Beneath a Burning Sky (The Dawnhawk Trilogy Book 3) (40 page)

“The
Dawnhawk
stands with me,” he said, more to the crowd than to Euron, “and all her crew. So will
Solrun’s Hammer
and what’s left of the
Windhaunter
. I’ve got the Mechanists behind me, Euron. They entrusted me with the secret of saving this town while you were busy playing at war. So get out of my way! Be gone! I’ve still work to do, and the Waterdocks are a lost cause—”

The old man’s cutlass skittered out of its scabbard, aimed for his heart. Fengel stepped aside, drawing his saber and brushing aside Euron’s follow-through. The pirate king didn’t let up, hacking and chopping with the brutal, artless swordplay that had served him well throughout all the long years. Even as decrepit as he was, Euron still knew how to fight.

“Me daughter can find someone else t’ warm her bed!” snarled Euron. “Goddess knows she’s snuck enough dockside trash past ye over the years!”

Fengel held his ground, taking the measure of his father-in-law. Fengel twisted his blade, saving his strength and letting the cutlass clang away. One opening appeared, which he declined to take. Euron rebounded, over-swinging again, leaving himself defenseless and throwing away his balance. Fengel let him recover.

The pirate king cursed him as they fought, between panting breaths. Fengel watched him slow, then stumble.
Time to make an end of this.
But how? Much as he wanted, crippling or killing the old man wouldn’t sit well with Natasha, regardless of the circumstances.

A figure moved along the edge of the crowd. It was the proprietor, Martin Pool. He held a golfing club, the handle out. Fengel waited until Euron over-reached again, then took it with his free hand. He struck out with his saber in a slow, high blow aimed for his opponent’s head. Euron flinched, forced back on the defensive, and raised his cutlass to parry.

Fengel lashed out with the golf club, catching Euron behind the knee. The man crumpled, his grip momentarily loosened. Fengel bound Euron’s cutlass, swinging it tightly down and around until it came free and flew across the room.

Outside the pub, the boardwalk shook with the sound of many heavy metal feet.

“You’re looking for an end, Euron,” said Fengel. “I can see that clear as day. You want one last glorious fight with which to go out in. Well, find it on your own.
I’m
fighting to save this town and all the people left in it.”

He looked up, meeting the eyes of everyone there. Then he waited. Shannon MacKinnon gave a nod, and Henry and Sarah both shifted slightly, ready to stand with him against the crowd if need be.

The remaining pirates studied him or looked among themselves. One spoke up without stepping forward. “But how are you going to do that, Captain Fengel? The Bluecoats have those blasted metal men with ’em. And a horde o’ ships and men.”

That’s it. I’ve got them
. There wasn’t time to gloat, though. “I’ve already taken steps. The Mechanists have a solution. We’ve just got to slow the Perinese down until it’s done and keep them off the Craftwright’s Terrace.”

James Von Lossow and Thomas O’ Driscoll stepped up beside Martin Pool. “We can fire the tavern,” said Thomas, looking miserable. “If everything down here is as lost as you say.”

Martin winced. “All our things...” he said, glancing about the room.

Soldiers’ shouts rose outside the bar. “We can’t take it with us,” said James quietly. “And those kegs of brandy you tried to make are more lamp-oil than anything else.”

“Do it,” said Fengel, sympathizing. He gestured with his saber at the door on the opposite side of the room. “The rest of you, get out the back and up to the Craftwright’s Terrace. I want to see everyone up at Pillager’s Square, ready to hold the line. And as for you—” Fengel dropped the tip of his blade to Euron’s throat, stopping the man from rising. “Do what you want. Your reign just ended. I don’t have any more need of you, old man.”

Euron Blackheart glared up at him. Fengel held his eyes a moment, and then he smirked. Tossing the golfing club back to Martin Pool, he stepped past Euron towards the rest of the pirates queuing at the exit. Behind him, something slammed up against the entryway, even as James, Thomas, and Martin cracked open a keg and splashed it across the floor.

Chapter Nineteen

Lina watched the Dray Engine approach.

She stood just outside the Stormhammer pyramid, on hard earth baked black. To the west, the sun hung low as it set, casting long shadows across the scorched ring at the center of the island.

The Dray Engine tromped through the southern jungle, its reptilian head bright and brassy above the canopy of snapping, rustling trees. Occasionally it would pause and look down sharply. Then it would stomp, a single metallic thump that resounded across the island entire and drowned out the death cry of some unfortunate animal. That the murderous automaton hadn’t seen her yet was apparent.

This was a terrible idea.
Lina swallowed and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Sure, it had been
her
terrible idea, one she’d known Natasha would agree to. But that hadn’t meant she’d wanted to be the one out here in the open acting as bait. Though in hindsight, she couldn’t quite think who else would have ended up here.

“Can you see it yet?” called Natasha. The pirate captain stood inside the pyramid at the other end of the tunnel, peering out at her. Farther in, Lina knew, Rastalak was hunkering over the lever that controlled the Stormhammer itself.

Thankfully, Runt and her spawn were safely aboard the
Dawnhawk
. Her pet scryn had been exhausted after whelping and hadn’t wanted to do more than curl up with a bowl of hard liquor afterward. The scrynlings had quickly followed suit, to the mutual relief of the crew. Though frankly, Lina couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Runt’s babies were positively adorable, like little flying worms.

“I said, can you—”

“I heard you!” snapped Lina, who then remembered who she was talking to. “It’s at the tree line to the south, coming right this way.”

Silence answered her. Lina winced. Even when trying to trick an ancient Voornish death-dragon into a trap by relying on a finicky ancient superweapon, she could depend on Natasha to make her miserable.

“I thank you for your frank input,” said her captain after a moment, voice tight. “Know that I am always willing to listen to anything you might have to say.” There was a thump, like a book snapping shut. “Which doesn’t mean I won’t beat you black and green if you keep giving me lip!”

Lina winced.
That stupid book.
The threats, she could handle. But Natasha trying to be nice made her feel like the world was crawling down its own throat. “Aye, aye—”

Palm trees snapped and fell as the Dray Engine pushed out of the jungle. It stepped into the clearing and roared, a deafening, metallic sound. Lina stared at it, even as her instincts screamed for her to turn and run.

The automaton stood as tall as the mainmast of a sailing ship, a reptilian horror rendered in imperishable Voornish metal. It was squatter than a real dragon, standing on thick hind legs and powerful feet, and its tail swayed behind as it stalked. The forelimbs were shorter, its designers having traded quadruped versatility for the ability to grasp and tear. From atop the thick, armored neck, it peered about through great red glass eyes, looking for victims to devour with its coffin-long maw. Past the carapace and armored scales, its inner workings ticked along, all whirling gears and churning pistons.

The Dray Engine finished its call and paused to listen to the echo. Then it lowered its head and snorted, sending out a great gush of steam. It blinked and peered about, and if Lina hadn’t known any better, she would have thought the thing looked bored.

“Captain,” she said in a hoarse stage whisper. “It’s here.”

She could actually hear Natasha rub her hands together eagerly. “Then get
on
with it, Stone.”

Glorious Goddess in the Realms Above,
Lina prayed.
Guard me in this, and I’ll make an
amazing
donation to your chapel in the Yellow Lantern Terrace back home. That one with the really gross priest who likes to hold your hand just a little too long. I’ll even give up the old Voorn jewelry that I got back in Yrinium. I swear it.

Lina took a deep breath, tried to ignore the lurching of her stomach, and cupped both hands around her mouth in a makeshift speaking trumpet. “
Hey!
” she yelled. “Hey, beast!”

The Dray Engine paused. It peered about, looking for her. Lina swung her arms about, and when that didn’t work, pinched her fingers between her lips and let out a piercing whistle. The Dray Engine stared straight at her.

“Yes!” shouted Lina. “Right here, you great damned wind-up lizard! That’s right, I’m talking to you!”

The Dray Engine snorted.

This is going to get me killed. This is going to get me killed, and I am going to die.
She took a breath. Then she unlaced her trousers, turned around, and mooned the ancient Voornish machine.

The wind was surprisingly brisk.

Lina glanced back to see the Dray Engine jerk back in startlement. It blinked its great red glass eyes, its maw slightly agape. Then it roared in affront.

The ancient automaton leaped forward, its head held low for speed. Lina swore and raised her trousers, fumbling to cinch the buckle.

“What’s going on?” shouted Natasha. “What’s it doing?”

“It’s coming!”

“What?”

“It’s coming!” she yelled.      

The ground shook like it was giving birth to an earthquake. Lina’s ears rang as the Dray Engine roared again, far, far too close this time. And her damned belt wouldn’t buckle.

To the Realms Below with it.
She grabbed her belt in both hands and ran into the tunnel entrance to the pyramid. The earth bucked, twisting beneath her legs and ruining her footing. Heart in her throat, she fell, tumbling as the light from outside was occluded by the enraged machine. She hit the dusty earth as the Dray Engine slammed into the pyramid like a falling meteor.

“Now!” roared Natasha.

There was a sudden hum, which rose to a violent vibration Lina felt in her bones. Light bloomed, both inside the pyramid and somewhere outside past the Dray Engine. Then came a crackling discharge that seemed to tear through the world entire. What little Lina could see was painful and bright. The whole of the Dray Engine shuddered violently. Arcs of galvanic energy washed over it, and the grasping claws that sought for Lina just within the tunnel spasmed. She was near enough to the thing that her hair stood painfully on end, which forced her to roll away as sparks shot from the monster.

The Stormhammer’s blast faded. The galvanic arcs crawling across the Dray Engine died off. Then the ancient automaton went very still. It fell away from the pyramid, and the tunnel opened again as it crashed to the ground.

Lina stared, panting. White spots danced across her eyes, like she’d stared into the sun for too long. Her ears rang too. So much so that she barely heard the crunch of Natasha’s boots running down the tunnel.

“Did it work?” demanded her captain. “Did we get it?” Natasha stopped just inside the tunnel, Butterbeak flapping down to her shoulder. She peered out, wary, then glanced back at Lina. “Stone, get...” She paused. “Pull yer damned trousers up and get over here and go check that thing out.”

She stared at her captain, incredulous.
I just almost died! Check it out yourself!
But Lina only sighed. “Yes, Captain,” she said. Everything sounded funny, and Butterbeak was snickering at her, she was sure.

Lina scrambled to her feet, finally cinching her belt buckle. She walked over to the tunnel mouth—and her captain—to peer out at the burnished hulk outside. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rastalak coming out the tunnel to join them. The little Draykin rubbed his hands together as if they’d been singed.

The clearing outside the Stormhammer pyramid was a scorched, blackened mess. Clouds of stinking smoke roiled up into the bright blue sky. Little flames danced across the ground, though just as before, the jungle ringing the island exterior seemed untouched.

The Dray Engine still lived.

It lay awkwardly, a massive metal hulk toppled over onto its side. Sparks jumped from its extremities while galvanic arcs sizzled across its armored carapace. The great red glass eyes of the thing rolled about as it twitched and jerked like an old man having a seizure. From somewhere inside sounded a muted mechanical groan.

“It’s still alive,” said Natasha flatly.  

“The creations of the Great Masters are notoriously resilient,” said Rastalak.

“It’s still alive.”

Lina adjusted her trousers. “That was kind of the point, Captain.”

“I wanted to kill it.”

Rastalak made a sibilant sigh. “We know, Captain.”

Natasha growled, a small weird twin to the noise the Dray Engine itself was making. She stepped outside and kicked the machine. Galvanic sparks flared at the contact, and Natasha jumped back with a yelp, flinging Butterbeak free as she cursed and shook her now-singed boot. With effort, the Dray Engine twisted its head around to glare hatefully at her.

“Enough!” she said. “Where’s the damned airship?”

As if on cue, a shadow fell across them all. The
Dawnhawk
appeared from behind the peak of the pyramid.

Lina sighed in relief. She’d been reasonably sure that the airship would be safe from the Stormhammer out along the northern shore of the island, but none of them were certain. Still, the vessel was a wreck. Her ropes dangled, her hull was scuffed, and her canvas sagged in places along the gas bag to reveal the cells beneath. The shining aethersails were either torn, or hung at bent angles.

Even so, the airship maneuvered into place overhead, fifty feet above. Reaver Jane leaned out over the gunwales to peer down at them.

“Everything work out?” she hollered.

“Aye,” said Natasha. “Now get down here and help me tie this contraption up!”