. He thrived on the carnage, and roared in delight as his henchmen screamed and writhed in agony leaving all but Col. Hendrix alive. Through the shimmering flames, I saw my father jump down from the pedestal and rush toward the urns. But Col. Hendrix got there first and kicked my father aside, grabbed the other three urns, and leapt onto the back of the Kannard's steed. The edge of the white shroud covering the beast caught fire, glowing orange and spitting sparks as the two rode through the inferno.

They fulfilled my vision of Hell. Would we be able to stop a creature born from hellfire? Kannard wheeled his mount around so he faced us, then withdrew the antidote from his belt and held it high.

“Genevieve, I cast your father into the fires of Hell!”

“No!” she screamed and rushed forward as Kannard
threw the vial into the burning crevasse. Mr. Singh caught her just in time. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her from the edge as flames licked her boots.

The Iron Horsemen raised the hooves of his steed and slammed them against the far wall of the cavern. The ground shook violently and a fracture in the wall appeared along with a new eruption of flames from the fissure in the floor. As the fracture in the wall grew, rock fell away in chunks to reveal a hidden passage to the surface. Kannard urged the iron steed forward, leaving us behind as he and Hendrix disappeared into the dark.

“Father,” I yelled, my voice ragged as I coughed and choked on the smoke. Just as I was about to give up hope that he could have survived the latest conflagration, my father jumped the fissure. He dove through the fire and tumbled into the passage to land near my feet. His hair was singed, his clothes were smoking and his face was black with soot. I hugged him so tight, he finally pushed me away so he could breathe.

“I'm sorry for setting off that trap but it was the only thing I could think to do,”

Captain Baldarich shook his head. “You saved us. Almost killed us, true, but in the end we're still here and their henchmen are dead. I'd say the trap worked.”

“But Kannard got away with all four urns. He'll be able to bring the horsemen to life.”

“We'll find another way,” I said, still holding on to my father.

“Where will they go next, Professor?” Captain Baldarich asked.

“To London, almost certainly.”

“That gives us a fighting chance,” the captain said. “We just have to get back to the Sparrowhawk.”

Genevieve met my gaze. “Back to London without the antidote.” Tears filled her eyes. “I failed.”

The fire extinguished and the smoke dissipated. Hell had left its cage, unleashed on the world. We made our way across the fissure and followed Kannard's path up to the surface. In the distance, we watched Kannard and Hendrix ride up a gangplank and board an airskiff. His voice rang out in the night air: “Unfurl the wingsails. Get me in the air!”

As soon as a dark figure in tattered clothes pulled up the gangplank and released the anchor lines, the sleek ship, secured by rigging ropes underneath an aerodynamic blimp, sprang into the air. Large, white triangular sails on either side of the ship billowed in the strong wind as the vessel soared away.

“Damn, he'll be tough to catch,” Captain Baldarich ran past me toward the shoreline. “Signal the Sparrowhawk, Mr. Singh,” he ordered.

Mr. Singh fired a flare into the sky.

“Can we catch them?” my father asked.

“They might be in an airskiff, Professor Armitage, but I have the fastest aero-dirigible this side of the Atlantic,” the captain boasted.

As soon as the Sparrohawk arrived, we rushed aboard
and ran to the bridge. Genevieve and I ran to the windows. Kannard's small vessel was far out in front of us, but its white sails stood out against the cloudless sky.

With a nod from the captain, Mr. Singh ordered the crewmen into action. “Get the wingsails deployed, and trim them for speed.”

I pulled Genevieve and my father over to the map table. The crew scurried around as if the deck plating were on fire. Ignatius took his place in front of the wall of dials, and began checking each one. Coyote pushed the three copper throttle levers forward and pulled back on the wheel. The Sparrowhawk titled upward as it climbed into the sky, and once the wingsails deployed, the speed increased.

Baldarich flipped open the furthest left copper tube and yelled, “Gears, I need all she's got, and I need it now.” He closed the tube and turned to Coyote. “Follow that airskiff.”

Baldarich pulled the telescope from his belt and extended the optics. Looking through it, he studied the airskiff and then offered it to Genevieve. Pressing against the brass eyepiece she adjusted the optics by twisting the leather-wrapped wooden tubes.

Rodin sat on her shoulder; his tail wrapped around her back. He spied the contraption extending from her eye, and with one claw batted the telescope. She patted the little dragon and handed the device to me.

I adjusted the optics and aimed it at the Kannard's ship. His crew strained the ropes of the two sails to get as much speed as possible, and Lord Kannard stared back at me through his own spyglass. I wondered what he was thinking. I saw him turn and yell at his crew. The Sparrowhawk was gaining on him, and he was none too happy about it.

Rodin reached out and swatted the telescope.

Captain Baldarich opened the middle-left tube in front of him. “Bow cannon to the ready.”

A moment passed and a reply echoed back. “Bow cannon ready, sir!”

“Fire!”

The airskiff suddenly rose twenty feet with a simple adjustment of its wings and the cannon shot sailed harmlessly underneath.

The captain slammed his fist against the arm of his chair and said through the same tube, “Fire the forward Gatling and get that cannon reloaded.” He shifted toward Coyote. “Stay with them.”

An “aye Captain,” came from both the tube and Coyote.

I watched the bullets course through the air only to be dodged by the swift airskiff. Then the cannon roared to life, but once again, they rose on the wind and avoided the shot.

Captain Baldarich leaned in to the copper tube. “Hunter, what the hell is going on down there? I need to hit this little cloud-jumper.”

Hunter's voice echoed back, “It's too windy out there, captain. It's giving them the advantage. We'll need to get closer if I'm to hit them!”

My father checked the compass mounted beside the pilot. Confirming the direction, he ran to the map table. I stared at the charts wondering what he saw, and looked up to find the captain had joined us.

“I believe they are indeed heading straight for London,” my father said. He looked across the map table at me. “The comet is crossing the sky now, and soon it will pass over the sun.”

“When that happens, the four horsemen will be summoned,” I continued his train of thought.

“Exactly,” my father said. “We must stop Kannard before it's too late.” He turned to the captain. “Can we catch them?”

Baldarich smiled at the land-lovers around him. “We have one advantage they don't. They rely on the winds to
propel them; the Sparrowhawk uses the wind, but we don't need them. We have engines.” He ran his fingers over map. “Once we hit the coast, the winds will shift and they'll have to change tack. When they do, we'll have them.”

I studied the lines drawn on the map. Fascinated by the wind patterns and terrain changes displayed, I paid particular attention to the markings on the southern coast of France. The symbols intrigued me: a new field of study to learn. I had no idea what Kannard would do once he made it to London or how he would summon the other Horsemen, and I didn't want to find out. We had to stop him before he got the chance to put his plans into place. Despite what Genevieve's father or even Grand Master Sinclair thought, we had accomplished the first goal—we had rescued my father. Now we just had to stop Kannard and find another batch of antidote. All before the comet crossed the path of the sun in the sky. A wave of determination swept through me, and I was filled with a great sense of responsibility for seeing our mission through.

The captain patted my father's shoulder. “You should get some rest, professor. Unfortunately, we're not a passenger liner, so we don't have any rooms for you.”

“That is not a problem. I won't require anything more than getting me to London as soon as you can.”

“He can stay with us,” I said.

My father narrowed his eyes and looked back and forth at Genevieve and me. “You are staying together?”

“Accommodations are scarce,” the captain said with a mischievous smile. “Why don't you two show him below.”

Genevieve and I led my father downstairs. As we entered the room, now segmented by a large canvas sheet, I showed my dad where the extra hammocks were stored.

Instead of sitting with us and giving us a chance to finally catch up, my father, back to being
Professor Armitage
, planted his hands on his hips and scowled. “These accomodations
are unacceptable! The two of you have been sleeping down here together? I am going to take this up with the captain immediately!”

“Wait—” Genevieve and I both started. But it was too late. My father had already turned and slammed the door behind him. I shuffled back and climbed into my hammock to avoid Genevieve. Rodin flew over and landed on my stomach. I pitched forward as the claws pricked my skin and Rodin flapped his wings smacking me in the face and chest. Genevieve called Rodin back to her but he simply smacked me in the face with his tail and settled down on my lap.

Genevieve came over and sat beside my hammock. “Sorry about Rodin, but I think he really wants to sit with you.”

“It's okay,” I rubbed Rodin's head. “He's adorable enough to get away with it. Listen, I'm sorry if my father offended you in anyway, he hasn't been the same since my mother passed. He feels like he has to control me or I'll end up as some sort of criminal.”

“I'm sorry to hear about your mother. How did she die?”

“Three years ago she became sick and died in the summer. She was only sick a few weeks.”

“I'm so sorry. My mother passed away several years ago as well, an accident at sea while traveling to Egypt.”

“Two of a kind.” I tried to smile, but it wouldn't hold. “I'm sorry about your mother.”

“I've come to terms with it.” Genevieve's hand went to the silver locket around her neck and I knew she probably felt the same way I did about my mother.

From out on the gun-deck I heard the captain's voice coming from the copper tube. “There's the airskiff! Man your battle stations! Forward guns prepare to fire!”

There was no time to feel sorry for ourselves now. I looked at Genevieve, scrambled back out of my hammock, and we
ran out the door with Rodin flying behind us. We reached the starboard gun-port and peered out at thick black storm clouds. Genevieve tugged my sleeve and pointed to a dot in the sky. “It's the Storm Vulture.”

“Zerelda!”

“Hurry, we've got to make sure the captain knows.”

I ran onto the bridge and pointed as I tried to catch my breath. Genevieve, with Rodin hovering around her, blurted out, “The Storm Vulture is here. Out the port side.”