Curious, Lina twisted around to look directly behind her.
A horror stared her in the face. It sat on the exhaust-pipe, as long as her arm but coiled atop itself like a snake. Thick, ridged scales covered it from one end to the other, so blue they were almost black. The head was smooth and bullet-shaped, serpentine, with a pair of heavy mandibles folded low about the mouth. Behind the head rose a hump that tapered back down the length of the creature. It watched her with two dark, beady eyes.
"What is it?" asked Lina, curious.
"Chirr," said the thing. It cocked its head, rising up slightly to meet her gaze. The underbelly was smooth and pale. A glow rose from it, an iridescent red that ran in bioluminescent lines down to form complex patterns.
"It's adorable!" said Lina. Then she hiccupped.
"Uh," said Ryan.
"Lina," said Andrea. She rubbed her forehead. "That's a scryn. A sky-ray. Kind of a runty one, actually. But you really—"
"I've never seen one before," Lina replied. "How does it glow like that?" She held out a hand, tentatively. "Come on, little fella. I won't bite." The scryn reared higher, leaning away to avoid her hand. Lina moved closer. "C'mere little guy." She turned back to her friends. They stared at her, appalled. "Normal pirates have parrots right? Those big, pretty birds I keep seeing all over the place. Is this what we've got instead?"
"Lina," said Andrea. "Come away. They're nothing like parrots."
The scryn leapt forward, uncoiling its length. It landed on her arm like a heavy limp rope, but curled in an eyeblink up around her shoulders. The creature was surprisingly light for its size. It smelled of the ocean, and something else, a sharp musk.
"Chirr," it repeated.
Lina laughed. "He likes me! I think I'll keep him." Standing, she wobbled a bit. Lina realized she was very tipsy, if not drunk outright from the Cure-all. She pushed the thought aside. "It's so strange up here," she said. "I didn't even stop to think, but you've got probably got all sorts of things living up in the clouds, right? Flying snakes, floating whales..." She grinned at Andrea. "What should I name him?"
"Lina," said Ryan. "Those things aren't pets. They're really, really vicious."
The scryn nuzzled her cheek. Lina laughed. "Look! We're bonding!"
She wobbled as the creature shifted its weight, sliding further down her left arm towards the still-open flask. Lina shifted it into her other hand. The scryn cried out, and stretched after it.
"None of that now," said Lina. "Terrible stuff. Probably eat your innards out."
"Chirr," it said, insistently. The scryn constricted around her arm painfully. It reared up to hiss, jaw unhinged, rows of needle-teeth displayed within. Four barbed tongues waved on the air, musky spittle dropping down to sizzle on the iron exhaust-pipes. The hump behind its head unfolded, spreading to reveal a wide flat body like that of a manta ray, the mandibles really hooked claws at either end. The patterns glowing across the underbelly flared into strange, hypnotic arrangements.
Lina gave a surprised shout. Then she grabbed the tail-end of the scryn with her free hand and swung it down like a whip at the exhaust-pipe. The creature banged against the heated steel, ringing it like a bell. The scryn yowled in pain.
Lina didn't give it time to recover. She looked about for the closest weapon at hand and only found the flask. Why not? She jammed the open end of the drink into the hissing, spitting maw of the sky-ray. It struggled, but Lina held it tight, pinned against the exhaust-pipe by the upended flask. It uncoiled from her arm, flailing hard to get away. She let go, throwing herself from the flying monster. Hitting the deck she scrabbled backward, to where Andrea and Ryan stood with their blades drawn.
The scryn struggled to right itself atop the pipe. It reared back, blinking. Looking at the pirates, it reared up to show them its belly. The red patterns were intermittent, confused. The creature wavered in the air, gave a weak hiss, and fell abruptly over. It slapped against the pipe again and rose up, head shaking, body weaving. Then it fell over again.
"Stone me," said Andrea. "I think it's drunk."
"Chirr," said the scryn, rising again. It looked at Lina with eyes like the bottom of a well, then threw itself over the side of the ship.
She climbed to her feet and pulled herself up over the pipe to look past the gunwales. The Atalian Sea shone blue down below, sunlight shimmering on its waves. The scryn dropped through the air, not at all gracefully, seeming to wriggle and coast as it flew below the ship out of sight.
Lina turned back, breathing heavy. The pleasant buzz from the drink was gone, cold shock and realization replacing it. Goddess above, what was I thinking?
Lina looked over to see her friends staring at her. The two pirates broke out into laughter. Ryan fell to his knees, Andrea wiped at the tears dampening her face. Lina giggled. Then she hiccupped.
As others came over to see about the noise, Lina learned that scryn were uncommon creatures, but widely hated and feared by pirates of all sorts on this side of the Atalian Sea. Though many strange creatures lived in and around the Yulan Continent, scryn were among the most obnoxious, extremely territorial of the rocky hive-clusters they tended to prefer. The rest of the crew were all amused by the tale Ryan told about Lina, and more than a little impressed. In short time Lina made easy acquaintance with several others.
Time passed and by mid-afternoon Lina found herself desiring quiet, a little nauseous as her body found equilibrium with the drink. She made her way up to the bow, which was momentarily empty. Without a forecastle or even a prow, the bow was more of an observation deck, a place to watch the world go by. Andrea told her that the lookouts were up above on the gasbag frame, a place Lina had yet to go.
The Atalian Sea rolled beneath them. The water was deep blue and clear for a dozen feet beneath the surface. Through it she spied great schools of silver fish and the hard gray lines of sharks on the hunt. Salt scent tickled her nose, mixing with the smell of the oil that was used to weather the deck. Through her feet she felt the faint vibration of the steam-furnace, ever present. High overhead the sky was clear, a few puffy clouds scudding high across the heavens. Lina hadn't seen land since she'd gone off-shift the night before, and it felt strange. The airship just seemed to hang, a fixed point in space surrounded by cerulean.
Something caught at her attention on the horizon. Lina watched it until it resolved; a heavy cloudbank dead ahead where the ocean met the sky. It was thick and heavy, but not dark like the herald of some storm or sudden squall.
Lina frowned. What's this? Considering the recent event with the scryn, she turned back down the ship to look for someone to fill her in on what was undoubtedly some other piece of common knowledge she lacked. Henry Smalls stood nearby, examining one of the stanchions attaching the deck of the ship to its gas-bag frame overhead. Lina walked over.
"Mr. Smalls?"
Henry looked up, brightening on seeing her. "Miss Stone. You're looking well. I heard the tale about the scryn."
Lina coughed.
"Daresay I wouldn't have acted as quickly as you." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Though I probably wouldn't have let it crawl onto my arm either. Anyway, what can I do for you?"
Lina pointed out past the bow. "I saw something strange on the horizon. Odd clouds. Not sure if I should tell someone?"
Henry walked up to the bow, peering beyond. "Already? Those are good sails. We're making excellent time."
"That's expected?"
"Oh yes." He pointed. "That, young miss, is Engmann's Maelstrom."
Lina blinked. "What?"
"A perpetual storm, of sorts. Though a calm one. Come, let's go inform Lucian and the Captain." He bustled off.
Captain Fengel, Lina thought to herself. She frowned then, acutely aware of her knife-hacked hair and rough hands. No. Stop it. Lina started after the steward, following him down the length of the deck. She glanced at the other pirates of the day-watch as they lazed about. Lucian and Fengel stood at the helm near the stern, dark-haired Maxim
at the wheel as before. The aetherite was smiling slightly.
"All I'm saying," complained Lucian, "is that a man's trousers should be sacrosanct. I mean, really. Powdered peppers? That's a paltry sort of jape. And stop smiling Maxim. I know it was you. Oh, hullo Henry."
The three turned to face Lina and the steward. Lucian had been restored to his usual dashing self, while the captain was redoubtable as always. When he looked her way, Lina averted her eyes.
"Miss Stone sighted the Maelstrom off the bow ahead," said the steward.
Lucian frowned. "I knew this ship was fast, but damnation. We're only a day from the Continent and the Stormwall then. Hm. If she saw it from the bow, the lookouts above should have called out first. Hey there!"
The first mate called out to a passing pirate. Ryan Gae stopped. "Sir?"
"Go up above and yell at the lookouts for a bit. I'll be up to do the job proper shortly."
"Sir," said Ryan, running for the ratlines up to the gasbag frame and beyond.
Lucian started walking up the length of the deck, calling out orders and rousting the crew. They jumped to attention, rushing about to tighten slack lines and lock away loose objects.
"Sir," Lina asked Fengel. "What is the Maelstrom?"
The captain looked up from the dials studding the gearbox. He held her with his eyes, so striking and green. "Engmann's Maelstrom? A permanent storm of sorts." He smiled, fatherly. "Do not worry, Miss Stone. It's not a real storm, and in a ship like this we'll be just fine. Maxim? Could you explain it a bit better?"
The navigator nodded cheerfully. "You see," he began. "There is a substance that surrounds us, that binds the world—"
"Aether?" interrupted Lina.
Maxim frowned. "Yes. Well, it is not as unordered as the other elements. Aether runs in great—"
"Yes, big curvy paths called aetherlines that we can ride a bit. Got that too."
The navigator glared at her. "Well. Sometimes there are great disturbances in the aetherlines, where two of them meet, or where a powerful daemon is trapped along its length. This causes the aetherline to churn and whorl. Did you know that?"
Lina thought about it a moment. "So it's a permanent maelstrom made out of aether. Why didn't you say so?"
Maxim blinked, opened his mouth to say something, then turned away with a disgusted sound.
Fengel smiled at her. "That's pretty much the gist of it. Clouds gather around it for some reason, and there are rocks below. But it's not a real storm, so I wouldn't worry overmuch about it. We'll keep the skysails out, and use them to tack around the edges of the Maelstrom without losing any momentum. Otherwise we'd drop half a day getting back up to speed." He patted her shoulder like a fond parent and moved past to speak with Lucian. Lina blushed at the touch and hid her face.
Once he was gone she looked up to see if Maxim had noticed. He hadn't. Lina made her way back up the deck amidships where one of the delicate skysails fluttered beyond the hull of the ship.
The Maelstrom grew closer. Though she couldn't see the aether, the bank of swirling, churning clouds ahead was visible enough. It was odd, watching them roil. There was almost no wind at the moment and the day was warm and easy.
Small islets appeared just below the perpetual storm. As Fengel had said, they were a collection of rocky crags jutting up out of the water. They weren't big enough to land on or even shaped for it, being barely two dozen feet across with sharp, knife-blade peaks rising up some fifty feet from the water. White dung coated them, with small sprigs of greenery growing hardscrabble from the cracks and crannies.
The Dawnhawk sped closer. Lina thought she spied the eye of the storm through the swirling clouds. The crew shouted reports back to the helm, where the captain and his officers conferred. Alongside the ship the skysails stretched and rippled, pulled tight by the invisible force of the aether. They were speeding up.
Lina watched in fascination. She felt herself grinning like a little girl. This is amazing. Her attention was split between the strange, stately roil of the Maelstrom, the airship itself as the crew raced about, and the knife-like rocks below. People couldn't live on them, but maybe there were other things, seabirds and such. She took another quick glance at the rocks, the first of which they were just passing above.
Dark shapes wriggled beneath the foliage as the shadow of the ship fell over the islets. Lina frowned, bending farther over the gunwales to get a better look. Beside her the skysail flapped and rippled.
A shudder shook the front of the ship. Lina glanced back up toward the bow reflexively. The Maelstrom loomed hugely now. All about the clouds swirled, a giant vortex hanging in the sky. She could see its eye through the mist, a hole in the quiet fury of the vortex. Another shudder shook the ship as the Dawnhawk picked up speed. They were being sucked in. Their prow touched the edge of the vortex and the skysails there went taut like an umbrella caught in a strong wind. The whole ship shifted, almost violently. They were listing a bit to starboard.
"Hard to port!" cried Captain Fengel. "Take us hard to port. Skirt the edge of the eye or we'll never get out!"
A raucous cry rang out from below the ship. Lina glanced back over the side. Below, the creatures on the rocks were taking flight, bursting out from under the foliage and flinging themselves into the air. They stretched, unwrapping to reveal wide sinuous tails and thick, manta-ray bodies.
Scryn.
Others joined them. Dozens and dozens of the things emerged from the cracks and crannies of their roost. The rocks below were covered with the creatures. "Scryn!" she cried out, turning back out to the deck. "The rocks are covered in scryn!"
The crew nearest her glanced up, too focused on dealing with the Maelstrom to understand quickly. Their looks of confusion turned to startled comprehension, just as the first of the flying creatures swooped up over the gunwales onto the deck.
Shouts of alarm rang out. The crew drew daggers and swords. The scryn didn't seem to care. They descended in an angry flock, hissing and spitting poison at whichever pirates were nearest. Their bellies blazed red like the one Lina had fought earlier, illuminating the normally shadowed deck with an infernal glow.
Lina ducked down low behind the gunwales and took cover below the exhaust-pipe as the ship gave another shudder. The flying monsters aboard were larger than the one she'd seen earlier that day. Her daggers wouldn't do a thing to protect her. Lina looked about for something better.
The airship listed again, shaken the other way now by the churning of the Maelstrom. Forced away by the furious swarm of scryn, crewmen and officers left their posts. Without their guidance the ship was whirling, shaking, and spinning like a toy boat going down the drain. Through the cloud of black monsters, Lina spied the skysails at either side of the ship. They rippled and shook, their armatures groaning and twanging. If something wasn't done soon they'd be torn away.
Nearby a pirate stumbled, the usually silent Geoffrey Lords. He cursed and lashed wildly about with a saber. That earned him a brief respite, just long enough to notice another scryn swooping up from behind. The pirate whirled to defend against it and slammed up against the exhaust-pipes. Something broke free of his belt and clattered against the deck next to her.
A hip flask.
The Cure-all. Her scryn had been extremely attracted to it and Ryan said he'd found two barrels of the stuff. They'd be in the cargo deck below, where she hadn't been yet. But pirates were sailors first, and if she knew sailors, then Ryan would probably have kept some somewhere personal. An idea took root in her mind.
Lina waited for a break in the action, then bolted down the deck toward the rear hatch. She ducked and weaved past screaming scryn and yelling pirates. Sharp cracks sounded as those with pistols fired them, sending plumes of smoke billowing about a deck that pitched and rolled.
Lina reached the hatch. Past it near the helm, Fengel and Lucian stood back to back, fending off scryn while Maxim fought against the swarm with caustic light. She paused, breath caught in her throat.
&nbs
p; Maxim's magic was impressive, but the captain was an elegant blur. His saber flashed through the air, neatly separating the wing of a scryn before whipping about to skewer another. He stood with his back stiff, his off hand neatly held behind him in a classic fencer's pose.
"This must be a new colony," cried Lucian as he swatted at another of the flying creatures. "Territorial little bastards! I should have known when that new girl saw one of them earlier!"
"Keep fighting," said Fengel, loud yet calm. "Keep them off long enough to get us through the Maelstrom!"
They don't see the real danger. They had to get control of the ship again, and soon, before the sails were torn away. But there were just too many scryn. She had to get rid of those first.
Lina dove down the aft hatch. Darkness enclosed her and the sounds of the strife on the deck above became muted and distant. Down the short hall she found herself in the crew room again, hammocks swaying in the air.
She moved through them, pulling out sea chests and upending sailor's bags. Knickknacks, weapons, bent cards and spare clothing went flying across the room. Lina looked for something, anything, that would hold a drink or three. Shoved into a corner beneath a hammock, hidden underneath a pile of blankets she found a keg. Would Ryan have just grabbed the whole thing?
Lina threw the blankets aside and hefted the cask. It was heavy, and sloshed when she pulled it out into the room. It was already breached, a cork now plugging the hole. She drew a dagger and wedged it out. A pungent stink immediately wafted from it to fill the room. Lina fell back, choking. This was Corsair's Cure-all, all right.
She held her face away and hoisted the keg. Lina grit her teeth and moved on, making her way back to the stair and tottering up it to through the hatch onto the deck.
Pandemonium still reigned. She did he best to ignore it, the cry of battle and the groaning of the ship. Lina took as straight a path as she dared to the starboard-side. There she shifted the cask to sit atop the exhaust-pipes and peered over the rail. The islets were still there, though they were just passing the last of them. It was large, and flat at the top like a pillar.
Chasing the Lantern (The Dawnhawk Trilogy, Book One) Page 10