A Conspiracy of Alchemists: Book One in the Chronicles of Light and Shadow (12 page)

CHAPTER 20

The next morning, Marsh tapped on the panel door as Elle was putting the last pins into her hair.

“May I come in?” he asked. He was freshly shaved and his shirt collar looked crisp. “Did you sleep well?” She felt a ripple of energy surge though her as she caught the scent of sandalwood that rose up from his cheeks as he brushed by her.

“Like a log,” she lied. “All that flying tires one out.” She did her best to appear nonchalant. Last night’s dream had felt so real, but it was still only a dream. And there was no way she was going to allow this man to think that she was infatuated with him. The mortification she would have to endure if he found out would be too much to bear. Fatigue and spending so much time in close quarters with this man was starting to do strange things to her and she needed to be careful for nothing good would come of it. Of that at least, she was sure.

There was a knock at the door, and Marsh let in a waiter with a tray covered in silver cloches. The man set about serving up breakfast for them on the balcony.

Elle sat down in one of the wicker chairs and took in a deep breath of salty air. The view of the morning sea was breathtaking. She decided that Nice was definitely one of her favorite places. It was such a pity she wasn’t visiting under more pleasant circumstances.

She studied Marsh from under her lashes, but he simply cracked open his boiled egg and dipped a piece of croissant into it seemingly oblivious to their night-time adventure. “I think we should stick to the coastline. Head east,” he said.

Elle took a sip of orange juice. It was freshly squeezed and tart on her tongue. She nodded. “That should make navigating easier. And we won’t have to worry about mountain ranges that way. I have no idea how high the ’copter can go, and I’m not so sure I want to risk it.”

“Do you think the machine could run on seawater?”

She chewed her croissant. “Hmm. Now, that’s an idea, but no. I think the salt might build up in the chambers and cause the engine to malfunction. Perhaps not the best idea to test while in mid-air.”

Below them, Nice came to life as tradesmen and shopkeepers set up for the day. In the harbor, the last few fishing boats were unloading the night’s catch for the women who were waiting with sharp knives to scale and gut fish ready for market. Elle watched a group of seagulls squawk and fight for the best position to pick scraps, while a few scrawny harbor cats looked on. A church bell tolled and in some strange way the sound resonated within her. She closed her eyes. It was going to be nice day … but a storm was brewing somewhere in the distance. She could feel the urgency of it in her bones.

“What is it?” Marsh said. He seemed concerned.

She turned her face to the sun and smiled. “Nothing. Everything.” She shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know. Everything feels wrong and right at the same time. I can’t explain it.”

He said nothing, but Elle noticed the slight look of worry that crossed his brow as he peered out over the sea, but she refrained from saying anything, for sometimes it was better to just let the moment be.

After breakfast, they climbed the stairs up onto the roof. Curious hotel staff had gathered and they all stood gawping at the gyrocopter. The porter, suddenly elevated in status, proudly loaded their bags into the hold.

The concierge stepped forward and shook Marsh’s hand.

“Thank you for including our hotel in this historic flight,” he said. “And we have something for your charming wife too.” He handed Elle a posy made up of roses and lilacs.

Marsh took the concierge aside. “This is actually more of a test -flight.” He tapped the side of his nose. “We would be grateful if you could keep the matter quiet, if you know what I mean. When we have the official launch, we shall make sure that we mention the test flights and the people who generously helped us on our way.”

Marsh handed the man a substantial tip. The concierge’s eyes lit up. “Well, then we wish you
bon chance
till then.”

Elle busied herself with checking the water tanks. She was rather grateful to note that the hotel staff had filled them up overnight in accordance with the instructions she had given them before she went to bed. She had been dreading the task of lugging water up onto the roof.

They boarded the gyrocopter amid cheers and waving handkerchiefs from the hotel staff. She started the reactor and after a few minutes, the engine shuddered to life.

Elle executed her newly invented lift-off maneuver and steered the ’copter off the roof. She hadn’t bargained for the sudden drop though, and the machine dipped dangerously before taking flight.

Marsh went white as the ’copter dipped and then swooped through the fresh morning air, along the famous Bay of Angels that the city of Nice nestled against, before turning east to Monaco and Italy beyond.

They stopped somewhere around Genoa, near a farmhouse with a well. The farmer’s wife stared at them somewhat suspiciously from her kitchen door as the ’copter descended upon the farmyard, sending chickens and geese running for cover. After a bit of charm from Marsh and a few coins, she agreed to let them use her well to fill the water tanks.

Marsh wandered up with a basket over his arm.
“Buona sera.”
He gave her one of his little smiles.

“Why am I not surprised about the fact that you speak Italian,” Elle said.

“Actually, I speak the universal language of point and hand over money, but the method has worked and I have managed to procure lunch.”

Elle opened the basket and peered inside. The farmer’s wife had given them a loaf of freshly baked bread, a crock of olives and some deliciously garlicky soft cheese in a jar.

“I think she said we could have these as long as we promised to be on our way as soon as possible. I don’t think she’s very impressed with our machine,” he said drily.

Elle made tea with hot water from the little samovar attached to the engine. The gyrocopter had a smaller version of the one she had on board the
Water Lily.
No flight was complete without a cup of tea.

They sat on a low wall under an olive tree and looked out over the Genoese bay while they drank their tea and ate their lunch. The sea shimmered blue in the distance. White crests whipped up by the wind frosted the choppy surf.

“This is so beautiful.” She turned her face into the fragrant brininess of the breeze.

“Hmm.” Marsh looked out across the water, deep in thought.

“What’s wrong?” Elle immediately felt foolish for asking.

He looked down at his hands. “Elle, we need to talk about yesterday. But before we do, I need you to promise to try to listen to me and not to get angry.”

“Speak away,” she said. She had hoped that yesterday would blow over. That they had moved on. And she had no intention of showing him how much he had upset her.

“You need to tell me exactly what you know about your mother.”

She went very still.

“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important,” he said.

The suspicion that had been growing in the back of mind reared up again. He knew something. Perhaps even more than her father did. And she would have to give him some answers if she wanted to know what it was. She sighed with resignation. “My mother ran off after I was born. I think I was about two years old when it happened, so I don’t remember her. She left us to join a cult. And the cult killed her. They say she died in a zealot’s frenzy. My father was disgraced and humiliated by the scandal. I don’t think he’s ever really recovered. And that is all there is to tell.” She tossed an olive pip over the edge of the cliff.

Marsh was very still next to her.

She turned to him. “So now you know our terrible family secret. Is that shocking enough for you? Was it what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?” She wiped at her face angrily where the wind was whipping her hair into her cheek.

“I knew your mother. And that is not how it happened.”

“My mother died years ago. You must have been a child when she died.”

He looked away. “I was not a child when it happened.”

She had run out of olive stones, so she picked up a pebble and threw it off the cliff. “How is that even possible?”

“I am a Warlock I was younger than I am now, but once a Warlock comes into his power, he ages slowly. We live about ten times as long as ordinary men.”

She looked at him with surprise, not sure what to say.

“I remember her. I remember your mother very well. Vivienne was an amazing woman. She was Pythia.”

“Who on earth is Pythia?”

“Cybele, Pythia, the Oracle. All are manifestations of the same woman. Just like the larva, the pupa and the butterfly are the same. The Oracle is a woman of immense power and importance, but first you must become Cybele, then Pythia and when the time is right, you will become the Oracle as is your destiny. There is much you need to learn about what it means to follow this path.”

She turned to him. “So my mother’s death does have something to do with all of this, doesn’t it?”

“I think so. But there is more, which is why I need to meet with my Brothers of the Council. They will know what to do.”

“So you
are
involved in my father’s abduction. I knew it.” Her voice was low with pent-up anger and bitterness.

“It’s not like that. Not like you think. There is so much that you don’t understand. Hopefully, you will in time.”

She met his gaze. “Oh no, you don’t. No more hints of mystery and half-truths. I told you my secret; now you are going to have to tell me yours. And I am not going to fly another foot unless you tell me what has happened to my father. And it’s a long walk to Venice from here if the map is anything to go by.” Elle folded her arms. “I have a right to know what this is all about, Marsh. Damn it, I am risking life and limb here too.”

Marsh gripped the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and closed his eyes. “You are right. You do have the right to know.”

She stared at him. “Well, out with it, then.”

He sighed. “I strongly suspect that you have inherited your mother’s gift. I felt it in you, in the motor on the first night we met. I think Patrice chose you to fly for us because he wanted me to meet you. I think he sensed that you were special, which is why he’s kept an eye on you all these years. Your abilities and your father’s disappearance are somehow linked to the carmot, but I don’t know how or why.”

She looked away. “I am nothing like my mother.”

He took her hand. “I am sorry I’ve upset you, but there is a very strong chance that you might be the next Oracle. And you are untrained, and vulnerable to about a million things you don’t even have the slightest notion about. It is the sworn duty of my Order to guard and train the Oracle. It has been for centuries.”

“What utter nonsense.” She pulled her hand away. “Don’t you think I would have known if I possessed these special powers? And if you are right, then is it not your precious Council that took my mother away? Is it not because of Warlocks and the Shadow realm that she is dead?”

Marsh looked sad. “Elle, I am a Warlock. I cannot change who I am any more than you can. I’m sorry you feel that way, but you are wrong about me. I hope that you will come to see that I am only trying to help you. And I hope this happens before it’s too late.”

She stared at him for a long time before speaking. “Your Order destroyed my family and I can do nothing but despise that. Apart from finding my father, I want nothing to do with your cult. Your kind sows heartache and death wherever they go.”

A mask of polite formality settled over his features. He held out his hand and helped her up. “We need to get to Venice as soon as we can.” He paused to dust off his hat. “Perhaps then I might convince you otherwise. But please promise me that you will leave some room to believe that I am on your side.”

They walked across the dusty farmyard to the gyrocopter, each wrapped up in their thoughts.

The girl followed the Warlock back to the flying machine. I could feel the fear and confusion boiling inside her heart. Perhaps I should have reached out to her. Perhaps I should have spoken a soft word of kindness to ease her pain. But I was wary. I knew the fear and distrust she held in her heart for creatures of the old blood. It would not have helped to give her more cause to hate us. As it was, she thought that I was dead or that I had abandoned her. And so it was wiser to stay silent. To keep watch over her for what was to come.

Neither the girl nor the Warlock noticed the large shadow that drifted on the ground in the distance behind them. It slid by, silent as a cloud. From the sky, eyes watched and waited as a large fish waits to swallow a smaller one. For this was its hunting ground. Above the clouds, concealed from everyone except those who knew where to look, they had been waiting for some time for the girl and the Warlock to appear.

CHAPTER 21

Elle took off from the farmstead and steered the gyrocopter inland, east over the top of the Italian boot, toward Venice. The Tuscan countryside opened up before them in all its golden beauty, but she barely noticed the scenery. She stared grimly at the horizon ahead of her. The thought of Marsh knowing her mother was disturbing. It meant that he was at least as old as her father in normal years. No wonder he was so odd.

Her mother’s esoteric past was something she had spent her life avoiding. The Chance family was good at pretending that everything was normal.

She remembered how sad her father was sometimes and how the scandal of her mother’s death still haunted him—even after all these years. To drag up the past was only going to upset things all over again.

And yet, the Council looked to be the only way to find him.

She stole a glance at Marsh. He was studying the map on his lap, his face drawn and closed.

At that moment, a deep rumble shook the gyrocopter. A tree on the ground below them exploded as a flash of lightning hit it.

“What was that?” Startled, Marsh looked up from his map.

Then an oblong shadow shifted over them. It was so big that it blocked out the sun. Cold fear gripped Elle’s chest. A giant airship.

“Sky pirates!” She banked the ’copter to the left. Another bolt of spark sailed past them and struck the ground with a crack. “And they have spark cannons!”

Marsh swore.

“Hold on!” Elle banked the ’copter to the right, where they could hover outside the firing range of the cannons.

The pirate ship loomed next to them. It was the biggest air cruiser Elle had ever seen. The pirates looked like little toy people as they moved about on the wooden deck suspended below the canvas patchwork balloon. The ship’s fin-shaped rudders, designed for precision steering, creaked and angled toward them. Elle banked the gyrocopter away to avoid the updrafts of air that whooshed past them. She caught sight of the ship’s figurehead. It was an iron skeleton holding two swords crossed over its chest. These were death raiders. Pirates who would do anything for money.

The spiked fording platform, complete with grappling hooks, was lowered. On the platform, a huge harpoon rested in front of a tangle of netting. The captain stepped forward. Even from this distance, Elle could see that he was dressed in a fine green brocade coat. He held on to the rigging and pointed as he shouted something to his crew.

“They’re going to fire that harpoon!” Marsh shouted.

“Hold on!” She pointed the nose of the gyrocopter at the ground and did a nosedive. The little craft nimbly slipped underneath the hull of the cruiser and rose up the other side. Elle opened the throttle to gain as much distance as she could in the time it took for the cruiser to turn.

“Behind us!” Marsh shouted.

Elle looked over her shoulder and cursed. The pirates had swiveled the harpoon round. Again she banked and dipped underneath the large hull. But this time they were expecting her, and the larger ship dipped too, cutting off their escape route.

It took Elle only a few seconds to realize that they were trapped. There was no possibility that they would be able to get out of range of the cannons fast enough. They would only be able to hover close to the hull, so the harpoon could not be launched for as long as they had water in their boilers. After that, they would either be netted and hauled aboard, or they would crash land.

“So it looks like it’s capture by harpoon or death by spark cannon,” Marsh shouted, echoing her thoughts.

“No, I am not giving up yet. If we can’t go down, then we must go up.” She gripped the controls and aimed the ’copter upwards. The din of the blades and the whine of the straining engine was deafening. Marsh nodded and gripped the straps of his seat harness.

The ’copter groaned and shot up into the sky. Elle leveled off above the cavernous balloon of the pirate ship. The downdraft of the little craft’s blades made the patched balloon canvas billow.

“Look for something to throw out onto the balloon.” Marsh said.

“It won’t work. There’ is too much wind,”

The pirate ship started rising, set on a collision course with the bottom of the ’copter. Elle banked to the side as the canvas rose up next to them. The ’copter spluttered and she urged it further with the throttle fully open.

“We don’t have enough clearance. The machine won’t go much higher than this.” In answer, the engine spluttered again. Elle kicked the boiler unit under her feet and, to her relief, the steam that drove the propellers started humming through the pipes.

“We’re not going to be able to hold off for much longer!” Marsh yelled.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan,” she yelled back.

“Are you crazy? Have you seen their net?”

“When I say the word, I want you to grab hold of this.” She pointed at the steering mechanism. “Hold it steady. Can you do that?”

Mash stared at her in horror.

“Trust me!” she said.

The ’copter shuddered again in the updraft and she eased off to the left, holding them steady.

With excruciating slowness, the pirate ship rose next to them, its terrifying hull dwarfing the gyrocopter. She gripped the controls as she watched the pirates aim the harpoon. The giant net, once fired, would cover them and the gyrocopter would be caught in it like a struggling fish. It was quite a common method used by airships to raid smaller vessels.

Motion slowed down. There was nowhere to run. Only the rhythmic sound of the gyrocopter blades drumming above her pressed into her eardrums. Elle pulled her revolver from its holster.

“Now!” she shouted as she let go of the steering. She slid the cockpit door open and took aim at the spark cannon just as the captain dropped his arm to signal fire.

Elle exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The bullets pinged off the iron hull just as the cannon fired. Tiny yellow sparks flew into the air like a striker to flint.

Wind rushed in and around them and then the spark ignited in a massive blue flame. The backdraft made the flames whoosh toward the cruiser, where it tore up the rigging and through the balloon, igniting the gas inside.

The last thing Elle saw was a flash of bright green as the captain and those pirates with a little sense abandoned ship in one of the few patched life balloons tethered to the deck. And then the entire pirate ship exploded with a gargantuan boom. Giant flames leaped out in all directions. The shockwave spread out and hit the side of the ’copter. It knocked them sideways, just as the pirate ship disintegrated in mid-air.

Inside the gyrocopter, the spark reactor blinked out. The steam engine spluttered, and before Elle could do anything, the gyrocopter fell to the ground like a stone.

Marsh yelled something, but the air was rushing by so fast that she couldn’t hear what it was. In a futile gesture, Elle closed her eyes and thought of soft, bouncy, forgiving surfaces as she braced herself for impact. She felt a wave of energy tear through her and then, as suddenly as it had started falling, the gyrocopter stopped dead in mid-air. Elle was jarred out of her seat with tooth-rattling force. The machine hovered about a foot off the ground for a full second, and then dropped, hitting the ground with a crash. The wreck bounced once and landed with another thump, where it listed, creaked and came to a stop. Dust billowed and every part of the machine rattled and hissed.

Elle opened her eyes. Her ears were ringing and she tasted blood in her mouth. Glass from the shattered windscreen was all over her, and the metal frame around her was bent, but the ’copter was mostly intact. Carefully she moved her arms and legs, and they responded. With a growing sense of relief-induced hysteria, she realized that she was alive.

She shook her head to ease the painful ringing in her ears, but most of the sound was actually outside her head. It seemed to be coming from the boiler behind them. Steam was whining furiously from the bent release valves. She hit the purge valve to release the pressure, but it was stuck. Her efforts only made the valves whine louder. Elle coughed as she tried to breathe through the hot, damp air. All the pressure gauges were shattered and there was no way of telling how much pressure was still caught inside the engine.

She grabbed her safety strap and yanked at it. The buckle was bent and the sliding mechanism wouldn’t work. Her fingers trembled as she pulled her stiletto out of her bodice and shoved it into the buckle with all her strength. The buckle gave way and she fell out of the ’copter and onto the ground. She coughed and spat the dust out as she dragged herself onto her feet. On shaky legs, she stumbled around the ’copter wreck to get to Marsh.

He was lying back in his seat with his eyes closed. The straps of his harness were singed clean away.

“Marsh!” she yelled, shaking him.

His head rolled over onto his shoulder and a red trickle of blood escaped from his nose. She grabbed the front of his waistcoat and dragged him from the wreck. He was too heavy to lift, but she managed to stumble a few paces before falling to the ground. His heavy body rolled on top of her.

Elle looked up at the wreck. The valves were still whining away uninterrupted. That meant that the pressure was releasing. This was a good thing, but they were still too close to the wreck. She looked up and saw a gnarled pine in the distance. Summoning all of her strength, she stumble-dragged Marsh through the dust. The tree seemed a hundred miles away. Her boots scrabbled in the dry earth and with every haul she landed on her rump, but she managed to move him bit by excruciating bit, until she finally reached the tree. Exhausted, she fell onto the bed of needles, where she lay panting. Her knuckles were chafed where she had gripped his coat. Her throat felt raw and dry and she could taste the metal and blood on her tongue as she gasped for air.

She glanced over at the ’copter. The valves had stopped hissing. Only ominous creaks now emanated from the wreck.

Marsh lay completely still in her arms. The trickle of blood from his nose was stark against his pale skin. With her fingers she traced the line to where it left a red stain on his collar.

No
, she thought. “No. No. Hugh,” she mumbled, and ran her hands over his chest. “No, please don’t be dead. You can’t be dead,” she muttered. She slipped her hands into the front of his waistcoat and wormed her fingers into his shirt to find a place where she could feel his heart. She was shaking so much that it was almost impossible to tell if it was beating.

She put her cheek onto his chest and closed her eyes. Concentrating with all her might, she listened.

Please don’t be dead. Please. Please. I can’t feel his heart. I can’t feel his breath,
she thought frantically.
Please be alive.
She felt something shift inside her. It felt like that stomach stomach-turning sensation after entering an air pressure pocket in mid-flight. Without really knowing why, she placed her lips over his and closed her eyes. Slowly she exhaled, pushing her breath into him. She willed him to breathe. Willed his heart to beat. A vacuum formed around her, encapsulating only her and Marsh. She felt a surge of power move through her, clear and blue as sea ice. It dragged and flowed, holding them together like two bits of debris caught in a current. Then, very softly, she felt the gentle thud of his heart against her fingers. She watched the color flow back into his face. The energy around them snapped out of existence.

Marsh coughed and opened his eyes. “Are we alive?” he croaked.

She let go of him and moved away, allowing him space to breathe. “Yes. I think we are.”

It was suddenly completely and utterly silent around them. Small bits of what had once been the pirate ship were sifting down onto the ground around them like black flower petals.

As if annoyed that everyone was ignoring it, the gyrocopter chose that moment to explode with an almighty boom.

Marsh and Elle held on to one another for cover as bits of debris flew past them.

They lay like that for some time as the world settled around them. Marsh was the first to move. He sat them both up.

“You shot a pirate ship with a handgun. Are you insane?” he said.

She smiled. “Not bad for a few days’ work. It’s just a pity no one is ever going

to believe a word of it told.”

He started laughing. It was a silly shock-fueled laugh that started somewhere deep inside him, as if he couldn’t help himself.

She started laughing too.

“You have soot on your nose.” He wiped the mark off her skin, his fingers gentle.

“You have blood on yours,” she said.

They looked at one another for a long moment. “I think you just saved my life,” he murmured.

“Well, that makes us even, then.”

“I suppose it does.” He sat back against the tree and pulled a hip flask from his pocket. The metal was dented but it was still in one piece. He unscrewed the top and handed it to her.

She sniffed the top. “Absinthe,” she said as the smell of licorice hit the back of her throat.

“That’s what us half-Shadow people prefer. There was no fairy in the bottle that I filled my hip flask from, so you won’t have the visions if you drink it.”

Something dropped onto the ground next to Marsh’s boot in a little cloud of dust. It was a mangled fragment of black metal that had worked its way through the canopy of the tree. He picked it up and examined it. “Poor bastards. That was quite a blast.”

“It’s their own fault, to be fair. That balloon was filled with hydrogen.”

Marsh looked at her in surprise. “But that’s like flying a large bomb.”

Elle nodded. “Passenger dirigibles must be filled with helium for that very reason. It’s the law. But helium is expensive and hard to get hold of, so pirates and other rogue flyers use hydrogen, which works just as well but costs about a tenth of the price.” She gestured at the sky. “And then accidents like this happen.”

Marsh shook his head, he looked stunned. “The way of my Craft teaches that one should harm no one. I was only trying to blast them off course so we could get away. I had no idea that the whole ship would explode.”

Elle shrugged. “That’s what you get when you mix with pirates. It’s sad that men had to die for such foolishness.”