Their weapons concealed in an effort to look like common wayfarers, Herrera led his company out of Yarnsford, Turner among them, toward the airship Herrera had ordered hidden just a few miles out of Yarnsford.

The Brigade's airship had been hidden away from any roads or natural passes, camouflaged with foliage, as an added precaution. Turner had expected something sleek and inconspicuous, made of some lightweight material. When its covering was pulled away, he stared in astonishment at the vessel's coat of solid iron plating, peppered with pockmarks, souvenirs of untold bullets. It had a giant propeller affixed to its rear. Even the balloon folded on its roof was plated in similarly dented armour.

"There she is," Angeline said, brightly, "my pride and joy."

"Looks very heavy," Turner said. "Can it really fly?"

"Thanks to a secret ultra-buoyant blend of gases developed by Davishna's best and brightest, our little Tartaruga can fly like any other airship, but with the armaments of a battle tank."

"Herrera!" Angeline interjected. "The Tartaruga is meant to be a state secret. He's not even meant to see inside of it!"

"No need to fret, Angeline. Our Turner is no spy intent on stealing the plans for our magnificent carriage."

"You'll have to forgive Angeline," Gorso said to Turner. "She's developed something of a familial bond with the Tartaruga. If you look real close, you can even see where the umbilical is still attached," he teased.

"Someday, you'll have children of your own, Gorso," Angeline retorted, "and then you'll be able to understand a mother's love for her child."

"A mother's?"

"Let's get her airborne," Herrera said. "It takes a few hours to inflate the balloon. This gives us a chance to sort out our disguises."

Herrera handed out Commission uniforms and bade everyone to put them on. Some were soldier uniforms, some were navy uniforms, all of differing ranks. The ladies changed inside the Tartaruga, while the rest changed outside.

Turner struggled with the oversized clothing, rolling and tying up just about everything so it wouldn't fall off or hinder his movements.

"Nothing quite as fun as a masquerade party where everyone brings their guns," Collin said, pulling on a pair of gloves, completing his transformation into a Commission soldier. It was flawless.

"Where'd you get these uniforms, Mr Herrera?" Turner asked, trying to tie his boots so they wouldn't slide off his feet.

"We've been investigating the Commission for some time now," Herrera said, fixing a captain's hat onto his head. "It seemed prudent to amass a variety of disguises. I apologise for not having anything more your size."

"I don't mind," Turner said. "Only wish my feet were a little bigger."

"Be glad they're not too big. Ah! But that coat just isn't going to work. It's much too big, and the smallest we have."

"I'll alter it," Angeline snatched the coat up and threw it over her shoulder.

"How'll you manage that, without a sewing kit onboard?" Gorso asked.

"I mended a gas powered, high pressure cannon chute with less than what we have here."

"Really?" Gorso said. "Whenever I want keep my  gas powered, high pressure chute from breaking, I just avoid Collin's spiced curry."

Everybody onboard laughed. Turner didn't quite get the joke but the mirth was infectious.

By the time they were aloft, night had well and truly settled in, with countless stars to help light their way. Gorso busied himself at a large wheel set among a spread of levers and dials at the front of the Tartaruga. It was obvious he had considerable experience piloting the airship.

The airship's interior was cramped, built for efficiency versus comfort. Herrera's people each had their own station and they cleared a tiny corner for Turner. The steam engine sat partially inside the main deck, where its iron belly grumbled like a ravenous beast, incessantly hungry for yet another shovel's worth of coal. A single smokestack emerged erect from the top of the ship's iron cast, belching steam like a simmering kettle.

"Are we ready to make our descent, Mr Gorso?"

"We're past their inner patrol ring. We'll head down momentarily."

"Splendid-"

"And into the den of the enemy we'll go," Gorso said, his stare distant, "delving the black heart of a nightmare made real, knowing not what terrors might lurk its ebon depths, praying only for a safe road home."

Herrera simply nodded, patting Gorso on the shoulder. "You're a dependable man, Mr Gorso, but you do concern me sometimes."

"We're already at the fortress?" Turner asked.

"Not quite, my fine young friend," Herrera said, helping Turner knot his boots. "Flying right in would a very unwise idea. This Brigade may be mad – some, more than others – but we are the furthest thing from suicidal. We'll attempt to slip in through the shipyard and infiltrate it incognito. To do that, we need to land in the water outside it."

"This ship floats, too?"

"After the Commission threw everything short of stones at us last night, I can only hope."

"Done," Angeline said, tossing Turner's coat over his head.

"What say you, Angeline, Queen of Spanners and Master of all things Machine? Are we seaworthy?"

"I did the best I could with the whole minute and a half I had to fix her up. No promises."

"Heads up, Herrera," said Gorso.

Herrera addressed the crew. "Hold fast, friends, we are about to meet the tide!"

The crew braced itself as the airship plummeted downward and crashed into the water, bobbing in the waves before settling mostly below the surface.

"Deflating balloons," Gorso announced, the wheel in his hands as steady as his voice. He pushed a button and a sharp hissing noise could be heard overhead. Several of the crew scrambled up the ladder to collect the plated balloons as they descended. The occasional spray of seawater showered through the opening.

Turner had managed to avoid the spray yet he found his trousers suddenly soaked. He glanced down to see a miniature fountain emanating from a hole in the floor. He planted a foot over the hole and gestured to Angeline. He silently moved his foot so she could see the leak. She nodded and rummaged in the kit behind her.

"Good job, everyone," Herrera said, unaware of Angeline's hurried repair. "You especially, Angeline."

Angeline winked at Turner. "Thanks, kiddo," she mouthed.

"You really think Dorothea knows the way to the lost city?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe, Mr Gorso. Our mission is to prevent the Commission from keeping Dorothea Dovetail, whether she knows something or not."

"There is certainly something special about her," spoke Collin. "Golem do not just rise out of the sea and save people." He smiled. "How nice it would be, if it were so."

"What if they already know where the city is?" Angeline asked.

"So long as there is no reason to believe we are too late, there is no reason for us to lose hope. And so long as there is hope, we must try our hardest to succeed."

All of Herrera's people seemed to share in their leader's indomitable spirit. No matter their doubts or questions, none of them opposed seeing the mission through.

Herrera looked at Turner, who had just finished pulling on his altered coat. It fit almost perfectly. "You've done well, but youths as you don't serve in the Commission. Keep your back straight and try to keep behind us so you don't stand out."

Turner nodded.

"Water's choppier than expected," said Gorso, "but we should be at the fortress within ten minutes."

Reaching for a pair of binoculars, Herrera moved to Gorso's side.

"I can see it," Herrera said. "Fortress Five, in all her horrible glory. Come take a look, Turner."

In the darkness, without binoculars, the fortress was nothing more than a few specks of light on the horizon. Looking through the lenses, Turner could make out the giant stone bastion that stood firm against the bullying tide.

"It's huge," Turner said, awestruck. Turner had spent most of his life up in the mines, working in the bowels of the earth and its dark places and tight spaces. His father often said that if you worked in a mine long enough, there was not much else that would scare you. Even so, Turner was glad that Herrera had thought to prepare him by giving him a look. "How will we find Dorothea in a place so large?"

"I've arranged a meeting with our ears on the inside," Herrera said, holding his hand out for the binoculars.

"Ears?"

"We have a man on the inside, he means," Gorso explained. "He'll help us find the girl and see her to safety. That's the plan, at least."

"What are those lights over there?" Turner asked, pointing out a side porthole.

"Battleships. Destroyer class. They guard the outer borders of the fortress. If we're discovered, they'll blow us right out of the water."

"Way to scare the kid, Gorso," Bastion spoke without looking up from his small book, the silver chambers of his guns shining from his hips; wearing the holsters over his uniform. "Like this excursion won't wrack his nerves enough."

"Just telling him how it is, Bastion."

"Are you afraid, Turner?" asked Herrera.

"A... a little, I guess."

"But of course you are! We all are! Mad fools, each and every one of us," Herrera laughed heartily. "Fear is to be expected, but hesitance is something I cannot condone. When a man can only go forward, better to do so boldfaced than with hesitation. It's that one wasted moment that gets someone killed. Even when we venture into the depths of an enemy lair, even when we surround ourselves with their multitudes, we do not doubt and we do not hesitate, because the Brigade always has its enemy right where it wants them."

"Ready to unhinge its jaw and finish us off?" Gorso quipped.

Herrera laughed again and slapped Gorso on the back so hard that the toothpick he'd been chewing flew out of his mouth and bounced off the wheel.

"The fact is that you never know whether a plan's good or not until you try. One that might look good on paper can be a complete disaster. And plans that might seem mad can sometimes succeed where no sane plan could."

Turner didn't know whether he should be confident or concerned. Herrera's plan depended on a seemingly impossible amount of luck, but the Brigade leader's conviction was infectious. Turner wanted to believe they could beat the odds and save Dorothea. When he thought of her, he felt a depth of concern he'd never experienced for any living creature in his life, and that clinched his resolve. For better or worse, he decided.

"We will elude the enemy, find Dorothea and be on our way before anyone is the wiser!" Herrera proclaimed, clenching his gloved fist so hard that the leather squeaked. "Onward, friends! Let none stand in our way!" He glanced at Bastion. "Bastion! I've told you already, take that hat off. If it's not of Commission stock, it stays here. The guns I'll allow but keep 'em out of sight."

The Brigade all chose a suitable weapon from the arsenal on the airship. There were machine guns, handguns, rifles, and even rocket launchers, along with a wealth of ammunition stored in cases beneath the gallery.

Turner gazed at the fortress, now visible without the binoculars. Looking at the dark-bricked, golden-lit bastion, he made a solemn promise to Dorothea. He would come for her, regardless of what lay between them, be it one man or a whole army. He would allow nothing to keep her without a fight. Not this time.

Not ever again.