Applying his weight to the pedals Kite dived low over the containers, turning a few heads down in the gaps. He circled over Ruster's Roost, spying the Highwrecker in her berth and the Tom Skulls flapping from Dusthaven's ugly bow. Not so long ago that flag filled him with dread. Now, it was just a detail.
“Sky Chaser, this is Phosphene, over,” Clinker's voice crackled over the headphones.
Kite pitched into a dive. The dune-tops and wrecks hulks blurred beneath his wings. He made for the Bone Roads, spinning sand swirls in his wake. On the track he spied a sandboat, sail swollen by the westerly winds. Maybe it was his own, taken up by some unfortunate soul whose fate was still bound to the tides of the Thirsty Sea. Kite would never know.
“Sky Chaser, this is Phosphene, respond, over.”
Only when Kite had put enough distance between the stormwing and Dusthaven to count did he dig up enough courage to reply.
“Sky Chaser here, go ahead Chief, over.”
“Where the hell have you got to, lad?” came Clinker's tetchy response. “You should have been back an hour ago!”
“Has the Captain made up her mind?” Kite said, dodging the question.
“Aye, Doctor…ahem…Captain Nightborn says we're heading north,” said Clinker.
North. Kite knew Dr.Nightborn hadn't made her decision lightly. News of Fairweather's destruction would have reached the High Hollows by now. Tales of the thousands of Weatheren souls who’d died that day, thanks to the Murkers and the one called Sky Chaser. Burned in fire, drowned in the storm. Just thinking of it set off the churning guilt in Kite’s belly.
“What's your ETA, over?” Clinker asked him.
Kite took a deep breath. “I'm not coming with you, Chief,” he said.
A long crackling pause.
“Damn it, lad,” Clinker said.
“Sorry, Chief, I should have told you. I owed you that,” he replied.
Clinker sighed heavily. “You sure about this?”
“I am.”
“Well, the Phosphene won't be the same without you,” Clinker replied. “You've got plenty of friends waiting here, remember that, over.”
“I know,” Kite said.
Ahead lay the bluff of Gullspit; a parched tongue lapping at the Thirsty Sea. He was making good time. With any luck he'd reach the old bothy at Broken Beach before dark.
“Chief,” Kite said. “Would you do something for me?”
“Anything, lad.”
“Thank Birdy for me,” he said. “And tell the Doc...Captain Nightborn that I'll try not to get myself killed.”
That same stab of guilt and longing returned then. The one he'd been fending off all morning.
“And, tell Fleer I'm...I'm sorry.”
Clinker coughed over the radio. “Ah, I probably should've mentioned this earlier but...”
Over the wind Kite heard another engine. Bright and fierce, accelerating after him.
“...I finished rebuilding the stormwing,” Clinker said, somewhat guiltily. “And you know how Valkyrie's been itching to give it a test run, after being cooped up in the Infirmary all this time.”
Kite glanced over his shoulder. His pursuer was gaining on him, black wings tearing up the dust along the cliff tops. He swore softly behind his scarf.
“Well, good luck, Sky Chaser,” Clinker said, chuckling. “Think you'll need it. Out.”
Fleer's new stormwing screamed passed by, blasting angry vapours across his path. Releasing the pressure on the pedals Kite airbraked, letting his own stormwing drift a little.
Seeing her airborne after so long in the Infirmary was worth more than any treasure in the Thirsty Sea. Maybe he was a fool for wanting to leave her. But Kite knew, if he didn't go now, he would never find the courage to make this journey again.
Fleer circled him unforgivingly. A predator waiting to strike. “I told you once, if you ever stole a stormwing I'd come after you,” she said. “Remember that, Sky Chaser?”
“I have to find them, Fleer,” Kite replied, his word sounding like a hollow excuse. “If what the Genetrix said is true then there's a chance they're still alive.”
Banking sharply Fleer's stormwing whipped by, the turbulence rocking the deck under his boots. “So you were just going to run away?” she said. “Without saying a word?”
“No, I…” Kite began, but he realised that maybe Fleer knew him better than he knew himself. Maybe he was running away. “I wanted to tell you...”
“So, say it now.”
Fleer was tormenting him. She was good at that. If this wasn't hard enough for him already. But then he'd never been good with words. He was always ended up saying the wrong thing.
“Say it, Sky Chaser!”
“Fine,” he said stiffly. “Fleer, I have to leave. I don't know for how long but I'll come back to the Phosphene, I promise.”
Fleer glided by, staring at him from behind those goggles. Then her stormwing twisted in the air and she swooped low and she reached out, her fingertips stretching for his but never quite touching.
“You'd better keep your promise,” Fleer whispered. “If you don't I will find you. Wherever you are, whatever lies in my way. I will find you. That's my promise. Let it be remembered, Sky Chaser.”
Kite secretly smiled. “Roger that, Valkyrie,” he said.
Then Kite was flying away from her, leaving the stormwing's trail expanding over the dust and the wrecks of the Thirsty Sea. Times like this Kite wished he could snatch a glimpse of the future. The choices he'd made, the promises he'd been compelled to keep. All of them had set him on an uncertain path and where it would all lead he had no way of knowing. He was certain of one thing though - these skies were destined to become more deadly than ever.
The End.
With thanks…
…to Gavin Hilzbrich, Suzanne Riley and Matilda Johnson for being brave early readers. To David Fickling for his inspirational advice and encouragement. To Dad, Andy, Tina and Paula; the true believers. And finally to Naomi, without whose unwavering belief, humour and love I would be lost in the storm.
S.D. Wilkes
The Immortal Storm (Sky Chaser Book 1) Page 28