Hard Magic (57 page)

A tenth of a second later she’d taken inventory of the entire
Tempest.
She’d Traveled with two people a bunch of times now. She’d figured out how to do that. It just took more Power. She’d gone further than her head map could see, and that had just taken more Power and enough luck not to get something fused into her body. So how hard could it be to fling an entire blimp and thousands of pounds of people several hundred miles away?

Another tenth of a second passed while she measured her Power. Just like always, it was all still there. It never seemed to get smaller, just bigger and bigger, unlike everybody else. It must like her best. They were in the air, so it was pretty unlikely that she’d get foreign objects stuck into anyone, but even if she did, it beat getting exploded. She wasn’t sure if she should use it all up at one time, because she didn’t want to go too far and end up putting them on the moon or something.

Better safe than sorry
. So she decided to use it all, even though she understood that using that much magic very well might destroy her. Ahead of the expanding ball of fire, the concussion bent the air and touched the very tip of the
Tempest.
For the first time in her life, Sally Faye Vierra gathered up every single last bit of magic she had . . .

And Traveled.

One.

Last.

Time.

Chapter 27

I swear before my God and these witnesses that I will stay true to the right and good, that my magic will be used to protect, not to enslave, that all my strength and wisdom must always shield the innocent. I swear to fight for liberty though it cost my life. The Society will be my blood and its knights my brothers, and that I will always heed the wisdom of the elders’ council. I willingly pledge my magic, my knowledge, my resources, and my life to uphold these things.

—Oath of the Grimnoir Society,

original date unknown

San Francisco, California

The Pale Horse
enjoyed his cigarette. It was a mild blend that soothed his nerves. He reasoned that it was more than likely his last. John Browning was watching him steadily and the .45 had not moved from his heart.

“You are a hero? For whom, the Imperium?”

“Oh, far from that, John. May I call you John?” He did not wait for a response. “I’ve been fighting the Imperium my entire life. I’ve sacrificed much to stop them and the others like them. I’ve stood with the Grimnoir since I was a child. My family were of the founders.”

“Yet you betrayed them?”

“No. I stand by my oath to the end. Perhaps more than any other, for I was willing to go further than any knight before me.”

The room shook slightly. Ripples appeared in the pitcher of water at the bedside. The glass in the window rattled. “Earthquake . . .” Browning said.

He could tell. It was done. “No. That was the firing of the Geo-Tel.”

“Curse you,” Browning said, lifting the gun.

“Save your bullet. America is safe,” Harkeness said, tapping the ash from the end of his smoke. “What you just felt was the end of Okubo Tokugawa, and if Pershing’s knights hadn’t been so damn obstinate, then it would also have been the end of Japan as well, though with their leader vaporized, I imagine they won’t be nearly the same threat anymore.” He could see Browning was puzzled, but his finger was still on the trigger. “You are not convinced?”

“Please, go on.” Browning was polite in his inquisition.

“I argued against Pershing in the councils. He wanted the Geo-Tel destroyed. I wanted to use it against Japan immediately. The elders were afraid to take so many lives. The Geo-Tel could have wiped the entire island from the map in one shot. As usual, the elders were cowards and took a middle way. They would not use the Geo-Tel
yet
, but they would hold it in reserve, entrusting it to the man who’d captured it, so that if that darkest day ever came, then we would have one final option . . . But even as our numbers dwindled, and we lost more brave knights every day, the elders were frightened. Pershing was calling for an all-out, open war, but even he was not willing to take the final step and use our ultimate weapon.”

“Pershing was a solider. Soldiers fight against other soldiers. They do not kill an entire people.”

“The Chairman would not hesitate. Why should we? Has he been right all along? Are we as weak as he says? Should we make way for the strong?” Harkeness asked. He’d had this same argument many times.

“Save your politics for the elders’ council. My hand is getting tired and I intend to shoot you soon.”

“Though the council was afraid, there was another one of the elders who had the will to do what needed to be done. We were tired of doing all the bleeding. It was time to end the secret war once and for all.”

“So where is Isaiah?”

“On his way to Europe to face the other elders. We have some explaining to do . . . Our plan was simple. We could not just take the pieces of the Geo-Tel from Pershing. There were only two of us, and we’d be found and stopped. But if the Chairman were to find out where the pieces were . . .”

“Not shooting you down becomes more difficult by the second.”

It felt good to talk about this, to get it off his chest. He’d dedicated years of his life to this mission. It was the culmination of his career. “We could not make it seem too easy. The Chairman was far too crafty for that. He’d smell the trap. We had to sell it. We had to make him believe. Isaiah is the finest wizard in the entire Society. He studied Tesla’s notes until he was sure he’d mastered the targeting geometry. We just needed to make sure it would be hidden somewhere in the Imperium and the Chairman would kill himself and his entire country for us. When we found out that UBF was building a magnificent flagship for him we knew that we had been given the perfect opportunity.”

Browning scowled. “You killed Francis’s grandfather as well, I suppose.”

“Yes. He knew too much. Originally I planned on just threatening old Cornelius into carving the target onto the
Tokugawa
. Sure, it was Isaiah who magically put the suggestion of cursing his greatest nemesis into his mind, but the murder is entirely on his head. Pershing had wronged him. It was your good general who exposed Cornelius’s son’s corruption and selling of secrets to the Imperium. Cursing your friend did two things for us. It secured the favor necessary to place the target and it removed the one Grimnoir who was most likely to thwart our plans.”

“That’s how I reasoned it was you. You were one of the few who helped us after the attack, you
Healed
Black Jack, and you were here again when Stuyvesant died of a Cursing. Tell me, was the attack on the mansion your fault too? Did you tell the Imperium we were stationed at the Talon home before that?”

“The latest, no. Three years ago, yes,” he answered truthfully. “Though harbor no ill will toward my granddaughter. She was innocent. She only tagged along in the aftermath to try and help. Her volunteering to tend to Pershing only complicated things.”

Browning nodded. “I’ll not tell her of your plots. I’ll tell her you died honorably.”

“Thank you . . . But I’m afraid that she is gone as well. Just one more sacrifice among many. If fortune was smiling on us when she died, then the
Tokugawa
was sailing over Tokyo just now. I have no regrets. Stopping the Chairman was worth anything.”

The other Grimnoir was completely calm. Harkeness knew Browning’s reputation as a reasonable and level-headed man and now he too knew the whole truth. Sure, Harkeness had done many evil things, but he’d done them for the greater good. He could tell that Browning was pondering deeply on what was just said, and perhaps he too would come to see the inevitable wisdom in what Harkeness had done.

It did not take long for John Moses Browning to make his decision. “Any last words, oath-breaker?”

You never wanted to be judged by a man who was named after two biblical figures. Harkeness stabbed out his cigarette on the arm of the chair. There would be no begging. “I’d do it again.”

“I know.” John Moses Browning pulled the trigger and put a single .45 slug through the Pale Horse’s heart.

UBF
Tempest

There had been
an expanding wall of a world-consuming explosion and Jake Sullivan had blinked. When his eyes opened, the view out the front of the airship was entirely different. The sky was a gentle predawn grey instead of an evil cerulean blue. The ground far below was green, yellow, and brown, neatly blocked off into rectangular fields. In the distance, the sun was beginning to peek over purple mountains. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen as they hung there, suspended.

And then the entire airship was spinning wildly out of control.

Wind slashed through the cabin. Someone was screaming, or maybe it was the aluminum airframe coming apart. He threw out one hand and caught a jagged edge of wall. A limp body tumbled past him, but he lashed out and caught an arm. It was Faye. She hung, either unconscious or dead. He couldn’t tell, and he held onto her wrist with all his strength as her legs dangled out the front of the craft. He dragged her back inside.

They were rotating, faster and faster, as they corkscrewed toward the ground.

“Hull one compromised!” Lance bellowed. Every warning light in the cabin that hadn’t been broken was flashing red. An alarm sounded. “Hull two bleeding helium fast.”

Francis struggled over to the radio. He picked up the end of the horn and cranked the charge wheel. “Mayday! Mayday! This is airship UBF
Tempest.
We’re going down. We’re—” He stopped. “Where the hell are we?”

It didn’t matter anyway. Francis just didn’t realize that Sullivan had already smashed the radio. Dirigibles were not meant to go down this fast. They’d dig a pit at this speed.

Where were they?
They sure as hell weren’t in the middle of the Pacific. Which meant . . . He looked down at the skinny little Traveler in his arms. “Well, I’ll be . . .”
Was that even possible?

Barns Dalton shoved his way onto the deck, bouncing hard against a bulkhead. Sullivan was glad to see that at least some of the
Bulldog Marauder’
s
crew had been brought on board, not that it mattered much right now. The pilot managed to grab onto the back of the helmsman’s chair and shouted in Lance’s ear. “Let me drive!”

“Ain’t nothing you can do.”

“Scoot over, pops!” Barns shouted.

“Give him the stick, Lance,” Sullivan stated. “He knows what he’s doing.”

Lance got out of the way, swaying with the blimp. “He’d better, or we’re all dead.”

Sullivan smiled. “Naw. I fall off blimps all the time. It ain’t so bad.”

Barns climbed into the chair and grabbed the controls. Sullivan could feel the magic thrumming through the ship. He didn’t understand what kind of Active Barns was, but he was channeling a whole lot of Power. “Nice ride you got here,” the pirate shouted. “Everybody grab hold of something. I’m taking her in.”

El Nido, California

The
Tempest
not only landed, it landed right side up, which wasn’t bad, all things considered. Since there was only a single landing skid left, one bag was completely destroyed, and the other leaking and hissing, the airship looked drastically lopsided. It didn’t help that Barns had landed them in a field filled with Holstein cows. Sullivan wondered idly if there had been any of the poor animals under the blimp when they’d hit. If so, that would be one unhappy cow.

There was a mess of wounded. Jane was running around tending to them. Even though she’d burned through most of her magic saving him from Madi a few times, she could still see right inside folks to tell exactly what was wrong with them. Dan was like her shadow. It would be awhile before the Mouth let her out of his sight.

He spit blood. Maybe if it wasn’t too much trouble, and she’d taken care of everybody else first, he’d ask Jane to fix his teeth. They smarted something fierce.

Young Francis was talking to the UBF men. Apparently they were his employees now. Sullivan couldn’t figure that one out, but his head hurt too bad to give it much thought. The kid was nervous, worried about the injured, and was taking the time to personally talk to every one of the company men. He’d make a good leader someday.

Some of the
Bulldog Marauder’
s
crew had made it. Lady Origami had apparently never seen a cow before, and was trying to coax one close enough so she could touch its nose. He’d heard Parker had been lost, stabbed in the back by a ninja. Bob Southunder’s baldness was hidden under a bandage, but he was still up, tending to his men. The old pirate saw Sullivan watching him and came over. “Mr. Sullivan,” he said formally. Barns tailed along behind him.

He nodded. “Captain Southunder . . . Barns.”

Southunder smiled when he looked down. This was another one who was surprised to be alive. “Guess I don’t have to hide and protect the Geo-Tel anymore.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“Why, what I do best. I do believe I’m going to go speak to that young man who apparently owns UBF and try to convince him that he owes me a new dirigible. I was just going to ask you if you wanted a job. As you can see, I’ve had a few positions open up.”

Sullivan gave him a broken-toothed smile. “I’ll have to think on that one, Captain, but thank you.”

Southunder patted him on the shoulder. “I should have listened to you sooner, Mr. Sullivan. Wherever the winds carry you, take care of yourself.” He walked away, and within seconds was trying to coerce a blimp out of Francis, preferably something big, fast, and armored.

Barns looked him over. “You sure you don’t want to go, Sullivan? It’s a lot of fun.”

“Maybe one of these days . . . I’ve got some things I need to figure out first. By the way, what the hell are you?”