The Immortal Storm (Sky Chaser Book 1)

by Wilkes, S. D.

  “Go and get your tea, Sergeant,” she said. “I'll watch the prisoner.”

  Drumlin glanced at Kite, reluctant to hand over the key. Maybe the Weatheren instinctively believed leaving two Askians alone was never a good idea.

  Fleer pushed out her hand. “That's an order, Sergeant.”

  “Yes, sir,” Drumlin replied, with about as much sincerity as he could muster and handed over the key.

  Kite watched Fleer while she carefully locked the door. He tried to detect her mood but it proved impossible. Maybe she'd come to gloat. Or maybe she had something more vengeful in mind.

  Fleer sat in Drumlin's chair, content at first just to sit and stare at her gloves. A minute or so passed then she lifted her chin and looked at him.

  “I know mother told you what happened to me, Nayward,” she said. “But she didn't tell you everything.”

  Something about her tone set Kite instantly on edge.

  “Not long after Cold Bastion the Watchers found the Captain near the Lethe,” Fleer said. “He'd come alone. He gave himself up, saying he was the one who saved the girl and that he wanted to talk to us. No-one believed him of-course. They thought he was a Weatheren spy, send to find the High Hollows. The Watchers took him prisoner. Mother wanted the Vox Memoria to show mercy. They debated on it for days. All that time no-one asked me how I felt.”

  Fleer slipped the hunting knife from her belt and turned the blade in her hand. Kite watched it, growing more uneasy with each passing second.

  “You see, I couldn't remember who'd saved me in Cold Bastion,” Fleer continued. “Back then the Captain was just some Weatheren. He could've been anyone. Mother said he'd had shown me mercy. But I didn't want anyone's mercy. I wanted revenge. And here was this Weatheren, claiming to be an ally. Ally! As far as I was concerned he was guilty as the Cloudtrooper who'd killed my father. So I made up my mind - I'd kill him myself. They'd taken my dad, only right I took one of them. Eye for an eye. You've never killed anyone have you, Nayward?”

  Kite’s pulse thumped violently in his throat. He slowly shook his head.

  “No, I didn’t think so. The first time's always the hardest. I'd already decided how I'd do it,” Fleer said, scraping a gloved finger across her throat. “Just like a wolf cub. But the Watchers had already interrogated him. Helka had beaten him good. The Captain had accepted his fate by then. He seemed almost relieved when I put the knife to his neck.”

  Fleer paused. Rain tapped at the porthole window. Grey shadows wriggled down her face. Or maybe they were tears, Kite couldn't tell in the dimly lit cabin.

  “I wanted him to beg for his life. I wanted to see a Weatheren begging for mercy from an Askian. But he didn't beg. He said killing him wouldn't avenge our dead. It wouldn't change the fact that the Askians hide in the ice fearing the sound of thundermoth engines. And the more I listened to him, the more I realised he was right. The only way to avenge them, he said, was to cut destroy the Foundation itself. That was when he made his promise - if I spared his life he would find a way to destroy them. And he promised me I'd be the one to do it. He promised me I’d have my revenge.”

  Kite waited and listened.

  “So I took the knife and I cut the Captain's ropes. I took him to the bothy, left him there. He told me he would come for me once he had a ship and a crew. All I had to do was wait.” Fleer went on. “The Watchers were mad, they wanted me punished but grandmother stopped them. Saying that my compassion was honourable. Helka's never forgiven me for it. Mother said I was brave, but I just felt hollow inside. I wanted to kill him. Maybe if I had we wouldn't be in this mess.”

  Then Fleer leaned forward, staring at Kite so intently he almost looked away.

  “You know what happened next, Nayward?” she said. “The Cloudguard captured him in the Wildemark. The Traitor of Cold Bastion they'd started calling him. Somehow they he suspected he'd been talking to the Askians. So they took him and they tortured him. The Corrector, she was one of them. That's what they do their own. They wanted the location of the High Hollows. They wanted us. But no matter what they did, no matter how much they hurt him, the Captain wouldn't talk. He was too strong for them. He kept his word, Nayward. The Corrector's thought he'd been cursed by Askian witches. That's what they think the Vox Memoria are. Witches.”

  Slowly, Kite began to realise why Fleer was telling him all this. She was trying to make him understand something that had always puzzled him. The reason for her loyalty to Shelvocke.

  Fleer continued. “When the Correctors couldn’t break the Captain they decided to torture his wife instead. He'd been trying to keep her safe, keep her hidden. But she was a famous lady and they found her easy enough. They figured he'd tell them everything then, knowing his wife's life depended on it.”

  Kite recalled the photograph of the pretty Weatheren woman he'd seen in Shelvocke's cabin.

  “Only little Evelyn was fragile as a flower,” Fleer said. “She didn't last very long under the Corrector’s knives.”

  Dr.Nightborn had been right. Anger and vengeance had consumed Shelvocke. Those were dark motives, ones Kite understood well enough. He also knew acting on them never led to anything good. As he'd discovered to his cost. But why was Fleer was telling him this now of all times?

  Fleer straightened her back with the soft crackle of leather. “Mother wants justice,” she said. “But there's no justice with the Foundation, Nayward. You've seen what they did to us in Skyzarke. Look at what happened to Welkin. They won't be happy until we're all ghosts. The Captain's right - the doll's our best chance. We've got to strike. We'll never get a chance like this again. He's got a plan. It'll work. I'll make it work.”

  Kite’s skin tightened with an unnatural chill. He was afraid now. Afraid of that Shelvocke had convinced Fleer that the time for her revenge had finally come.

  A fist double-thumped on the door startled him.

  Fleer slowly got up, wiping at the corners of her eyes. She didn't look at him again but she said, almost in a whisper, “good-bye, Nayward,” and went to unlock the door to Drumlin.

  Kite knew Fleer wasn’t coming back. Somehow he had to try and stop her. But trussed up like this he was helpless. So he began rocking back and forth, until the chair began to tilt. With an awkward lunge he managed one mad hop before the chair toppled and slammed him onto the cold tiles.

  Drumlin stamped over. “I told you last time don’t try anything like that again,” he said, manhandling him upright and showing his scuffed knuckles. “Sit there and shut up.”

  Kite seethed, staring at the open door, but it was hopeless - Fleer was already gone.

  52

  One More Promise

  Time ticked by slowly in the cabin. An hour became two. Then three. Lightning lashed the outer hull, chasing shadows into the corners of the cabin. At one point Kite thought he heard the whirl of an engine between crashes of thunder. A stormwing? The Windspear? Perhaps he'd imagined it. He couldn't be certain of anything anymore.

  His wired mind rattled with the things Fleer had told him. Jumbled up theories and fears, a swirling mess that refused to settle. One thing, however, was clear to him. Fleer Nightborn had committed herself fully to Shelvocke's mad plan.

  Another knock at the door. Drumlin unlocked it and smacked his lips.

  “About time, Birdy,” he said, taking a tray of tea things.

  Birdy leaned in. Kite hadn’t realised how much he’d missed Birdy’s mischievous grin.

  “Best place for that one if you ask me, Sarge,” Birdy said, giving Kite a secretive wink. “Nayward's been nothing but bad luck since he came on board.”

  Of-course Drumlin missed it. He was too busy giving Kite his own evil look to notice. “Aye, Welkin'll still be alive for a start,” Drumlin said.

  Kite looked away, pretending to ignore them both. What was Birdy was up to?

  Soon the door had been locked again and Drumlin resumed his post, tucking into his ration pack biscuits. He dunked a trio in his mug of tea and slurped t
hem down luxuriously. Then Drumlin began to squint and frown. He dropped the mug.

  “You…you treacherous little bastard,” Drumlin growled, struggling to his feet.

  Kite wondered what had turned the man so hostile. Uncertain he watched Drumlin stagger wildly for the door, fumbling for the key on his belt. He dropped it. Blinking into the distance Drumlin swayed back and forth. Then his legs gave way under him and crumpled into a heap, his fat backside stuck in the air. Soon he was snoring.

  Now alone Kite wondered what was going to happen next. Luckily he didn't have to wait long to find out.

  A key clattered home clumsily. The door clicked open and jammed against Drumlin's bulk. With a mighty heave Birdy squeezed in, tonguing with concentration. He nudged Drumlin with his boot to make double sure he wouldn't be troubling them then he undid Kite's straps.

  “What's going on?” Kite whispered, once Birdy had removed the gag.

  “Top secret mission, no time,” said Birdy, ushering him to the door. “Hurry, they're waiting.”

  Kite nodded to Drumlin who was still out cold on the tiles, merrily blowing bubbles. “What about him?”

  “Doctor said he’ll have the squits for a few days but he’ll be fine,” Birdy said, slipping into the corridor. “This way, hurry.”

  Kite limped after him on legs full of nails, grimacing with each painful step. He had no idea where Birdy was leading him. Along a companionway and into a dimly-lit corridor of hissing pipes and burping valves. Up into parts of the fulgurtine he'd never seen or even heard of before. On the way Birdy brought him up to speed.

  “Shelvocke's paranoid, doesn't trust any of us now,” Birdy explained in a hushed voice. “He's locked down the Hangar Deck. Clinker reckons he's gone mad. We'd better go this way. Up here. Come on.”

  The hammer blows of the Phosphene's Engine Room shuddered the gantry Kite's under his boots. That put him aft of the structure, somewhere up near the Main Deck. Surely Birdy wasn't taking him up top. Not in this storm.

  Soon they came to a lantern-lit service way. A cold narrow tunnel with a tight wheel-locked hatch at the end and fat ducts lining its walls.

  Birdy stepped in. “Doc?” he called.

  Dr.Nightborn emerged from her hiding place behind the ducts. She was wrapped in her Hiemal furs and seemed on edge.

  “Thank you Joseph,” Dr.Nightborn said, laying a hand on Birdy's shoulder. “I will never doubt you again.”

  Birdy scuffed his boots. “Ah, it was nothing,” he said.

  Kite could see Dr.Nightborn was deeply troubled. “Fleer's gone hasn't she?” he asked her.

  Dr.Nightborn hugged her arms. “I'll never forgive William for this,” she said, shaking her head. “He sent her on her own. She's taken that thing with her. Ray saw it.”

  Everything Fleer told him made sense now. Ember must have given Shelvocke the location of the Cloud Room. Kite couldn't help but feel a little betrayed.

  Birdy raised a hand. “Someone’s coming,” he hissed.

  Heavy boots slapped down the corridor. Kite dashed in front of Dr.Nightborn, ready to defend her. But it wasn't one of Shelvocke’s men but a red-faced, sweat pimpled Clinker. He leaned against the wall, puffing for air, a big canvas bundle slung over one shoulder.

  “You know technically this is called mutiny,” the Chief said and set the canvas down with a resounding clang. “How do, lad?”

  “Brought me a gift?” Kite said, nodding.

  Clinker grinned and his copper wire mutton chops bristled. He unwrapped the bundle revealing Welkin's repaired stormwing and a jumble of hastily-packed equipment. Kite's heart jumped just seeing the airmachine again.

  “I've given the 'wing a wee bit of an overhaul,” Clinker said with a hint of pride. “There's four corpusants in there now. Booster's got some extra kick so go easy on it. You're going to need it out there.”

  Dr.Nightborn placed her hands on his shoulders. “Kite, I know this will be dangerous for you,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. “And I am being so very selfish.”

  “I'll find her, I promise,” Kite said, hoping he sounded positive but he couldn't disguise the uncertainty in his voice. “Try not to worry all right?”

  Without warning Dr.Nightborn pulled him close. “That is what mothers do I’m afraid,” she whispered, holding him tightly.

  For a few precious seconds Kite was warm and unafraid. No evil in the world could ever hurt him again. He imagined his own mother's arms must've felt something like this.

  “Best get you kitted out, lad,” Clinker said.

  The Chief quickly got to work, buckling the harness over Kite’s patchcoat and then fitting the precious rebreather unit to the belt.

  “When the gauge gets here,” Clinker said and tapped the red line on a pressure gauge, “no higher. No ifs and buts, any higher and your blood’ll boil. Got that?”

  “Roger that, Chief,” Kite said.

  “Here's some water and some jellyroot,” said Clinker, packing Kite's belt pouches. “Take plenty of both. They'll keep you from going all dizzy up there.”

  “Thanks, Chief,” Kite said. “Which way was Fleer headed?”

  “South-east,” Clinker said and shrugged. “That's all I know, lad.”

  With that Clinker ushered to the hatch where Birdy clipped one end of a shortened safety-line to the stormwing's railing and the other to Kite's belt.

  “We're still on the edge of the Thundergrounds,” Birdy said, tugging on the safety-line. “It’ll be a rough take off. Try not to fall right? Long way down. Arghhh - squish!”

  Kite gave him a look. That was hardly helping his nerves.

  “Ah, you'll be all right, you're a natural,” Birdy said, without a hint of sarcasm. He gripped the hatch-wheel with both hands. “Ready then, Sky Chaser?”

  Kite didn't know about ready. This plan, if you could call this a plan, was madness. He looked back at the four of them. The importance of his mission was written on their shadow-grim faces; Clinker and Birdy, Dr.Nightborn and Shelvocke.

  Shelvocke.

  53

  Into The Storm

  Shelvocke stepped carefully from the shadows. He had a long-barrelled shockrifle aimed at them. A single mosfire round flickering inside its glass chamber. Enough of a charge to shock them all into paralysis. He looked at them in turn, lingering on Kite just long enough to make his disgust clear.

  “You have become quite the liability, Nayward,” Shelvocke said. “I am beginning to regret not leaving you to rot in Port Howling. Move away from the hatch if you please.”

  But Kite was no longer afraid of Shelvocke, only what the Weatheren might do to his friends. But not even that could force him to obey Shelvocke now. He squeezed his fists until his knuckles stung.

  “I won't,” he said.

  “Stubborn as always,” Shelvocke said. There was a pneumatic click and the shockrifle was armed.

  Clinker stepped forward, his big fists of hanging heavy as sledgehammers at his side. “You and me go back a long way, Cap'n,” he said. “But you ain't going to threaten the lad with that spark shooter of yours.”

  “You disappoint me, Mr.Clinker,” Shelvocke said. As he spoke he was watching Kite. There was loathing in his eyes. “I expected more loyalty from you of all people.”

  “This ain't about loyalty,” Clinker said. “That thing nearly sank us all. Who knows what it might do out there. It ain't right, Cap'n.”

  “It's a little late to be developing a conscience don't you think?” Shelvocke said, giving Clinker a withering look. “The Murkers are at war with the Foundation, unless you had forgotten.”

  “I used to think that too, Captain,” said Clinker, sighing heavily. “But now I'm beginning to realise this is your war. Not ours.”

  Kite spotted Birdy's fingers tightening on the rust-flecked hatch-wheel. The lad gave him a darting glance. Kite quickly read his intention - be ready.

  But Shelvocke had seen them. “I wouldn't' recommend you try anything, Mr.Birdy,” he sa
id. “Stand away from the hatch, both of you. Count this as your final warning.”

  Slowly, Dr.Nightborn walked forward. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Clinker, halving Kite's view of Shelvocke's shadow-hard face.

  “Where have you sent my daughter?” Dr.Nightborn demanded.

  Shelvocke watched her cautiously. “I haven't sent her anywhere, Doctor,” he said. “Please stand aside and -”

  “Don't you dare lie to me!”

  Dr.Nightborn didn't shout but somehow her voice swelled to fill the narrow metal tunnel. Shelvocke gave her an uncertain look.

  “Fleer undertook the mission of her own free will,” he replied, but it sounded more like a feeble excuse rather than an explanation. Even if it was true.

  Dr.Nightborn took a dangerous step closer to the shockrifle. “And that is enough to satisfy your conscience?” she said.

  The shockrifle began to rattle in Shelvocke's hands, beads of sweat sparkled on his knotted brow. “Clearly, you do not know your own daughter, Doctor,” he said.

  “I know my daughter well enough,” Dr.Nightborn said, without a flicker of fear. “I know her heart full of sadness and anger. Though I have tried it is a sickness I cannot heal. Do you remember what you told me when I came aboard? You said you could help me save Fleer from herself. And I believed you. I trusted you. But all you have done, all this time, is exploit her.”

  The shockrifle was now aimed at Dr.Nightborn’s heart. Yet somehow Kite wasn't afraid for Dr.Nightborn’s safety. He knew she'd be safe.

  Shelvocke's finger twitched on the firing lever. They were staring at each other, the Captain and his Doctor. But only one of them had any real power.

  “You are a coward, William Shelvocke,” Dr.Nightborn said and she struck him across the cheek, sending him flailing pathetically against the bulkhead. The shockrifle flipped from his hands and clattered to the deck.

  “Now Birdy!” Clinker bellowed.