Beneath a Burning Sky (The Dawnhawk Trilogy Book 3) (15 page)

The
Dawnhawk
flew ponderously just above the jungle canopy. Her battered deck felt strangely empty for so late in the morning. Only a handful of the crew had been picked for Natasha’s mission, as the rest had gone with Fengel to fight at the Graveway. Those remaining rushed about, trying to finish all the makeshift repairs that had not been completed before takeoff, like carnival entertainers spinning plates. Reaver Jane moved quickly down the deck, hastily examining each of the hawsers connecting the two halves of the
Dawnhawk
. Etarin and his big friend Farouk greased the whirring gear trains near the stern propellers with unseemly haste. The ex-twin Nate Wiley worked sullenly at dismantling a piece of the port-side exhaust pipe, damaged in a storm and awaiting proper repair. Rastalak and Ryan Gae clung to the underside of the envelope frame, roughly sewing a canvas patch back into place while lengths of rope dangled down about them like hempen vines.

Lina had been ordered to stand in as navigator and pilot. She didn’t mind at first. Anything that took her away from the Graveway battle, she’d cheerfully volunteer for. A fight was a fight, but she’d tasted enough real warfare during the Almhazlik incident. Lina had not liked it one bit.

But when they’d lifted off, with only just the barest preparations finally complete, Natasha had ordered them west, to the Graveway. The brief pops of bomb blasts grew to sharp thumps, filling her with dread. At times she swore she could smell the smoke and sulfur on the wind.

A gust blew across the airship’s rudder, twisting the wheel. Lina fought it, her feet barely touching the deck as the gondola gave a deep, troubled groan. At the same time, Runt tightened his coils about her neck. Lina gasped, letting go with one hand to slap at him, and the wheel slipped.
Damned fat cranky scryn!

Someone reached roughly past her, seizing the wheel. Lina looked up into the scarred, unsmiling face of Reaver Jane. The pirate woman wasn’t even looking at her, gazing instead at the front of the airship.

“I’ve got this,” she said, jerking her head towards the bow. “Go find out why we’re heading west. We shouldn’t be going anywhere
near
that fight.”

Lina hauled at Runt’s coils with both hands and moved to obey.
About time someone else wondered what was going on.

Though she
was
sending Lina over to do the asking.

Natasha stood near the bow, framed by clouds of growing gun smoke against the soft blue sky. She stood with arms crossed, Butterbeak on her shoulder, obviously irritated at the two crewmen squabbling before her. They were Allen and Michael Hockton, and the sight of their feuding cheered Lina.

“I’m the one that needs Lina’s help!” Michael Hockton all but shouted. The ex-Bluecoat looked even more rugged than usual, covered in grime and sweat. “I hauled all those muskets up to the lookout’s nest, but the ape won’t leave them alone. It always takes two to handle him, and he’s afraid of Runt. Oh, and someone left the gas-bag hatch open earlier, and things looked all shifted around in there.”

“You can deal with the ape just fine,” said Allen. “I’m the one who needs Lina’s help!” He dropped one end of a heavy brass pipe to clang on the deck, then leaned against it. Allen was covered in soot. “Someone was digging around where they shouldn’t and left the coal stores open belowdecks. There’s a terrible mess down there—you’d think someone crawled inside to hide. We need it cleaned up to feed the engines. But before I can do that, the dented part of the port-side exhaust needs replacement.” The young Mechanist narrowed his eyes. “Besides, I’m sure that Lina wouldn’t want to spend half an hour freezing atop the gas bag while watching you get thrashed by the stinking White Ape.”

Hockton glared at him. “Why would she be any better off with a little grease monkey like you?”

“
Enough
,” roared Natasha, punctuated by a staccato blast of cannonfire. Butterbeak added an ear-shattering screech that made everyone wince, only to fly into the air when Natasha slapped him off of her shoulder. “You,” she said, rounding on Allen. “Get aloft and help Hockton secure those guns against the ape. When you’re done, the both of you go fix that damned pipe. No arguments, or I’ll string you up by your toes.”

A midair bomb blast flashed off in the distance, cutting short the threat. Both men moved to obey, expressions sour. You could never tell when Natasha would choose to follow through.

I should say something to Michael.
Before Lina could catch his eye, Natasha spoke up again.

“Wait,” she said thoughtfully. Then she retrieved a small tome from out of her puffy white shirt and flipped it open to a dog-eared page. “Before you two little idiots go, know that I val...value? Damned smudge. I value your efforts aboard this ship.”

Allen and Michael Hockton stared a long moment, then stammered mumbled replies and fled. Natasha ignored them, turning her attention again to the book.

Curiosity won out over Lina’s disappointment. She bent low and peered at the cover, where
How to Pillage Friends and Intimidate People
was printed in heavy gold lettering.
What? A self-help book?

“Fengel got it for me,” said Natasha dryly, finally noticing her. “Figured that it might help with all the mutiny.” She jerked her head back at Allen and Michael, who were climbing to the gas bag. Past them flew another airship,
Solrun’s Hammer
, heading back to Haventown. “Also, don’t tell me you’re encouraging that stupidity.”

Lina met Natasha’s cold gaze. The wind changed, though, distracting her with the gunsmoke smell of sulfur. “I...ah—”

“Never mind.” Her captain shut her book and jammed it back down in her cleavage. “I left you at the helm. What are you doing up here?”

Lina forced herself to face Natasha squarely. “We’re all wonderin’ at the course, Captain. We were supposed to head north. You’ve got us going for the Graveway.” She glanced past her mad captain to the airships flitting about the sky ahead.

Butterbeak screeched overhead at her insubordination. Runt, who had finally had enough, rose up and chirred angrily. Lina grabbed him with both hands, fighting with his weight. Now wasn’t the time for such squabbling.

Natasha turned away, looking towards the bow. “Damned right I am. We should be almost on top of it. ‘Just a scout,’ he says.” She slammed a fist into her palm. “We should be fighting, gutting those witless Perinese for daring to show their powdered wigs on these isles. But my father says that there’s something more important to do, and damn him for it, Fengel agrees.” She turned her gaze to Lina. “But I’m not going to fly off without even
seeing
if we’re needed.”

She stalked up to the bow, with Lina hurrying after. They passed the young boy, Paine, looking sour as he helped Andrea Holt sand away at a jagged deck plank. Both of them paused to stare at the commotion off the bow. A cloud of dingy yellow smoke blew across the deck then, enveloping them all in the stink of fired gunpowder. Lina felt her way blindly, running into a hanging rope several times, until she ran into the gunwales beside her captain. Natasha was standing angrily, hands clenched into fists so tight her knuckles were white. “We should be down in that,” she said, gesturing violently as the cloud blew past.

A slow conflict was being waged below in the Graveway Lagoon. The pirates of Haventown manned the old Salomcani fort, with perimeter lines spread out to either side. Gun-crews manned an assortment of cannons, firing with almost mechanical efficiency at the command of a huge red-haired woman who could only be Sarah Lome. Across the lagoon were the Perinese, their warships snug in the lagoon mouth and beyond, anchored against one cliff of the ravine. Several companies of bluecoated marines clambered about the clifftops, erecting defenses. A battery of heavy guns was already in place, lobbing artillery fire back at the fort and falling just short. Above them floated the strange airship from last night’s attack on the Skydocks, guarding against the pirate vessels. Lina could just make out the golden letters along her bow, which read
Glory of Perinault
.

Above the Graveway floated the pirate airships. The
Powderheart, Windhaunter,
and
Moonchaser
were all bombarding a single warship in the waters below. She was a battered thing, barely held together as she dodged her impending doom. To her captain’s credit, the ship maneuvered with skill and grace, minimizing what the defenders could do. The only thing truly saving her, however, was the Perinese gun battery. Lighter cannons not aimed at the fort lobbed shots high into the air—they’d been specially built, it seemed, for shooting down airships. The pirates were forced back above the fort, attacking only when opportunity presented itself.

“Feh,” Natasha sighed. “Fengel was wrong; they’re here in force somehow. But things aren’t a complete catastrophe—more’s the pity.” She yelled over her shoulder back to the helm. “Bring us about three points north! Skirt the lagoon, and let’s get to work. I guess.”

Relief washed over Lina. Getting mixed in with the struggle below was the last thing she wanted to do. The
Dawnhawk
had taken cannon fire during the Almhazlik affair after stumbling onto parts of this very fleet. It had been a surprise, though, and they’d run away from it as far and fast as they could. Now it would be different. Staying to fight would be something else entirely.

Lina knew she was not a soldier.

Natasha turned away from the bow. “Stone, stay up here. I want you—what are
you
doing here?”

Lina blinked in confusion, then followed her captain’s gaze. Natasha was staring at the foreward entry hatch to the lower decks. There a dark face smudged by coal peeked up from over the edge.

It was Omari.

She started at Natasha’s cry and tried to duck down belowdecks. The
Dawnhawk’
s captain proved quicker. Natasha was there in a heartbeat, hauling Omari up by her blond hair.

“Ow!” yelped Omari. “Let go, you madwoman!”

She slapped at Natasha’s arm, trying to keep her balance as the airship changed direction. Her clothes were a disheveled mishmash of several different outfits, an obvious attempt at the impromptu dress of Haventown. She was filthy all over, streaked with coal dust.

“Chapter two of my little book says it’s rude to throw stowaways over the side,” said Natasha idly. “So I’m going to simply ask you again—though I’ll be louder this time, of course.” She paused for a breath. “What are you doing here, you twisted corpse-puppeteer?!”

She dropped Omari to the deck, who glared back up at Natasha angrily. “It’s not my
fault
, what happens to the dead. And I was trying to get
away
from the fighting, so that I wouldn’t be a problem!”

Natasha planted her hands on her hips. Butterbeak mimicked the action, hunching low to peer down at the woman. “Really. By somehow stowing away back aboard my ship?”

“Well, yes.” Omari looked embarrassed. “It was either that or run off into the jungle.”

Lina felt a rumbling vibration through the deck—the engines kicking into higher gear. Hot steam shot from the partially dismantled port-side exhaust, causing a passing Nate Wiley to dive away with a yell. At the stern, the great propellers spun back up to a steady buzz. Reaver Jane was wasting no time in getting them away, which Lina approved of.
No one wanted to come out here but you, Natasha.
She rubbed at Runt’s slightly oily scales. He chirred unhappily but squeezed her tighter.

“I heard that the
Dawnhawk
was not going to the battle,” said Omari. “So I came back aboard and hid in the coal stores. It was only when I heard the sounds of fighting growing closer that I came out to see.” She climbed back to her feet. “The Perinese will conquer Haventown. Even you have to see that.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lina saw Michael Hockton appear, descending the port-side rigging. She started to smile at him, but stopped at the look of utter panic on his face.

“That’s not going to happen,” replied Natasha flatly.

“They will.” Omari shook her head. “You were not there for the pacification of Breachtown. You did not see. It is not possible for you to win. Not with a handful of airships crewed by swarthy miscreants.”

Michael Hockton cut off any reply. “Captain!” he cried. “We’re being pursued!”

Natasha frowned and turned about. “Hockton? What do you mean?”

The ex-Bluecoat clambered farther down. “It’s that Perinese airship! The White Ape was dangling me over the side of the gas bag when we noticed. She’s broken off from the Graveway to follow after us!”

Natasha pushed past the stowaway. Lina followed her back down the deck to the stern, past dangling cables, past Reaver Jane at the helm, to where the propellers spun and the exhaust stacks spit steam out behind the airship.

Hairy arms of the Goddess.
Michael was right. The enemy airship had broken away from the fight, leaving its position above the Perinese to chase directly after them. On her gas bag, the golden sunburst sigil of Perinault gleamed in the sunlight.

The
Windhaunter
moved to intercept her, but she was too slow to react; the only path quick enough to match the
Glory of Perinault
took her straight into the fire from the cliff top battery opposite, and the cannon blasts drove her back. The
Glory
continued on unopposed. Natasha had thought to play tourist with battle, but now the battle was coming to them.

“Damn the luck,” whispered Natasha. But she smiled as she said it, and her eyes were fixed like a raptor upon their pursuer.

She turned back to the deck at large. “Break out the guns and sharpen your blades! Anyone not at the helm, stand by and prepare to repel boarders!”

Lina met Omari’s eyes. The Yulani woman was downright frightened. Lina forced herself to composure, though the same uneasiness wormed its way through her guts, like a scryn through the corpse of a cow. She’d been in plenty of scrapes before, but as she glanced at the empty deck and the bedraggled appearance of her airship, she couldn’t help but feel apprehension.
This time feels different
.