Storms of Lazarus (Shadows of Asphodel, Book 2) (12 page)

“But the beach.”

Ardis pointed to the survivors straggling toward the trees. Still out in the open. She turned and ran back to them.

“Everybody take cover!” Ardis shouted. “Watch your backs!”

The survivors glanced at the sky, then fled as fast as they could to the safety of the trees. The clockwork dragon glided low over the lake, its metallic belly glinting in the firelight. It didn’t appear to be retreating.

If the Russians wanted to attack Project Lazarus, they would kill the archmage.

Ardis returned to Konstantin, who sat by Himmel. Ursula bandaged the captain’s wounded arm with a strip of cloth.

“We have to move,” Ardis said. “It isn’t safe here.”

Konstantin met her gaze. “But this is Hungary. This is our territory.”

“This is war.”

Himmel grunted with pain as Ursula tightened the bandage.

“Captain,” Ardis said. “Can you walk?”

Himmel shook his head. His eyes looked hollow.

“I’m not a captain,” he said. “Not without my ship. Not without my crew.”

Ardis stared fiercely at him. “Your crew isn’t lost. We have survivors, and we need to lead them to safety. Can you walk?”

“I can try.”

Ursula finished bandaging him. Himmel staggered upright, and Konstantin steadied him with a hand on his elbow.

“Careful,” Konstantin said. “You nearly drowned.”

Himmel shrugged off the archmage’s hand and, stiffly, started walking.

“Where are we?” Ardis said.

“Farmland,” Himmel said. “Fifteen miles southwest of Budapest.”

Fifteen miles. Too far for the wounded to walk.

“We should find shelter,” Ardis said.

“There should be a village nearby. I’m not sure which direction.” Himmel’s jaw hardened. “The navigator is dead.”

Ardis almost said she was sorry, but apologies wouldn’t help them survive.

“Look!” Konstantin said.

Ardis braced herself for the clockwork dragon, the muscles between her shoulder blades stiffening in expectation of claws.

Konstantin squinted at the sky. “The USS
Jupiter
.”

Engines droning, the
Jupiter
floated over the forest. As the airship advanced, the clockwork dragon banked and flapped to gain altitude. It seemed to be taking evasive action. Ardis felt a surge of satisfaction.

“I hope the Americans heard our distress call,” Konstantin said.

The
Jupiter
gave a wide berth to the
Wanderfalke
, even as the wreckage sank beneath the waves and the last of the fire sputtered out. The clockwork dragon folded its wings and swerved behind a ridge, vanishing from sight.

The dragon clearly considered itself outmatched. Ardis wondered why.

“Should we signal to them?” Konstantin said.

Himmel furrowed his brow. “Go ahead.”

Konstantin stepped from the trees and waved his arms over his head. Wendel joined them, though he didn’t look quite so enthusiastic. The necromancer had tucked Krampus inside his coat, and the raven blinked by his lapel.

“Are the Americans here to save us?” Wendel said.

“You sound so skeptical,” Ardis said.

Wendel shrugged, which caused Krampus to fidget.

The
Jupiter
slowed over the beach. The airship vented hydrogen, descended to the water, and dropped anchor. It hovered above the surf. At the bottom of the gondola, doors swung open like the wings of a beetle. Winches lowered lifeboats through the hatch and into the lake. The crew in the lifeboats started rowing.

Within minutes, the first lifeboat scraped the rocky beach.

The Americans scrambled ashore and approached the crew of the
Wanderfalke
. Himmel closed the gap. Ardis and Konstantin escorted the captain, while Wendel lurked behind them and looked sidelong at their rescuers.

An American woman took the lead. Fiery red hair escaped from under her hat, though her navy uniform looked immaculately ironed. She glanced between them, pursed her lips, and clasped her hands behind her back.

“Hello,” the woman said, in broken German. “You need our help?”

“Yes,” Ardis said, in English.

The woman’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Are you American?”

“Just me,” she said.

Himmel squared his shoulders and spoke in German.

“We were attacked by Russians,” he said. “We lost our ship and lot of good people.”

The American stared, uncomprehending, until Ardis translated.

“I’m Yeoman Breony Kay,” the American said. “You must be Captain Himmel?”

“Correct,” Himmel said.

His right hand out of commission, Himmel offered his left. Kay shook it briskly.

“Our captain has invited you and your crew aboard,” Kay said. “We can offer medical attention and passage to Vienna.”

Ardis hadn’t even finished translating before Himmel stepped back.

“I will take the last boat,” he said, “after I direct my crew to safety.”

“Captain!” Konstantin lowered his voice. “If anyone needs medical attention, it’s you. Take the first boat.”

Himmel stared him down. “Is that an order, archmage?”

Konstantin didn’t blink. “It is.”

“Very well, sir.”

Konstantin walked Himmel to a lifeboat and waved him ahead. Himmel didn’t look pleased by this preferential treatment, but rather than argue with the archmage, he sat and cradled his wounded arm. After Konstantin, Ardis, and Wendel climbed into the lifeboat, the Americans rowed them to the USS
Jupiter
.

The airship floated inches over the water. Waves splashed its gondola.

“After you,” Kay said.

Konstantin stood in the lifeboat and climbed aboard the airship. He held out his hand to Himmel, who begrudgingly grabbed it. Konstantin hauled the captain into the airship. Wendel boarded next and reached down.

Ardis clasped Wendel’s hand and scrambled aboard the airship.

She found herself staring into a man’s piercing gray eyes. When she straightened, she realized her head barely reached the shoulder of the man’s immaculate suit. His dark hair and mustache also looked immaculate.

Konstantin sucked in his breath with a strangled noise.

“Forgive me,” he said, “but are you Nikola Tesla?”

“Have we met?” said the gray-eyed man. He spoke German with a soft accent.

Blushing, Konstantin wrung his hands.

“No, Mr. Tesla,” he said. “You are Mr. Tesla, aren’t you?”

A small smile curved under the man’s mustache.

“Yes, I am Nikola Tesla,” he said.

Konstantin’s hand shot out. “Konstantin Falkenrath. I’m one of the Archmages of Vienna. This is an absolute honor.”

Tesla stared at his hand, but didn’t shake it.

“We meet under rather unfortunate circumstances,” Tesla said.

Remarkably, Konstantin blushed even redder. He withdrew his hand and rubbed it on his sleeve as if afraid he was dirty.

“Unfortunate is an understatement,” Himmel said.

The captain’s arms trembled as he shivered, but he tried to keep his back straight.

“Please,” Tesla said, “don’t risk hypothermia for conversation.”

“Agreed,” Wendel said.

Frost melted from Wendel’s hair and dripped on the floor. Ardis picked at her shirt, which clung to her like a second skin.

Yeoman Kay beckoned them. “Right this way.”

Ardis didn’t need to be told twice. She glanced at Wendel, who had a wary slant to his eyebrows, and grabbed his hand.

“You feel like an ice sculpture,” Ardis said.

“How poetic.” Wendel grimaced. “I’m flattered.”

Krampus peeked out from his coat and nibbled at a button. With utmost stealth, Wendel stroked the raven on the head.

“Perhaps we can talk later?” Konstantin said.

Ardis looked back and saw him still lingering hopefully by Tesla.

“Yes,” Tesla said. “Later.”

Himmel harrumphed. “Archmage.”

Konstantin blushed and snuck a sideways look at Himmel. Then he ducked his head and followed Yeoman Kay.

“So this is the famous USS
Jupiter
,” Wendel said.

As they travelled toward the tail of the airship, the gangway seemed to go on forever. No windows interrupted the duralumin of the walls, but electric lamps shone overhead like tiny suns. Ardis hugged herself, the stink of smoke lingering in her nose. A hum rumbled in her ribs—the airship’s immensely powerful engines.

“Damn,” Ardis said, for lack of a better word.

Yeoman Kay escorted them to a mess hall big enough to seat fifty. It looked utilitarian, lacking the flourishes of the
Wanderfalke
. Fog clouded the windows along the far wall and obscured the view of the lake.

A silver-haired doctor braced himself on the back of his chair and climbed stiffly to his feet. He stroked his walrus mustache.

“Are these the first of them?” said the doctor.

Yeoman Kay nodded. “There should be at least a dozen more.”

On cue, another lifeboat’s load of survivors shuffled into the mess hall. All four men shivered, soaked to the bone, their clothes dripping on the carpet. One of them had singed hair and a burn seared across his cheek.

The doctor looked over his patients and zeroed in on Himmel.

“My name is Dr. Frost.” He said this in English, slowly, as if talking to a small child. “Let me look at your arm.”

Himmel stared at him. Did he not understand?

“Captain,” Wendel said in German, “the doctor wants to see your arm.”

Grimacing, Himmel held out his arm. Dr. Frost peeled the bandage aside and peeked at the wound, then clucked his tongue.

“That will need stitches,” Dr. Frost said. “Can you wait?”

Wendel took the liberty of translating, which earned him a glare from Himmel.

“I understood that much.” Himmel switched to English. “I can wait.”

With an irritated look, Wendel peeled off his sopping coat and freed Krampus. The raven hopped to the back of a chair.

“That bird is unsanitary,” Dr. Frost said.

“And?” Wendel said.

“Get it out of here.”

Wendel tried halfheartedly to catch Krampus, who flew out of reach.

Yet more survivors arrived, two of them carrying an unconscious man. Blood darkened the front of his shirt. Dr. Frost knelt by the man and questioned his crewmates, Ardis acting as translator. Konstantin fetched blankets and wrapped them around the survivors. Wendel stood empty-handed until the doctor noticed.

“You.” Dr. Frost snapped his fingers. “Help me.”

“What do I do?” Wendel said.

“I need a nurse.”

Wendel twisted his face into a look of complete incredulity.

“I’m not qualified for that,” he said.

“He really isn’t,” Ardis said. “I’ll do it.”

Dr. Frost furrowed his brow. “Miss, I need you to translate.”

“Excuse me,” Wendel said. “I speak German and English.”

“I need you—” Dr. Frost pointed at Wendel. “—to put pressure on this wound.”

“Where?”

Dr. Frost showed him a gash on the unconscious man’s chest. Blood trickled from the cut, though it looked as though no major vein or artery had been hit. Wendel knelt by the doctor, who pressed a wad of gauze to the wound.

“Hold this,” Dr. Frost said. “Don’t let go.”

Wendel did as he was told. The doctor climbed to his feet and moved on to the next man. Ardis followed him. Together, they questioned a man who didn’t seem entirely lucid. Ardis waited as Dr. Frost checked the man’s reflexes. She glanced over at Wendel, who held the gauze with a look of fierce concentration.

Konstantin hovered by Himmel. “How is your arm?”

Himmel shrugged lopsidedly. “The same.”

“Is there anything I can get for you?”

“No, thank you.”

“If only I could heal you with temporal magic. It’s a shame I lost my technomancy gauntlets in the shipwreck.”

Himmel looked him in the eye. “It’s a shame we lost the ship.”

Konstantin rubbed the back of his neck and looked like he wanted to help the captain, but hadn’t the slightest idea how.

“Doctor,” Wendel said.

“Yes?” Dr. Frost said.

“This man. He’s badly hurt.”

Dr. Frost looked anything but amused. “I’m aware of that.”

“No.” Wendel lifted his head. “He’s dying.”

“What? How would you know?”

Dr. Frost straightened and returned to the unconscious man. He felt his neck for a pulse, and alarm flashed across his face.

“There must be internal bleeding,” Dr. Frost said. “His heart’s failing.”

“What do we do?” Wendel said.

“There’s nothing we can do.”

The doctor returned to his other patients, but Wendel still didn’t step away from the man. The necromancer pressed his hand to the man’s chest with a kind of blank determination. He closed his eyes for a second.

“He’s dead,” Wendel said.

At last Wendel let go of the man. His jaw tightened. He might have been angry with himself, or with the man for dying. But when the necromancer stood, his face smoothed into a look that said he didn’t give a damn.

“Who’s next?” Wendel said.

~

With the living saved and the dead buried, the USS
Jupiter
flew from the lake into the sky. Ardis stood by a window in the mess hall. Oil lingered on the water, the blood of a zeppelin now long gone. If she stared beneath the waves, she could barely make out the bones of the
Wanderfalke
at the bottom of the lake.