Brotherhood of the Strange (Kingship, Tales from the Aether Book 1) (13 page)

After a morning spent once again perusing Uncle Degory’s notes, Cordelia had dozed off in her private drawing room. The young doctor had spent several days in her suite at the Great Northern practically committing them to memory. It was only the glare of the late afternoon sun peering briefly between gray clouds that finally brought her out of a fitful slumber, one which had been plagued with images of the distress she had undergone throughout the past week. Brushing the wrinkles out of her dress, she emerged from her room to find there were only a handful of passengers to be found in her first class area. At the moment, there weren't any stewards to be found. She approached a young man who was drying some freshly washed teacups and saucers at the small Parisian themed cafe where she had purchased her breakfast.

“Excuse me young man,” she began. “When do we arrive at Sherwood Isle?”

The cafe worker put down a teacup and threw his damp dishtowel over his shoulder as he spoke in a rustic Cornish accent. “I’m very sorry milady, but all of the first-class passengers got off an ‘af hour ago. Right now we coming up on another stop for Sherwood, but I wouldn’t recommend you gettin’ off ‘ere, no ma’am.”

“Why do you say that?” Cordelia asked.

The young man continued, “This stop ‘ere is the workers town. Spots can be a bit rough after dark, if you don’t know where to go.” He eyed her attire and perplexed expression on her face. “Which, I’m gatherin’, if I may, you don’t.”

Cordelia thanked the young man and returned to her room where she paced nervously. She considered talking to the aethership’s captain but, in all honesty, felt like a silly little girl doing so. Besides, she had no way of knowing his disposition, whether or not he would be willing to acquiesce and help a lady in need. Nor did she have much time to consider her options as the vessel was coming in to dock at that very moment. Feeling the need to move on with her adventure and help her uncle, Cordelia decided to press on. It took great effort and a healthy dose of humility to get all of her luggage down to the steerage level amid the curious looks of the other passengers. Several ‘salt of the earth’ men helped her carry her belongings off the ship which had docked at the very edge of the isle. Crossing the gangway she looked down. The edge of the upland was caught in the orange sunlight, illuminating the rock-face. Thousands of feet below lay the open ocean. She had overheard earlier the upland typically was out to sea this time of year. Gripping the rail tightly to keep from swooning, Cordelia quickly crossed. After tipping the men, she paused to catch her breath, leaning on her pile of suitcases. Oscar was awake, screeching in protest at once again being jostled around.

“Oh, dear,” the girl panted. She was finding it difficult to breathe in the high altitude and found even the slight exertion of walking off the transport and organizing her baggage to be most tiresome. Of course as a doctor, Cordelia was familiar with altitude sickness. It was a common malady for those who traveled to the aether infrequently. For her, who had never been higher than the Cliffs of Dover, the thin air was beginning to take its toll. Reaching into her medical bag, Cordelia retrieved two aspirin and choked them down without water. With only a few hours till sunset, she felt the need to get her bearings. Looking around, Cordelia noted so far
Sherwood Isle was not at all what she had been expecting. It was noisy, dirty, and reminded the young doctor of the undesirable areas of London a proper lady such as herself best avoid. She knew several people, respectable people from the hospital and other circles, who often vacationed here. They spoke of the beautifully cultivated gardens that ran through pristine sections of Sherwood Forest, wonderful historic attractions such as the Major Oak, and resorts catering to one’s every whim. Cordelia imagined that, had she gotten off at her proper stop, she would have found the picturesque Sherwood Isle she had expected.

Having caught much of her breath, Cordelia realized she had an immediate problem. When her luggage had been carried off the transport, there had been no porters nor hand trolleys to meet her. She had far too many bags and cases, not to mention Oscar, to manage without one. She couldn’t even enlist any help from those on the transport as the gangway had already been removed and the aethership was in motion, black smoke billowing from its stacks as it began the return trip to London. A few other vessels were moored along the edge of the upland but it took no more than a cursory glance for Cordelia to know that none of them were the Kingship. The photos of the vessel provided by Degory showed it to be a truly beautiful aethership while the ones here looked more like the abode of pirates and other ruffians. She could see some bobbies off in the distance, but was hesitant to leave her belongings to push her way through the crowds and ask for assistance. The departure of the transport, along with her new uncomfortable and unfamiliar surroundings, made the inexperienced traveler realize just how alone she was. Right as she was about to surrender to the hopelessness of her situation, Cordelia was approached by a handsomely dressed older gentleman.

“Excuse me, Miss,” the man said. “It looks to me you are in some distress. Might I offer any assistance?”

Cordelia looked at the man who was clearly a gentleman and felt a surge of relief. “Oh, thank you, kind sir!” she replied, returning to her comfortable air of civility. “I seem to have gotten off at the wrong stop and I am quite lost.”

“The man replied, “I should say so! You look to be on holiday. If that’s the case, then I imagine you want the other side of Sherwood Isle. Right now you’re in Worker’s Quarter.”

“I gathered,” she admitted.

The man removed his straw derby hat and gave a bow, “The name’s Corbin, Jonathan T. Corbin. At your service.”

Cordelia gave a small curtsy, “Cordelia Cady, Mr. Corbin. I admit, I was pondering as to my next move when you approached. If your schedule permits, would you be so kind as to point me in the direction I should go? I also need some way to transport my luggage.”

“My dear,” the older gentleman stated. “I would not be able to sleep tonight if I did not get you to your destination personally.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you out sir,” Cordelia stated but then hesitantly added, “but I really do need your help. I’m trying to locate a vessel by the name of Kingship, but looking around I daresay it is not to be located in this area of Sherwood.”

“Then it’s settled!” he exclaimed, taking her arm in his. “The trolley service runs to all of the major areas in Sherwood. I shall escort you personally!” He motioned with his free hand and two other less well dressed men approached. One of them had his hand wrapped tightly in some bandages “This is Mathias and Todd, two of my factory employees. They will see to your luggage.”

“Your hand, sir,” Cordelia asked, “Are you injured?”

“Um, it’s nothing, m’lady,” the one introduced as Todd said. “Just a small accident earlier today.”

“It certainly doesn’t look like nothing, sir. I’m a physician, let me look at it.”

“We are here to rescue you, my dear Ms. Cady, not to put you to work,” said Mr. Corbin. “Besides, the steam trolley is approaching. We must see to your luggage and get aboard.”

“Of course, but the journey across Sherwood will allow ample time to see to your associate’s injury.”

Holding on to her medical bag, which also contained Uncle Degory’s envelope, Cordelia surrendered the rest of her luggage to Mathias and Todd in order to walk with this unassuming, helpful, older gentleman. She told him she was meeting some respectable business associates on the Kingship she had mentioned, which Mr. Corbin believed he could help her locate. As they boarded the first class car of the steam powered trolly bound for the other side of Sherwood Isle, Cordelia could not help but feel excited, despite the altitude sickness.

Burd adjusted the collar of his grimy long coat, effectively hiding his much nicer garb underneath. He had been looking for Degory Priest all day, and while he had started his search in a less well-to-do area than Vance and Afa had, his search had eventually led him into even rougher quarters of the large upland and he felt the need to dress down for the occasion. When the need arose, he was not above a little petty theft, though he was always extremely selective regarding those from whom he was willing to pilfer. The coat and top hat he acquired were from an arrogant business man, one who was clearly in love with his own importance. Burd had observed him for a few minutes from a distance as he verbally berated his workers. The miserable look of them, combined with the awful conditions of the man’s factory, contrasted heavily against his polished shoes and expensive cigar. When he laid his hat and coat down and turned his back, Burd made his move. Silently walking by with the casualness that comes from years of trained sneaking, he took both garments and disappeared into a back alley. There, he dragged the coat through the mud a few times and beat it soundly against a brick wall, making it look far older and used. After doing the same to the top hat, he had donned his new disguise, and, with a little judicious application of dirt to the face, Cornelius Burd now looked as if he had lived in Worker's Quarter his whole life. An empty wine bottle found in the alley and a slight stagger completed the transformation. Now that he was in the poorer sections, he wished he had brought a few of his small, handmade toys with him, as he was sure he would see children whose day he could brighten. His only other regret now was after several hours in this disguise, the cloying smell of the man’s cigar smoke imbued into the fabric was beginning to get to him, as was the smell of stale beer in the common room of the run down hotel he now found himself. A greasy barkeep was answering his questions politely enough. After all, money can always buy some temporary friends.

“Sorry there, mate,” the barkeep went on, “There’s been no one come through this way by the name of Priest, that’s for sure. Type a name a bloke’s not likely to forget none too quick.”

“That’s the truth! Well thanks, anyway,” Burd replied in a deliberate off-hand manner. “It was a long shot, best to keep looking.”

Burd left his drink unfinished, the tenth in the last few hours, and paid his tab. He had ordered one in each of the increasingly seedy establishments he investigated as people were always more helpful to paying customers. The drinks remained all but untouched as Burd wanted to keep his wits about him. Normally, he would not waste such fine Jameson whiskey, but something about this whole business did not sit well with the ex-special forces operative. Making his way to the door, Burd noticed two working class men get up and follow him out, the same way they had followed him in. Though their movements had been discrete enough, Cornelius had enough well trained senses to see through their subterfuge. They had been following him for the last hour and a half. Had they been ordinary cutpurses or thugs, they would have accosted him in one of several alleys and shadowed areas that Burd had purposefully sought out. They weren’t much of a threat to the small, agile man, and their continued interest in pursuing him confirmed to Cornelius that these men were looking for Degory Priest as well, and had overheard his inquiries.

Burd stopped in the middle of the cobblestone street that was all but buried in the mud brought in by the wagon and carriage wheels from the forest beyond. People were darting to and fro, the business of the afternoon in full swing. The whistle in a nearby textile factory signaled a shift change. Within a few minutes the streets would be even more crowded. While he could think of several ways to dispose of his followers, the soldier turned toymaker figured he could use these hired ruffians to do much of his work for him. Besides, he was always a little more cautious when back within the reaches of the British Empire. Though Vance’s extensive contacts had kept him out of prison thus far, an eight year old warrant for desertion was not something to be taken lightly.

Timing would be important when dealing with these thugs, and Burd was a master of it. Surreptitiously, he drew and concealed a small two-shot plasmatic derringer in the palm of his hand, just in case something went awry. Self preservation trumped the concern over his warrant, at least that was the excuse he allowed himself. In truth, the thrill of action was imbued in his blood so deeply his now more sedate life would never be able to fully expunge it. As he had predicted, large numbers of tired, beleaguered workers were pouring out of the nearby mill. It was time.

Turning around he looked directly at the two men, and with a deliberate, confident stride, closed the gap until he was within arm’s reach. “Hey, gentlemen!” Burd called out. “I say, you two fine chaps wouldn’t happen to know where I could find a Dr. Degory Priest, would you?”

Both of his pursuers stopped in their tracks, clearly taken aback at the audacity and boldness of the man they were stalking. Burd had the edge he was hoping for. The two men were both much larger than him, and men who relied on brute strength to get by in the world were often at a loss when the one arrow in their quiver failed to intimidate. It appeared Burd’s small build only added to their confusion. He pressed his apparent advantage with a large goofy smile on his boyish face, “I mean, you’ve been following me for nearly an hour and a half. Obviously you know what I’m up to. So, can you help me out here?”

It took a few seconds for the minds of the thugs to adjust to this topsy-turvy game of cat and mouse. Finally, probably because nothing more clever or original could come to mind, one of them puffed himself up and stated, “I think you’d better come with us, if you don’t want any trouble.”

“That’s the best you’ve got?” Burd said laughing out loud. “You really don’t do this very well at all, do you?”

Emboldened by the first, the second drew a knife. Before he could vocalize his obvious threat, Cornelius lashed out, striking with the empty wine bottle at the back of the hand that held the blade, causing the weapon to land almost silently in the mud. Grasping at what was probably a broken bone or two in that hand, the thug stepped back a pace, his face showing pain and uncertainty. The whole incident happened so fast nary a person on the increasingly crowded street noticed.

“I really think it’d be best for all of us if you stopped following me,” Burd stated with an almost familiar casualness. “Though it’s been fun, really!”

Before the conversation could progress any further, Cornelius turned on his heel and began to quickly move through the crowd. Looking over his shoulder, he could see the two men continue to try to follow him, the first impatiently urging his injured companion along. Although Burd’s training would have allowed him to lose these pursuers almost instantly, he wanted them to follow. It was all part of his newly formed plan to find Degory Priest. Rather than continue his heretofore futile efforts, he would allow these men to lead him to the missing scientist. Burd was certain these were not the only two searching the upland for Degory, just as certain as he was that they meant to do the scientist harm, when and if they finally located him. So for the next twenty minutes, he led them on a merry chase through crowded streets and back alleys, always eluding them, but staying in sight so they would keep up the pursuit. Eventually, the man whose hand he injured began to lag behind, much to the aggravation of the first. Burd finally figured he had made them chase him enough. Concealing himself in the shadows behind several barrels of pickled herring, he watched them pass, and listened as they breathlessly berated each other for losing him.

“What should we do?” the injured one panted.

“We need instructions. Mr. Corbin will want to know about this one.”

As they walked away, it became Burd’s turn to become the hunter. He followed them for nearly a half hour, as they made their way to the Worker's Quarter docks. Located at the very edge of Sherwood Isle, it was loaded with various aetherships, mostly being loaded or unloaded with various cargos. It was busy and congested here as well. While local police patrolled the area, it was clear much escaped their notice, intentionally or otherwise. The congestion coupled with his training allowed Burd to remain unnoticed by the two men who had joined up with another, much nicer dressed older man waiting near a personnel transport that was in the process of disembarking its passengers. Cornelius positioned himself behind a hastily grabbed newspaper where he could overhear the conversation but remain undiscovered. The two thugs recapped the little adventure they had, attempting, badly, to paint themselves in a better light. The man known as Mr. Corbin was clearly displeased at their failure to capture someone who was looking for Degory Priest.

Before he could chastise them further, his attention was drawn to an attractive, well dressed woman in her twenties who had just gotten off of the transport with enough luggage for what Burd considered a lifetime of holiday. She was looking around, with an air of fearful uncertainty, as her transport was already pulling away from the dock, gaining altitude and passing over the upland on its way back to wherever its journey originated. Burd sized her up quickly. Her luggage had several inconsistencies and curiosities for a woman on simple holiday. The covered birdcage, medical bag, and gentleman’s walking stick, most likely a sword cane by the style of the collar, though Burd couldn’t tell at this distance, all bespoke much more to him than would meet an untrained eye. What aroused his suspicions even more, however, was the way Mr. Corbin directly sought her out, walking over to her, his face showing none of the malice that had been directed at his two underlings. Burd did not want to risk getting any closer and only overheard scraps of their conversation over the hustle and bustle of the area. One of the several words he did specifically overhear was Kingship. It was enough to make Burd rethink his search for Degory Priest to include this new development. He was certain there was a connection between the two. Apparently it was the same for Mr. Corbin as he took the young woman’s arm and directed her to a first class car of a steam powered trolley. His two companions loaded all of the young woman’s luggage, the one whom Cornelius struck wincing noticeably with the effort. Once it was stowed, they took their place in a worker class car, separate from Mr. Corbin and his unwitting companion. Smiling, Burd realized a great opportunity had presented itself, as neither the young woman nor the older man would recognize him. As the steam trolley began to slowly pull away, he stripped off his stolen topcoat and hat revealing his much nicer clothing beneath. With a pocket handkerchief he wiped away much of the dirt on his face; enough, he surmised, to pass in the dim light of the steam trolley. A quick jog of a few paces caught him up to the car in which his newly found interest sat, and he boarded with only a cursory glance from a conductor. As fortune would have it, a seat was open directly across from Mr. Corbin and the girl. He sat down in the plush red velvet bench seat, gave them a polite greeting, and relaxed for what was sure to be an interesting and informative ride across the railways of Sherwood Isle.