Secrets of the New World (Infini Calendar) (Volume 2) Read online

  Secrets of the New World

  Also by Scott Kinkade

  Mirai: a Promise to Tomorrow

  The Game Called Revolution (Infini Calendar #1)

  Secrets of the New World

  Scott Kinkade

  This is a work of fiction. While it involves historical figures, the author has taken great liberties with the story. Any resemblances to living people are coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced without the expressed written consent of the copyright holder.

  Secrets of the New World

  Copyright © 2012 by Scott Kinkade

  Cover by Char Marie Adles ([email protected])

  ISBN-13: 978-1478140733

  ISBN-10: 1478140739

  This world is ugly.

  It wants only to drag me down.

  I can’t even look at it.

  “So don’t look at the world,” she says.

  “Look at me instead.”

  So I look at her.

  And I don’t think about the world anymore.

  Chapter I: Pack Your Bags

  The Potomac River, May 31, 1431 (First day of the Infini Calendar), 1:03 p.m.

  The Piscataway hunter stalked his prey through the tall grasses that grew up along the river.

  The land was in abundance, and there was no shortage of food to hunt. The bronzed warrior carried both a crude knife and bow and arrow to do just that. Though still young, he had done this many times before. The rhythm of the hunt beat throughout his body, and he knew exactly what he was doing. He could see his quarry—in this case, a deer—up ahead, and he needed only to make the kill.

  Without warning, though, the deer looked up into the sky and immediately bounded away at a speed the hunter had rarely seen their kind reach.

  Had he somehow betrayed his presence to the animal? No—he had done everything right. There must be some other explanation.

  He suddenly felt a tingling in his body. Remembering that the deer had looked into the sky before running off, he did the same.

  Hundreds of feet above the ground, a multitude of bright orange lights spun in a circle. They became increasingly more luminous as they formed one large ring which continued to spin at high speeds. He marveled at this.

  Soon the space inside the ring was filled with the orange glow. That did not last long, however, as the newly-formed disk abruptly collapsed into itself. The hunter’s ears were rocked by a thunderous explosion, and his eyes burned by an overwhelming luminosity. When his senses returned, there was no longer anything amiss in the sky. However, when the explosion occurred, he could have sworn he had seen something…

  Several bright figures falling to the ground.

  ***

  Vienna, Austria, November 1, 1792 (Infini Calendar), 10:00 a.m.

  One leg was under the covers, while another leg and arm dangled off the bed. This was how she usually slept, face-down and in a manner most others would find awkward or just plain uncomfortable.

  The rattling of her wind-up alarm clock on the table next to her bed was just enough to rouse her from sleep. She turned over onto her back and took in the warm sunlight beaming down from the window above her. She then sat up in bed, her eyes still closed. She sluggishly felt for the alarm clock, and after a few moments managed to find it. She shut it off and rubbed her eyes. For a few more moments she just sat there staring forward and sending mental commands to her brain to wake up, damn it.

  Like the rest of her family, her room in the Hofburg imperial palace was lavish with priceless paintings on the walls, a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, massive curtains hanging from the windows, an armoire big enough to be its own room, and a solid oak table in the center.

  Once she was sufficiently aware of her surroundings, she got up out of bed. Naked, she picked up the clothes she had thoughtlessly tossed onto the fine red carpet upon going to bed last night (even though there was a leather receptacle just a few feet away). Again, this was just how she was, and she thought little of it.

  Her lithe figure was the result of daily exercise. Even though she no longer had a career in the military, she was determined to stay in shape. One never knew when Austria would go to war again, and she wanted to be ready when that happened. As a result, she sported a well-toned body which she had no reservations about showing off to her enemies.

  Her name was Farahilde Johanna.

  At the age of twenty-six, she was the youngest (and most unruly) member of the Austrian royal family. No one would ever describe her as elegant or high-class, but neither could they deny what she had done for her country. She had been an accomplished general in the Austrian army, but even more than that, she had fought to save Vienna during the French Revolution.

  OK, some could argue she went too far with the latter because, even after it was over, she—technically—had ended up killing that murderous bastard Maximilien Robespierre, an incident which had not gone over well with her older brother and emperor of Austria, Leopold II. Despite the fact that Robespierre had arranged the execution of their sister Maria Antonia Josepha Johanna (or as the French worms called her, their queen Marie Antoinette), Leopold had forbidden her from going to France for fear she would jeopardize Austria’s fragile peace with that country. Farahilde argued that Antonia should be avenged, but Leopold was in a purely political mindset, and didn’t want to risk going to war again so soon, particularly since their airship fleet had been destroyed by those French knights of the Ordre de la Tradition.

  But, of course, she went anyway; saved two countries and avenged Antonia. And what was her reward? A month of house arrest and being dismissed from military duty until further notice. At this point in time, she still had not been allowed to return to duty. Leopold said he would have done even more to her if her actions had not been sanctioned by France’s new self-proclaimed emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte. Robespierre had been sentenced to death anyway for his Reign of Terror, and when the guillotine just happened to fail to drop, she stepped in and offered her “assistance.” Napoleon simply wanted to get it over with, so he allowed her to kill Robespierre herself. She would never forget the look on Robespierre’s face when he realized just how much she was going to enjoy ending his miserable existence. One couldn’t put a price on that.

  She walked into her exquisitely furnished bathroom and spent a few moments turning a crank to the wall a few inches to the right of the doorway, causing the globes on either side of the large mirror to light up. This gave her enough illumination to see herself in the mirror. She frowned as she examined her unkempt black hair which fell to her shoulders, although she was honestly sometimes tempted to wear it like that. It made her twin cowlicks (once referred to as “cat ears”) not stand out as much.

  She applied tooth cleaning paste to her wooden brush and proceeded to rub her teeth with it. The paste was an invention she felt she could do without (it tasted terrible), but it kept her from having to go to the local tooth doctor so often.

  When she was done in the bathroom, she went to her armoire to pick out her clothes for the day. The top shelf was filled with bladed gauntlets of various colors. Below that was her selection of everyday clothing. She chose a brown corset and matching leather jacket and black leggings. She got dressed and made for the door of her room.

  She paused momentarily to look at a pair of framed color renditions sitting on a table next to the door. One was of her beloved sister, Antonia, smiling. Farahilde examined the photo with a mixture of nostalgia and melancholy. She would never see Antonia again, and that pained her.

  The other was that of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart,
a Vienna citizen who had made a name for himself as a brilliant composer. During a concert for the Austrian royal family, he had signed the picture for Farahilde. She held a great deal of respect for the man; he had achieved much in his short life. It was too bad he had died the previous year of illness. Who knew what else he could have accomplished.

  As she made her way through the lavish central hallway of the palace, she looked upon the giant portraits of her ancestors which hung from both walls. One of them was of her mother, Maria Theresa, the first (and thus far only) female head of the Hapsburg family. The queen may have died twelve years earlier, but Farahilde still remembered her as a woman who was both strong and kind. When Farahilde thought of herself and Antonia, it was obvious which of them had taken after their mother.

  She eventually arrived at the emperor’s audience chamber, where she vaguely recalled she was scheduled to have a meeting with her brother. At least, she thought she was; the brandy from last night made it somewhat hard to remember.

  Leopold was wrapping up a meeting with his advisors. He wore one of his usual outfits, a black coat embroidered in red over a yellow shirt, with beige leggings. In between the shirt and the coat was a sash with a white bar amid two red bars, the colors of the Vienna flag. He also wore the traditional white wig of their kind. Farahilde hated those things; they were so damn ugly.

  When the advisors left, he said with slight annoyance, “You are late, my sister.”

  She scoffed. “A minute at most. Anyway, I’m here now. What do you want?”

  His annoyance increased. “I am nineteen years older than you. You will show me the proper respect.”

  She sighed. If she continued to try his patience, she knew he would lecture her all day. “Point taken, I’ll try to keep that in mind,” she said half-apologetically. “What did you want to talk about?”

  He seemed to forget about his minor grievances with her as he recalled more important matters. “It’s about the relatively new country of America. You are familiar with it, are you not?”

  She shrugged. “A little. It’s pretty much a babe at this point. Why should we be concerned with it?”

  “Because,” he said as he raised a finger (an action which occurred whenever he wanted to both enlighten her and emphasize a point), “in the past few years they have made great technological progress. They were the ones who originally developed the electricity we used in our airship fleet.”

  She had to fight to stifle a laugh. “And didn’t we steal that from them?”

  “Technically, it was the Prussians who stole it. Although they did share it with us when we organized a coalition against France.”

  She shrugged and said, “So we’re going to steal more of their technology? I thought we were better than thieves prowling the shadows.”

  “Watch your tone,” he warned her. “We are better than that. We represent the House of Hapsburg, and we are not going to disgrace it.”

  “So what, then?”

  “Next week I am embarking on a journey to America to forge an alliance with them in person.”

  This wasn’t what she had been expecting. “An alliance? With an unknown country halfway across the world?”

  “It’s not quite that far. With our newest steam technology we will be there in a week or so.”

  She prayed she hadn’t heard that right. “We?”

  “Yes, we. You’re coming with me. I don’t trust you here by yourself. Who knows what trouble you’d get into.”

  Like hell. “Absolutely not! I’m not going on a boat ride to some place I know nothing about. Besides, you need me here to run things.”

  He responded with a sharp laugh. “You? Running things? You may be an effective asset in war, but you only cause trouble during peace time. You give no thought to your own actions.”

  “What could possibly go wrong with me here?” she protested.

  He ignored her. “My wife is more than capable of managing affairs here while we’re gone.” He was referring to Maria Luisa, daughter of Charles III of Spain, and Grand Duchess of Tuscany.

  “Forget it! I’m not going.”

  He brought his face mere inches from hers and gave her a penetrating stare which would have terrified the devil himself. “You are going, and that’s that. Do—I—make— myself—clear?”

  Gulp. “Perfectly clear, my brother.”

  She turned to leave, thinking the meeting was over. However, he suddenly said, “Oh, there’s one other thing.”

  She turned back around. “What’s that?”

  “Do you remember Prince Frederick William III of Prussia?”

  She didn’t know where this was going, but after the previous topic she really didn’t want to know. “Uh…yes? He’s set to become king in a few years, isn’t he?”

  “Correct. He is of the House of Hohenzollern.” Leopold then rather quickly added, “And you’re going to marry him to keep our ties with Prussia secure.”

  She suddenly felt very sick.

  Chapter II: Nice to Meet You (I Guess)

  Vienna, Austria, November 2, 1792 (Infini Calendar), 1:05 p.m.

  Vienna was Austria’s capital and largest city. Located in northeast part of the country, the city was near the Slovakian border. Vienna also had the great river Danube flowing through the eastern part of the city.

  In the center of the city was the Hofburg, a formerly modest-sized fortress which was continually built upon until it became the imperial court, the core of Austrian supremacy. The oldest area of the Hofburg is the Schweizerhof, a four-tower structure and the historical beginning of the fortress.

  Farahilde put on her goggles and left the Hofburg via her motorized bicycle and proceeded north through the city to the area where she was to meet their ‘guest.’ As she drove through the city and observed all the people going about their business (including Hanz Freud, who always wanted to talk about his theories on the workings of the human brain which he planned to compile and pass on to his descendents), she was again struck by the greatness of Austria. The country had a staggering amount of beauty; whether one looked upon the snow-capped Austrian Alps, the lush green valleys, or the medieval castles which dotted the country, there could be no lack of admiration for the country’s splendor.

  The average person might have been content with Austria’s aesthetics, but as a student of history, Farahilde Johanna’s adoration for her country went even deeper. The biggest reason she was proud to be an Austrian was the country’s history. In the ninth century, Charlemagne acquired the land that would eventually become Austria and gave his new citizens (the native inhabitants) the job of defending his Holy Roman Empire against attacks from the east. In other words, the Austrians were the first line of defense. And even though the Empire had since collapsed, Farahilde took pride in the fact that her ancestors were defenders and warriors. It naturally followed, then, that when the French invaded a few years ago, she sprang into action to defend her country. So what if that involved torturing some French worms and playing sick games with them; they deserved it.

  The puttering rumble of her steam cycle, with its constant blowing of exhaust, announced her presence to everyone around as she drove through the farmland that made up the outer edge of Vienna. She was still one of the few people in Austria to own such a contraption. As royalty, she had been able to easily acquire one of the first of these vehicles. She thoroughly enjoyed riding it; it was, after all, a very convenient way to get around. It wasn’t slow and bulky like a steam carriage.

  Eventually she arrived at the northernmost edge of the city. It was largely forest beyond this point. She killed the engine and pulled out her pocket watch. According to it, she was early. A rare occasion.

  What the hell was Leo thinking, sending her out to meet their ‘guest’ with so little notice? Knowing how he felt about her, he probably did such things just to anger her. Lord knew she was this close to gutting him when he suddenly dumped the marriage news on her.

  Although, she’d be lying if she said
she hadn’t been expecting this day for quite some time. She had fought it as long as she could, but she was, after all, a member of a royal family, and as such she had a responsibility to one day marry for political reasons. At least, that was what her whole family had been telling her throughout her entire life.

  Please, God, don’t let him be anything like Louis XVI. Antonia’s husband had ended up being a spineless coward who let his subjects push him around. He wasn’t even strong enough to protect his own wife when they both got hauled off to the guillotine. Her eyes welled up as she recalled the fate of her favorite sister. She would never forgive the French people for what they had done to her and her family.

  Her melancholy was broken by the sound of horses coming up the road from the north. It looked like just a regular carriage (no steam involved), but she knew better. It was, she thought, a good way to travel without attracting attention; just one nondescript horse-driven carriage, and no escort to speak of.

  It stopped a few yards in front of her. From either side two men in brown civilian suits and matching derby hats disembarked. They surveyed the area for several moments before turning their attention to her.

  The one on the right—a fiftyish man with salt-and-pepper hair—said to her in German, “Only the strong survive.”

  “Weakness breeds cruelty,” she replied.

  Although seemingly satisfied that she had delivered the correct half of the password, they nonetheless kept their guard up. The one on the left—perhaps in his late thirties with dark hair—said, “We still need to see your eyes.”

  “Watch how you speak to me,” she warned him.

  “We mean no offense, ma’am,” Salt-and-Pepper said. “While you match the description given to us for the most part, we need to verify your eye color.”