A/N: Hola everyone. Here's the next chapter. In this chappie, Kara will almost throw and kumquat at Klopp's head, and she and Volger will swordfight awesomely. I apologize in advance for my failing at describing swordfight; unfortunately, I am not a fencer (but I'm working on it) and so I have no idea what to call things. But I did my best. Enjoy the chapter and please review!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Including the many, many, many references I made in this chapter that I think only the people who know me in real life will get all of.
Chapter Nine
Alek awoke to the chatter of Morse Code.
Wood creaked as he stirred, and a damp smell filled his nose. Dust swirled in shafts of sunlight streaming through the half-rotten walls. He sat up and blinked, staring at the hay covering his clothes.
Prince Aleksandar had never slept in a barn before. Of course, he'd done a lot of new things in the last two weeks.
Klopp, Bauer, and Master Engineer Hoffman were snoring nearby. Kara was pulling random objects out of the bag she'd somehow brought into the Stormwalker and dropping them from the hayloft. Alek's stomach twinged (A/N: according to spell check, that's not a word; do I care? No) as he saw that some of them were his tin soldiers. The Stormwalker crouched in the half-lit barn, its head almost level with the hayloft. Alek had maneuvered the machine inside last night, shuffling at half height in the darkness to squeeze it in. A tricky bit of piloting, especially with Kara yelling completely non-helpful tips in his ear every three steps.
Morse Code crackled again through the walker's open viewport.
Count Volger, of course. The man was allergic to sleep.
The gap between the hayloft and the walker's head was barely the length of a sword, an easy jump.
Alek stood, just as Kara was about to throw some sort of fruit at Klopp's head.
"Whatcha doin'?" Kara asked in a sing-song voice.
"I'm going to see what's going on in there," Alek replied in a whisper, pointing at the walker.
"Ooh! I wanna come!" Kara whispered, raising her hand like a schoolgirl.
Alek sighed. "Just stay quiet," he commanded; then jumped.
He landed softly, his bare feet silent on the metal armor. Kara landed next to him, almost sliding off the walker to her death, but Alek grabbed her hands and helped her keep her footing. They eased themselves over the edge to peek in through the viewport. Volger sat facing away in the commander's chair, a wireless earphone pressed against his head.
Alek motioned for Kara to stay still, then slowly, silently, he lowered one foot to the edge of the viewport….
"Careful not to fall, Your Highness."
Alek sighed, wondering if he would ever manage to sneak up on his fencing master. He slid through the viewport and dropped into the pilot's chair, Kara tumbling in behind him with a crash.
"Don't you ever sleep, Count?" Alek asked.
"Not with that racket." Volger glared at Kara, who had pulled up a chair next to Alek and plopped her feet on his lap.
Alek tilted his head in confusion. "What?"
"She talks in her sleep," Volger explained.
Alek frowned. He'd grown used to sleeping through the noises of men and machines. Kara's mutterings were nothing. Yet somehow the tiny crackle of dots and dashes from the wireless had woken him. Two weeks of being hunted had altered his senses. "Anything about us?"
Volger shrugged. "The codes have changed again. But there's more chatter than I've ever heard before; the army is preparing for war."
"Maybe they've forgotten me," Alek said. In those first days land dreadnoughts had stalked the hills in every direction, lookouts swarming their spar decks. But lately the fugitives had seen only an occasional aeroplane hovering overhead.
"You are not forgotten, Your Highness," Volger said flatly.
"No one could forget you, Alek," Kara encouraged. "You're unforgettable." She put her hands behind her head and leaned back in her chair, chuckling. "And not in a good way."
"Serbia simply presents an easier target, Alek," Volger continued, ignoring Kara.
"Unlucky for them," Alek said softly.
"Luck had nothing to do with it," Volger muttered. "The empire has wanted a war with Serbia for years now. The rest is an excuse."
"An excuse?" Alek said, anger rising as he imagined his murdered parents' faces. But he couldn't argue with Volger's logic. The dreadnoughts hunting him were German and Austrian, after all. His family had been destroyed by old friends, not some hapless gang of Serbian schoolboys. "But my father always argued for peace."
"And he can argue no longer. Clever, isn't it?"
Alek shook his head. "You horrify me, Volger. I sometimes think you admire the people behind this."
"Their plans have a certain elegance- assassinating a peacemaker to start a war. But they made one very foolish mistake." The man turned and faced him. "They left you alive."
"I don't matter, not anymore."
"Of course you matter, Alek!" Kara exclaimed, removing her feet from his lap. "If something happened to you, I would only have five fictional boyfriends! And unless Abyssia can take me to Camp Half-Blood, you're all I got! So of course you matter! Why do you think I saved you from getting shot?"
Alek and Volger stared at her.
"What?" Alek asked. "Abyssia? Camp Half-Blood? Fictional? What do you mean?"
Kara grinned mischievously. "Spoilers."
Volger gave her a long look; then switched off the wireless, and the cabin fell into silence. The flutter of birds filtered down from the rafters of the barn.
"You matter more than anyone knows, Aleksandar."
"How? I have no parents, no real title." Alek looked down at himself, dressed in stolen farmer's clothes and covered in hay. "I haven't even had a proper bath in two weeks."
"No, indeed." Volger sniffed. "But your father planned carefully for the coming war."
"What do you mean?"
"When we get to Switzerland, I will explain." Volger switched the wireless on again. "But that won't happen unless we can buy fuel and parts tomorrow. Go wake the men."
Alek raised an eyebrow. "Did you just give me an order, Count?"
"Go wake the men if you please, Your Serene Highness."
"I know you're only being insolent to distract me from your little secret, Count. But that doesn't make it any less annoying."
Volger let out a laugh. "I suppose not. But I can't give up my secret yet. I promised your father to wait till the proper time."
"What did you promise exactly?" Kara asked. "'Cause depending on the promise, you'll probably end up telling him before the 'proper time' anyway. You know, loopholes and all."
Alek ignored her. He was growing tired of being treated like this, never told what Volger's plans were until the last moment. Maybe he'd been a child the day his parents had died, but no longer.
In the last two weeks he'd learned how to start a fire, how to replace the engines' glow plugs, how to track their nighttime progress toward Switzerland with a sextant and the stars. He could squeeze the Stormwalker under bridges and into barns, and strip and clean the Spandau machine guns as easily as washing his own clothes- another thing he'd learned to do. Hoffman had even taught him to cook a little, boiling dried meat to soften it, adding the vegetables they'd gathered while trampling some unlucky farmer's field.
But most important, Alek had learned to shut away despair. He hadn't cried since that first day, not once, and especially not with Kara following him everywhere. His misery was locked away in a small, hidden corner of himself. The only time the awful hollowness struck now was when he was alone on watch, while the others were asleep.
And even then Alek practiced the art of keeping his tears inside.
"I'm not a child anymore."
"I know." Volger's voice softened. "But your father asked me to wait, Alek, and I intend to honor his wishes, despite loopholes." He gave Kara a look. "Go wake the men, and after breakfast we'll have a fencing lesson. You'll need your reflexes sharp for this afternoon's piloting.
Alek stared at Volger another moment, then finally nodded.
He felt the need for a sword in his hand.
Kara stood as Alek exited the walker.
"Not you, just yet, girl," Volger stopped her, turning his Morse code-radio-thing off.
Turning back, Kara raised an eyebrow at the wildcount.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Whatever do you mean, Count?" Kara replied innocently, sitting back in her chair.
Volger stared at her for a moment. "You are not from this world," he accused.
"Whatch you talkin' 'bout, Willis?" the girl replied, the reference sounding weird translated into German.
Volger sighed. "This is no time for joking, girl. Even… jokes… that don't make any sense."
Kara shrugged. "You'll get it in sixty-something years," she promised. "At least… I think. It is a seventies show, isn't it? I dunno." (A/N: Actually, I'm pretty sure it's an eighties show. But I was too lazy to change it, so…yeah)
If it was possible to look angry and confused at the same time, Count Volger sure did then. He seemed to accept that he wasn't going to get anything out of Kara at the moment, so he stood and growled, "I'm watching you, girl. There's something you're up to."
Volger climbed out of the Stormwalker and Kara sighed.
If she was gonna have to live through a whole book with this guy, she'd have to watch what she said.
"On guard, if you please."
Alek raised his saber and assumed his guard. Volger walked in a slow circle around him, inspecting Alek's stance for what felt like a solid minute.
"More weight on your back foot," the man finally said. "But otherwise acceptable."
"Whoo! Good job Alek! Keep going, you're doing awesome!" Kara cheered.
Volger turned to her. "What are you doing here? I thought you were helping the men clean up from breakfast."
"Well, I was," Kara replied, staring down at the floor. "But then I kept breaking the plates, so they made me leave."
"We don't have plates," Alek pointed out. "We used blocks of cement."
"Yes. I am aware of this."
"Back foot," Volger reminded, while staring suspiciously at Kara. "And you, keep quiet, girl."
Alek shifted his weight, his muscles already beginning to cramp. Long days in the pilot's cabin had ruined his form. This lesson was going to hurt.
Pain was always Count Volger's objective, of course. When Alek had started his training at ten years old, he'd expected swordplay to be exciting. But his first lessons had consisted of standing motionless like this for hours, with Volger taunting him whenever his outstretched arm began to quiver, and Kara laughing at him from the sidelines.
At least now, at fifteen, he was allowed to cross swords.
Volger took his own guard.
"Slowly at first. I shall call your parries," Volger said, and began to attack, shouting out the names of defensive moves as he lunged. "Tierce…tierce again. Now prime. That's awful, Alek. Your blade's too far down."
Out of the corner of his eye Alek noticed Kara pantomiming his moves and muttering things like, "Take that, Bethany," and "Even after two years, you're terrible," and other nonsensical things. Alek ignored her and shifted his attention back to Volger.
"Two in tierce," the count continued. "Now go back covering. Now quarte. Simply dreadful. Again…"
The count's attacks continued, but his voice dropped off, relying on Alek (and Kara) to choose their own parries. The swords flashed, and their shuffling feet stirred up dust into the shafts of sunlight lancing in through the barn.
It felt odd fencing in farmer's clothes, without servants standing ready to bring water and towels. Mice scrambled underfoot, and the giant Stormwalker watched over them like some iron god of war. Every few minutes Count Volger called a halt and stared up at the machine, as if hoping to find in its stoic silence the patience to endure Alek's clumsy technique.
Then he would sigh and say, "Again…"
Alek felt his focus sharpening as they fought. Unlike in the fencing salon at home, here there were no mirrors along the wall, and Klopp and the other men were too busy checking over the walker's engines to watch. No distractions, just the clear ring of steel and the shuffle of feet. And Kara's mutterings, but he'd learned to ignore that.
Actually, from what Alek could see, Kara had stopped pantomiming swordplay and was once again cheering him on. Though still her cheers weren't exactly helpful.
"Strike low!"
"Strike high!"
"Faster, Alek!"
"Jump aside!"
"No, the other side!"
"Oh, you almost got him!"
"Halt!" Volger suddenly cried. "What are you doing?" he demanded.
"I'm cheering him on," Kara replied. "Those are some pretty encouraging words. Plus, I like quoting things."
"Either stay quiet, or stay out of the way," Volger commanded, pointing at the other side of the barn.
Kara looked down and folded her hands respectively. "I'll stay quiet," she mumbled.
Volger sighed and turned back to Alek. "Continue."
As the sparring grew more intense, Alek realized they hadn't put on masks yet. He'd always begged to fight without protection, but his parents had never allowed it.
"Why Serbia?" Volger suddenly asked.
Alek dropped his guard. "Pardon me?"
Volger pushed aside Alek's half-ready parry and landed a touch on his wrist.
"What in blazes?" Alek cried out, rubbing his hands. The sporting saber's edge was dull, but could still bruise when it landed on flesh.
"Do not drop your guard until the other man does, Your Highness. Not in time of war."
"Yeah, Alek, you're such a failure," Kara added.
Volger glared at her. She made a zipping motion over her lips and stopped talking.
"Remember, keep your guard up at all times," Volger repeated, turning back to Alek.
"But you just asked me…," Alek began, then sighed and raised him sword again. "All right. Continue."
The count began with another flurry of blows, pushing Alek backward. By the rules of saber any contact with the opponent's sword ended a legal attack. But Volger was ignoring every parry, using brute strength to gain his ground.
"Why Serbia?" the count repeated, pushing Alek toward the back wall of the barn.
"'Cause everybody hates it," Kara answered. Alek ignored her.
"Because the Serbs are allied with Russia!" he cried.
"Indeed." Volger suddenly ended his attack, turning his back and walking away. "The old alliance of the Slavic peoples."
Alek blinked. Sweat was running into his eyes, and his heart was racing.
Volger took up his stance in the center of the barn. "On guard, sir."
Alek approached warily, his sword up.
Volger attacked again, still ignoring the rules of priority. This wasn't fencing, Alek realized, this was more like… a sword fight. He let his concentration narrow, his awareness extending down the length of his saber. Like the Stormwalker, the length of steel became an extension of his body.
"And who is most closely allied with Russia?" Volger asked, not even a little breathless.
"Not us," Kara muttered. (A/N: I just realized she could've meant Austria-Hungary or America. Interesante)
"Britain," Alek said.
"Not so." Volger's blade slipped inside Alek's guard, whacking his right arm hard.
"Ouch!" Alek dropped his guard and rubbed the wound. "For heaven's sake, Volger! Are you teaching me fencing or diplomacy?"
Volger smiled. "You are in need of instruction in both, obviously."
"But the British navy command met with the Russians last year! Father said it drove the Germans wild with worry."
"That is not an alliance, Alek. Not yet." Volger raised his sword. "So who is allied with Russia, then?"
"France, I suppose." Alek swallowed. "They have a treaty, right?"
"Correct." Volger paused for a moment, sword point tracing a pattern in the air, then frowned. Slowly, he turned to Kara was practically jumping up and down with her hand in the air.
"Yes?" he asked.
Kara lowered her arm, but said nothing, instead staring intently at the count.
Volger sighed. "You may speak."
"Yay! So, if this were a real fight, wouldn't you have stabbed Alek by now?" she said, pointing at Alek's unguarded position.
"For once, she is right," Volger said. "Raise your sword, Alek. I won't warn you again; nor shall your enemies."
Alek sighed and took his guard. He felt himself gripping the saber too tightly, and forced his hand to relax. Did Volger think these distractions were useful?
"Focus on my eyes," Volger said. "Not the tip of my sword."
"Speaking of eyes, we aren't wearing masks."
"There are no masks in war."
"There aren't many sword fights in war either! Not lately."
Volger raised an eyebrow at the this, and Alek felt a moment of triumph. Two could play at this game of being annoying.
The man lunged, and Alek parried, counterattacking for once. His saber's edge missed Volger's arm by a hair.
He pulled back and covered himself.
"So let us review," Volger said, his sword still flashing. "Austria gets revenge on Serbia. Then what happens?"
"To protect Serbia, Russia declares war on Austria."
As Alek spoke, somehow his mind stayed focused on the play of sabers. It was strangely clarifying, wearing no mask. He'd met German officers from the military schools where protection was considered cowardly. Scars stretched across their faces like cruel smiles.
"And then?" Volger said.
"Germany protects Clanker honor by declaring war on Russia."
Volger lunged at Alek's knees, an illegal target. "And then?"
"France makes good its treaty with Russia, and declares war on Germany."
"And then?"
"Who knows?" Alek shouted, thrashing at Volger's saber. He'd lost his footing, he realized- too much of his body was exposed. He turned to correct it. "Britain finds her way in somehow. Darwinists against Clankers."
Volger lunged forward and his saber spun, wrapping around Alek's like a snake and yanking it from his grasp. Metal flashed as the sword soared across the barn, burying itself in the half-rotten wall with a thunk.
The wildcount stepped forward and held his saber at Alek's throat.
"And what can we conclude form this lesson, Your Highness?"
"That Alek can't swordfight while talking at the same time," Kara replied helpfully.
"Like you would do any better?" Alek challenged.
"Yes, I would, actually."
Kara grabbed Alek's saber and took her guard against Volger.
The count raised an eyebrow in surprise, but nevertheless took his own stance.
Kara lunged. "So, what do you think we can conclude from your lesson, Alek?" she asked as her strike was parried by Volger's.
Alek glared at the two of them. "We can conclude that discussing politics while fencing is idiotic."
Volger smiled as he blocked another one of Kara's attacks, but it was the girl who spoke. "For most people, perhaps," Kara said dramatically, as if quoting something. "But some of us are born without the choice. The game of nations is your birthright, Alek. Politics is part of everything you do." Volger thrust his sword forward angrily, since she had stolen his lesson to the prince, and Kara carelessly brushed it aside, then carelessly slashed at his knees, making him jump backwards.
Alek sighed and crossed his arms. Without a sword in his hand he suddenly felt numb and exhausted, and he didn't have the strength to argue against the obvious. His birth had shaken the Austro-Hungarian throne, and now his parents' death had unsettled the delicate balance of Europe.
"So this war is my responsibility," he said bitterly.
"Yep," Kara replied as she pushed Volger towards the other end of the barn. She was slashing wildly, not using any sort of technique, but Volger was failing miserably against her, just barely blocking her attacks before her sword touched his skin.
"No, Alek," Volger contradicted, finally getting in a slash at Kara's legs, which she easily jumped over and jabbed at his heart. The count stepped back quickly, then continued talking. "The Clanker and Darwinist powers would have found a way to fight, sooner or later. But perhaps you can still make your mark."
"How?" Alek asked.
The wildcount did a strange thing then. He dropped his sword and held his hands up in surrender just as Kara raised her sword to attack.
The girl grinned in triumph, while Volger glared at her in an interested kind of way. Kara thrust out her sword sideways for Alek to take and ended up knocking him over with it.
Volger rolled his eyes and stepped forward as Alek stood and snatched the saber out of Kara's hand.
"How can I 'make my mark'?" Alek repeated.
Volger sighed and put one hand on Alek's shoulder.
"We shall see, Alek. We shall see."
"Young master?" Klopp called. "If you could help ready the walker?"
"Yes, of course!" Alek handed his sword to Volger and gestured for Kara to come with him.
"I'll help the count with the swords," she said.
Although Volger didn't look very happy with that, Alek nodded and went off to join the other men.
From behind him, he heard the clinking sounds of falling swords and Volger's interesting words saved for Kara.
Alek sighed. It was going to be a long war.
A/N: END OF NOTEBOOK ONE! Bramblepool and I are way ahead in this story in our notebooks than we are posted and this chapter was the end of the first of my four notebooks strung together for this story. I hope you enjoy.
There were oh so many references in this chapter. Whoever can guess the most of them (my real-life friends don't count) gets a preview of the next chapter.
Please review! Next chapter, Abyssia makes a visit!