Revenge of the Mad Scientist (Book One: Airship Adventure Chronicles) (32 page)

“Come on, let’s get to the camp. They had water there.” She pulled the reins of her horse, following Rett as he moved quickly among the hills.

Before they reached the camp, a dark figure appeared standing silently in the trail ahead of them. She breathed a sigh of relief. The Gandiss spies had stayed. The figure walked forward and took the reins of Sir John’s horse from Rett and they continued in silence until they reached the camp.

“My Lady, we are glad you are safe,” Perron said coming forward to greet them.

“Please, help my father,” she said, weariness overcoming her. One of the spies took her reins and led their horses away. She collapsed on a log by the fire.

They carried Sir John from his horse and placed him on a rug beside her with his head propped up on a pillow. Perron handed him a cup of water which he grasped as though it were gold and drained it in one gulp. The fire crackled and the smell of food made her stomach rumble but she could not relax until they knew who followed them.

“We’re going to have company soon,” Rett said. “There’s a small group of riders that look as though they came from the mountain. They’re just behind us.”

Perron frowned. “I find it hard to believe anyone escaped from that explosion. There was no way they could know what would happen when they fired the cannon.”

“Nevertheless, I suggest not trusting them until we know their intentions.”

Perron rubbed his chin thinking for a moment, and then he moved his hands out to his sides with two fingers out on each hand. His men split and went into the trees on either side of the camp, quickly hidden by the vegetation and rocks.

“I can’t move my father. We’ll stay here, they saw the three of us and know we’re here anyway,” Belle said.

Perron nodded. “Very well, I shall be watching from that hill.” He pointed behind Belle and moved silently taking his sword and rifle with him.

Rett grabbed a jug of water and took a long drink. He poured more in her father’s cup and handed the jug to her, then sat on a rock across from her where he had an open view of the pass into the camp.

“I don’t like this,” he said. “Perron’s right. If they were in the mountain, they should be buried under a pile of rubble right now.”

“Maybe they weren’t inside. While riding by they could have been caught up in the explosion’s aftermath .”

Rett raised one brow, but didn’t reply. He cocked his head to the side and pointed to the pass. “Here they come.”

She slid her hand to her holster and removed her shooter. She hadn’t had time to reload and quickly plugged more bullets in the twelve holes of the cylinder. She snapped it shut just as the sounds of horse hoofs crunching on twigs and scattering rocks approached the camp.

She and Rett rose to their feet, alert and ready. Her father rested, frail and wan, on the rug at her feet. He whispered, “Be careful, Belle.”

Three men came into the light cast by the campfire. They were dressed in black tunics and pants tucked into knee high boots. Scarves draped over their heads and looped around the bottom half of their faces. Sarcs. Belle’s heart sank.

The one in the lead had dark brown eyes she recognized from their encounter in Harruca and they were focused on her while the other two shifted their gazes around as they advanced.

“Where are the others?” the leader asked.

“What others?” Rett asked.

“This camp is well set up. You were only a few moments ahead of us. Where are the others?”

“The camp was here when we arrived. Whoever was here left before we found it. Who are you?”

“Ask Lady Arabella,” he replied.

Rett cast a sideways glance at her.

“They’re Sarcs,” she said, glaring at the man. “He’s the one who kidnapped me in Harruca.”

“Give me the stickpin, put down your weapons, and we will grant you a quick death.”

“How did you get out of the mountain?” Rett asked.

“We were not in the mountain. Sarcs do not put themselves in confined places such as that cursed underground city. We camped outside and saw you leaving when the mountain began to collapse.” He took a step closer but the other two moved out to the sides, they hefted their rifles pointed in front of them. The leader seemed to be unarmed but Belle felt sure that was not true.

“I can give you money,” Belle said, moistening her dry lips with her tongue. “You can take your pin and the money if you let us live.”

A brief laugh came from the leader but his eyes remained cold. “Whatever money you have is meaningless to us. The taking of the stickpin is a matter of honor. You’re only choice is to die quickly or slowly. Choose.”

Where were Perron and his men? She hoped they were going to do something soon. Then fear sliced through her. What if there had been more than three of the Sarcs and they had circled around, found Perron and his men and killed them?

“Okay,” Belle said. “The pin’s in my pocket.”

“Put your weapon down and take the pin out slowly.”

She dropped the shooter and it landed beside her father. Carefully she slipped a hand in the pocket of her pants. The stickpin was actually back on
Gambit
in the pocket of her leather money satchel. She’d almost forgotten about it after they landed at the oasis.

Rifle fire crackled in the air and everything happened so suddenly, Belle couldn’t tell how it all occurred. Insidiously, the details burned into her head like a horrid nightmare you can never forget. The two Sarcs behind the leader staggered backwards and fell to the ground. Like in slow motion, the leader raised his arm toward her. A fingerless leather glove covered his hand with a small box sitting on top of his wrist.

His opposite hand reached for the box and three projectiles emerged, headed for her. She screamed but couldn’t move, it all happened so fast. She closed her eyes and a body crashed into her, taking her to the ground. Then shots rang out from every direction.

She waited for the pain. Surprising, she imagined there would be pain when she died. But all she detected was a heavy body draped over her and she struggled to move it off of her. The shooting stopped and Rett called her name.

Finally, the body rolled to one side and she scrambled away on hands and knees.

“Belle,” Rett called again. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly he was at her side, pulling her to her feet. She took a deep breath and looked around the camp. The Sarcs were sprawled about, dead, and Perron’s men emerged from the trees. They dragged in the body of another Sarc and let it fall to the ground beside his companions. There
had
been another one. If it hadn’t been for Perron and his men they would all be dead. The Gandiss men walked forward, their eyes solemn as they stared at her.

She ran hands over her arms and chest. She was okay. A shaky laugh tumbled from her lips. “What happened?”

Rett gazed at her, eyes full of sorrow. She frowned, then she looked down. The man on the ground, he had thrown his body in front of hers to take the projectiles the Sarc had meant for her. Three brass spikes protruded from his back through the black fabric of evening tails now dirty and tattered. Her father.

She fell to her knees as the world spun away from her. Despair hit like a fiery knife piercing her heart. Denial was the only pillar she could cling to. It just couldn’t be. She pulled out the spikes and threw them from her, filled with revulsion and then rolled his body over.

His eyelids fluttered and her heart leaped. He wasn’t dead.

“B, Belle,” he whispered. His eyes flickered open for a second focusing on her then closed. “I… love …you…” And he slipped away.

An inhuman cry rose in her throat and spilled forth, a shrill howl full of loss and despair. She fell over him, sobs wracking her body. It couldn’t be. She had come all this way and they had saved him. He was supposed to go back to Urbannia and pick up where he left off…saving the world…and being her father. The one person she could always count on, the one man who always understood and supported her.

As though from a distance Rett called her name, but it was surreal. He wasn’t part of this pain and sorrow. He belonged in another world. She clutched her father’s coat as the moisture of her tears fell and covered her hands until she could no longer feel the fabric. It all ended here and she didn’t care anymore. Her father was dead and the world could go to hell.

Chapter 21

Rett’s heart sank when the Sarc fired the spikes from his wrist weapon, but he was too far away to stop it. All he could do was roar his outrage as he lunged toward Belle. He had thought the man was unarmed by the way he stood with his arms at his sides, holding no weapons. He had believed the lie of his sleeve covering the projectile mechanism.

As if in a dream, Sir John leaped from the ground and threw his body in front of Belle. The projectiles went into his back and he fell against his daughter taking them both to the ground. The Gandiss group took out the Sarcs with their rifles. The assassins fell in a rain of bullets from both sides of the camp. He barely noticed as he ran to Belle.

She collapsed on top of her father’s lifeless body, her cries inconsolable. He didn’t know what to do. Unbelievable. They had come all this way and by a miracle had rescued Sir John. They had even destroyed the people who had planned this. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

He tried to pull Belle up but she waved a fist to keep him away, screaming, “No!”

Her sorrow ripped at his heart and he wanted desperately to comfort her, but she didn’t want him. He looked up at Perron and the Gandiss man shook his head.

“She has earned the right to grieve,” Perron said. He motioned to his men and they moved back standing with their hands crossed over their chests in a sign of respect for the dead.

Rett sank to his knees beside her, not touching, but there. They stayed this way until her tears ran out and her sobs subsided to whimpers.

Rett finally drug her away from the body and she allowed him to pull her to the rug and wrap her cloak about her, too exhausted from sorrow to protest. He put his arms around her and rested her head on his chest.

The others moved then, bringing a blanket to wrap Sir John’s body in. They stoked up the fire and put water on to boil for coffee. The food preparation resumed and soon the smell of spicy meat wafted in the air making Rett realize he hadn’t eaten in a day.

But he didn’t want to move. Holding Belle was his grip on sanity at the moment. If he started trying to figure out the right and wrong of life he thought he would go mad. Sir John was one of the finest men in the world. A leader of nations. A man who fought to bring peace and prosperity to countries less fortunate. He didn’t deserve this fate.

One of the spies brought him a skewer of meat wrapped in a hunk of bread and a cup of coffee. He nodded in gratitude and with the hand that wasn’t holding Belle he stuffed the food in his mouth. He took a sip of coffee and then held up the cup.

“You got anything stronger than this?” he asked.

Perron gave him a grim smile, went to his saddle, and pulled a bottle from the one of the packs. He picked up some cups and strode across to Rett.

“We drink to the High Minister,” he said, uncorking the bottle with his teeth. He poured some of the tawny liquid into two cups.

Belle moved then and sat up. Her face was puffy and blotched with red and her eyes were terrible to gaze into. She focused on the bottle.

“I’ll have some of that,” she said.

Perron nodded and poured a good measure into another cup and passed it to her. He held up his and said, “
Ha ah halla
. It means ‘honor to the great one.”

“
Ha ah halla
,” the other men, Belle and Rett repeated. Then they tossed back their drinks.

Rett and Belle coughed as the fiery liquid burned inside them and made their eyes bulge out.

“Fire whisky,” Perron said. “It is good for sorrow.”

“Then I’ll have another,” Belle said. “For I am full of sorrow.”

He poured another shot into her cup. She struggled to rise and Rett jumped up to help her. She gave him a ghost of a smile and walked over to where her father’s body lay wrapped in the blanket.

“I just can’t believe he’s dead,” she murmured and knelt. She placed a hand on the still form for a moment, and then she pulled the top edge of the wrapping back and ran her hand over his coat and pulled out his pocket watch. It was made of polished brass and not nearly as fine as the one she had lost. But Rett was certain it would be just as cherished…a last token to remind her of her father.

Rett ran a hand through his hair. He wished he had an answer for her—something that would make sense of this tragedy, but he couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t sound trite.

“His body has to go back to Urbannia. He deserves to be honored there in death, after all he gave his life for his country.” She stood and placed his watch in her pant pocket, clipping the chain to a loop on her cincher.

“You must take him to the Mandagol. They can prepare the body so it will be preserved for the journey. They know how to do these things.” Perron tossed back the rest of his whiskey and placed the cup and bottle on a log.

“My Lady, I grieve with you in this sorrow. Sir John was a great man. But now that we have rested we must return to Gandiss without delay and give our news to Lord Ismatan. He is the only one now who can avert the war.”

Belle looked at Perron and took a deep breath. “I understand. Although right now my grief seems more overwhelming than world war, I know you’re right.” She held out her hand and he took it. “Please ask the ambassador to tell the queen what occurred here and that my father died a hero to the Empire.”

“I will tell him,” Perron said. He gave her a low bow and motioned for his men to saddle the horses. They would ride through the night to reach Durbon Pass.

Rett let out a yell as the presumed lifeless body of the Sarc leader raised his arm from where he lay sprawled on the ground -- he wasn’t dead! Rett pulled his pistol and shot him in the eye. But not before he launched his last projectile at Belle. One of the Gandiss men fired three more times into his head for good measure.