Beneath a Burning Sky (The Dawnhawk Trilogy Book 3) (53 page)

“Miss Stone!” called Fengel.

Lina turned to look at him in surprise, and then she waved. Grabbing the hand of the eyepatch-wearing pirate, she hauled him out onto the boardwalk where Fengel stood.

“Captain Fengel,” she said. Beside her, Michael Hockton fidgeted with his eyepatch.

Fengel shook his head. “No. No, Miss Stone. Captain no longer.”

Lina rolled her eyes. “Pirate King Fengel, then.”

Fengel nodded. “That’s better. How have you been?”

The waif looked away and sighed. “I’m...I’ve been all right.”

Fengel made an effort. “I’m sorry for your loss. Runt was...a novelty, aboard the ship.”

She looked at him cynically. “You don’t have to pretend, sir.”

“Oh,” said Fengel, relaxing. “Good.”

“Besides,” continued Lina, “she whelped, just before the final fight. And some of her scrynlings survived!”

Her shirt writhed, and Fengel watched in abject horror as three shiny black heads poked up from behind Lina’s collar. He took a staggering step back, then turned in place on his cane, ready to hurriedly limp away. “Well, that’s all good, then! Don’t let me keep you!”

“Sir? Wait.”

Something in her tone made him stop. He turned back to see her looking up at him, her face serious. “Yes?”

“I’ve had enough.”

Fengel blinked. “Oh?”

“I...I want to say thank you. For taking me aboard, back in Triskelion. But...I’ve had enough.” She reached out and took Michael’s hand. He returned her smile, then fidgeted with his eyepiece. “I’m moving into the town. We’re going to marry, Michael and I, and settle down. If you could perform the ceremony, I’d appreciate it.”

Fengel studied the pair. “You’re sticking around then, Hockton?”

Michael flushed. “A-aye, sir,” he stammered in reply.

Fengel snorted.
She could do better.
“Very well, then. The eye patch suits you. Come see me and Natasha aboard the
Dawnhawk
later. We’ll talk further. And Stone?”

“Yes, sir?”

“It was a pleasure to have you aboard.”

Lina flushed and looked away. Michael Hockton beamed at him.

Fengel rolled his eyes and turned on his cane. Slowly, he stalked off down the boardwalk. Henry followed along, saying nothing.

Shortly thereafter, their destination came into view. Just alongside the Brotherhood Yards stretched another pier, much like those along the Skydocks. The remnants of a ship sat there, supported by scaffolding and small, temporary gas bags on loan from the Brotherhood Yards.

The
Dawnhawk
would never fly again. In fact, he couldn’t even call her an airship proper anymore. Just...a remnant. Still, he had insisted on recovering her bisected hull to add to the Haventown infrastructure. Holding court in a tavern may have been traditional, but it struck Fengel as unseemly. And he got to make the rules now, didn’t he? For her part, Natasha had decided where to stick the thing, choosing the empty pier where her father’s airship, the
Copper Queen
, had sat for so long. Fengel agreed that it felt appropriate.

Pirates swarmed over the construction, hammering, sawing, and ferrying where necessary. Fengel saw most of his surviving crew: Sarah Lome, Reaver Jane, and Rastalak, among others. They replaced charred sections of the ship and washed the deck clean of blood. Maxim and Konrad worked with especial fervor, racing to finish, no doubt so they could visit Omari in the empty part of the town she’d been exiled to. All her Revenants were gone, thank the Goddess, pitched over the side to contend with the sharks. Later, Fengel would talk with the crew. He’d talk with all of them. There would be celebration, reminiscence, and toasts to the fallen.

The fallen. So many lost, either dead now or just...missing: Ryan Gae, Andrea Holt. He’d never heard what happened to Simon and Cumbers after the Graveway. And Lucian...
ah, Lucian.
A black mood threatened to wash over him. He fought it back the same way he had ever since waking two days ago, by ignoring it.
Never let them see you stumble.

Orders buried within a string of snarled profanity carried across the deck of the
Dawnhawk
. Fengel looked to the figure who was overseeing all this construction, then crossed the pier and up the gangplank to be with her.

Natasha looked weary. She limped, but she wasn’t splinted like he was. A bandana was wrapped around her head, hiding the bare spots where her hair had burned away in the fires. At her side hung the Worked longsword she’d recovered from that last battle. According to her, the wielder had been the Crown Prince of Perinault himself. That seemed unlikely. Though if it was the blade Fengel thought it was...no. Time enough for that later. On her shoulder squatted Butterbeak, cranky and malevolent. The fat little parrot had been badly singed during the fight and wasn’t doing much flying these days. Of all the injuries suffered, this one had been a source of joy to every crewmember still alive.

His wife saw his limping approach and turned away from the work, walking down to the stern of the vessel. Fengel followed, coming to a stop beside her to lean wearily upon the railing. Natasha shook off her parrot, which fell to the deck with an unceremonious thump. It let loose an irritated shriek before glaring at her and waddling away.

Beyond, past the railing, what was left of Haventown fell away. The Atalian Sea glittered far below them, unbroken but for the waves stretching as far as Fengel could see.

“So,” said Natasha eventually. “How’d your meeting with the captains go?”

Fengel made a face. “They’re licking their wounds and doing little else. I’m not surprised they all fled there at the end—each airship is barely aloft as is. Khalid and Weatherby will be trouble, when they’ve time for it. Brunehilde will stand with us. Better than that,
Solrun’s Hammer
is well enough off to ferry supplies. No one’s going raiding anytime soon. Though Shannon MacKinnon’s
Windhaunter
will be the first to do so,  once she gets a new rudder assembly.”

“Mmm.”

“Something wrong?”

Natasha leaned on the railing. “So many of our crew, gone. Our ship, wrecked. The Copper Isles, gone. Even...” She looked away. “Even my father.”

“I’m still sorry about that.”

“Don’t lie.”

Fengel had nothing to say to that.

“We’ve lost so much,” he said eventually. “But we survived. And we’ll thrive.”

He reached an arm out behind her back. She leaned into it. “Is that all? Just survive?”

“Well. We’ve got a flying city now,” he said. “Our enemies will learn to fear us.”

“You always say the sweetest things.”

They watched the clouds skid by, an impermanent ceiling hanging just above them. The sun beat down, warm and bright though the air was cold.

“It’s all different now,” said Natasha. “Isn’t it?”

Fengel nodded. “All of it. I don’t think we can even be pirates anymore. Not with the Perinese making airships. Time to find something else to do.”

His wife didn’t have a response to that. She leaned into him, and they held each other, suspended between the sun and the sea. They watched as whitecaps broke far below—always changing, always in motion, yet ever the same. Fengel mused on what tomorrow would bring. Beside him, he knew Natasha would be wondering the same thing.

END BOOK THREE

Acknowledgements

Well. That certainly took awhile. Four long years of writing, revising, critiquing, and such a crazy adventure that I would have to write another novel to do it all justice. Now we’ve come to the end. There were high points and low points, travel across thousands of miles, and involvement from people all over the world. I couldn’t have come even remotely close to getting this far all on my lonesome.

First thanks go to Shawna, my wife, for putting up with me. I’d also like to thank my first readers: Tyler Netzel, Aaron Simons, Rori Bumgarner, and Erik Hansen. Jennifer Lerud and the rest of the Screaming Sandcrabs did a great job with critiques over the years. Thanks go to Jeremiah Reinmiller for convention support. Susan DeFreitas did a stellar job editing the entire trilogy—a truly herculean task. Ksenia Mamaeva did an amazing job with the art, which Vladimir Verano then turned into covers. Susan Morman, Anthony Thurber, Jim Holzkamm, Willy Traub, Nicholas Petrous, Leilani Corell, and Martin Pool: thank you all for helping with characters.

A shout out to all those who helped in the Kickstarter project for this novel! Paul Lamb put up with filming my ridiculous self for the video, while the amazing Erica Mulkey permitted the use of her wonderful music (check out her work at www.unwoman.com). Thanks to Rob Balder for suggestions. To all my Kickstarter backers around the globe: thank you. You’re the best. I hope you enjoy the novel, and that it proves worthy of your support.

About the Author

I haunt the Pacific Northwest. Find out more at www.jonathonburgess.com.