Khronos (Hanover and Singh Book 3) (24 page)

Hannah reached the door. Stumbling over the lip, she pushed past the passengers waiting in the cargo hold and made her way to the ladder.

“I will find you, Hannah von Ense,” Khaos called from the engine room door. “You will pay for what you have done.” She turned to the passengers. “The order of impedimenta rewards loyal servants,” Khaos pointed at Hannah, “and punishes traitors severely. Only time will tell when...” Khaos stumbled to her knees. “What?” She turned to look at the door.

Hannah felt the spinning of the propellers vibrating through the ladder diminish as she climbed. Looking back at the passengers in the hold, she frowned as they swayed in a strange dance, their movements slow and cumbersome. From within the sluggish crowd, Hannah spied Khaos, a rigid tendril of light in each hand, staggering to the door as if in the face of a storm.

“The ship is being slowed,” Hannah breathed. “I have to get off.” Hurrying up the ladder, Hannah reached the top, stepped out of the cargo hold, stumbling along the deck toward the bow of the ship. “Get out of the way,” Hannah yelled at an orderly pushing a trolley of refreshments toward her.

“Oi, watch it,” the orderly swerved out of Hannah’s way.

Careening off the bulkhead, Hannah stopped to catch her breath. She watched as the orderly leaned forward to inspect the wheels, pushing at the trolley to make it move.

“’Ere,” he turned to shake his fist at Hannah. “Look what you’ve done. I can’t hardly move it now, can I?”

“Run,” Hannah pushed herself off the wall. “Run to the bow. Get off the ship.”

“What are you on about?” Lifting his right foot, the orderly took a step toward Hannah. Setting his foot down on the deck, he paused and tugged at his left leg with both hands. “’Ere,” he called after Hannah. “What have you done?”

Hannah ran along the deck. At the entrance to observation lounge, she avoided the passengers crowding the door, choosing instead to crash through the stencilled glass window instead. Showering splinters over the carpet and passengers, Hannah ignored the curses and arms reaching out to stop her. She paused at the door to the observation deck. Ripping the life ring from the wall, Hannah stepped onto the deck. She ran to the starboard side.

“Wallendorf Walkers,” Hannah looked at the docks, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Are you all right, Miss?”

Hannah turned to look at a waiter approaching with a tray of drinks. Clambering onto the railing, Hannah swung her legs over the side.

“Hey, Miss,” the waiter tossed the tray of drinks onto the deck. Ignoring the crash of glasses and the spinning of the metal tray, he rushed forward, his hand outstretched. “Don’t jump, Miss.”

Tossing the life ring into the sea below her, Hannah turned to look at the waiter. “Get off the ship.” Hannah jumped.

҉

The sun caught the body of
The Voskhod
, shining off the metal plates, warming the Russians’ cheeks with a coppery glow. Oksana wiped the windows with a rag, tutting at the roll of dice cackling across the surface of the upturned crate as Lena, one eye on Stepan, challenged the Russian soldiers. With each new roll, the soldiers groaned and reached into their pockets. Lena’s fingertips drummed the wooden surface as she pulled her winnings, cigarettes, coins and jewellery, into a wool cap. Folding her cap inside the straps of her bandolier, Lena bowed to the Russians and made her way back to the locomotive. A handful of coins in one hand, she whistled at Oksana, flicking a coin onto the metal running board running the length of the locomotive.

“I don’t want your contraband,” Oksana rubbed at a stubborn corner of grime.

“Contraband,” Lena laughed. “I won this.”

“It is not ladylike.”

“I have never pretended to be a lady,” Lena climbed up onto the locomotive.

“We can agree on that.”

“What do you think they are talking about?” Lena tugged at Oksana’s elbow.

Stuffing the rag inside the leather apron at her waist, Oksana turned and leaned against the locomotive beside Lena. She eyed the cigarette poking out of Lena’s cap, clasped her fingers together and stared in the direction of Stepan and Bryullov.

Pulling the cigarette out of her cap with her finger and thumb, Lena grinned. She held it under Oksana’s nose. “Perhaps we can agree on this, too?” Oksana flicked her eyes at the yellow paper roll of tobacco. “Look,” Lena fished a second cigarette from her cap. “I will smoke one too. We can pretend we are comrades?”

“Pretend?
Da
, we can do that,” Oksana took the cigarette and placed it between her lips. Reaching into her apron she pulled out a box of matches. “Just the one, now,” she struck the match.

“Of course,” Lena leaned in as Oksana lit first her own and then Lena’s cigarette. Exhaling a stream of smoke, Lena picked at a flake of tobacco between her teeth. She pointed at the two men. “Our Kapitan doesn’t look very happy.”

“Stepan?” Oksana flicked ash from her cigarette. “No,” she paused. “He looks angry.”

“Very angry,” Lena flicked her cigarette onto the tracks. Glancing at the soldiers, she slipped the fingers of her left hand around the grip of her pistol. Pressing her right hand upon Oksana’s arm she whispered, “It will be safer inside the cab.”

Oksana smoked as the two men approached, the crunch of gravel beneath their feet echoing beneath the locomotive. “
Da
,” Oksana finished her cigarette. She flicked it onto the tracks at the sound of Stepan’s voice.

“I refuse to believe it,” Stepan held up his hand. “Moscow would never agree to such a proposition.”

“And yet, Kapitan Skuratov,” Bryullov pointed at the mammoth walkers positioned behind the soldiers, “there is your proof.”

“I still don’t understand,” Stepan stopped by the side of the cab. Ignoring Lena and Oksana, he jabbed his finger at Bryullov. “What gives Moscow the right to give up Arkhangelsk, to let a foreign nation take over one of our cities, for the sake of,” Stepan clenched his fists, “mines and resources?” Stepan pressed his fists to his temples. “
Our
resources, Kapitan Bryullov. Russian mines, Russian resources, Russian people.”

“You are angry, Kapitan Skuratov,” Bryullov wiped a speck of Stepan’s spit from the lapel of his coat. “I understand that. But the expansion and protection of our borders is expensive. It requires technology that we, unfortunately, are not yet able to produce. Our German friends,” Bryullov nodded at the walkers, “are quite advanced in their designs. Arkhangelsk is a small price for the greater good of our motherland. One day, Kapitan Skuratov, I think you will agree.”

“Do you?” Stepan gripped Bryullov’s arms, his fingers whitening as he squeezed. “I have a wife and child in Arkhangelsk, Kapitan.” He pressed his face closer to Bryullov’s. “My wife is sick and my son is,” Stepan shuddered. “My son is lost.”

“Kapitan,” Lena walked along the running board until she was level with Stepan. “Kapitan, let go of him.”

“What?” Stepan looked up at Lena.

She nodded at the soldiers forming a circle around them. “His men are restless.”

Stepan turned at the click of flintlock hammers being pulled back on the muskets and the whirr of cranking handles charging the Lightning Jezails. He let go of Bryullov. “I
am
angry, Kapitan Bryullov. I wish to file a complaint.”

“I understand,” Bryullov straightened his jacket. “But you will have to accompany me to Moscow.” Raising his hand, Bryullov pointed at Lena. “You
and
your Cossack.”

“Very well,” Stepan nodded. “But perhaps you will allow me to draft my complaint before we depart.”

“Of course.” Bryullov waved at his men. “Stand down, men.”

Stepan turned at the sound of jezails powering down and musket hammers being lowered gently to the pans. “Forgive me, Kapitan Bryullov. It has been a very long day.”

“Yes, I understand.” He looked up at the locomotive. “At least you did not ride all the way from Arkhangelsk.”

“Have you not rested?”

“We arrived two days ago.” Bryullov pulled a pipe from the pocket of his coat. “Yes, we are rested.”

“Hmm,” Stepan looked up at Lena.

“Kapitan?” Lena frowned.

“Let me light your pipe for you. Oksana?” Stepan caught the engineer’s matches. Cupping his hand, he struck the match, catching Lena’s eye as Bryullov dipped his head and pipe to the flame. “Get ready,” Stepan mouthed.

“Thank you, Kapitan,” Bryullov puffed at his pipe.

“Perhaps you have some writing materials. We left Arkhangelsk in quite a hurry,” Stepan shrugged. “In your travelling bag, perhaps?”

“Yes,” Bryullov beckoned to the soldier holding the reins of his horse. He waited until the horse was alongside the locomotive. “I will rip a page from my diary, Kapitan. I hope that will be sufficient?”

“Two pages,” Stepan pressed his palms together. He followed Bryullov to the horse. “If you can spare them.”

“Two pages. Of course,” Bryullov reached into the saddle bag. Pausing with his hand inside the bag, Bryullov looked up as Lena padded along the running board just above the horse. “Kapitan?” Bryullov flicked his head toward Stepan.

“Now, Lena.” Pulling back his arm, Stepan slammed his fist into Bryullov’s nose. Pushing Bryullov to the ground, Stepan leaped over him, kicking the Russian soldier in the shin and elbowing him in the neck as he doubled over.

“Kapitan,” Lena shouted over the grating of the metal door as Oksana dashed into the cab and locked herself inside. “Climb up.” Holding out her arm, Lena gripped Stepan’s forearm as he stepped onto Bryullov’s back and climbed onto the horse’s back behind Lena.

“Ride,” Stepan gripped Lena around the waist as the first volley of musket balls bounced off the side of
The Voskhod
.

“Where to?” Lena kicked the horse’s flanks, spitting on Bryullov as he rolled away from its hooves.

“North,” Stepan tugged the pistol from Lena’s bandolier. He aimed at Bryullov’s head. “Take me to your father.” Sighting along the barrel, Stepan pulled back the hammer with his thumb. Pressing his arm into Lena’s back, he steadied his aim as the horse picked up speed. Wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve, Bryullov glared at Stepan. Stepan breathed out and pulled the trigger.

҉

Luise slipped the leather cap over the tip of the diamond cutter, hitched up her skirt and slipped it back into the garter around her leg. Picking up the cogs lying on the notebook page, she pushed each one back into position along the spine inside the impediment machine. The cogs locked into place with a snick. The pre-dawn light lit the bridge, reflecting in the eyes of the German soldiers as they stifled yawns with the backs of their hands. Gathering her notebook and pencils, Luise stuffed them inside the satchel. She slipped the satchel over her head and shoulder and stood up, clutching at her stomach as she straightened her legs.

“It is ready?” Cairn leaned forward in the armchair. He watched as Luise nodded to Jacques, following him to the armchair opposite Cairn. “Then we can begin.”

“Yes,” Luise rubbed her eyes. “But no matter how curious I am, I stand by my original warning, and the knowledge that the demons are not interested in the likes of us,” she looked at Cairn. “They shun our weaknesses.”

“You have explained that,” Cairn gestured at Jacques. “Which is why my nephew will be assisting me. I look forward to comparing notes with you, Miss Hanover, when we are finished.” He pointed at the table. “You will wait over there. Jacques?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“You may begin.” His gaze fixed on his nephew, Jacques leaned back in the armchair.

Luise returned to her chair. Flanked by the Germans, she stared at the machine in Jacques hand.

With a quick glance at Luise, Jacques gripped the handle and turned it one full revolution. He paused to change his grip. Wedging the impediment machine between his knees, Jacques steadied it with one hand as he began turning the cranking handle faster and faster. The side panel of the machine popped open after five full revolutions. Jacques slowed as he peered into the machine at the spine of cogs spinning inside, the khronoglyphs inscribed on each one glowing brighter and brighter. A creeping smile stretched across Jacques’ face as he watched a wispy vortex of particles suck the dust from the air, taking shape and growing in size, spinning faster and faster inside the machine until the vortex split in two and the shadow vortex spun out of the machine, describing circles around him.

“Look,” Cairn leaned forward. “It grows.”

Spinning in an ever increasing circle, the shadow vortex gorged itself on the dust in the air, towering above the Captain and Jacques sitting within the perimeter and forcing those outside to look up to see the top.

Craning his neck back to stare up at the funnel forming at the top of the shadow vortex, Blom walked over to Luise. “What is the meaning of that?” Tossing Hari’s kukri onto the table, he pointed at the lips of the funnel, smoothing into a broad opening.

“That is where the demons come out,” Luise clenched her hands over her knees to stop the trembling in her legs. She glanced at the balcony.

“How many demons will come?” Blom moved his head to follow the vortex as it spun in a tight circle around the armchairs. “Eh?” He glanced down at Luise. “Answer me.”