Dawn of the Argonauts

By Steve Misik

The Argonauts Adventures - Book 1

A thrilling wartime action-adventure.
It is 1939, and war is ravaging Europe. The German chancellor has proven he will stop at nothing to achieve his goal of world domination. When the Nazi war machine goes into high gear, the fate of humankind teeters on the precipice of a new era as futuristic weapons and technologies emerge.
During an excursion into the Sierra Nevada mountains, twins Katherine and Gabrielle Des Champs - and their childhood friend Thomas Smith locate the wreckage of a military aircraft. When finding an injured soldier among the debris, their lives take an unexpected detour — one fraught with danger, intrigue, and adventure.
After being captured during a mission in Nazi-occupied France, Katherine, now an operative with U.S. Army Intelligence, awaits her execution with no hope of escape or rescue. As the sands of the hourglass run out, Thomas enters the lion's den. His mission — save the woman he loves and retrieve the intelligence proving the Nazis are creating a doomsday weapon. One so destructive, if unleashed, will bring chaos to the world.
The Argonauts — A specialized team comprising American and British operatives. Their mission—sabotage the Third Reich's efforts to develop advanced military technology.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Misik
• Release date: Mar 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9781738764907

Book preview

Dawn of the Argonauts

Book One of the Argonauts Adventures

Steve Misik

DAWN

OF THE

ARGONAUTS

Copyright © 2023 by Steve Misik

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Contact Information:

[e-mail]

Editor: Enchanted Ink Publishing: https://www.enchantedinkpublishing.com

Book Formatting: Enchanted Ink Publishing: https://www.enchantedinkpublishing.com

Cover Design: BookCoverZone 

ISBN: 978-1-7387649-1-4 (Paperback)

ISBN: 978-1-7387649-0-7 (Ebook)

ISBN: 978-1-7387649-2-1 (Audiobook)

First Edition: March 2023

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Author's Note

My initial intent when writing this story was to maintain historical timelines. However, to better serve the tale on several occasions, I diverged from that path.

One such instance is the fictional commando raid on the Nazi rocket base contained within the story. In contrast, historical records describe an Allied air attack, code-named Operation Hydra, conducted at the V1 and V2 test sites at Peenemunde, Germany, on August 17 and 18, 1943, by RAF bomber command.

Further note, the chapter containing two steam locomotives- the Jupiter and the 119- are fictional in the story’s time period. It wasn’t until 1975 that the U.S. National Park Service contracted a firm to begin the construction of two working replicas of the historical locomotives. When completed, the locomotives were commissioned into operation on May 10, 1979, and remain in working order. The train engines remind everyone of the significance of joining the Central Pacific Railroad and the Union Pacific Railroad at Promontory Summit, Utah, on May 10, 1869.

August 21, 2022

Steve Misik

Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it.

Sir Winston Churchill (November 30, 1874–January 24, 1965)

For my wife, Susan

Contents

Acknowledgements

THE BISHOP BUGLE

THE BISHOP BUGLE

Prologue

PART ONE

THE BISHOP BUGLE

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1.A Morning Visit

2.The General

3.The Adventure Begins

4.Survivor

5.Blind Man's Folly

6.Rescue

7.I'll Huff and I'll Puff and...

8.Forty Niner

9.A Fevered Knight

10.A Valiant Heart

11.To Oz

PART TWO

THE BISHOP BUGLE

12.Destiny's Train

13.Heir Klaus

14.Promontory

15.On Leave

16.Operational

17.A Scottish Visitor

18.An Interrupted Quest

THE BISHOP BUGLE

THE BISHOP BUGLE

19.France

20.The Intrepid

21.A Fruity Bouquet

22.Incursion

23.The Wine Cellar

24.The Skiff of Charon

25.The Majestic

26.Run

27.The Call Of The Magpie

28.The Black Car

29.The Tale

30.The Circus

PART THREE

31.Sir Thomas of Bishop

32.The Emperor

33.Au Paris

34.The Eiffel Tower

35.By Dawn's Early Kiss

36.Dawn of the Argonauts

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Look for Book Two of the Argonauts Adventures-

Acknowledgements

At first, when writing this novel, I believed the endeavor would be an individual undertaking. As the process unfolded, I discovered this was not the case.

For those others who’ve helped along the way, I wish to express my sincere appreciation for your efforts. Without your input, this story would not be what it is. Thank you for helping bring Dawn of the Argonauts to life.

First, I wish to thank my wife, Susan, for her unwavering support and understanding over several years as I wrote this tale. Her insights and suggestions throughout the story’s evolution helped form the characters and their adventures.

To my beta readers. My son, Kyle Misik, and good friends Mike and Trish Ienna. Thank you for the time you’ve spent reviewing and offering suggestions on the rough version of this novel. Your feedback helped mold this tale into its current form.

Last, to the dedicated team at Enchanted Ink Publishing. Thank you for your talented efforts in preparing this novel for the world. Managing editor, Natalia Leigh; editor, Lisa G; and formatting, Greg R.

THE BISHOP BUGLE

NEWS OF THE DAY

November 11, 1918

World War Is Over!

The world is at peace; Germany has laid down its arms and surrendered to the Western nations today, having signed an armistice. The event took place in a railway car northeast of Paris, France.

All hostilities between Germany and other nations have ceased as of 11:00 a.m. today. The world is once more at peace.

Of official note: the conflict, named the War to End All Wars, will officially be over once German representatives sign the Versailles peace treaty. We will update you in future editions once authorities confirm the date the treaty will be signed. Western nations have indicated they will hold Germany and its allies responsible for starting the conflict. They intend to seek harsh punishments against the warring countries, which may include but will not be limited to the demilitarization of Germany and other war reparations. 

THE BISHOP BUGLE

NEWS OF THE DAY

June 28, 1919

World War I Peace Treaty accepted!

With the Treaty of Versailles now signed, we are reminded of the fragility of peace.

NEWS OF THE DAY

August 14, 1919

With the signing of the Weimar Constitution in Thuringia, Germany, the German government abolished all legal privileges and titles of German nobles and royalty. All of said citizens’ wealth and lands are hereby forfeited immediately to the German government.

Prologue

Fate's Twist Coastline of the Baltic Sea, Northern Prussia December 24, 1921, 9:00 p.m.

Three companions, having sworn their blades to the service of another, traveled through the deep pine woods of northern Prussia. They had set out hours earlier on a mission of utmost importance. None questioned the dark nature of their task, for they were men of ill repute, brigands by any other name.

It was an uneventful journey until an early winter storm struck with fierce winds, heavy snowfall, and a biting cold that seeped into their bones. It made the woods nearly impassable, and though none spoke of it, all three feared the storm was a harbinger of darker things to come.

Klaus, the smallest of the brigands, hurried to catch up to the others, who, with longer strides, had gotten much farther ahead and were soon hidden by the veil of heavy snowfall. Although his boots were filled with snow and his feet were numb, Klaus leaned into the wind and fought on. After a time, he thought himself lost when not coming upon the others of his party. He was alone in the dark woods, and an icy fear filled his soul, replacing the intense cold of the winter’s storm.

Klaus continued, not because he was brave or had set out on an honorable quest. It was that he had no other option. After a time, when arriving at the bottom of a steep hill, Klaus halted and gazed at the narrow path ahead. He followed the crooked trail with his eyes, hoping to find the others waiting for him at its top. Searching across the craggy rocks and snow-covered slope, he found only the chaotic dance of old pines standing along the ridge as a fierce wind threw them about, threatening to snap their boughs. There was no sign of his comrades. He lowered his eyes and continued to study the trail for signs of their passing but found no footprints or evidence they had. Peering over his shoulder, he searched the darkness behind, hoping to discover where the men had gone, but found only shadows between the snow-covered trees. He hesitated briefly, then turned, facing the hill, and began to climb.

Arriving at the top, he was startled when he found two motionless dark figures standing at the side of the trail. His surprise turned to elation when he discovered it was the others of his party waiting for him to catch up. When seeing their looks of impatience, he realized they’d halted their steps not out of kindness but out of necessity and reminded himself these men were not friends but temporary allies for the task before them. When he approached, Klaus heard a deep growl escape their leader’s lips, and a whisper carrying on the wind followed. Cleave you in two if you hold us up again.

Klaus took the brigand at his word, knowing of the man’s rumored past. The giant hounded him for the rest of their journey as a steady presence at his back, ensuring he did not fall behind and delay their travels further. For the next hour, they trudged through knee-deep snow until breaking from the tangle of trees onto a vast open field. The icy wind howled across the barren plain, threatening to freeze any exposed skin.

Klaus found himself sandwiched between their leader, who brought up the rear, and the group’s guide, who led the charge toward the distant mountains. A wolf howled, a long, sorrowful cry, and though it sounded close, Klaus saw no sign of the beast lurking nearby. He hoped its call would not draw others from its pack and was relieved when the howls wandered away, remaining in the woods. With the threat of danger from the wolf cries at their backs, the men faced a new trial when a layer of ice formed atop the deep snow, slowing their progress across the windblown plain. As they forged ahead, their boots made crunching, biting sounds with each step. It was an arduous trip across a desolate land. At last, they sighted a tall mountain with a castle standing at the bottom of its slopes, causing their pace to quicken, realizing the dark task they’d set upon that night was almost at hand.

By the time the brigands had reached the castle’s outer wall and crept toward its front gate, exhaustion overcame them. They rested for several moments, catching their breath, and prepared for the next step to fulfill their mission. They used the brief respite to spy through sizeable gaps formed by erosion in the outer wall. Klaus peered across the castle grounds, searching for sentries or patrols. He considered it unlikely any were wandering about in such conditions; still, he took his time scanning the spaces between the snow drifts, allowing his eyes to make their way slowly to the castle walls several hundred feet from where he stood. Klaus found no hint of any guards but did, however, discover a flickering light pouring from one window. It reminded him of a lighthouse beacon, with its spearing rays signaling ships of nearby rocks. He wondered if it was an omen, warning them from venturing any further. If so, would it not be wise for them to turn about and forget the promise they’d made?

A rough hand seized the back of his neck, lifting him out of the snow and tossing him through the castle gateway. He landed awkwardly in a snowdrift, and though dazed and confused, he pulled himself quickly out of the snow and regained his feet. It was then he noticed a shadow looming above and discovered the taller brigand staring down at him. Told you not to dally about. Catch you again, and I’ll slit your throat myself.

Klaus nodded his understanding and, without a word, stepped onto a nearby cobbled path, continuing toward the castle.

Halfway to the stone edifice, a drawbridge that had seen better days appeared before him, with some of its timbers either suffering from erosion or missing. Klaus approached the bridge with trepidation and peered over its edge without stepping onto its ancient beams. It crossed a deep, possibly bottomless chasm. Without warning, Klaus was shoved harshly onto the planks. He glanced over his shoulder and wasn’t surprised when he found their leader following him across the span, shadowing his every step and breathing down his neck. Klaus focused on placing his boot carefully across the next timber. He cringed at the creaks and groans emanating from the ancient beams under his and the leader’s combined weight. With every footfall Klaus took, he wondered if it would be his last or whether it was too late to abandon this life of crime and begin anew.

By the time he stepped from the bridge onto solid ground on the other side of the chasm, he had cursed numerous times for becoming involved in the whole affair. But it was far too late to have second thoughts, and if he abandoned this mission, the man behind would surely hunt him down and do away with him. If he were to escape the man by some miracle, there would be the return trip to contend with, which Klaus doubted he could make on his own in such harsh conditions. The howling winds, freezing temperatures, and a wolf pack tracking his every move would see to that.

Klaus hesitated momentarily, but recalling his promise, binding him to this nefarious deed, he sighed in resignation. He continued along the cobbled walkway toward the castle entrance. At finding no sentry about, the men hastened their steps, and arriving at the door’s worn oak planks, they prepared to make their entry.

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Prince Boris Voldenburg ignored the distant wolf cries and focused on his drink. He stared at the earthy tones of the fluid, fascinated with the intermingling shades of dark browns and lighter golden hues as it swirled about the bottom of the crystal goblet. He lifted the glass to his lips, relishing its aroma, and sipped at the nectar, experiencing stinging in his mouth as he swirled the liquid about his cheeks. He swallowed, reveling in the sensation as it slid down his throat and burned into his belly. Its warmth spread throughout his colossal frame, and pausing, he waited for a sense of calm to prevail, then became disappointed at finding no peace for his troubled mind.

He sipped from the vessel again, knowing it was pointless, as dark memories filled his racing thoughts. Deep in despair, he stood before a massive stone fireplace ruling over the quiet den. Old mahogany panels covered the room’s interior walls, complementing the magnificent hearth. Boris leaned forward, resting one arm against the rough stone mantel. Easing his forehead into the crook of his arm, he gazed into the roaring fire. After some moments, Boris’s eyes wandered from the flames to a peculiar ring dominating his right hand. Not for the first time, he found its weight burdensome. A comforting thought seeped into his mind, the image of his young son, his heir apparent and future guardian of the ring.

The prince tore his face away from the fireplace and, standing straight, stretched his back. He removed the ring from his finger and reached under his tunic, grasping a thick gold chain about his neck. He unclasped its lock, threading the ring onto its length, then concealed both beneath his tunic. The prince felt its weight press heavily against his skin, and a sigh escaped his lips.

He stood before the fire for some time, mesmerized by the flames dancing amongst the logs while wishing for the calm he desired to appear.

Try as he might, he could not shake a dread burgeoning within him, as if something beyond his understanding approached from the darkness. Was it fate? His brow furrowed as he considered the possibility.

Prince Voldenburg forced his eyes from the flames, chastising himself as a foolish old man with an overactive imagination. He grimaced, tossed the remnants of his drink onto the fire, and watched with fascination as the flames grew threefold, then withered away as if the fire were a dying soul crying out into the dark.

Boris tilted his head, gazing at a portrait hanging to the left of the mantel. Its depiction of his wife and the young prince brought a measure of the calm he craved. His boundless smile confirmed that the world was not so terrible a place as long as he had their love.

He reached down, grasped an iron poker leaning against the fireplace’s surround, and crouched, sliding aside the fire screen. He found it peculiar how similar its purpose was to a lion’s cage, containing a powerful beast within and protecting those without.

He plunged the fire iron into the burning logs, moving and adjusting them atop the andiron, hoping they remained alight throughout the cold winter night.

The prince’s eyes moved from the flames to another painting hanging to the right of the fireplace. This image was of a younger version of himself, large in stature yet fitter. Wearing full battle dress, he sat atop a great white stallion, balancing himself while the horse’s front legs kicked out at his enemy. The prince held an immense battle sword overhead, thrusting it toward a clear blue sky.

This youthful version of himself was in a mid-battle cry, with remorseless eyes cast down upon his adversaries. His muscular frame, which had not yet turned soft, stretched his uniform, and his bushy mustache had not yet filled with gray.

Prepared to enter battle, hundreds of warriors surrounded the prince. In the background lay the enemy’s wounded, wearing looks of despair at realizing defeat was near at hand.

If he could return to those days of old, he would tell his younger self to be vigilant in seeking not only the enemy before him but especially those who lurked in the shadows, for they were the most dangerous, as evidenced by the wealth stolen from his family. His only compensation was this ancient castle.

As his thoughts turned down a darker path, he reminded himself that, though stripped of his noble title and his family’s great wealth, he was richer now than at any other time in his life.

Soon after he and the princess had fled north to live out their remaining days, she broke the news of her pregnancy. A life, an heir, grew within her, and every day since the birth of their now six-month-old son, Boris gave thanks for the love and joy the little life brought to them.

A whisper from the doorway intruded on the prince’s thoughts. Are you coming to bed, my love? Princess Hannah asked.

He stood and turned, gazing at her kind face, peering in from the doorway, and answered, Yes, yes, I shall be along, my love.

The princess retreated from the doorway, giving her husband another moment to collect himself, hoping that whatever troubled his mind would dissipate before he retired to their bed.

With a warm smile, the prince filled the bottom of his glass with drink and raised the vessel toward the portrait of his loved ones. After muttering a toast, he sipped from the goblet, sighing contentedly, at last feeling the nectar’s desired effects.

Boris reached out and placed the empty goblet on a nearby table. Before turning to head off to bed, a sharp crack caused him to swing his eyes toward the doorway from where the noise came. It repeated itself, sounding much like breaking glass. The sudden crash cleared the veil of drink from his mind. As he crept toward the doorway, his heart thundered within his chest.

Once at the door, he stopped to listen. Nothing. After a moment, the sound repeated, and whispers added to the disturbance. Strangers were inside the castle walls.

There came crunching sounds, followed by further whispering, wandering down the hallway from the castle’s front entrance. The prince’s fists clenched as the heat of battle overtook him. He turned and crept to the fireplace, grabbing the fire iron from where he’d left it. He returned to the doorway, contemplating his next course of action.

Boris listened for a few moments while testing the heft of the iron poker in his grip. Memories of past battles he’d fought with a sword in hand returned. He grimaced, realizing the poker was not his preferred weapon, and on this occasion, it was of need and not of choice.

The prince listened to footfalls creeping closer. Peering into the darkened hallway, he hoped to glimpse what made the scuffling noise. He discovered only the chaos of crisscrossing shadows and a grinding sound as if whoever crossed the foyer did so over a field of broken glass, caring little of giving their presence away.

Boris’s thoughts sped, trying to come up with a plan. An icy breeze blew through the hallway and, clinging to it, the scent of fresh pine. Strength returned to the prince’s limbs as adrenaline flooded his body, causing his grip to tighten around the fire poker.

His rising anger fed the hidden beast within, which had slumbered for far too long and now cried out, demanding to be unleashed from its shackles. Being a man of action, the prince turned the key, opening its cage, allowing the beast to escape, free after so long.

His thoughts went to the safety of the princess and his young son, and knowing time and surprise were of the essence, he slipped into the hallway, becoming one with the shadows. Boris’s feet caressed the marble floor while crossing to the opposite side of the hallway. Arriving, he tore aside a grand tapestry that hung over the wall and stepped behind the cloth, concealing his presence from whoever trespassed. The prince lay in wait, as a lion hidden by the tall grasses of the Serengeti.

The hunt was afoot. In the inky darkness, he had only to lie in wait for the appearance of his foe. Boris did not wait for long. As the hallway became colder, he spied through a narrow opening in the tapestry and witnessed a shadow emerge at the far end.

His eyes, having adapted to the darkened environment, allowed him to observe the shadow slip around the corner and enter the corridor. A gnarled skeletal hand clutching a flickering candle followed, with its light illuminating the tapestries lining the walls as the interloper entered the passageway. The prince inhaled a sharp, audible breath when seeing the figure revealed by the faint light.

The man’s face, lit from below by the tiny flame, was a mass of deep scars and craters across his features. As the prince stared at this hideous monstrosity, disbelief grew in his mind, and his heart beat like the thundering hooves of a galloping horse.

Boris feared that this man harbored nothing but criminal intent. For why else would he break into the castle? He watched with growing concern as the man lumbered forward, approaching where the prince remained hidden. His eyes widened when seeing the intruder standing at a height of over seven feet, and the word that entered his mind describing the man was . . . giant.

The interloper cocked his head as if listening for something. Satisfied with the silence, he continued down the hallway. His grotesque hand moved the candle this way and that, searching, probing, and studying the castle’s interior. At not being confronted, the man remained careless of his steps, with his boots scraping across the marble tiles.

The intruder halted his steps, holding the candle further into the hallway, and was about to say something but held his tongue. Instead, he swung the candlestick in an arc, lighting the two men following. He barked in a deep, reverberating voice, Hurry, you louts. Let’s get this over with. Quick as we can. The giant turned, peering along the hallway, and continued toward the prince.

As the giant waved his candle to one side, its light revealed something held in his free hand. Boris caught a glint of metal, confirming the man carried a pistol.

The prince now believed these men were here for one purpose, that of murder. The lion’s hunt had become deadlier. The greater odds now lay with the giant and his henchmen.

The man stepped inches from where the prince hid, who waited no longer, bursting into action. Jumping from behind the tapestry, he swung the poker down onto the giant’s pistol hand. The satisfying sounds of crunching bone and tearing flesh filled the hallway. A guttural curse poured from the giant’s warped mouth as the man shot his eyes at the prince.

Boris’s stroke was fierce, cleaving the giant’s hand from his wrist, leaving torn, bloody flesh. The pistol, still clenched by the amputated appendage, skidded across the floor, disappearing out of reach of the candlelight. From the intensity of his surprise attack, the prince caught all three trespassers off guard, balancing the odds of the battle.

The giant lashed out at the prince with mangled flesh and blood spurting from his wound. Boris crouched low as the intruder’s arm flashed past the space where his head had been a moment ago. Without hesitating, Boris thrust upward with the tip of the fire poker, driving it deep into the man’s throat.

The giant dropped the candle, clutching his neck, his eyes pleading for mercy. He found no forgiveness from Boris, who remained grasping the poker, struggling to yank it free. As the giant dropped to his knees, the prince lifted his foot and kicked the intruder’s chest with all his strength. The fire iron came free of the man’s neck, and Boris watched as blood gushed from the open wound, spilling across the marble floor. As if he were a massive oak cut from its roots, the giant toppled forward, landing face-first, not on the forest floor but into a pool of his blood.

Boris stumbled back; the iron poker, now bloodied from battle, clutched in his hand. Regaining his balance, he fled before the other two men recovered their wits. He sprinted away in the opposite direction of his enemies, toward the grand staircase at the end of the hallway.

The sound of the giant’s impact on the floor had so surprised the two henchmen that, for a moment, neither moved. They shook themselves to action when they saw their target flee down the hallway, giving chase. Although the two men compared little to the size of their fallen leader, both stood armed—one with a pistol and the other clutching an odd weapon, a garrote.

The prince yelled a warning as he sped down the hallway, hoping his calls would allow the others to escape. Reaching the bottom of the staircase that led to the castle’s second-floor living quarters, the prince tore up the steps two at a time. Heedless of his safety, he climbed, praying he reached the top before his pursuers caught up. Halfway up the stairs, a gunshot screamed out. The bullet struck the railing at his side, showering him with marble shards.

Boris quickened his pace, his steps belying his age, and before the first of his pursuers reached the bottom of the stairs, the princess appeared, standing at the top of the staircase. She held a lantern high overhead, wearing a look of pure terror as she stared down at the scene unfolding on the steps.

The prince’s confident grin declared that all would be well, but a gunshot barked out as the princess returned his smile. Boris’s eyes widened, knowing he looked upon her for the last time. He tore the necklace from his neck with weakened and bloody hands and sought his princess. Hannah reached down to her prince and grasped the chain with trembling hands. Her fingers brushed across his for but a fleeting moment, yet to each, it was an eternity.

Hannah screamed out with a cry of anguish, watching as her prince fell, tumbling backward down the staircase, landing at the foot of his murderer.

Hannah remained briefly at the top of the stairs, staring in disbelief at her fallen prince. A fiery rage grew inside her as she climbed down the steps with blood-covered hands. The princess retrieved the iron poker where it had fallen from her prince’s grip, then glanced up the stairs to where a silhouette, her son’s nanny, hid in the shadows of the second-floor hallway. She threw the prince’s ring toward the woman with all her might, calling out, Helenna, take hold of this ring and save the young prince. You know of their importance.

Without watching if the woman obeyed her last command, the princess pivoted, facing her husband’s murderer, and flung herself down the steps.

Though armed with only the poker and wearing but a thin nightgown, the princess prepared to defend the life of her sleeping cub. She could have fled but stood her ground and fought and, if the gods willed it, would die for the one she loved.

At first, the prince’s killer was surprised by her sudden attack and prepared to meet her charge. He raised his pistol and laughed mockingly as the woman attacked. A red haze fell over Hannah’s eyes as she speared the poker into the man’s face.

The intruder fired point-blank at the princess’s chest as Hannah thrust the poker deeper into his eye socket, sending him crashing back down the stairs into the man behind.

The princess clutched at her chest, staggering up the steps until falling upon her prince’s lifeless form, where she then lay with unfocused eyes wandering toward where her innocent cub lay sleeping in his crib. With her last breath, she whispered into the night, Farewell, safe passage, my young prince. Hannah’s eyes slid shut, her breathing slowed, and the princess faded away.

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In complete panic, Helenna ran down the castle hallway, heading for the nursery. She repeated to herself to calm her breathing, concentrate on what was necessary, and escape the castle. With her heart pounding, an icicle forming in the pit of her stomach threatening to freeze her steps, and the echo of gunshots and screams in her ears, she dove into the nursery. In a flash, she arrived beside the crib and searched among the bundle of blankets. Only then did Helenna’s heartbeat slow when she found the young prince sleeping soundly. She gazed at the innocent boy, unaware of what befell his parents and the danger lurking within the castle. She bundled the young prince into the thick blankets and turned, racing from the room with the sleeping child. Her feet pounded across the stone floor, down the hallway, away from the sounds of death and chaos.

Reaching another stairwell at the end of the hallway, she sprinted down the steps as they twisted about the interior of the castle tower. At last, when reaching the bottom, Helenna halted before a rear door and pivoted her head, listening for signs of pursuit. With silence behind her, she forced the door open, stepping into the freezing, snowy night. Her bare feet plunged through the hardened upper crust of snow into soft powder beneath. Again and again, her feet punched through the icy covering as she fled across the castle grounds toward the distant woods.

Helenna was oblivious to the trail of blood she left in her path, too numb with cold to feel her torn feet. Arriving at the forest edge, she darted into a thicket of trees, concealing herself and the babe as she spied between snow-covered branches, hoping she found no madman exiting the castle in search of them. Having discovered no sign of any pursuit, she calmed her breathing, impatiently waiting several minutes to be sure no one gave chase.

At last, when none of the intruders came bounding from the castle, she turned and was about to flee deeper into the woods when a flickering light from behind the castle windows caught her attention. Her heart sank, realizing someone had set the castle ablaze. All was now lost. Then, peering down at the sleeping babe in her arms, she realized not quite all.

She struck out with a confident stride and, knowing what must be done, sought the protection of the woods, following the trail at the mountain’s base.

Helenna raced through the forest, one hand embracing the tiny prince to her bosom and the other clutching the ring. She swore then that she would protect both with her life.

PART ONE

INTERSECTION OF FATES

THE BISHOP BUGLE

NEWS OF THE DAY

June 24, 1939

Rumors continue of a possible German military buildup.

Britain’s Prime Minister Chamberlain stated he believes the German expansion is over. There will be no more for the British people to worry about. Chamberlain received assurances in person from the Fuhrer that there will be no more land grabs by the forces of Nazi Germany.

Chamberlain admits that the German takeover of Austria, Czechoslovakia, and the Rhineland are aggressive acts, but the Fuhrer’s former questionable behavior will not lead to war.

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Chapter 1

A Morning Visit

Bishop, California, United States of America June 24, 1939

It was 4:25 in the morning when Katherine—or as she preferred to be called, Kat—grinned from ear to ear. The reason for her good mood was apparent, or at least it was to her and would be to any who knew her well enough. She glanced down at the coarse black hair of the horse below. Though it would seem impossible, her grin broadened, knowing there wasn’t anything else she enjoyed more than riding the gelding.

Hold up, Flash. Gabby has to catch up, Kat said. She had received the young male as a birthday present from her papa on her thirteenth birthday. He was her pride and joy, a fine and gentle horse, and the two became inseparable from the moment she first rode him.

During the last few months, Kat begrudgingly realized she had far less time for horseback riding on account of schoolwork and chores. As she looked down at her horse, it didn’t surprise her one bit that Flash was acting up this morning. She was sure it was his way to let her know he didn’t take kindly to being locked up behind fences with the other horses. She hoped today’s ride into the mountains would do them both good, and the gelding’s annoyance with her would disappear.

The gelding was the brother she’d never had, and now, approaching five, he was in his prime. Kat shook her head, realizing she was mistaken, and corrected herself. Flash was like the second brother she’d never had. After all, there was Thomas.

Where is that girl? Kat whispered tersely through pursed lips and stood, twisting about in her stirrups, attempting to glimpse her twin. She squinted further down the country road, searching for Gabby, and almost gave up, but something caught her eye. Standing in the middle of the road, she discovered an indistinct shape. Kat shut her eyelids, allowing her vision to adjust to the dark. She opened them and smiled, realizing it had to be her sister and mare. Really, who else would it have been? Everyone in the area was most likely sound asleep at that hour.

Kat rode along, keeping Flash at a slow pace, allowing her sister and the stubborn mare to catch up. But after a few minutes, when Gabby hadn’t joined them, she cursed her sister’s horse for holding them all up. She slowed Flash even more, worrying that something might have happened to them.

With the faint light of predawn beginning to flood the horizon to the east, Kat turned around in her saddle, searching again for Gabby. She darted her eyes back and forth across the lonely country road and, when finding an indistinct silhouette a hundred yards behind, focused her eyes intently on the shape. Yes, it was Gabby. Her sister sat atop the gray mare named Dale Arden. The horse had been gifted to Gabby on the same birthday Kat received Flash. It had overjoyed their papa immensely at the sight of his girls’ excitement when presenting the birthday presents to them. A pleasant memory that Katherine knew she would cherish forever.

In the weeks after receiving the horses, the girls came up with a long list of potential names for them. Lying in bed at night, they spent countless hours talking into the wee hours of the morning about the merits of each. They settled on Flash Gordon and Dale Arden, eliminating candidates such as Bonnie and Clyde, Samson and Delilah, among others.

Kat released an exasperated breath, watching her sister struggle with the stubborn horse, who didn’t appear happy with their early morning ride. Katherine laughed, watching Gabby, having dismounted, stand with hands on her hips, inches from the beast’s nose, as if the two were having a heated discussion. Abruptly, Gabby reached out and began tugging on Dale’s reins as if it were possible to drag the stubborn mule down the road, but to no avail since the horse didn’t budge.

Kat turned and, leaning back in her saddle, relaxed. She assumed Gabby needed a few more minutes to coax Dale into catching up. A shiver ran down her back when a crisp breeze poured down the nearby slopes, causing her to cinch her jacket tightly about her. Her gaze was drawn to the east, where a purple sky back-lit the nearby Sierra Nevada mountains. The sight filled her with a sense of calm, and Kat figured with what they'd planned for the day, she would seize the moment and enjoy the scenery.

Kat focused on the barely visible peaks and a bright star hovering in the eastern sky. It didn’t twinkle, and she figured if their high school science teacher, Mrs. Pickles, wasn’t full of crap, it was most likely a planet and not a star. She guessed Venus was the most likely candidate. She snickered and whispered, Pickles...what a name.

Katherine adjusted herself on the saddle and stretched across Flash’s neck, stroking the horse along his mane. She ran her hands through his coarse hair, enjoying herself as it slipped between her fingers. She smiled when the horse whinnied his approval, nodding enthusiastically, begging for more. 

She lifted her palm to her nose, inhaling Flash’s heavy scent, then lowered her gaze to the pasture on her left again to the still mist caressing the tips of the tall grass. An unexpected blast of mountain air danced across the moisture, sweeping the calm blanket away. She blinked, ensuring she wasn’t dreaming as her thoughts wandered to the plan she and Gabby had concocted earlier in the wee hours of the night. She grinned, whispering, Not really much of a plan at all...eh Flash? Wondering if he could understand her. Her thoughts turned toward what lay ahead later that day and whether it was too late to gather more supplies for the trip. Neither carried much food, a plate of fresh biscuits they stole from the top of the stove in their kitchen while sneaking out of the house, and whatever else they already had stored in their saddlebags: dried meat, canned beans, and such. Was it enough? Probably not, especially if they were up in the mountains for more than a few days.

Lying in their beds last night, before they slipped away into dreams, the sisters had agreed to wake before the crack of dawn, head to the Smith Ranch first, and then ride into the mountains. They hoped to discover whatever they’d witnessed earlier that night. Kat almost didn’t believe what had fallen in the night sky and began to wonder if they’d seen anything or if it had been their imagination. She considered whether this misguided adventure might be too foolhardy to follow through with but knew she wouldn’t admit to Gabby