Tinkermage (Book 2) (20 page)

Three enemy crew members crouched on the edge of their deck, preparing to leap! A sliver of fear stabbed Stena’s heart.
Ultraworlders,
Dale had called them, and he was not wrong. Nothing could have prepared her for the monsters that glared at her across the growing span of empty sky. Squat creatures, smaller than a human but still massive compared to her own kind. Heavy muscles beneath a layer of grayish fur, heaving chests covered in tight leather shirts emblazoned with what appeared to be random splashes of red paint, a semblance of blood splatter, and no two shirts the same.

Their heads were huge, ape-like, with thick skulls any gnomish ax would have trouble cleaving. Their pink eyes burned with hatred, bloodshot with the need to kill.

On instinct, Stena edged whatever remained of her starboard ballistae upward and fired just as the things leaped across the impossible distance.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Stena didn’t know if she’d hit anything with that volley because a fat, sizzling bubble of
gunk
launched from the enemy deck in her direction. She fell backwards to avoid it… and right off the observation deck, plunging down to
Swinger
’s deck with a spine-crunching, wind-stealing crash.

She rolled over on her belly, wrenching in pain.

Shouts rang out along the deck. A snarl and a scream from one of her crew. Stena crawled, gasping, not sure exactly where she was going except that she’d crawl until she could breathe again. And then her hand stuck in something thick and wet. It took a second for her dazed brain to realize it was pool of blood running down the deck, the coppery scent filled her nose and struck her heart with panic, made more so by the sounds of fighting somewhere near her.

You have to move, or whatever is on your deck will have you next.

She strained to raise her head, shook her hood free to invite in the cold, to clear the last vestiges of dizziness from her mind. It worked, and the scene clarified in gruesome detail. Gowey lay twisted and lifeless before her, disemboweled, staining the worn wood the color of his insides.

One of the ape figures hovered over him, coiled to spring, blood-soaked claws resting on Gowey’s shredded stomach. The beast was huge, its jaw decidedly simian in both structure and tooth, yet its eyes were filled with an off-putting intelligence.

Stena fought for air. The thing snarled, preparing to barrel over her and rip her insides free like poor Gowey’s.

Futtering Hells…

Linsey came from nowhere, a gallant leap from the control deck, fists together and swinging down with all her might on the creature’s head. It barely moved under the blow, coming out of its crouch and shouldering the first mate aside. Stena was thankful for Lins buying her even a second more time, for in that second she recalled every deck fight she’d ever been in. Stena turned her body, yanked her short utility knife free from her belt, and braced herself just as the beast leapt.

It hit her like a boulder, animal stench and fetid breath, bearing down on her in an attempt to drive her to the rail. Stena clutched fur and leather, making herself unmovable, keeping the beast in front of her until help could arrive.

Heavy paws pounded her shoulders and back. Her coat ripped. A cold, a wet, painful ache shot all the way down her spine. Its mouth engulfed her head, knobby teeth grasping it, twisting it, threatening to tear it from her shoulders.

Stena yelled like an animal in both fear and desperate rage as she let go of the thing with her knife hand and turned her arm into a piston, stabbing the stomach and legs of the beast like a tiny steam engine. Couldn’t tell if she was causing it any harm until a gout of warm wet poured over her hand, and it released her with a shake.

Swinger
’s listing threw them off balance, sending them closer to the ship’s side. For a moment, Stena got the beast spun around, his back against the rail. She ducked low to get leverage, started to lift it off the planking with a rush of excitement.
Toss his arse off your ship. Show him what a wee gnome can do.

The beast turned furious. Its muscular legs wrapped around Stena’s middle, nearly crushing the wind out of her. Still, she had his upper half stretched out over the open space, her own hands buried in his fur. But to go another inch meant she would go overboard as well.

It gave her a bloody grin then, and Stena pushed and pulled, shifting her weight, trying every angle to push the beast over.
Swinger
’s propellers hummed right next to them. The vessel listed aimlessly, adrift with no pilot, and anything worth grabbing was too far from her reach. If Stena let go, the beast would pull itself up and go right over top of her.
Futter me
. She would have to bring the disgusting bastard back over the side if she wanted to live.

“Hold on, Captain,” a voice called out. The legs around her began to loosen. The beast squirmed, clawed hands letting go of the rail and clutching at Stena’s arms, but more firm gnomish hands grabbed her shoulders, keeping her feet on the deck.

“Sorry, Captain. Just need to cut this bugger loose.”
Linsey
.

It was Stena’s turn to grin. The beast glared at her, swatted at her head, kicking against the gnomes holding its legs apart. Stena realized its fury was not to stay alive but to ensure that she
died
.

A pole appeared over her shoulder, poking and pummeling the beast while Stena tried to draw her arms from its grip. The tips of its claws bit her skin, and it howled and spat bloody ropes of saliva. With one final pull, Stena slipped free and hit the deck and the beast was gone, falling to its doom.

Her crew helped her to her feet. Her eyes passed across the deck, over Gowey’s body where it had slid against the rails, leaving a sweeping stain across the decking. She scanned the rest of the ship, making sure no more furry bastards were running around. Linsey, Rose, and Bertrand were all accounted for.

“You skewered two of them with that last volley, Cap,” Rose said, already moving to take the wheel again, “or else we’d be goners.”

For the first time, Stena noticed the pained noises of her airship. The high whine of the boiler. The whistle of steam being pumped into the bladder with a certain degree of futility. The slight smell of smoldering wood.

Stena shook her head and motioned vaguely in the direction of the control deck. “We’re drifting, Linsey. Keep us aloft.”

Linsey went to Gowey’s corpse and began stripping him of his tools. “Rose can handle the wheel, Cap; Crick and I will see what kind of damage we’ve got. Better get yourself seen to right away. Can’t have you bleedin’ out on us. Let’s go, Crick.”

“Aye,” the mechanic said, already scrambling for a maintenance panel door in the engine chassis. “Reminds me of my second season on the
Ginny
…”

That left Bertrand standing there with his maintenance pole, looking awkward. Stena swatted his shoulder. “Thanks, Bert,” she said, wincing with the effort. Her back was screaming at her to get off her feet. “Bert, I need you to do a couple of things.”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Follow Linsey and Crick and put together a damage assessment. Bring it to me first.”

“I can do that.”

A nagging thought.
You better find those ships, dear, before you get another dose of that frying gunk… or rammed or boarded… or both.
Stena nodded to herself and started to climb the ladder to the control deck with Bertrand close behind.

“Anything else?”

On the deck, Stena called over her shoulder while pretending to scan the skies. “Get a pair of magilenses and help me look for those ships. We’re not out of this yet.”

“Aye,” Bertrand said in a shaky voice.

When he’d gone, Stena stumbled to the rail and leaned heavily on it. Her shoulders burned as if someone had taken a torch to them. At the same time, the cold air seeped in but did little to numb the pain. Made it worse, in fact, adding a throbbing ache to the stew. She’d have to keep moving, or she’d get frozen stuck.

Stena focused, locked her eyes to the sky above the steady rail. She directed Boatswain Rose to turn the ship on another slow arc, giving them some room to change course suddenly if need be. She wasn’t too worried about the enemy ships getting above them, but rocketing up from below was another thing entirely. She wouldn’t underestimate them again. A quick glance told her two of the starboard propellers were missing, sheared clean off. Hard to tell just how much maneuverability they’d lost until they were put to the test.

“Hard to port!” Stena called out, giving the signal. It wasn’t the most graceful change of direction, but aside from the overtaxed boiler trying to keep hot air in the bladder, Stena didn’t feel too uncomfortable about their chances.

It was Rose who spotted them. “There!”

Stena followed Rose’s pointing arm. Several hundred yards distant, like a slowly gyrating top, the ship that had attempted to ram them was spinning out of control, nose down and clearly in trouble. As they watched, one of the remaining crew members was thrown loose by a wild venting of gas along the ship’s starboard side. It was losing altitude quickly, plummeting now, and vanishing into the darkening clouds.

“You must have done them in, Cap!” Rose yelled from the rear of the ship.

Stena came down from the control deck and went aft, feeling more or less serviceable. She stopped to go around the swath of blood across her deck, giving poor Gowey a sorrowful glance. She stood next to her boatswain, looking past their massive stern propeller.
“
Can you believe that, Rose? You think we’re
that
lucky?”

“Hard to tell. Might have hit a weak spot, injured the thing inside. Maybe they didn’t have enough crew left to repair whatever damage you’d done. Either way, looks like they’re going down.”

Stena simply nodded, not wanting to admit to either skill or luck. “Good flying, Rose. Let’s keep it up. We’ve still got another ship out there looking for us.”

“Aye, Cap.”

Crick bustled past Gowey’s body and approached the pilot deck, tapping a finger on his temple urgently as if it would help him remember something. He put a foot on the first step of the ladder and began providing details of their sick vessel before Stena could slow him down. “Put out some smoldering wood in the boiler frame. Shew, that coulda been bad. Two starboard propellers lost; I guess you saw that. Two ballistae gone too, another two stuck. Let’s see, hull’s got some cracks, but it ain’t no window, so it’ll hold up fine. I wouldn’t lean against the starboard rail. Seems shaky to me. And the way we’re floating, bound to be a hole or two in the bladder. We’ll need to get that fixed soon as we can. First thing. We lose any more altitude…”

“Where’s Bert? I told
him
to bring me the report.”

His grease-smeared face was apologetic. “Linsey needed his skinny fingers to dig out a splinter caught in the motor cog assembly. Figured I’d come up in his stead.”

“I see. Thank you. Before you go back, can you get Gowey off the deck and secure him in the hold? Wrap him up in a blanket or something.”

“Aye, Cap. Done it before on the
Ginny
after we hit some rocks off the Pelorian coast. Seven killed, and I tended to them all, I did.” Stena nearly chastised the mechanic for delaying, but his expression was so drawn with sorrow that she didn’t quite have the heart. Stena had lost many good gnomes and gnomestresses to the sea, but this was her first loss to the sky.

“I know, Crick. Ain’t easy. I know you and Gowey was close. That’s why I’m askin’ you.”

“Aye, Cap.”

A few moments later, Linsey returned to the pilot deck and relieved Rose. Stena ordered the boatswain to continue working on the improved health of the ship and something else; Rose was the resident combat expert.

“While you’re down there, Rose, check the weapon store for axes and knives, and make sure everyone’s armed.”

“You got it, Cap,” Rose replied, her expression turning several shades grimmer. She slid down the ladder rails and was gone.

“Think we need to bug out, Captain?”

“What do you mean, Lins?”

Linsey stammered a bit, sensing Stena’s impatience but pressing her question anyway. “Well, being as we’ve got bladder damage and a dead crewmate, I thought it might be a good idea to get to the end of the mission as soon as we can. Make sure we at least have a talk with the swampies, as much as that gives me pause…”

Stena had to give her first mate credit; the gnomestress didn’t back down once she thought she had something figured out. And while Linsey was a sure pilot and faithful crew member, she sometimes lacked focus when it came to the mission at hand. “We’re not going anywhere,” Stena told her. “Dale wants us to scout Goad’s Pocket, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. I can’t see anything through these damnable clouds, can you?” Linsey shook her head. “Then take us lower, Lins. Slowly. Lower.”

Linsey complied, easing up on the master propeller throttle and shifting some of the workload to the tertiary steam engine, which was supported by a secondary boiler. She vented any excess steam through exhaust pipes situated along
Swinger
’s bottom. Stena hoped the crew were keeping the boilers fed with plenty of hot-burning pfitzer bricks
.
Down one member, it would be easy to forget the simplest thing. Stena noticed Linsey had lowered the heat to their gas bag only slightly as the holes they had yet to repair vented a more than necessary amount.

That was the trick of it. Not knowing the extent of the damage until they got a chance to look.
If we go down too far too fast, we won’t make it up again.
This thought was quickly followed by the gut-wrenching reality of it. Stena moved to the rail, her hair whipping around in the wake of the stern propeller.
Where are you?

Maybe Lins was right.
“
We go down for one little peek, and then we’re leaving. Does that suit you, First Mate?”

“It does, Captain.”