Iron Horsemen (20 page)

I called out to Mr. Singh. “What should I do?” The Gatling gun's magazines had to be reloaded, more iron shot was needed for the cannons, and injured crew members needed care.

My thoughts turned to Genevieve. Was she safe? I whispered to Rodin. “Go find Genevieve, make sure she's okay.”

Rodin flew off, soaring up the steps.

Suddenly, the Sparrowhawk banked steeply to starboard and climbed higher in the sky. Everything not secured, including me, tumbled backward.

I grabbed hold of the starboard cannon and righted myself. Looking out the gun-port, I saw the black clouds of the storm engulfing the Sparrowhawk. “The captain is brilliant to hide. The armada will never follow us in there.”

Mr. Singh nodded. “But we could still be torn up by the high winds or lightning could spark the charges. We must trust in god.”

I nodded, but Mr. Singh wasn't making me feel any better. He may put his trust in his god, but I put mine in the captain.

Once the rain started, I wondered if it would ever stop. It pelted the vessel and poured through the shattered hull in sheets. The sound of hail battering the airship sounded worse than the rapid-fire of the Gatling gun as the Sparrowhawk was buffeted by the storm. The wind roared through the gun-deck, and Mr. Singh and I fought through it to seal the hatches. I hoped the captain knew what he was doing, but I feared that if the armada didn't take us down, the storm would.

The gun-deck plunged into darkness between each flash of lightning. After the hatches were sealed, I helped secure the cloth-covered charges to keep the gunpowder dry. Mr. Singh stopped me from loading the last four into a chest. He grabbed two and said, “Not these. You men wipe down the barrels. Alexander, load the cannon and plug the barrels. I want to be ready if the Storm Vulture comes into range.”

I joined with the other men and said, “Aye, aye.”

The crew wiped the rain out of the cannons. Once dry, a relative term in this heavy storm, I rammed the charge down the barrel followed by the iron shot. One of the airmen handed me a large wooden plug and I sealed it into
the end of the barrel.

“Just remember to remove it before you fire,” I said with a black-humored smile.

The airmen laughed just as a lightning bolt arced inward from the outer hull and struck one of the cannon.

Mr. Singh checked the cannon and sighed. “It didn't ignite the powder, thank god.” He leaned out one of the holes in the hull. “I think the lightning rods have been damaged, they're supposed to direct the lightning around the Sparrowhawk.”

I wondered what would happen if it had exploded, but cast-iron shrapnel wasn't something I wanted to see.

Bolts of electricity arced past the Sparrowhawk's starboard side, but I heard no thunder and it came from below.

It wasn't the storm.

“The Storm Vulture's lightning cannon?” I asked. “What do we do when they're firing from behind and below us?”

“We pray,” Mr. Singh said with his usual happy grin.

“We don't have any guns back there, do we?”

“Go tell the captain, he may not be able to see the bolts. Tell him we have a surprise waiting for those jackals.”

I extended my hand. “Be careful, Mr. Singh.”

We grabbed forearms. “Watch yourself as well, Master Armitage.”

I ran up the stairs and found the captain. “The Storm Vulture is firing its lightning cannon from behind and below us.”

“Tell me something I don't know.”

“Mr. Singh has a surprise waiting for those jackals.”

Baldarich nodded and a devious grin crossed his face. “Now that is good news.”

“Wait with your father.” The captain pointed to the professor who clung to the bolted-down map table. “I think I know how to get us out of this mess.”

My father looked me over. I knew I was a mess, soaked with blood and rain, the smell of gunpowder clinging to my clothes, and scratched all over from the shivers of wood and metal that ripped through the gun-deck. Genevieve's face registered alarm and concern, but I couldn't read my father's expression other than that he was not happy.

The captain snapped his new pilot's attention back to the wheel. “Genevieve! Put the wind on our backs, and get ready to turn our side to those vultures.”

Genevieve struggled to turn the wheel as she let out a hearty, “Aye, captain.”

Ignatius spoke up from the engineering station. “Captain, I don't think the Sparrowhawk can handle the stress. We're already buckling.”

“She'll hold,” Baldarich said with a smile. “I know something that witch doesn't. The Sparrowhawk has integrated helium tanks but the Storm Vulture's flying under an external hydrogen tank. It can't handle the stress of the wind. Her external tank will be ripped away from the fuselage if she tries to follow us. Besides, maybe we'll get lucky and one of those lightning bolts will find her hydrogen and give us a fireball to light our way.”

The Sparrowhawk banked to port and I grabbed hold of the map table to avoid sliding across the bridge.

The vessel lurched right and then back left, buffeted by the strong winds. Thunder roared around us, quickly followed by the rapid flashes of multiple lightning bolts. I noticed my father trying to count the seconds in between the thunder and lightning, a trick I'd been taught years ago to tell the distance from the center of the storm, but these came too close together. We were in the heart of the storm.

I found my footing, let go of the map table, and ran to the port window. The black storm clouds had enveloped us making it darker than a moonless night – except when the lightning flashed.

As electricity ignited the sky, the Storm Vulture burst through the dark, billowing clouds. I called out, “I see them. They're still behind us.”

Thunder crashed and I watched as lightning struck the Storm Vulture. I wanted to cheer, but the outer hull beside me peeled back in the high winds. My nerves told me to get away from the window, but I remained until I saw the sky pirate's bank away from us. “Captain, the Storm Vulture's turned starboard.”

“Genevieve, hard to starboard!” Baldarich flipped open the copper tube and yelled, “Mr. Singh, fire all starboard guns!”

The Sparrowhawk banked to the right. The guns erupted. The iron shot cut through the clouds and slammed into the front of the blimp, which blew apart in a fireball larger than any I had seen. But only the first compartment—the rest remained intact. The Storm Vulture limped into the dark clouds and disappeared.

Thunder exploded and an ache in my gut told me something bad was about to happen. I turned to Baldarich, but the sky ignited as lightning crackled around us. The Sparrowhawk lurched, shook violently, and listed to port like a ship about to sink. My stomach tightened.

Baldarich slammed his fist against the railing. “We've been hit! Was it the Storm Vulture?”

I looked back out the window. “No, they've fled into the clouds.”

Gear's voice echoed up through the furthest left copper tube. “Captain, port wingsail's been ripped to shreds! Also, pressure's building in engine three. I have to shut it down.”

Ignatius checked the dial and nodded his head. “It's at the red line, captain. We don't want it blowing up in this storm.”

The captain shook his head. “But we can't make it through these winds without it.”

I stared into the dark clouds below. “We're going down aren't we?”

“What kind of talk is that, lad?”

A rumble echoed through the hull and the Sparrowhawk lurched suddenly, throwing everyone on the bridge from their posts. Captain Baldarich fell but held onto the railing throwing out his arm, he caught my father who grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. Ignatius tumbled out of his chair and hit the wall. Genevieve tried to remain at her post but was tossed from her chair causing the wheel to spin wildly. The Sparrowhawk listed far to port before finally turning on its side. We all tumbled onto the wall and the vessel nosed over hurtling everyone against the bow. Only Rodin was unaffected as he darted around the bridge avoiding debris.

Baldarich and Genevieve struggled to climb up to the pilot's wheel. The captain pulled himself into the seat and grabbed the spinning yoke. Yelling a guttural battle cry that hurt my ears, he pulled the wheel against his chest trying to right the Sparrowhawk.

Ignatius clung to a rail at the bow of the vessel and looked at the gauges of the engineering section. “Engine three is about to blow and it looks like the other two have stopped. Cap, I'd say we're—”

“Don't say it! I've never crashed a ship, and I don't intend to start now.” Baldarich's veins bulged in his forehead and his knuckles turned white. “Right yourself, you fickle beast!”

I rolled over and looked out the window I'd fallen against. We'd broken through the cloud bank, and the lights of a large city spread out below us, sparkling like the Milky Way on a crystal clear night.

Genevieve grabbed the wheel with the captain and pulled hard. Slowly the Sparrowhawk began to level off, still listing severely to port.

Ignatius ran to the copper tubes, flipped them all open,
and yelled. “Gears! If you're still alive, we need an engine now! Mr. Singh, get the port wingsail working!” He ran off the bridge, stumbling as he tried to navigate the debris and slanted deck.

I stumbled over to the engineer's station and studied the dials. None of the needles were in the places they were supposed to be. Out of the tumult, I heard my father's voice.

“It's Paris, and it's getting closer.”

The captain's voice strained as he continued to pull on the wheel. “Thanks for stating the obvious, Professor. Brace for impact.”

My father ran to the map table and said, “Alexander, Genevieve, secure yourselves.”

I unwrapped the leather strapping from my body, and tied one end around the railing of the engineer's station. Genevieve left the captain and grabbed hold of me. I bound us together with the leather strap. Huddled side by side, we locked eyes. Then she called out for Rodin. The little bronze dragon flew down and landed beside us. Genevieve grabbed him and clutched him to her chest. I wrapped my arms around her and waited for the impact.

Paris loomed below us, too close and getting closer. The Sparrowhawk's nose still tilted downward and listed to port which caused it to continue turning no matter how steady the captain held the wheel. The winding Seine River cut the city in half and we appeared to be aimed at a large park on the western edge.

Baldarich's gritty voice squeezed through clenched teeth. “Let's hope we miss the river. I don't fancy a swim at the moment.”

The captain wrangled the Sparrowhawk with all his might. Once over the river, he pushed forward on the wheel and the nose plunged into the park. The impact jolted the bridge, and Genevieve, Rodin, and I swung forward but remained secured by the leather strap. My father tumbled
from underneath the map table, and the captain slammed into the wheel.

Scrapping, sheering sounds cut through the air as the metal and wood hull raked across branches, stone and grass. We finally skidded to a stop and I looked around, surprised to still be alive. I checked Genevieve and knew from her smile she was okay. We both looked over Rodin who wiggled out from between us. His grunts, snarls, and growls signaled his displeasure, but he was uninjured.

“Not my best landing,” Baldarich said, pulling himself free of the wheel. “Everyone all right?”

An “Aye, captain,” came from my father who gripped his forearm as he pulled himself to his feet.

I untied the leather strap. “We're okay.”

“Good to hear it. Now if I can walk I'm going below to see who else made it out of that storm and survey the damage,” Baldarich headed off the bridge, favoring his right leg.

Left on the bridge with my father, I said, “Your arm, are you hurt?”

“I'll be fine.” He looked me over and turned to Genevieve. “I'm just glad you two are safe.”

“Now what are we going to do? How do we get to London?” I asked.

Genevieve shook her head. “Getting to London isn't the problem. It's what we do once we're there. Lord Kannard will get there long before we do, and he'll have already put his plan into action.”

“Then how do we stop him?”

My father clutched harder at his arm and winced. “I don't know.”

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Looks like the Champ du Mars,” Genevieve whispered. “Father and I stayed nearby on our last holiday.”

We were on solid ground, trailing Captain Baldarich as he surveyed The Sparrowhawk assessing the external damage. The underside had crumpled like a piece of paper, but most of the upper structure remained intact.

“Ignatius, head out with Gears. He'll know what we need, but you do the negotiating. I know it's late, but bang on a few doors if you have to. We have to get back in the sky.”

Ignatius tipped his Stetson and asked, “What will you be doing, Cap'n?”

“I have to grease some palms to make sure we don't get hauled off to the Bastille for landing in a city park. Should be back by morning.” Mr. Singh walked past the door and Baldarich said, “Indihar, come here, while I'm gone, you're in charge. If the Gendarmes show—afer all, how could they miss us—tell 'em to speak with their superiors before they arrest the whole lot. Just don't mention my name.”

“Aye, captain,” Mr. Singh said with a smile.

“You're a good man Mr. Singh. Repair what you can.
Ignatius and Gears will return with supplies as soon as possible.” Baldarich turned and pointed at Genevieve and me. “You two stay out of trouble, and don't get in the way of my crew. Your father busted his arm; Hunter's setting it.”

I nodded. “Yes, captain. Thank you.”