Along Came a Wolf (The Yellow Hoods, #1): Steampunk meets Fairy Tale (5 page)

Bakon’s right eyebrow shot up in surprise. “Yes… How do you know that?”

Nikolas gave a sad, knowing smile. There was much he knew about what went on, about the affairs of others—a lot of which he couldn’t share. 

“I know there are few who come to this town without you finding out. You did try to stop him, yes?”

“Yes,” said Squeals, “until Bakon was hit with magic.”

“A stone! I was hit with a
stone
. It stunned me for a minute,” said Bakon, irritated, subconsciously rubbing the back of his head.

“Ah, Tee. Yes, that makes sense now,” muttered Nikolas to himself. Then he said aloud, “The messenger—we
must
find him.”

“We’ll find him eventually,” said Squeals. “We didn’t like his look anyway. He looked like trouble. We wanted to tell Archambault, but he’s out and his guys don’t listen to us.”

“This man has horsemen, and”—Nicolas’ voice broke—“and they are after my granddaughter.” Tears started to stream down his face again.

Bakon didn’t hesitate. “Which way are we going?”

CHAPTER FIVE

Went to Market

Nikolas thought back to when he had first met the Cochon brothers. It felt like a lifetime ago.

That day, he had gone to town for groceries and supplies, and noticed three very young boys waiting at the side of the road. They were just beside the wooden archway marking the southern entrance to Minette. Hours later, as he was heading home, he saw the boys were still there, still alone.

He stopped his horse and sat there on his cart, thinking. Townspeople were still milling about, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to the boys. Nikolas had seen children abandoned before, but never three at once.

Their clothes were little more than rags. Nikolas guessed they’d awoken alone at the forest’s edge, and discovered that whoever had brought them here was gone. The boys had probably followed the flow of people to the entrance of town, and then planted themselves in that spot, hoping whoever it was who’d left them would return shortly.

The two younger boys, perhaps three and five years old, had tear-streaked faces. They kept looking at the ground. The eldest, not more than seven, paced about. It was obvious he was torn up inside, angry and nervous, and trying to keep his little family together.

The boys were skinny. Nikolas could see the outline of their ribs. They probably hadn’t eaten properly in months. They were shoeless. Their clothing was dirty, and torn. From what he could infer from the style and fabric of their clothes, they were probably from a kingdom to the east.

Nikolas raced his horse and cart back up to the house and then started quickly unloading the supplies onto the yard. He yelled to his wife, “Isabella, I need to head back to town!”

His wife rushed out. Her husband was in a frenzy, emptying the cart so fast that he was almost throwing things out of it.

Unable to get his attention, she ran in front of him, yelling, “Wait! Wait! Nikolas! I know that look. Wait. Stop. Talk to me.”

Nikolas put down the last box, and only then realized his wife was there. “Isabella, there are three abandoned boys—and a storm is coming.” His eyes told a story she knew well. She stepped out of his way.

They’d been down this road before. She knew her husband would save all the world’s children if he could. But he often said that without her anchoring force, he’d be lost in the wind. She felt he needed her right now, whether he knew it or not.

Nikolas dashed into the large shed and brought back blankets, a box of wax powder, and some poles. Isabella was amazed at how he could always make his way in and out of that stuffed mess of a building as if it were actually organized; she was afraid to enter it for fear of causing an avalanche.

“Nikolas, wait—”

He quickly checked that his supplies were safely loaded onto the cart and then turned back to his wife. “Isabella—I can’t. A storm’s coming!” He gestured to the approaching dark gray and purple clouds. “I need to get back to those boys.”

Isabella gave a compassionate smile. “Listen to me, my love,” she said, stopping him with a soft touch to his face that briefly washed away his crazed look. “Your heart is as big as a mountain, but you can’t save them all.”

“I must save these ones. Please, Isabella.” Tears welled up in his eyes.

She could see he meant it. “Okay—but let me check things first.” She made sure the food he’d loaded into the cart was appropriate. She wouldn’t put it past him to have accidentally taken sacks of flour instead of fruit and cheese.

Isabella gave Nikolas her nod of approval. He kissed her quickly and bounded up into the cart. “I love you with my heart, and all,” he said awkwardly.

His wife waved, smiling, as her knight went off on his noble quest. As he passed out of sight, she turned toward the house. “Children, come! We have supplies to put away, and guests are coming. We need to get everything ready.”

When Nikolas arrived, the boys were still at the town’s entrance. He pulled his horse and cart to the opposite side of the road and onto the grass, out of the way of the people coming and going.

He climbed over and sat on the back of his cart, facing the boys. After a while, he gave them a nod of acknowledgement. The boys noticed him, but otherwise ignored him.

Experience had taught him it was too early to engage them. He’d been in this situation before. Trust would take a little time to build.

Nikolas usually kept to himself in public, but now he made an effort to greet and chat with as many of the people he knew as they passed by. He wanted the boys to see he was friendly, and well known.

Some town guards came by and asked Nikolas what he was doing. He explained his concern, and the guards confirmed his suspicion. Early in the morning, the mother had abandoned the boys. The guards went over to the boys to explain who Nikolas was and how long they’d known his family. The boys stared at them, saying nothing.

The second hour rolled by. Nikolas unpacked some of the food. He cleaned the fruit and cut several slices of bread and cheese. He laid everything out on the cart’s edge for the boys to see. He didn’t offer anything yet, but he could see he had their attention.

He watched them kick a rock around for a while as they tried to keep their minds off their hunger and bleak situation.

Nikolas gestured to the sky and said to the boys, in a warm, friendly tone, “Do you see rain is coming? Those clouds will bring a hard rain, but not a long one. It will rain for a couple of hours, no more.”

The boys looked at him. The eldest then looked at the sky, and back at Nikolas. “I don’t see rain. You’re lying—and you’re trying to trick us.”

Nikolas sighed. This would be harder than he’d hoped, but he could persevere. “No tricks. But maybe I see things you don’t, yes? Maybe you see things I don’t—and if you do, then I will learn. Maybe you’d like to learn how I see things?”

The boys looked at each other. It was clear that food was foremost on the mind of the three-year-old, but his brothers shushed him. “Why do you talk funny?” asked the eldest.

Smiling, Nikolas replied, “My wife says it is how my ideas come together from different languages—and that they get spoken all mixed up. It does not always happen. But, while there are many things I have mastered, this is not one of them.”

Nikolas shrugged and continued, “I have done many things in my life, lived in many places, made many things. I grew up in one of the eastern kingdoms, which is why I have this accent.”

He stood up, took a step toward the boys, and continued, “Did you know I was once like you?” 

Nikolas thought back to his privileged upbringing and its harsh end when war had broken out. At the age of thirteen, he and his family had lost everything, and shortly afterward, he’d lost his family too. He’d lived by his wits for two years, learning harsh lessons—lessons which he hoped to help these boys avoid.

He pointed at the clouds again. “The rain is coming soon. Five minutes, perhaps. Time for a tent, yes? I, for one, don’t like being wet.” He climbed into his cart. Using the poles and blankets, Nikolas made a simple roof. He spread some of the wax dust onto the blankets, which the boys thought was quite odd.

As he finished setting up, another town guard came by. “Monsieur Klaus, there is nothing you can do here. You should go home and be with your family.”

Nikolas smiled at him, saying, “Gabriel Archambault, my friend, it is always good to see you. Do you really believe that?” He beckoned the guard to look at the boys again.

Gabriel glanced at them and leaned on the cart. “Honestly? It’s amazing you don’t give up. We’ve known each other a few years now. You’ve tried this twice before, with no success. I think of you like an older brother, so I’ll say what I mean. You, of all people, have better things to do.”

Nikolas shook his head. “Ah. Like making such things to help my friends involved in their secret affairs?”

Gabriel was a bit taken aback by Nikolas’ frankness.

“You suspected, yes?” said Nikolas. He smiled, letting his friend off the hook. He scratched his short dark beard and ran a hand through his thinning brown hair. “Helping a society starts with its children. If these boys can be taught how to help society—or if they can simply be taught how to
harm it less
than is their nature—then it is worth it. It is rare that we have an opportunity to shape society at such a pivotal point, yes? Anyway—my time and energy are mine to lose.”

Guardsman Archambault sighed, stroked his bushy mustache, and looked at Nikolas. “You’re a better man than me. I don’t know where your drive comes from. I hope”—Gabriel paused, wondering—“I hope someday I have kids, and that you’re there to advise me.”

Nikolas smiled. “I hope so too, but if I’m not, remember— rules are fine to guide you, but not to keep us from doing the right thing.”

The rain started. “Oh! It appears my time has run out,” exclaimed Nikolas.

Gabriel walked over to the boys, and then bent down to eye level with the eldest. “You have no idea who this man is, and what he is going to offer you. He’s a saint. Take Monsieur Klaus up on the offer. You only get one chance like this in life.” Having said that, Gabriel felt lighter. He wondered if there was some truth in what Nikolas had said.

He stood up and waved at Nikolas. “Good luck.”

Nikolas nodded, and returned the wave as Gabriel resumed his patrol.

The boys huddled under a tree, trying to stay out of the cold summer rain as it came down faster and faster.

Nikolas spoke loudly, to overcome the rain’s roar. “You know, I spread wax dust on the blankets to make the rain slide off. I have a friend—she is a master of candles—and she taught me the trick.” 

He turned, looking at his handiwork, but then pointed out a few leaks. “Still, it is not perfect. Many things in this life, they are not perfect, but we must seize the opportunity to try and make them better, yes?”

The boys looked at Nikolas, bewildered.

“Am I speaking too funny? Maybe some food will help you understand me,” he said.

The boys came over to the cart. They looked at the food, but stood there, uncertain.

After a minute, in a squeaky, small voice, the middle brother asked, “May I please have some food?”

“Of course, you may,” said Nikolas gently. He then lifted the boy up and onto the cart. “Take what you like.”

Nikolas looked at the youngest one next, who was nearly as tall as his middle brother. “You, I think, like apples, yes?” He handed one to the boy.

“Oh, yes,” replied the husky, little voice. Nikolas reached down and lifted him onto the cart. “You
are
a big boy!” he said, surprised at his weight. “Do you eat rocks?”

“No,” said the boy, giggling. He then bit into the apple.

Finally, Nikolas turned to the eldest, who was staring at the ground. Nikolas paused, thinking back to how he’d felt when a hand had been extended to him, long ago.

“I learned a hard lesson once,” said Nikolas in a serious but warm tone. “It is not weakness to accept help when one needs it. It is strength. Do you believe this?”

For a moment, the eldest boy just stood there. He looked up at Nikolas. Tears were in his eyes. Nikolas smiled the same compassionate smile his wife had given him. “You have taken good care of your brothers. I do not want to take that from you. You will continue this, but my family and I will help you. I lost my family once and a stranger helped me. Now, let me help you.”

The eldest boy started to tremble. Emotion and tears streamed out. The boy threw himself into Nikolas’ arms. Nikolas lifted him onto the cart to join his brothers. “I heard her say she was going to do this,” he sobbed. “I heard her—and I couldn’t stop her.”

The younger boys burst into tears. Nikolas pulled them into a hug as tears rolled down his own cheeks.

CHAPTER SIX

Tricky Prey

Richy nearly dropped the telescope. “There are men on horses! And smoke! I think—I think they have guns!”

Elly started jumping up and down—a nervous habit she’d had since she was little. “Um, um, um,” she repeated. After a moment, her eyes lit up and she grounded herself. “Okay—I know what we’re going to do.”

She raced downstairs to the wall of cabinets. Opening one particular empty cabinet, she knocked out its secret back panel and grabbed one of the three pairs of dull-gray metal rods. The rods were each a foot and a half long, with a small handle near one end. 

“I’ve got my
sticks
. I’m going down to get her!” Elly said, furiously cranking one of the handles.

Elly had discovered the sticks a month before. Unlike her fellow Yellow Hoods, Elly had a natural feel for the sticks, and had quickly figured out how to use them effectively. The sticks felt solid and perfectly balanced in her hands—neither too heavy, nor too light. She practiced with them every day.

“You’re planning on going down there?!” Richy’s deep blue, almond-shaped eyes were open wide. “That’s crazy! What am I supposed to do—stay here and watch you both get shot or run down?” He was freaking out and breathing fast.