The Immortal Storm (Sky Chaser Book 1)

by Wilkes, S. D.

  Kite slid down to his haunches. Safe? He didn’t feel safe. Chill water dripped from his numb fingers, but he wasn't cold at all. His whole body seemed to be on fire. He buried his head in his hands and plugged his ears with his fingers, anything to blot out the hellish noise.

  Close by a soft familiar voice said, “let me look at you, Kite.”

  Dr.Nightborn knelt beside him, pulling swabs and ointment from her black medical case. She diligently cleaned his nose and mouth of blood, brining stinging tears to his eyes. He'd never been more grateful to see her lovely face. How she managed to keep such a level head in all this madness Kite would never know.

  “Fleer's all right isn't she?” he asked.

  With a painless click Dr.Nightborn injected his neck with medicine from a dispenser. Almost immediately the glass-sharp pain in his nose and the throb in his ribs seemed to soften.

  “She's alive, yes,” Dr.Nightborn said, managing to sound relieved and angry all at once. “Despite her best attempts to kill herself. You two seem to be in competition in that regard. Where does it hurt?”

  “Pretty much everywhere,” Kite said, pointing at his ribs and wincing.

  While Dr.Nightborn checked him over Kite realised the roar of shockcannons had faded. The Phosphene had begun powering into a rapid ascent. Shelvocke had shaken off the Cloudguard for now. Maybe not safe but for a moment at least Kite could feel less like prey.

  His mind seemed to burst with bright memories. Kite wanted to tell Dr.Nightborn about his adventures. How Helka and the Watchers had fought the Weatherens on the Lethe. About Skyzarke and the Observatory and…

  The photograph of Ember.

  “I have to find Fleer,” Kite said, struggling to stand.

  “She's with the Captain,” Dr.Nightborn said. She caught his arm. “You're in no shape to go running around. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

  Kite shook his head. “Y-you don't understand,” he said, untangling his arm. “I have to stop Ember.”

  Bruised and numb, hoping it wasn't already too late, Kite began limping toward the stairwell.

  49

  Broken Promises

  Kite stumbled through the hatch and onto the Nav Deck, breathing hard from the climb. Shelvocke and Fleer stood near the helm controls, their conversation cut short by his untimely appearance. Fleer gave him a brief sideways look, with the tiniest flicker of surprise. Her hair hung in spikes, ragged with sweat. Droplets of ice-water on her flying coat sparkling blue and red in the warning lights. Thankfully she looked unhurt but was clearly exhausted, as if her own escape from the Lethe had been an adventure equal to his own. But Kite’s relief soon dissolved away - Shelvocke already had the photograph.

  “The whole mission was a waste, Captain,” Fleer was saying. “The Cloud Room wasn't in Skyzarke, just Arcus's workshop in the Observatory. The Foundation had been there first. Then they wiped the whole site with an airquake and...Lieutenant Welkin was…”

  Shelvocke didn’t look up from the photograph. “Lieutenant Welkin knew the risks,” he said, without emotion. “This man in the picture. It's the Starmaker?”

  “Yes,” said Fleer.

  “No,” said Kite, stepping closer.

  Fleer gave him an exasperated look. “But we were in Arcus's workshop,” she said. “There were other dolls too. I saw them. We saw them. Captain, he's lying.”

  Kite hated himself for making her think that. He wished there was a way to explain to her. If Ember could wander the Phosphene’s corridors at will she might already be here, listening to their conversation.

  “I wonder why,” said Shelvocke, turning the photograph over. “Translate this for me, Lieutenant.”

  Fleer took the photograph, giving Kite a baleful look. “It's Patrician's script, some sort of rhyme but I don't recognise it,” she said.

  “Read it to me,” said Shelvocke.

  Fleer read the rhyme:

  When stormy is the weather and thunder shakes the sky.

  The Children of the Sun will ask the question why.

  Where has the Sun gone? Why does it rain?

  Oh! Will we never see the Sky again?

  Kite blood ran cold. Ember's fatal rhyme. As if he needed any more convincing...

  “It is called the Forecaster's Fable,” Shelvocke said, looking at him. “A quaint nursery rhyme to warn Weatheren children about the perils of disobedience. Our mysterious Starmaker is full of contradictions. But then Mr.Nayward knows all about that, don't you?”

  Kite said nothing.

  “There's a date here,” Fleer said. “AC1017. That's the old Askian Calendar. The year the Fairweather-Skyzarke war ended.”

  On hearing this Shelvocke began to smile. “On the contrary, Lieutenant, our mission was not a failure,” he said, seemingly seized by a revelation. “I think we have finally solved the mystery of the Starmaker.”

  One of the map screens flickered. Kite glanced at it nervously, hoping it was just a coincidence.

  Shelvocke began to pace back and forth, feverish with his own theory. “If we assume Arcus made the Clockwork Jinny during those final days in Skyzarke then he must have sent it south to find the Cloud Room at the same time,” he said. “The Starmaker must have known it's secret. But how? What is so important about the Cloud Room? Why would the Weatherens be desperate to find the Clockwork Jinny now? After all this time when Skyzarke has been destroyed and Arcus is long de-”

  “Don't say it,” said Kite.

  Shelvocke stopped his pacing. He had his back to the controls and couldn’t see the flickering screens. “There's something else isn't there?” the Captain said, taking another look at the photograph. “Yes, something about the Starmaker and...his dead daughter.”

  Kite swore under his breath. As soon as Shelvocke’s words left his mouth the atmosphere change. One of the screens faded to a lifeless black square. EREBUS's sombre image began to waterfall with disruptive scan-lines. Panic pinched Kite's nerves. Sometimes he hated being right.

  “You have to land the Phosphene,” he said.

  “I don't not take orders on my own vessel, Mr.Nayward,” Shelvocke said. “Especially from you.”

  Then EREBUS vanished. One by one the Nav Deck monitors began to blue-screen. Alarms pinged. Only then Shelvocke realised something was amiss with his vessel. Kite knew it was already too late.

  Ember was here.

  Blue light cascaded out of the air. An embryonic shape began to emerge, growing and sharpening, taking on the shape of a miserable young girl.

  “The girl in the photograph,” Fleer said, aghast.

  Kite looked at Ember, unable to believe his own eyes. She was identical in every detail. Torn from another age. The same milk-white hair flowing to her waist. Those innocent, mischievous, dangerous eyes. Not Askian silver but an eerie mosfire blue. And the dress, all spiral lace and pretty bows, had been perfectly recreated.

  Shelvocke was panicked. He stabbed madly at the control panel keys. “EREBUS, report!” he demanded. “EREBUS!”

  But it was hopeless. Kite knew EREBUS had been supplanted by a new power now - one that had complete control of Shelvocke’s vessel.

  “You went to Skyzarke without me, Kite Nayward,” Ember said, her pretty face a picture of perfect misery. “You didn’t take me with you like you promised.”

  Kite realised he was afraid. He'd faced Gutter Savage and fought the Umbrella Man. He'd been scarred by the hot lick of mosfire and seen men eaten alive by its blue flames. But nothing terrified him more than Ember right now.

  “I-I couldn't tell you about Skyzarke, Ember,” Kite said, hands raised in a vain hope of calming her.

  Ember's eyes cycled with dangerous colours; purple and pink and purple once more.

  “You broke your promise, Kite Nayward!” Ember screamed at him like a toy-throwing child, the corners of her mouth twisting demonically. “And broken promises mean broken bones!”

  The alarms died to a silence that sucked all the lights away. Blinded by the darkness all
Kite could hear was the drumming of his heart. Then his vision adjusted and Ember was a shadow with eyes like beads of pin-pricked blood.

  “Please, Ember,” Kite begged her. “Don't say it.”

  But her next words came shredding from the Nav Deck speakers, harsh and hostile. “When stormy is the weather and thunder shakes the sky. The children of the sun will ask the question why.”

  50

  Restored Memories

  Kite clung on to the railing. His bones seemed heavy as old metal. The pressure change bottled in his ears, making him dizzy and unsteady. He swallowed repeatedly but it made no difference. The Phosphene was falling from the sky.

  “Ember!” he cried. “Stop this!”

  “When stormy is the weather and thunder shakes the sky...” Over and over, Ember's rhyme fed from the speakers.

  Back-up emergency lights had snapped on, sinking the crew into blood coloured shadows. The control panels flashed with dire warnings. Kite didn't need to read them to know they only had minutes...

  “We have to destroy the doll!” Fleer shouted.

  “No! Stay where you are, Lieutenant,” Shelvocke ordered, his hand out to halt her. He looked awe-struck. “Don't you realise what she is? Even after all these years she can take over EREBUS. She's a miracle.”

  Kite grabbed the handrail to steady himself, shivering in the sudden cold. His vision juddered. Clouds tore by the observation window at an terrifying angle. Unless Ember could be stopped they would all die.

  “Ember! Listen to me! You still want to go to the Cloud Room don't you?” he shouted.

  “... and thunder shook the sky. The children of the sun will ask the question why....”

  “I said I'd take you didn't I?” he said. “I can't take you if I'm dead.”

  “When stormy is...d-dead?” Ember said, tilting her head.

  “If the Phosphene crashes I'm dead,” Kite said. “You don't want that do you? We're friends aren't we?”

  “But you lied, Kite Nayward,” Ember said, eyes softening to a deepest purple. “You broke your promise. How can I forgive you?”

  Kite held up his hands. “I'm not asking you too. But I was wrong wasn't I? The Cloud Room isn't in Skyzarke,” he said, shivering in the icy cold. “You know where it is don't you?”

  The eyes turned a light purple-pink. “Yes,” said Ember. “I remember now.”

  The Nav Deck systems came back online. The pressure in his temples loosened a little. The Phosphene slowly began to pull out of her fatal descent.

  “We've dropped two thousand feet,” Shelvocke said, reading from the screens. “She's flying for us at least.”

  Clinker, Birdy and Dr.Nightborn staggered onto the Nav Deck, grappling for handholds against the Phosphene's cant. Kite glanced at them, but only Dr.Nightborn seemed to understand what Ember appearance meant.

  “I remember everything, Kite Nayward,” Ember said, her eyes fading to a melancholy blue. “Arcus was her father. The city was under siege by the Foundation's weather machines and had already begun to freeze. She died. All the children died. In the ice, frozen.”

  Kite remembered the hollow faces preserved for eternity in the frozen waves of the lake. Thinking of this girl trapped forever in the ice made his stomach pinch.

  “She died the day the ice came from the sky,” Ember continued. “The day the lake and the ships froze and all the children on the shore froze too.”

  “That poor child,” Dr.Nightborn said.

  Ember’s ghost gave Kite a sorrowful look. “Arcus wanted me to be her once more. A living memory. He gave her memories to me and put me in that stupid, little doll,” she said. “He told me what I must do. Find the Cloud Room and the one who hides there. And destroy him. Only then will I be real again.”

  Shelvocke stepped closer. “Tell us how to reach the Cloud Room, Ember,” he said.

  Ember turned on the air. “You cannot reach the Cloud Room in this airmachine,” she said. “And I don't trust you, Weatheren.”

  But Shelvocke wasn't so easily discouraged. “You can trust me, Ember. I've already promised, remember?” he said, making the cross-your-heart gesture. “I always keep my promises. Just tell me where the Cloud Room is.”

  Dr.Nightborn turned to Kite and shook her head. She knew, as he did, that Shelvocke already thinking of ways to use Ember's power.

  “Remember our deal, Ember,” Kite said.

  Ember tilted her head. “Our deal, Kite Nayward?” she asked.

  Shelvocke gave him a dark look. “Silence that mouth of yours, Nayward,” he hissed, his hands becoming fists. “That's an order.”

  Orders. Kite snorted. He’d never been very good at following them, especially from a Weatheren. “You remember,” he said, fearlessly. “You only speak to -”

  Growling like a mad man Shelvocke snatching a handful of Kite's patchcoat and drew back his fist, ready to strike. Kite didn’t flinch.

  Dr.Nightborn stepped forward. “William!” she cried. “Stop this!”

  Shelvocke hesitated. He was shaking with rage. Slowly, he lowered his fist but he didn't let go. “On my vessel, Nayward, when I tell you to do something you damn well do it,” Shelvocke said, his face ragged with sweat. “Your stupidity cost me a good man today. I won't have you risking our mission again. Another word and you'll find yourself marooned in the Wildemark.”

  Kite stared back. The temptation was to utter something defiant, but he knew Shelvocke meant what he said.

  “Mr.Clinker,” Shelvocke said, pushing Kite away from him. “Get him out of my sight.”

  Dr.Nightborn laid her hand on Clinker's arm. “Stay were you are, Ray,” she said and surprisingly Clinker did as she asked.

  Shelvocke chuckled humourlessly. “Well, congratulations Nayward,” he said. “Looks like you've started something of a little mutiny.”

  Fleer gave her mother the foulest look imaginable. All the while she continued to stand shoulder to shoulder with her Captain. Kite didn't doubt her loyalty for one second.

  “Look at yourself, William,” Dr.Nightborn said. “You've let revenge poison you. All because of this...this weapon.”

  Shelvocke's fists shook. He stepped forward. For sickening moment Kite thought the Weatheren might turn on Dr.Nightborn too. “The bastards took my wife!” he growled. “They took your husband damn it! This is our chance, Aurora! This,” and he pointed to Ember, “is the chance we have been seeking all this time. A chance to strike at them for once. A chance at revenge!”

  Dr.Nightborn looked appalled. “I never joined your crew for revenge, William,” she said. “And this Patriarch weapon will only cause more misery and death. You must stop this.”

  Her plea hung in the brittle air. Clinker and Birdy looked at each other doubtfully. But Kite knew Shelvocke had no intention of changing his mind.

  Silently the Captain turned away from Dr.Nightborn. He turned instead to Fleer. “Lieutenant, escort Dr.Nightborn back to the Infirmary and make sure she stays there,” he said. “If I wish for her services in future, I will call for them.”

  There was no hesitation. No show of conflict. Fleer simply flicked a salute and said, “Yes, Captain.”

  Dr.Nightborn wasn't done. “You don't have to listen to him, Fleer,” she said. “You know this is wrong. You know what the Genetrix said. We agreed. This is not what the Vox Memoria wanted. You must see that?”

  Fleer straightened at the mention of her given name. “That's Lieutenant Fleer,” she said and gestured to the hatch. “After you, Doctor.”

  Dr.Nightborn looked stung, but only for a moment. She straightened her back and swiftly left the Nav Deck with Fleer marching behind her.

  Shelvocke turned to the Chief. “As I recall I gave you an order, Mr.Clinker.”

  Kite knew that was a challenge.

  Clinker frowned a lot. Then, puffing out his chest and uttering a reluctant huff he stepped up. “Aye, Capt'n,” he grumbled and grabbed Kite's arm with an iron hand. “Sorry about this, lad. Orders is orders.”
r />   All the while Ember floated above, bemused and detached, like a visiting deity indulging the spectacle of human conflicts. “Where are you going, Kite Nayward?” she said, as Clinker marched him from the Nav Deck.

  51

  Fleer's Tale

  Dr.Nightborn's medicine had long-since worn off and a deep dull ache had settled into Kite's bones. Long-forgotten injuries ached and burned. His temples throbbed. All that ignored pain had finally caught up with him, leaving him exhausted and weak.

  Shelvocke was taking no chances. Kite'd been trussed up like a murderer waiting for the gallows. Leather straps squeezed his wrists and ankles to the metal chair. A gag bit at the corners of his dry mouth. He could barely breathe, let alone talk. After all Shelvocke didn't want to risk him conspiring with anyone. Especially Ember.

  But Ember hadn't appeared.

  Kite’s cabin had become a despairing metal box. Just like the old bothy in Dusthaven that haunted his memories. When did the Phosphene become too small for him? More than anything he longed to escape; to return to the sky. Fleer had been right about that. Out there you were free from the weight of the world. But all of that didn't matter now. Something told Kite he'd never get to fly a stormwing again. Not if Shelvocke had anything to do with it...

  By the shifting shadows Kite knew the Captain had chosen a chaotic path south. Dropping altitude then ascending once again, heading east then west, but always returning to the fury of the Thundergrounds. There'd been alerts and false alarms. Even the distant threat of fulgurtine engines, but so far the Phosphene had evaded the Cloudguard.

  A sharp knock at the door alerted his guard.

  “About bloody time too,” Drumlin growled. The dour-faced Weatheren dragged the chair to one side and unlocked the door. “Elevensies are supposed to be at eleven you - oh, Lieutenant Fleer.”

  Kite glanced up. Fleer entered the cabin, weakly saluting the Sergeant. She was dressed ready for flying, her goggles pushed up uncovering the L-shaped scar beneath her fringe that Kite had given her.