Chapter 1: Norris
In the early morning light, Duke Drummonds chief gardener Norris Green makes his way away from the freshly opened kitchen window and across the gardens he once so lovingly tendered, past the barracks little gardens and up to the buildings themselves. Stopping every now and then to listen to the sounds of snoring from within, gingerly he creeps up the short flight of steps up to only door to the barrack marked A, with a quick glance about him; he removes the old rusty lock from his pocket and fastens it around the sliding doors handle and its twin set in the stout wooden frame then snapping the catch shut. Slithering his way down the steps and across the small walkway he makes his way up the steps to barrack B; the similar sounds of snoring echoing from within, removing another heavy old lock from his pocket, he sets this one into place in the same fashion as the first; and snaps the catch locked.
“Two down eight to go,” he thinks to himself “this should annoy them a tad.”
Moving from each low hung barrack to another, Norris sets his remaining heavy set locks upon the nine of the ten buildings, purposely leaving the end building alone, he sniggers as his eyes fall upon the title of the last barrack *Elite Squads*.
Making his way back to the huge hangar bays for his graces’ Velk airships and the larger flagship the Drummond, Norris stops at the little garden at the front end of barrack four to remove several weeds poking up through the soil.
“Tsk,” he tuts bending further over to reach more, “you don’t let them take root,” the annoyance visibly showing in his voice as he plucks the offending plants from the ground.
Placing the weeds into one his many pockets in his brown coveralls, Norris continues past the remaining barracks, his eyes giving them a quick once over, his head nodding with approvement as he sees the immaculately kept gardens.
Keeping low; he dashes across the eighty feet of open space between the now locked barracks to the first of the airships hangars, peering inside the tall doors of the first; he spies four of the Velks; all in various stages of being built. The sounds of people sleeping filters back to him, confused by the noise Norris darts quickly inside the first of the smaller hangars, the light dims considerably forcing him to reach into his breast pocket and remove an oddly shaped pair of spectacles. Setting the eyepieces onto the bridge of his nose; he hooks the long arms over his ears before switching the filters on each lens; with a press of a small button on the top of the right side of the spectacles frame the colour of the lenses changes from red to grey to indigo to green.
“Ahhh,” Norris mutters as the green lens falls into place; revealing several sleeping forms scattered about the hangar, he scans the area taking note of the placing of each heat source before switching back to the grey lens and taking a better look at the rest of the hangar.
“No flagship,” he muses as his eyes pick out a further four Velks at the back of the hangar; each in disarray “his grace has been busy in the past week.”
“Hmmm,” Norris stops and scratches his head, “this is a predicament; you lot are supposed to be sleeping in your barracks.”
Stepping back out of the hangar, Norris looks to the right and at the rest of the hangars; three small and one huge one far off in the distance. Movement between the hangars catches his attention as a lone figure appears, he flicks the lens on his spectacles back to green and drops to the ground in an instant; making himself as flat as possible while the lone figure continues to stand, the small brightness in his hand raising up to his head every now and then.
“Smoke sticks,” Norris thinks as the sight finally registers “those merchants have a lot to answer for.”
As the small light is deposited onto the ground, the figure steps on it and extinguishes the light, while his hands reach up and fiddles with something at his neck.
“Oh crap,” Norris says as the figure promptly vanishes, his own hands flicker with the lenses, moving from one colour to the next, before settling on a subtle pink hue, in the distance the vague outline of the figure can be seen moving closer, the end of one arm looking considerably longer and at an odd angle to the other.
Realising his location may have been made, Norris scuttles on his stomach across the ground back to the hangar, passing through the hangar door, he curses under his breath as his leg catches the huge partially open door rattling it in its holdings. The sudden noise startles a sleeping worker who wakes; sitting bolt upright his hands rubbing his eyes. In one fluid movement; Norris springs up, flicks the filter to his lens back to green and lets loose a dart at the seated man; who yelps in response to the sudden pain then crumples back to his makeshift bed moments later as the quick acting nerve toxin takes effect.
“Cause and effect,” Norris thinks as he dashes past the slowly waking workers startled by the yelp from their colleague.
Clambering up and over a partially rebuilt Velk barring his path to the side door, the sounds of the rest of the workers waking and another man shouting reaches him as he swings across the scaffolding. The world about him brightens as light sources flare to life across the hangar; with no option but to continue with his swing, Norris closes his eyes from the stabbing pain of the lights amplified by his spectacles and their green lenses. A gunshot goes off as its small lead missile whistles past his ears and impacts against the hangar wall.
“So many sounds, too much noise,” Norris’s mind tries to filter out the assailing clanks and banks, shouts and thumps as he leaps the final gap.
“Oh, oh,” he says as his right-hand fails to grasp the bar that should be there, he hangs in the air for what seems like an age before his own weight pulls him down to the ground and unfamiliar terrain.
His left-hand raises to his spectacles fumbling to unclip the lenses as his feet finally connect with the floor; bending his knees with the impact; he tucks himself smaller and rolls with the fall.
“Hopefully noth…” he begins to think as he hits something large and hard with his head.
Instinct and years of training take over as he slips into semi-consciousness, springing limply to his feet, his loose arms fling out catching an assailant across the throat. Continuing with the bodily spin; his leg kicks out connecting with another in the groin as the sound of the first assailant hitting the ground barely registers; the second grunts and backs away covering his privates. Three more workers scramble across the mass of semi-repaired Velks trying to reach the small white-haired gardener, one leaps from an empty engine compartment as Norris’s fist jabs up slamming him under his chin, the worker half somersaults backwards in the air before crashing to the ground on his back, sending metallic tools scattering across the stone floor. Norris reacts to the sudden metallic noise; his body jerking and stuttering in its movements, the whooshing from the end of a pipe alerts Norris subconsciously to duck as another assailant swings a long metal pipe where his head would have been a split second earlier, Norris automatically flicks his leg out catching the pipe wielder across the knee; snapping it sideways; as the man screams, his swing takes him around spinning on the spot, the pipe prangs off the head of the fifth worker. The sound of pipe echoing off the silent workers skull snaps Norris out of his daze and he drops to all fours; his eyes just starting to focus on the tools scattered on the floor before him. Reaching for a long-handled wrench he flicks it sideways catching a figure still holding his throat, the wrench slams into his stomach doubling the worker up immediately, as Norris jumps up to finish the first attacker off something cold presses against the back of his head as a click sounds behind him.
“Go ahead old man,” a gruff male voice says behind him “let’s see how good you really are.”
“I was looking for a watering can,” Norris says in his defense, his hands raising up into the air.
“A likely story,” the gruff voice replies.
“Yes really,” Norris snaps back “I’m the gardener or are these weeds in my hand’s grenades?”
Norris feels the pressure of the gun barrel on the back of his head shift as the man obviously leans to take a closer look at the object in his raising hand. Throwing himself to the ground as quickly as he can while the guard is partially distracted, Norris spins his legs around; sweeping the guards legs from under him. The gun goes off a split second later as Norris’s open palm slaps across the assailant’s ear and face, his other stiffened hand chops down across the assailant’s throat. Reaching for the small single barreled weapon, Norris’s fingers clasp around its smooth and warm handle; feeling the weight in his hands as he lifts the weapon up. His thoughts reach out to the weapon probing, querying, demanding, the answers as always come rushing at him all at once, each death spitting projectile ever launched from this vessel fills his mind with each and every innocent life taken, fifteen, thirty-seven, sixty-one, ninety-three.
“Ninety-three,” he mutters to the groaning man at his feet, “you’ve taken ninety-three innocent lives, with this…” he gestures holding the weapon out “you’re a bastard; the sisters of fate will have you.”
Norris kneels down and lets the weapon fall to the ground with a clatter as he leans over the fallen murderer, his thumbnail jabs into the mans’ temple and he quickly carves a runic symbol into his forehead.
“Yes,” he says as he finishes “let the sisters have you,” Norris stands and gingerly steps over the oddly shaped metallic objects lying between him and the side door as the fluttering of wings is heard behind him. Norris reaches the door not paying attention to the large black crow settling upon the half-repaired engine, he unlocks the catch sealing the portal shut and swings the door open as a large white snake winds its way in through the doorway and past him.
“Nrrissss,” the long white snake hisses as it passes winding its way into the hangar.
Norris tips the smallest nods of acknowledgement at the snake before stepping across the threshold into the early morning.
Moving quickly down the side of the hangar, Norris makes his was around the back of the building and towards the remaining hangars, his mind flicks back to the fateful day when he first encountered the sisters.
The old groundsman had trapped the snake and was about to sever its head with his axe when the crow came out of nowhere and dive bombed him.
“Sssssavvve mee Nrrissss,” the snake spoke directly to him with a feminine voice, soft and unsettlingly stern; it seemed to command and request him both at the same time.
Norris froze to the spot not believing his eyes or his ears at what he was seeing or believing as the crow pecked at the groundsman’s face forcing him to retreat.
“Caawwt the ropes, caawwt the ropes,” the crow screamed at him, it’s huge wings buffeting the small gardener’s shack; sending up huge amounts of dust and dirt and other indescribable detritus.
Norris watched his mentor and boss run haggardly across the gardens before turning to the large cage with the snake stuffed inside, only its head poking out from an adjustable hole in the side, he side-steps towards the door.
“Caawtt the ropes,” the crow screams again as it settles on the ground in the doorway; barring his prompt exit.
For a moment panic overcomes him as he whips out his knife and moves to the snake, his left-hand resting upon its neck, the scales under his touch warm and dry, as his right hand brings up the knife to sever its head.
“Nrrissss,” it speaks to him, its eyes glistening “plsss, it hurtssss,” it pleads.
Something inside him twangs, the panic washes away at the sight of this innocent creature and the pain it is suffering, he feels its pain flowing up through his arm and entering his heart, making it heavy with the burden of sadness, bringing tears to his own eyes. Nodding to the snake, he moves the knife to the ropes constricting it; hemming it in and cuts the bonds free. Within seconds the cage is a mass of broken sticks and jumbled ropes as the snake slithers its way free down from the table holding the cage and across the floor, Norris watches it curl and wind across the space to the open door.
“Sssymbol,” the snake says it’s black forked tongue darts out.
“What symbol?” he asks.
“Symbol to call, should you need,” the crow caws at him.
Momentarily distracted from the snake at his feet to look at the crow, Norris doesn’t see the snake reach forward and dash its tongue through his pants and across his shin, he yelps with a start and backs away.
“Ssssorrrrry,” the snake hisses at him “Sssshould you neeeed ussss.”
“Draw the symbol, we will come,” the crow screams as it launches itself up from the doorway and into the air.
Norris watches the snake wind its way out of the shed and out of view, he collapses to the ground and lifts his linen pants to see a strange symbol etched onto his leg, small rivulets of blood run down from the deeper parts mixing with a brackish ichor and seeping into his shoe.
“Arrrghhhhh,” he screams as the pain finally registers, his hands grasping at his leg.
The snap of a twig underfoot brings Norris back the real world as the memory fades back into the history of his mind, peering out from the back of the hangar, the light of the morning only now just beginning to peek over the mansion; signifying the time.
“Too late,” he says to himself “although I might have enough time for one more.”
Keeping as low as possible and moving with a speed that defies his age Norris makes his way across to the next hangar and the side door, he tries the handle to find it unlocked, slowly and carefully he opens the door and peers inside.
Darkness fills his vision at first until he flicks the lenses on his spectacles settling on the grey lens “Bingo” he mutters as he sees the Velks ready and waiting for action, counting off eight machines in total, he has a quick thought and flicks the lens to green to recheck the inside of the hangar, Norris smiles to himself as he finds no heat sources.
“No workers, that’s good,” he mutters flicking the lens back to grey.
Slowly and methodically Norris makes his way from Velk to Velk pulling out wires and cutting tubes in two, remembering the schematic that Duke Ridgemann had shown him ten-day earlier; before his master’s castle was reduced to rubble, Norris finds the metal box on the underside of one of the Velks and pushes his knife into the metal, letting the liquid drip out across the floor, finding the large circular box near the front, he pushes his knife several times into this one.
“Keep steam now,” he giggles to himself, enjoying the knowledge that this particular machine won’t be spitting its death at anyone anytime soon.
Moving to the next Velk, Norris repeats his knife work of the water tank and steam boiler before stopping as a loud commotion filters through the hangars small door to him.
“Hmmm, sounds like they arose early.”
Norris continues stabbing at the water and steam tanks as quickly as he can, when suddenly the front hangar doors are pulled wide open, more and more silhouettes of armed figures appear in the morning light as the doors are rolled back into place.
“That’s just far enough Mister Green,” a stern voice says from the side door “I would prefer you to come quietly, but I will resort to force if necessary.”
“If necessary?” Norris repeats “that sounds like a threat my boy,” he turns to the owner of the voice.
“No sir, just a promise, I intend to take no chances with you whatsoever.”
“Oh, is that so?” Norris flicks the lenses on his spectacles to none and smiles as he sees Major Velk standing some twenty feet away from him, his hands empty
“No weapons boy” Norris mocks; attempting to goad his jailor, “you think you can take me?”
“No sir, not at all,” Major Velk answers “but I have witnessed your abilities and we will not take any chances again.”
“Hmmm I see,” Norris thinks hard on how to escape this particular problem.
“Duke Drummond requests your presence at once sir,” Major Velk continues as Norris scans the figures at the hangar doors.
“This would have been easier if you had remained in your cell,” Major Velk says “how exactly did you break free?”
Ignoring the Major’s question, Norris weighs up his chances, “only twelve armed men and me with my fists” Norris says loud enough for everyone to hear “a baker’s dozen is insufficient to take me alive, surely you know that Velk.”
“Yes, sir we do, that’s why I have a further fifty snipers ready to take you out if do not come quietly.”
“You know boy,” Norris sighs knowing when he’s been outmanoeuvred “I always said you were the brightest officer in the watch.”
“Thank you, sir,” Major Velk answers stepping forward “now will you come quietly.”
“Of course, Major,” Norris turns and heads towards the hangar doors “but only because you asked nicely.”
“Walk between the guard’s please,” Major Velks asks of him “they are instructed to keep you at a bodies length.”
“Hmmm,” Norris thinks “he has done his homework.”
Walking calmly towards the hangar doors and between the guards; who shift nervously from foot to foot, Norris removes his spectacles and places them onto his top breast pocket, tapping the pocket soundly through force of habit more than anything else. As he rounds the right side of the door he feints a movement to the right then quickly sidesteps to the left his arm swinging out, the guards move with him, expecting him to keep moving to the left; the guard to his right keeps on moving forward.
Norris, with his left foot pivoting on his toes as his knees bend, darts back to the right, coming closer to the armed guard that the guard expected, his fist flashes out connecting with the guards’ chin. Several more guards close with him, small and agile they nip around him with long daggers in their hands stabbing and lashing at him. His second feinted lunge brings him face to face with one of the small dagger men, the bold certain look on the man’s face crumples to dust as Norris’s knee lifts up sharply, crashing into his groin and smashing his family jewels. In a blink; the long dagger is removed and flung at another as Norris ducks and spins his legs out and around catching another two of the small men. Within a second he is upon them as the thrown dagger plunges into the shoulder of the target he aimed for, a jab to the throat of one man beneath him and a kick to the sternum of the other has these two wiry assassins incapacitated.
More guards appear as Norris becomes a blur, his arms and legs moving with incredible speed, Major Velk can only stand back and watch with amazement as this seventy-year-old veteran blows through his prized troops like nothing he has ever seen before. Feet and fists fly out in all directions incapacitating his adversaries one by one, as the seconds turns to minutes and the old guy starts to tire, he takes to using Velk troops against themselves, using their own bodies as shields and offensive weapons. Corporal Salmon kicks out and is spun around by Norris as his own leg is lifted higher by the old gardener and used to fell two more soldiers; before Corporal Salmon takes an elbow to the solar plexus and is forced to the ground. As more and more troops plow into the fray, the weapons they hold are brought to bear against the old veteran, pistol whipped and rifle butts slamming into the old man. Exhaustion slowly begins to take its toll on the old gardener and after another fifteen minutes of fighting; Norris holds his hand up in defeat, surrounding him lying scattered where they fell almost thirty hardened soldiers whimper and try to get back up.
“So are we all done now sir,” Major Velk Shouts across to Norris.
“For now, boy,” Norris spits back through a busted lip, “thought I’d give your men a breather.”
“Very commendable of you sir, now if you would follow me to his grace,” Velk states turning and walking off slowly as several guards prompt the old gardener with their rifles to get moving.
