Iron Horsemen (19 page)

We repeated in unison, “Aye captain.”

“Better. And try not to hit anyone.”

The Sparrowhawk flew straight through the middle of the armada. Several airships opened fire, but all were off on their timing. By plowing straight through the middle and increasing our speed, the captain had thrown off the gunners.

Passing between two Zeppelins, Baldarich slammed his fist against the railing. “Damn, these two are part of the German air corps. I was hoping they'd only be sky pirates. Not that I mind sending a few of the Kaiser's lackeys to the ground.”

“Is the Kaiser coming after us too?” I tried to keep my
voice from trembling.

“I doubt it. He and England are on opposite sides of a bunch of treaties, that's all.”

My father brought his hand to his chin. “Kannard might have turned to the Kaiser to help with the Templars.”

The captain motioned to descend and Genevieve pushed forward on the wheel. The Zeppelins opened fire, and I ducked. I knew it was pointless, but I couldn't help it. Genevieve held steady, barely blinking at the repeated booms.

We slipped past them and the two zeppelins broadsided each other with cannon fire. A huge explosion erupted above us casting an amber hue on the windows. I ducked again.

Baldarich leaned closer to the window. “Wait for it, wait for it … now! Pull up, hard.”

The crumbling, fiery wrecks plunged through the clouds as the Sparrowhawk twisted between the mass of airships. My pulse quickened, and my hands were white as I gripped the levers. I had never seen this many airships, even in New York. The armada appeared endless, and in the distance I saw reinforcements on the horizon.

At first, one or two cannon balls crisscrossed in front of the Sparrowhawk as if we waded through a tennis match, but when Baldarich ordered us to turn back, the cannons shook the air like thunder. Lead shot crossed before us like sheets of rain.

The captain pointed to one of the larger ships. “Perfect, bring us alongside that one.”

Genevieve and I maneuvered the Sparrowhawk.

Captain Baldarich walked over to his chair and flipped open one of the copper tubes. “Gears, I need smoke.”

A voice echoed back. “But, captain, I quit after the last grease fire, I swear.”

Baldarich shook his head. “I need a cloud, and I need it
now!”

“Oh! Aye aye, sir. Coming right up.”

The captain hadn't fired a single shot, but had taken out several airships. I wondered, what could be next?

Thick, white smoke engulfed the windows as it billowed out from the back of the Sparrowhawk. My first reaction was fire, but the captain saw my concern and said, “Cloud powder. Gears has a great recipe. We'll be completely obscured in no time.”

Genevieve nodded. “So you intend to hide in the smoke?”

“Yes and no.” The captain went to the window. “Alexander, slow us down, one tick above full stop.”

Stopping was suicide, but I did as I was told. All the ships closed in on our position, and soon we'd be surrounded. Any one of the large zeppelins could knock us out the sky. They were probably readying their guns right now while Baldarich acted like he was standing in a den full of sleeping bears trying to decide which one to poke with a stick. I swallowed hard and waited for the next order.

“Who will take my bait?” Baldarich asked as he watched the armada moving through the clouds. “Captain Harker! Haven't seen you since you cheated me at cards.”

A medium sized airship crested over another vessel heading straight for the Sparrowhawk. Its gaudy bright colors made it stick out from the steel-gray German Zeppelins.

The captain said to Genevieve. “Prepare to dive. Straight down and then roll to the left. If you do it right we'll miss all the action above us. If not, we die a fiery death. Having fun yet?”

Genevieve smiled. “Awaiting your orders captain.”

The gun ports on the large Zeppelin opened along its entire length. “Now! Alexander, full throttle.”

I pushed the levers forward, Genevieve put us into a deep dive, and the Sparrowhawk dropped out of the cloud.
Wisps of white still clung to the windows as we plunged into open skies. The rest of the smoke enveloped the armada as the pirate Captain Harker and the larger Zeppelin opened fire with full broadsides. Seeing them fire into the cloud, other airships did as well, and in the chaos, round upon round slammed into the zeppelins above us.

The Sparrowhawk rolled out and slipped beneath the carnage. I couldn't believe it. We hadn't fired a shot and already it was looking like we'd won.

Genevieve straightened out the Sparrowhawk and flew just below the others airships. Looking up, I saw the battle raging as the armada fought itself. But a couple of vessels quickly saw through the scam, and dropped below to come after us.

Baldarich pointed into the sky. “There, head for that small one and get above it.”

She pulled up and banked the Sparrowhawk. I watched the captain as I pushed the throttle forward and helped Genevieve control the wheel.

Baldarich flipped the cover off one of the copper messaging tubes. “Mr. Singh, prepare to fire the grappler, we're going fishing.”

The captain tapped his foot as he waited. The Sparrowhawk flew over the airskiff and Baldarich slammed his fist against the railing. “Mr. Singh, fire!” He turned to Genevieve. “Wait for it.”

I heard the pop of the grappler, and the whirring of the unwinding cable. Then the Sparrowhawk shuddered as the cable went taut and Baldarich smiled. “Ahead, Master Armitage. Milady, would you maneuver us over to that blimp please.”

The captain laughed as we soared over the blimp. I heard a loud crashing sound and felt the whole vessel shake. They had just dragged one ship into another. Amazing. Baldarich had this armada at his whim. He appeared to move with
ease and pick his targets at will.

Genevieve screamed, I looked up and saw one of the large Zeppelins rising to block their path. Genevieve pulled with all her might and I joined her. Together we spun the wheel to the left sending the Sparrowhawk into a steep bank. We barely missed the huge airship, but now several of the ships had caught on to our tactics and we found ourselves suddenly surrounded. My stomach tightened, sensing the shift in the battle. We had dipped in and out of the fleet picking vulnerable targets, but now, Genevieve and I couldn't find any way to maneuver.

Captain Baldarich looked out the window and shook his head. “Well it was fun while it lasted, looks like we'll have to fight our way out of this one.” He winked at Genevieve. “Excellent work in the pilot's seat, Milady. You'd be too expensive to keep for long, but you'll do 'til I can find another.”

“With pleasure, captain.” Rodin flew up and landed on Genevieve's shoulder.

Jealousy's bitter blade pricked me. I wanted to be the new pilot, but I bit my tongue, and instead turned back toward the window ringed by brass bolts. That was when I saw it. The Storm Vulture, loomed at the edge of the firestorm, her bow aimed right at the Sparrowhawk.

“Captain!”

He spun around. “That witch has the worst timing.” He pointed at me. “Head down to the gun-deck and assist Mr. Singh.”

“Aye, captain.”

I ran to the gun-deck but found it empty. I began gathering cannon balls and powder charges next to the port side guns. The Storm Vulture approached from that side and from what I'd learned, we would bank, come alongside, and then the broadsides would begin.

From the copper tube above, I heard the captain's voice. “Battlestations! Port guns prepare to fire.”

The crewmen charged down onto the gun-deck led by Mr. Singh. I set three pre-loaded magazines next to the portside Gatling gun. I looked up to find the Sikh watching me.

“You prepared the guns?”

I saluted. “Yes, sir, I knew we had to be ready and assumed the captain would keep them on the portside.”

“Good job.” Mr. Singh commanded the gunners, “Open gun-ports and prepare to fire.” He shifted back to me. “Open the starboard ports as well. It will help clear the smoke.”

I ran over and pulled a series of levers to snap open all the starboard gun-ports. A cold wind carrying the smell of rain whipped through the gun-deck. I ran into the forward compartment, grabbed my leather jacket and a
pair of goggles. Returning to the gun-deck I saw the Storm Vulture coming alongside. Fear threatened to immobilize me, but I pushed it aside. Fear would have to wait; I had a duty to perform.

The Sparrowhawk banked toward the Storm Vulture, and I wondered what Baldarich was thinking, until I realized the distance was closing between us. In moments we would be in position to fire, before the Storm Vulture would be ready. I smiled, and made a note to remember that tactic.

Mr. Singh pointed his shamshir at the pirate vessel; the sword's curved blade and handle remained firm in his hand. “Cannon one, fire. Cannon two, fire. Gatling, fire at will.”

I watched as the first shot ripped through the hull of the Storm Vulture forward of the wing. The second plunged through above the wing as the Gatling gun aerated the hull just behind it. I jumped up, cheering the success.

Mr. Singh stood stoically before the others and said, “Prepare to receive broadside.”

Uh oh. I didn't like the sound of that.

The airmen manning the guns ducked behind whatever they could find, but Mr. Singh remained defiantly exposed in the middle of the gun-deck standing before the Storm Vulture.

I saw four puffs of smoke from the Storm Vulture. Cannon shot ripped through the hull beside me. Dust and smoke choked the air, splinters of wood and shards of metal exploded across the gun-deck, biting my skin as they flew by. The outer hull peeled inward as a cannon ball punched through and whipped past me. Another passed harmlessly through an open gun-port and straight out the starboard side.

Mr. Singh pointed his shamshir at the airmen. “Reload.”

They returned to the cannons, and loaded their second shot as the men operating the Gatling gun opened fire. A
shower of lead spewed a choking cloud from the barrel and filled the deck with smoke. The rapid fire of the Gatling ripped into the side of the Storm Vulture as fast as the men could crank the handle on its side.

The chaotic scene playing out before me reminded me of a machine, they way everyone moved in unison, each with a function and a duty, like interlocking gears. The battle frightened me to my core and made me want to cower in a corner. But I knew there were no safe places on the ship and I needed to be prepared to jump into action at Mr. Singh's next command.

Mr. Singh aimed his shamshir at the Storm Vulture again. “Fire!”

I saw a single puff of smoke from the last gun-port of the Storm Vulture, but only one. Had they held back one cannon from their broadside?

Two cannon balls connected by an iron chain ripped through the first cannon's gun-port. The chain-shot cut through the men manning the cannon.

The second cannon on the deck of the Sparrowhawk, the one I stood frozen behind, roared in a burst of smoke and fire. The force messed my hair but I didn't flinch, the horror before me locked my muscles and wrenched my insides into knots.

I tried to reach the first cannon but slipped in the oil and blood, and crashed into the cast-iron weapon and its wooden carriage. I frantically searched for the burning rope to light the wick and fire the cannon. The punk lay beside the remnants of one body, extinguished.

I looked around for another source of fire but saw nothing. The lamps that were lit now lay shattered on the deck. Mr. Singh ran to the cannon and tore a piece of his blue tunic. He dug a small shard of flint from the pouch on his belt and struck his sword above the fabric. A few sparks showered down but would not ignite the silk.

Above him, I saw the little bronze dragon soar down the stairs to the gun-deck. I called out, “Rodin!”

The dragon flew down and landed on the cannon.

Mr. Singh stopped trying to light the cloth, which blew away in the raging wind, and said, “Remember to aim.”

I sighted between Rodin's legs and saw the side of the Storm Vulture through the whirling smoke. I pointed to the wick. “Rodin, fire, come on I need a fireball.”

The little dragon wiggled his backside, all the way to his tail. He extended his neck and a small ball of fire shot out and ignited the wick.

Sparks raced into the barrel and the cannon hurled its shot toward the Storm Vulture. The cannon recoiled back from the blast. I fell backward and avoided being struck by the ropes which held the cannon in place.

Rodin flew toward the ceiling startled by the blast.

We looked out through the smoke and saw a new hole in the engine room of the Storm Vulture. Black smoke billowed out the side.

I clenched my fist and shouted with excitement. “We did it!”

Mr. Singh looked over his shoulder at me. “Load another; I'll get two men to relieve you.”

“Aye Mr. Singh.”

I picked up the tightly packed cloth powder charge and slid it into the barrel. With the ramrod held tightly in my hand I drove it to the base of the barrel.

As I ran for the ball, Mr. Singh's voice call out the dreaded words, “Prepare to receive broadside.”

I looked for Rodin; he was just above me flying around the deck. I grabbed the bronze dragon, pulled him close to my chest, dove against the wall at the front of the vessel and prayed we would survive.

The gun-deck exploded as the cannon shot ripped through, showering wood and metal on everyone inside.
Shards tore into the wall above me, but Rodin and I remained unhurt. I popped up and saw Mr. Singh still commanding the deck. One of the airmen stepped around me with a small piece of metal in his arm and grabbed an iron ball.

I sat up, but held Rodin tight to my chest. The little dragon clung to my jacket and kept its wings tucked close to its body. I rubbed Rodin's horned nubs. The dragon looked just as scared as I felt. The smoke swirled, dissipating in the strong winds whipped up by all the holes and open ports. The smell of gunpowder and imminent rain filled the air, making me cough and choke.