Drawn to him as I was, I found myself following his gaze out of the windows. The clouds had peeled back, allowing sunlight to brighten our surroundings. There were so many ships here, and verdant landmasses stretched out on either side of the Flying Fish. Shelves of rock made the coastline craggy, but waterfalls poured down from many of them. The channel had grown green and was laced with foam. I could smell brine and mist and rotting fish seeping into our ventilation. A swell of froth charged ahead of us– or so I first thought. It was a flock of tiny, dirty-white sea birds. They clouded the nose of our ship and peeled off to swarm into the sky.
Pressing a lever forward and turning the wheel of the Flying Fish about, Carmine whistled too. She'd spun us about to face set upon set of spiraling stone arches. Over two hundred feet tall, they stretched far above our limited field of vision and partially enclosed the canal passage that we turned down. To me, it looked like a gigantic ribcage was lying over the broad green waterway. Rusted iron spires stabbed up beside the pillars, connecting one to the next like a growth of thorny brambles– a harsh counterpart to the gently curving stonework. All along the twisting metal supports were staircases and mechanical lift systems that led to the throat of the archways. Balconies wrapped the pillars there, and soldiers patrolled the parapets. Long tapestries of bronze and black whipped down from the heights, torn and tattered by the gusting coastal winds. The standard displayed three gears that linked together in an infinite circle.
A pair of steep cliffsides, each topped with its own fortress, connected to the edges of the skeletal tunnel. Ships of all shapes and sizes traveled up or down the waterway alongside a sizable complement of Northern navy vessels. The scene was immense enough to make me feel tiny and frail.
Excitement, not to be confused with happiness, rushed up my spine and sent my pulse racing. What was it that we'd find here? Who would we meet?
Carmine coughed politely. “If we're finished discussing the philosophy behind human limitations, you may want to have a look outside. We've reached Caraway, the capital of the Northern Kingdom.”
Chapter 24: Caraway
“I hope you're ready to be an emissary, Katelyn,” Carmine said, leaning over the wheel to get a better look at the ribcage-tunnel over the wide canal.
I wasn't in the slightest bit prepared. In fact, I had no idea what I'd say to them, besides proving myself as a Lodestone. The thought in itself was unnerving, and a bit like undressing in front of an audience.
Afternoon sunlight splashed over us as we glided out from beneath each stone arch. “What is this thing for?” I wondered aloud.
Rune faced the glass and craned up to get a better view. “Security.”
I found myself imagining all of the ways the people stationed above could damage a ship that passed beneath them. It was an excellent vantage point, and the ideal location to fling boiling oil, sharp objects, and cannon balls. “I hope they like us.”
“The famed Seagate,” Carmine snorted. “Oh it looks menacing enough, but ships can still escape if they're quick.”
“Like the Flying Fish?” Kyle asked gaping shamelessly with both hands pressed upon the wide floor-to-ceiling window.
Carmine seemed self-assured. “She'd make it.”
It didn't feel right that we could come from the West and slip into the North without being fired upon or interrogated. “Why aren't they stopping us?”
Our pilot tapped the toe of one splendid leather boot. “It's like I told you in Sheer Town. My ship is registered in their books. You can bet your life they were watching us as we came in, but someone reported us and looked us up. The flag is like categorical clearance, but they'll still check us when we come in.”
The sixth set of pillars was the last, and the blue sky opened up above us, unobstructed. At our sides, the cliffs drooped downward until the ground was a mere thirty feet above the waterline. Short walls blocked the surrounding city from the canal, and brownstone buildings rose higher around us the deeper we traveled. At last, the canal opened up to an oval harbor, three times the size of the one at Cape Hill. The docks were much too broad and far too occupied for me to discern one region from the next, but Carmine seemed to know just where to go.
She steered us far to the left, until we were in the shadow of the raised city walls. When we passed through a pair of weatherworn posts, she lowered us to the water, and powered down the hover turbines. Even with the engines off, my skin felt as though it was buzzing. Without the accompanying sound of the hefty secondary engines, I could again hear music and shouting. Were these people ever quiet?
Wooden pole houses rose up along the edges of the harbor. Painted ladies hung languidly over the railings and fanned at themselves with dried leaves and feathers. Drunken men slumped beside them, shouting obscenities. I even saw one throw what appeared to be a metal tankard into the harbor.
All of the moored ships ahead of us were topped with flags identical to our own, and Carmine eased us into a vacant slip, sidling up to the dock with flawless precision. Furiously flipping switches and pulling all of the levers down, she put the Flying Fish to rest and flung the tiny door of her console compartment open.
I watched the gauge needles on the control console spin to zero. “What are you looking for?”
Reaching within, she pulled out her small leather bound book, and shook it in her hand for me to see. “Flying the proper colors doesn't mean that we avoid inspection. All ships are checked upon landing. Come with me, all of you. And for pity's sake, someone keep that Lurcher out of sight.”
“Her name is Sadie,” Kyle said, not bothering to hide his irritation. He liked Carmine, a lot, but he didn't tend to have a tolerance for anyone who disrespected machinery, and Sadie was the most impressive kind. “She's down in the engine room, sleeping.”
Remembering how easily Sadie had used her own mouth as a giant wrench to free us of the harpoons that had punched through our metal rail panels, I wondered if the engine room was the best place for a mechanical animal to relax. What if she got bored and decided to chew something? Still, I wouldn't bring it up. If Carmine was too concerned with the city's officials to worry about Sadie, then so much the better.
Carmine charged out the door and we fell into motion behind her. “Heads down, mouths shut. They just want to see my papers, and they'll leave. Don't give them any reason to explore.”
As the shortest one, I needed to work twice as hard to keep up with our pilot's long strides through the cabin hall. Out of loyalty, Rune slowed his pace to match mine. “Carmine, after they leave, I think you should be the one to go find a messenger to the palace.”
She shook her head. “I'm staying with the ship.”
“But you're a Northerner.”
“Excuse me?” Dylan said, from the middle of the pack. “Did my ears deceive me, or did you just suggest that our wicked temptress of a Northern pilot represent us upon our arrival at the enemy capital?” He chuckled dangerously. “Of all the stupid ideas. She isn’t remotely trustworthy!”
Excellent timing for one of Dylan's fits. I groaned. “You don't trust anyone.”
Dylan clicked his tongue. “That's not true.” It continued to baffle me how many times Dylan's pride could be stung, even while he acted the way that he did.
“Oh yeah?” I drawled, wondering how he'd explain this one.
“Yes, actually. I trust the skinny one. Karl.”
“Kyle,” I corrected him.
“Whichever it is.” He pointed out my friend as though I didn't know who he was. “I trust you.”
Kyle looked back at Dylan, utterly perplexed. “Why?”
“You're not the kind to knife a fellow in the back. I can tell.”
“Thanks.”
“Don't mention it.”
“You're all going to drive me steadily mad,” Carmine complained, and pushed open the cabin doors. Piercing light flooded our eyes, but our pilot barely blinked, and walked with dignity to meet her true countrymen.
There were already
men on our deck roping the Fish to the dock, and three officials had already come up the boarding ramp to our open gate. The eldest of the three, notable by his short silver beard, held a ring of papers, while the other two wore pistols on their hips and broadswords on their backs.
We'd been through this before, and the last time, a Margrave had thought to greet us personally. My nerves prickled, ready for danger. Before I could follow Carmine, Kyle, and Dylan out into the clamor, Rune caught me lightly by the arm.
“Remember, Kat,” he said softly. “No matter how far you are from your home, no matter what we might have to face here, you're not alone.”
I looked up at him. A vein stood out upon his neck, his breathing was measured, and his jaw tight. He was concerned. Smiling, I placed a hand on his chest, sliding it up to squeeze his shoulder. “Neither are you.”
The words were profound to him, and his face opened up. He smiled back at me with his eyes, and we left the shelter of the cabin together.
Outside, the port was a clutter of unfamiliar sights and sounds. Carpenters and beggars and bands. Fishers and hawkers and dirty-faced children. I winced, deciding I'd need to shout if I'd ever like to be heard again. Dark, shaggy palms shot up from the shoreline in clusters. Wood and brick structures sat one atop the next to such a degree that singular buildings were indiscernible. Presiding above the sprawl was a monstrous castle. Even from this distance, I could make out many of the details: gaping multi-story windows, steep flying buttresses, pointed rooftops as jagged as broken glass. Was it a trick of the eye, or did it swallow half of the city?
“The Keep of Caraway,” Rune said from beside me. “I never thought I'd see it from its own harbor.”
Dylan leaned against the stair railing and wrinkled his nose. “Smells like three-day-old spilled beer and three-year-old clam chowder.”
While Carmine showed the officers her papers, Kyle inched close to me. He peered over at them to make certain they were out of earshot. “Uh... you remember that bad feeling that I was getting before?”
I didn't want to acknowledge his uncharacteristic notions of prophetic warnings, so I didn't say anything.
“Well, it's happening here. A lot. I don't like it.”
“Everything's fine.” But looking up at the Keep of Caraway, negativity snaked into my mind. My confidence nearly wavered, and I recoiled, smashing my doubts the moment I felt them. I refused to regress into the person I once was. I would not be afraid. “Look, Carmine has signed their papers, they've spoken and they're leaving. No overbearing military presence this time.”
“Present company excluded,” Dylan muttered.
Rune turned around at intervals, taking in every angle of our surroundings with measured precision. If he didn't relax, he might give himself away. I tapped his elbow, and managed to break him from his focus.
Carmine strode across the deck of the ship and earned more than a few appreciative looks from the dockworkers. No doubt the combined effect of her flatteringly low cut jacket, skin-tight trousers and thigh high boots. Her elegant features certainly didn't hurt either. Our pilot didn't bat her eyelashes or flirt; she didn't need to. She wore the attention like a cloak and used it to her advantage. “The kind gentleman with the whiskers has saved us some trouble. He keeps a pair of runners with him to alert the city guard to any troublemakers he might find. Today, he's lending us one. If you please, Dylan, I'll send your brother's sealed request for an audience along with his man.”
Dylan pushed off of the staircase and unfolded his arms. “Because I must,” he said, frowning. Reaching into the inner breast pocket of his blue-gray coat, he revealed the envelope. Before handing it over, he ran a thumb over his family's wax seal, and exhaled. “And so we set free those tawny ships: our wishes, hopes and dreams... upon the tide of circumstance that all is as it seems.”
“Lambert?” Carmine asked, extending a hand.
“Bennette.” Dylan passed her the letter. “Much as I hate poetry, it seemed appropriate. We're just as likely to dash upon the rocks as his forlorn characters did.”
Chapter 25: The Butterfly and the Machine
Electricity flowed from my hands, pouring from each fingertip and gushing from my palms. Swirling, churning, and tumbling together, each fine spark connected and joined with another. The bolts grew thicker and stronger. I could feel the static in the air instigating my hair to stand wild and free. The static belonged to me as much as the lightning did.
I sat, cross-legged on the floor of the cargo hold with Rune. We'd been waiting to hear something from the Keep of Caraway for two nights. So focused on the act of trespassing in the North, and hurried as we were to find help for Breakwater, none of us had stopped to think that Varion's administrators might be too busy to see us. We could be waiting until our food stores ran out, for all I knew. All they needed to do was read the letter, that was it, and surely the unusual contents would be worthy of swift investigation.
Focusing, I pushed the electricity in my hands together. Snapping and flashing with white light, the two streams fused.
Sadie lay nearby, her sides rising and falling with the heavy breaths of a deep slumber; a machine that could eat, sleep and play like any other living creature. She was a marvel. Did she dream?
“More than seven hundred years ago, Prince Raserion learned to use his Ability to shape actual life forms,” I said to Rune. “He was only a child. How did he do it? The Shadow Chasers and Mimics and the others, they live independently. I've seen it with my own eyes. They procreate and socialize, eat and sleep, like Sadie. How did they craft living beings? It's difficult enough to compound the energy needed to form an image.”
Rune dabbed his brush into a well of blue paint. He'd found the art supplies, like so many other things, tucked away and forgotten in the back of the hold, and he'd been coated in charcoal and pencil shavings ever since. “You've been able to create complex forms. The tree, your arms and legs, the bird you sent into the salvageman ship. That's a great deal more than others can accomplish.”
“The bird was the only one I had time to think about. I tried to imagine that I was working clay like I used to back home. Can you make anything?”
“Isn't it enough that I bend fire to my will?” he smiled. A paintbrush looked out of place in such strong hands, but the way he wielded it, bending near and tilting his head as he went, I could imagine him with no other purpose. The duality within him was enticing. “No, only simple shapes. I'd be interested to learn more, but I'm no Lodestone. I'm afraid I don't have the same energy reserves that you do.”
That made me smile. It was strange to think of myself as being stronger than someone like Rune. When we'd met, I had no idea that I could wield lightning.
“The princes are Lodestones,” I mused. Narrowing my eyes, I pushed the lightning in my hands, forcing it to form half of a bird. My concentration faltered, and it flashed back into its original form. “Or, at least, they were.”
“Don't even think about it.”
“What?” I asked innocently.
The mood may have been light, but his voice was thick with warning. “Lodestones might be powerful, but not more so than a prince.”
“Humph. What do you know about us? A year-and-a-half ago, you all thought we were rocks in the mountains.”
It was his turn to grin. “I'm glad you're not.”
A laugh escaped. “Yeah, I bet you are.”
“You're beautiful for a piece of rubble.” When I groaned, his crooked smile broadened. “And remarkably intelligent, all things considered.”
“And you're quite handsome for a dead man!” I smirked, threatening to throw my lightning covered fist at him. Unable to even bluff, the element retracted before my arm did.
“Katelyn,” he said, suddenly serious. His face had gone straight and the light vanished from his eyes. “Come here. Slowly.”
I stopped smiling and held my breath. “Okay.” Scooting closer, I looked around the room, scanning for danger.
“N
o, hold still,” he said. “There's a great, big...”
“Spider?”
“Mustache on your face,” he finished saying, and slashed my upper lip with curling tendrils of blue.
“Ah!” I growled. Once again, he managed to use the tension of our situation to his advantage. “How did I fall for such obvious trickery?”
“You are a Lodestone. There's only so much we can expect,” he laughed, leaning back reflexively to dodge any potential retaliation.
“Oh, is that how it is?” I said menacingly. “Well– hold still– my, my, don't you have some fine whiskers?” Reaching for one of his thin brushes, I dipped the bristles in black and dragged them over his face three times on each cheek. “And a button nose. Unusual for a Dragoon.” I plopped a glob of black paint on the end of his nose.
“Have you seen a dentist recently?” he asked, swirling his brush in a jar of water and then dipping it in white paint. “Because you have a severe case of rabbit-teeth.” He painted two long rectangles down my bottom lip to my chin.
I pursed my lips, dropping my brush into the jar, and he flashed me with a wide grin. “They look natural on you.”
Pouncing, I crashed into his chest, nearly knocking him over. He wrapped an arm around my waist and all the fight left me. I was far too comfortable to move. This feeling, it was like being in Haven again. It was like being home. I closed my eyes and pictured us far away, over the sea and the frosty mountains, sitting in the soft grass and wild flowers that grew along the Wendy River. There would be birds singing, dragonflies zipping over the babbling water, and the far away chatter of kind people with warm hearts. I'd almost forgotten that I was one of them. Haven lived within me, cloaked by my experiences and shielded by the scars on my chest. I was still who I'd always been.
War of the Princes 03: Monarch Page 16