Beneath a Burning Sky (The Dawnhawk Trilogy Book 3) (41 page)

Reaver Jane shouted an order back down the deck, then tossed a rope ladder over the side of the airship. More ropes and cables appeared, followed by Etarin, Farouk, Paine, Michael Hockton, and Andrea Holt.

Lina moved to hold the nearest ladder for her crewmates. “How’s Runt doing?” she asked as Etarin reached the ground.

The Salomcani pirate stared at her. Then he turned away in disgust. Michael was down next, though, and he smiled at her, his face covered in welts. “She’s fine,” he said. “The younglings too—all asleep. I think I saw a small cage in one of the storage lockers that might hold them. We can dig it out once we get moving again.”

Lina jerked back. “What? We can’t cage them up!”

“Stone!” snarled Natasha. “Get over here! This was your damned idea in the first place!”

She flinched. “Yes, Captain.” Lina smiled at Michael, then grabbed a dangling rope from above and went to work.

Restraining the Dray Engine was awkward, haphazard work. The smoke in the air made it difficult to breathe, and residual galvanic charge shocked them wherever they touched the metal skin of the thing with bare hands. As if that wasn’t enough, the monster seemed aware that they were crawling across it. Its seizures became more violent, and the muted rumble within its carapace grew stronger with every passing moment.

Impending death by mechanical dragon proved a great motivator. Lina raced across the thing, running cables under the knees, around the neck, and across the armored carapace. It was tricky, especially with the Dray Engine twisting and jerking about. The last thing she wanted was to slip and get her leg caught in the heavy gears twisting along beneath the armored plates.

The others did their parts, working quietly and efficiently. For all their trepidation and the weirdness of the situation, this was something they knew how to do and practiced regularly. Loose knots, awkward weight, weakened chains—all of these could cause a stack of freshly stolen cargo to go slipping off into the ocean on its way up to the airship holds. So Lina and her crewmates moved with care, doubling loops around brazen limbs and triple-checking the knots that would suspend the monster evenly.

Finally, they were done. Lina stepped back with the rest, regarding their handiwork. The Dray Engine lay bound in a nest of haphazard cabling and old rope, now tethered firmly to the
Dawnhawk
above them. The machine fought, its strident groans becoming stronger with every second. But their restraints would hold. Probably.

Andrea Holt stared at the giant automaton. “This is...insanely dangerous, Captain.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” said Natasha flatly. She turned away to climb up the ladder. “But it’s time someone else suffered this miserable clockwork nuisance as much as I have. Besides, I seem to recall that it really enjoyed tearing apart Perinese warships. Good plan, Stone.”

Their captain ascended back to the airship above. Lina found herself suddenly being glared at by everyone else. Even Michael looked dubious. “What?” she said, throwing up her hands. “If we can get it back to town, it’ll wreak havoc!”

“Yes,” said Paine. “
If
we can get it back to town.”

“And what do we do when the fighting’s done?” asked Reaver Jane. “Ask it nicely to leave?”

“Get yer arses up here!” snarled Natasha.

Lina’s crewmates turned away from her, reluctantly, until only Michael Hockton was left. He put a hand to her shoulder, and she leaned into it wearily.

“You think it’s a good idea, don’t you?” said Lina. “I mean, we don’t even have to do any fighting this way—just drop the thing on them and fly off.”

The ex-soldier shrugged. “Well...”

Lina glared at him. Then she shrugged his hand away. “Fine, then. Just wait. This will—”

The ground shook as the Dray Engine slammed its tail into the earth. It roared, its maw closed and muted, but unmistakably enraged.

Lina swallowed. “This...this will work. It has to.”

She grabbed the rope ladder and climbed up, crawling just over the gunwales as the
Dawnhawk
gained altitude again, if just barely. Natasha had taken the wheel from Ryan Gae while Allen frantically worked the gearbox controls by the helm. The propellers at the rear of the airship spun up, pushing and lifting against the massive weight anchoring it, tilting the deck at an awkward angle. Lina swore and grabbed for a handhold while the rest of the crew yelled in surprise.

“Can we even fly right now?” demanded Natasha. She held out an arm for Butterbeak to land upon.

Allen ran over to eye the propellers at the very rear of the ship. “We should be able to, if we haven’t burned through all our coal stores,” he said. A great scraping noise echoed up from the earth back down below, and he smiled up the deck at everyone. “See?”

“What do you mean, if?” demanded Natasha. “Shouldn’t you know how much coal we have?”

“I haven’t had time to check it!” said Allen, raising his voice. “I’ve been fighting off soldiers and pirates and every other Goddess-damned thing you people get caught up in!”

Lina blinked at Allen. Natasha too seemed surprised. “No need to be a child about it,” she said, sounding uncharacteristically reasonable. “Just go check the stores as soon as we get underway.”

Bit by bit, they gained speed. The scraping noise continued as they went, interspersed by the clang of a rock as they dragged the Dray Engine across the burned earth. Natasha took them around the pyramid, avoiding the jungle as they gained speed and height, and with one last dragging lurch, they leveled out and floated free.

Relief washed over Lina. The rest of the crew seemed to feel it too; big Farouk let out a whoop that the others joined in on. They were free of the Stormhammer, the Castaways, and the threat of the Dray Engine itself.

Sort of.

Oh! Runt!
In all the excitement, she’d forgotten to check up on her little mother.

Lina ran down the deck, grabbing Michael Hockton by the arm as she passed him. “Michael! Quick, where’s Runtie? And her adorable little babies?”

Her ex-soldier stumbled a bit as the Dray Engine shifted itself below the airship. “She’s in her usual spot,” he said with a strained smile. “Just over here.”

Lina dragged him over to the exhaust pipe amidships, where she and Runt both preferred to spend their free time. The little mother lay there below the pipe, snug up against it in an exhausted coil about her scrynlings, who slithered back and forth, blindly writhing about.

“Aww,” she sighed, looking back up to Michael Hockton. “Aren’t they adorable?”

Her crewmate stared at the scrynlings, his face a frozen mask. A forced smile fought its way onto his features, fell away, and reappeared. “Sure,” he replied slowly. “Why not? Here, let’s get that cage.”

Lina felt butterflies take flight in her stomach. She leaned into him, then rose up on her toes to give him a kiss. His attention was still riveted on the scrynlings, and it took him a surprised moment to respond. But respond he did, and she quickly forgot the taste of blood, vomit, and smoke on his lips.

The moment broke as the deck shifted again. Lina pulled away, hunting for balance, as Runt gave a weary chirp and surprised exclamations echoed from the rest of the crew on deck. Michael said nothing, only continuing to hold onto her.

“We’re just at about peak ascent,” called Natasha. “Swollen guts of the Goddess, that beast is
heavy.
”

Lina glanced back at her captain, only to see Allen standing a few feet away. He’d been heading up towards the bow on some errand, a coil of rope over his shoulder and a hammer in his hand. The apprentice Mechanist was staring at her and Michael Hockton. Then he threw his hammer to the deck, startling Runt, and stalked away back towards the helm.

Oh. Allen. That’s right, I’ve been leading him on for a bit.
Lina stopped to think.
Is that why he’s been so out of sorts this afternoon? Or was it the fires, the fighting, and that finger he lost?
He’d always been a bit odd, even at his best. She’d have to have a talk with him later.

“Captain Blackheart!” cried Omari from up near the bow. “We need to make another pass!”

“The Dray-thing is too low,” echoed Paine beside her. “It’s not gonna clear the cliff!”

“Pah!” shouted Natasha. “We’re fine!”

Reaver Jane bent low over the starboard gunwales. “Uh, Captain. I...”

“I don’t care,” snarled Natasha. “I’ve spent long enough on this wild goose chase, avoiding the fight back home! We’re going, and all hands brace for impact if you think me wrong!”

Everyone grabbed for the nearest handholds. Lina looked to Michael, and then they both scrambled for the gunwales. She grabbed on with both hands, looking out and over to see the jungle racing by beneath them and the grey cliffs dead ahead. Her crewmates were right. They were only just clearing the canopy; they’d never clear the cliff top ring around the island.

The Dray Engine was twitching and writhing, only barely stunned now. Whatever machinery buried in that clockwork core it used to think with alerted it to the danger. The machine jerked its head forward, one great red eye half-lidded, the other open wide as it beheld the landform bearing down upon it. White steam gushed out from its maw in seeming disbelief.

Natasha was wrong, just. The Dray Engine slammed into the granite cliff face-first, its head dragged back on its long, serpentine neck as the bulk of the thing slid forward to dig a furrow in the stone. Ropes snapped, and the
Dawnhawk
jerked violently in sympathetic shock. Lina’s heart shot into her throat as the deck pitched beneath them, and for a moment she thought they would all die in an impending crash.

Lina had a moment of calm, horrible clarity.
I take it back. This was a terrible idea. They’ve all been terrible ideas.
She held on as the deck bucked and shook. Tools flew past, and dangling rope danced crazily. Faintly, she heard Michael yell and Natasha swear a blue streak. She paid them no attention, though, focused more on every prayer to the Goddess she could make, fighting through the pain of being slammed repeatedly into the gunwales.

Amazingly, the roiling pitch of the airship quelled. The deck righted, mostly, and she wasn’t flung about anymore. The airship was flying smoothly once again.

Lina opened her eyes. Her crewmates hunkered about the deck, all still aboard, if a little battered. Slowly, they stood. This time, no one cheered.

“Enough lying about!” shouted Natasha. Lina glanced back to see the captain at the wheel, confident and mad as ever, but with a darkening bruise forming across one eye and Butterbeak a frazzled ball of puffed-up feathers on her shoulder. “Stone! How’s our passenger doing?”

It took Lina a moment to realize that Natasha was speaking to her. She nodded, then stood and looked over the gunwales. Below, the waters of the Atalian Sea raced by, cerulean and choppy. The Dray Engine dangled between the ship and the sea, the cabling they’d used to secure it a tangled mess. Fully a third of the ropes were torn. The automaton itself hung limp, one talon twitching on its right forepaw.

“I think it’s stunned,” she shouted back. Lina didn’t know whether to feel relief or dread. Hauling the monster back to Haventown might give them a potent weapon to fight the invasion with. Then again, what they were doing was so much worse than holding a tiger by the tail. Lina turned back to the helm, knowing only one thing for certain. “Captain...it’s going to be
pissed
when it comes to.”

“Ha!” replied Natasha. “Then my day is complete. No, I lie. All right, you laggards and reprobates, we’re heading back to the Graveway—and the fight. Look sharp! It seems things have gotten thick down there.”

Lina took a few steps up towards the bow. She glanced past it, to the south where the jungles of the isles met bright blue sky. A dark smudge stained the sky: smoke and fire.

Something was wrong about the position, though. Lina checked the setting sun to the west, and her stomach fell.
That’s not the Graveway.

The fighting was in Haventown itself.

“To your posts!” ordered Natasha. “Reaver Jane, check those hawsers. Rastalak, get yer scaly arse above and look to the rigging. Ryan Gae, get those bombs out from the equipment lockers and to the gunwales. Omari, go back up top and get out of the way—”

“I’m not going back up with that ape!” shouted Omari.

“Mechanist,” Natasha continued, “go check the coal stores. We’re making it back to Haventown in one trip, and I don’t care if we have to burn—”

“I’m going!” he shrieked, already opening the aft-deck hatch.

Natasha fished out her self-help book. “And know that your efforts are valued. Probably. Hockton! Do something with those...scrynlings. I’m sure I saw a small crate in one of those lockers. Stone! Quit scowling and go aloft into the envelope. Make sure we haven’t any slow leaks.”

“Aye, Captain,” she said, weary and indignant at the same time. Runt aside, the last thing she wanted was to climb about the light-air cells wearing a gas mask.

Natasha continued to shout orders. Lina moved to obey, first grabbing Michael Hockton’s sleeve as he passed by. He looked back in surprise, and she winked at him before letting go. Then she turned about and clambered atop the gunwales, reaching for the ratlines and rigging.

Lina was halfway up when she heard the hurried tromp of boots followed by the bang of a pistol. She glanced back down to the deck, almost losing her grip in surprise.

 The aft hatchway was open, and a dozen pirates stormed out onto the deck. It was the Castaways, led by Morgan One-Eye. Still battered and half-starved, they looked to have recovered from their earlier fight and flight, having bandaged their wounds. Now they stood straighter, holding gleaming weapons obviously stolen from the
Dawnhawk’
s stores. One of their number had Allen as a captive, an arm locked around his throat, while the other held a smoking flintlock pistol.

It was Oscar Pleasant.

“Hello, Captain Blackheart,” he said nastily.

Natasha peered out from behind the wheel. Oscar’s pistol ball had slammed into it squarely, just missing her.