Rebel Skyforce (Mad Tinker Chronicles)

by J. S. Morin

  Kezudkan put the tip of his cane to the barrister’s gut and set him back down in his seat, driving the wind from the man at the same time.

  “You may wish to heed your counsel’s advice,” Chief Councilor Korsger said. “In light of these facts, we may have to adjourn and reconvene at a criminal hearing.”

  Kezudkan waggled a finger in the air. “Article IV, section 8a, I believe exempts me from liability for the actions of a runaway slave.”

  “He was in your workshop, by your own admission,” Chief Councilor Korsger replied.

  “He was a runaway the moment he used my machine for his own purposes,” Kezudkan countered. He spared a glance over his shoulder and tapped at the floor with his cane.

  “Mr. Graniteson,” Chief Councilor Korsger said, “I’m afraid we cannot accept your—frankly dubious—claims without proof. I am afraid we are going to have to adjourn this hearing until such time as we can arrange a criminal inquiry into the events that took place within the Graniteson Estate on the night of the revolt.”

  A side door to the auditorium opened, and two bailiffs entered, pulling a steel cage on wheels. “Oh, so this is the part where you declare me to be a risk of flight, and cage me until your inquiry? No, no I think I’d rather prove you right than win the moral victory.” He shook his cane at the chief councilor.

  On cue, a crackling spark leapt from the nothingness a pace away from Kezudkan. It hung in the air, writhing and twisting as it grew to outline the edges of a circular opening in space. Through the hole was a scene of metalworks and spark. Humming dynamos crackled in rows, pumping spark into a sea serpent of copper wires, its tentacles spread across the floor. A cloaked and hooded figure sat at a formidable looking set of dials and switches.

  “My proof,” Kezudkan declared to a stunned audience, then stepped through the hole. It closed behind him.

  “You’re quite a showman, Kezudkan,” Draksgollow said, pulling back the hood of his cloak with his mechanical hand. “Wish I could have heard the speech.”

  “A man can’t just disappear when an inquiry is ongoing. He’s got to disappear so that folk don’t want to find him,” Kezudkan replied. “I think they’ll be happy to just have my creditors write off my debts as a loss and stop trying to find me.”

  “Bit of an optimist, aren’t you?”

  Kezudkan put a hand on the controls of the wondrous machine. “I don’t think anyone’s going to be finding us.”

  “Plenty of people know I’m here,” Draksgollow said. “It’s a business interest of mine.”

  “Ahh, but machine three we will move to a secure location: somewhere remote, somewhere comfortable. I suggest you move your office there, and anything utterly essential. We can keep this facility running for as long as it remains undiscovered.”

  “I take it back, you’re paranoid,” Draksgollow said.

  “Not paranoid, prepared. I won’t forgive Erefan for what he tried to do to my sister. So long as that man still walks one world or another, I won’t allow my guard down.”

  Chapter 10

  “I won’t get on a wooden boat ever again. Our steam ships have double hulls and sealing hatches and compartments. I refuse to trust my life to glorified bucket and the whim of the winds.” -Cadmus Errol

  The Katamic Sea fought the passage of the Darksmith with the weary sense of duty of a swordmaster sparring with a recruit. There was no question the sea could win the match any time it liked, but it badgered and tested the Darksmith, poking and prodding to see if the captain knew his lessons. When a trail of pink sky appeared over the port railing, the crew knew that the Katamic had played out its wrath. The storm clouds limped away to the east, their rains exhausted, leaving heaving swells in their wake.

  Tanner had little love for ships, despite owning one of his own—off somewhere shipping who knew what for a pittance of honest coin on the side. He had developed a grudging respect for the service they provided, getting him off one forsaken continent and depositing him on one where he hadn’t worn through his welcome. Khesh was a large enough landmass that it took a long time to use up, but he wasn’t sad to be rid of it.

  “Some storm, huh?” Dan said from behind him. Tanner could hear the idiot grin in his voice. Tanner attributed the boy’s lack of fear to the venom that ran in his veins.

  “Yeah,” Tanner agreed. He watched the sun slowly edging over the horizon. Somewhere he had heard that red-tinged skies were a favorable sign—probably from someone who had never seen a city burn. “We’re lucky this iron beastie doesn’t go in for sails, or we’d be half a day waitin’ for repairs to the rigging.”

  “What do you say I carve a few runes on her and we—”

  “And we lose ten percent of a gold mine for robbing the Mad Tinker?” Tanner asked.

  “Eat a blade, old man. You know I was just joking,” Dan said.

  Wish I was sure, kid. Tanner sized Dan up as an opponent, something he did by reflex to most men he met, and was doing with Dan more often by the day. The boy was within his sword reach, a bit too close, in fact. He’d have to take a step back as he drew to have room to thrust. He could have Dan spitted on the end of his runed sword in two blinks—which was probably one blink longer than he would have.

  “Just watch who you’re sayin’ stuff like that around. The bossy one’s got a short temper and a quick trigger finger.”

  “Yeah, and none of them speak Kadrin,” Dan pointed out. “Besides, I’m not afraid of her.”

  “And there goes our ten percent, again.”

  Dan let out a theatrical sigh. “What am I supposed to do for fun around here? You’re glooming off out to sea, the captain and crew seem to think I’m a mythological creature, and the two girls are dense as lead.”

  “So, you tried after all, huh?” Tanner asked. He turned and rested his elbows on the ship’s railing. “I was wondering if you’d noticed them.”

  “Well, Madlin a bit. It seemed like you were interested in Jamile, so I left her for you, seeing as you never get the skirt of a woman outside a whorehouse. Seemed sporting to let you have a go first.”

  “Yeah, you little jackal? I don’t see Madlin stumbling around all doe-eyed and swooning over you. What happened, your voice break in front of her and remind her you’re too young for shaving?”

  “Nah, it’s like a dog humping a chair leg. That girl’s got no interest in men, if you ask me.”

  Tanner chuckled. “Maybe she’s just got no interest in boys. You think of that?”

  “Nah, if she wants a man, she’ll build one out of springs and pipes. Then she’ll probably come begging after me to teach her magic to make it real.”

  “Why don’t you just show her a little something simple? She’ll be months trying to get it right.”

  “Yeah, and maybe I can give her just one utoru berry, too,” Dan said. “She’ll be after me the next day, looking for more, and then more. I don’t need an apprentice.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to try your luck with Jamile. Ain’t nothin’ between us. Funny how old a young girl can make you feel sometimes. Feel like one of them crusty old bastards who hangs out in taverns grabbin’ the serving girls’ rumps and droppin’ tips on the floor.”

  “I won’t be old like you for fifty years,” Dan said with a grin.

  “You can take your life extension and cram it up your arse, you sorcerous little turd,” Tanner said with a dark look.

  “Bit of a recursive metaphor, don’t you think?” Dan asked. “I mean—wait, what’s that?”

  “What’s what?”

  “Can’t you feel it?” Dan asked. He shook his head. “No, of course you wouldn’t. Something out there is drawing aether. A real draw too, not the piddling summer breeze you’ve got, but a storm in the aether.” Dan’s eyes took on an ominous gleam. Back in Veydrus, he had never known Rashan Solaran well, but those who did had told stories of the look in his eye when the prospect of battle arose, straddling the line between madness and a child getting his age-day presents.
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br />   Tanner pushed away from the railing. “We’ve gotta tell the captain—”

  Dan caught him by the arm. “And tell him what? That the witch-boy’s seeing things and he better get ready for numpshins and gollywocks that are coming to get us?” Tanner stopped pulling and Dan let him go. “I’ll handle it when it gets here, whatever it is.”

  “We should at least let the girls know,” Tanner said. “We can’t just keep it to ourselves.”

  Dan waved a dismissive hand. “Do whatever you want.” He headed for the bow, sauntering as best he could with the shifting deck beneath his feet. “I just made it up. There’s nothing coming. Go have a game of Crackle and drink yourself stupid for all I care.”

  Kthooom.

  The sound thudded through the walls and floor of the darkened cabin. From across the room, Jamile whispered, “What was that?”

  “PIRATES!” the shout from out on deck removed all doubt.

  Madlin threw back the sheets and fumbled for her clothes as she wriggled out of her nightshirt. When the two activities got in the way of one another, she gave up removing her nightwear.

  “What are you doing? Madlin, you can’t go out there!”

  “You stay put,” Madlin ordered. “I’m going out to find out why Toller is chasing pirates again, despite my orders.” She hopped into a pair of trousers and pulled a jacket on over her nightshirt. On her way out the door barefoot, she snatched up her gun belt, buckling it on as she searched the deck for the captain.

  “Turn us to starboard, heading oh, five, five!” Captain Toller’s voice carried over the sounds of the crew taking battle stations. He was dressed much like Madlin, with his captain’s jacket over bed-trousers and a bare chest. Toller had taken the time for boots, however.

  “What’s going on?” Madlin demanded. “I thought we’ve been over this? No pirate-hunting.”

  “It’s not us,” Toller insisted. “They were firing on us before we even caught sight of them. First ranging shot was well short.”

  “Well, turn us about and evade them.”

  “Not that simple,” Toller replied. He marched over to the ship’s guns with Madlin in his wake. “Momentum is against us. We’re being carried right toward them. If we turn and run, we’ll give them a chance to fire on us with no danger to themselves.”

  “I thought this ship could bounce cannonballs off its hull like they were peas.”

  “Your father’s claim, not mine. Plus it doesn’t do us any good out on deck if one comes in high.”

  Kthooom.

  “Shit!” Madlin swore, ducking her head. The splash came on the far side of the ship. Whoever was out there in the darkness had the Darksmith inside their range.

  “Where’s Dan?” she asked suddenly. “Maybe he can do something to—”

  “Fine,” Toller snapped. “Just get out of the way.”

  Madlin wove her way around the flurry of activity from the crew, cursing herself for leaving her feet bare as the deck plates sucked the heat from her skin. She spotted Dan at the bow of the ship, a pace away from the ship’s telescope, watching the water by starlight. He was lounging against the forward railing, propped up on an elbow with his ankles crossed. Madlin broke into a run.

  “Dan!” she shouted. He didn’t turn, but she caught a flinch of his head that told Madlin that he’d heard her. “Dan, do something.”

  She came up beside him, huffing for breath. He turned with the languor of a waiting lover and graced her with an easy smile.

  “Not yet. Let your friends play with their tinker toys a while longer. Once we get close enough, I’ll handle things.”

  “What about a fog?” Madlin asked. She pointed out to the suspicious bank of fog on the water where the cannon fire originated. “Hide us like they’re doing?”

  “Oh, they’re not hiding. Not from me at least.”

  “Dan!” Madlin grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him to face her. In the starlight he looked so young, his beardless face smooth and shining. “This isn’t a game. If you can help us, then do something.”

  “So you’re looking for my magic to solve all your problems again? I remember that not working out so well for you last time.”

  “This isn’t the same at all. This is you using your magic, not me trying to follow your instructions from another world.”

  A gleam of mischief crept into Dan’s eye. He gave a quick glance down and back up, taking in all of Madlin in a blink’s time. “What’s it worth to you?”

  Madlin’s face flushed and twisted into a scowl. “How dare you!” Dan was tall and willowy, with a lot of filling out to do in both limb and torso before he’d have a manly frame. He was also still leaning on the railing. Madlin put both hands to his chest and shoved.

  Dan let out a startled yelp as he pitched over the bow of the ship.

  Madlin let out a gasp of her own, only slightly less surprised by her action than Dan had been. She bent over the railing and saw a flash of spark where Dan bounced off the hull before splashing into the water.

  Kthooom.

  Kthooom.

  The first shot hit the water not far from where Dan had gone in, sending up a spray that soaked Madlin’s hair and trousers, though her jacket at least proved resistant to water. The second hit with a great crash and a clatter of protesting metal. It sounded nothing like she would imagine if the shot had ricocheted off the steel hull.

  “Hit on the starboard, above the waterline,” one of the crewmen shouted. There were unintelligible shouts from below decks that hinted at injuries or repair efforts, possibly both.

  Madlin felt her breath quickening. She leaned out over the forward rail again and looked for any sign of Dan. She didn’t know why she should expect him to still be there when the Darksmith had continued on course after he fell. Still, Madlin watched the choppy froth at the bow and waited for evidence that he might have clung on or used his magic to bob to the surface. There was nothing.

  The Darksmith’s guns opened fire, targeting the unnatural fog that clung to the Katamic like a burr, blotting the reflected starlight from the water’s surface. The return fire drowned out any hints of whether their shots had been effective.

  Kthooom. Kthooom.

  Kthooom. Kthooom.

  The hidden ship opened up with their full broadside. Madlin felt the Darksmith shudder with multiple impacts, but she couldn’t get a count. She clung to the forward railing to avoid getting pitched headlong into the Katamic after Dan.

  When the initial jolt passed, Madlin leaned over the rail again. “Dan!” she screamed. “Dan, please! Get up here and do something!” There was no answer, no response from the Katamic that indicated a boy was listening from down below the surface.

  “Hit below the water line,” a crewman shouted. “Man the pumps!”

  The Darksmith’s deck guns fired, cracking the air, but providing no sound of a hit within the fog. That fog was growing closer, or the bank was growing, it was difficult for Madlin to tell which.

  “Get us out of here!” Madlin shouted in the direction she had last seen Captain Toller. “Full about, bring the engines to full!”

  “You don’t command here, Miss Errol,” Toller shouted back. “Get below and see to those pumps, tinker.”

  Kthooom. Kthooom.

  Kthooom. Kthooom.

  The Darksmith shook. The deck was blasted with metal fragments as one of their own deck guns was hit, sending shrapnel among the crew. The screams of the wounded and shouts for help joined the chorus of orders and the occasional prayer.

  Madlin dashed across the deck, her bare feet sliding and skidding on the cold, wet steel. She caught herself against the mount for the bait sail, then hooked her arm around the magazine holding shells for the starboard deck gun. At the far end of the ship, she caught hold of the door handle leading below as the Darksmith shook under the force of her own guns.

  There were handrails to both sides of the stairwell that lead down into the hold. Madlin clutched both of them as another pair of
strikes had the Darksmith convulsing in what she hoped were not its death throes. The emergency magnesium lights threw the corridors into a surreal chaos of brilliant white and harsh shadow. Crewman jostled past each other, some carrying tools, others looking to get out of the way or escape onto the deck. Madlin pushed past them and found herself ankle-deep in seawater. It was an ominous sign, with another deck below and a smaller cargo hold below that one, that water was already flooding the corridor.

  “Status?” Madlin shouted. “How bad is the damage?” Everyone else was shouting too. She could only hope that someone recognized her voice and realized that she was better qualified than the ship’s mechanic.

  “Three hits below level,” a voice shouted over the din. “Engine’s out.” Madlin tried to pinpoint the speaker, but elbows and shoulders knocked her around like a billiard ball as she wove through; it was hard enough keeping her bearings. Someone stepped on her foot, and she cursed in Korrish and shoved a deckhand away from her.

  She ducked down a side corridor and saw a bulkhead, shut but leaking a fine spray of saltwater along the lower edge. They’d need caulking or a welder to seal it, and welding a pressurized leak was daredeath work. If it was the worst of the damage though, Madlin would have been shocked. The ship was already listing to starboard, so there had to be other compartments open to the sea. She threaded her way through the main corridor before giving up and shouting, “Clear a path!” Enough of the crewmen obeyed that she was able to squeeze through to the engine room.

  “Holy Eziel, save us,” Madlin whispered when she saw the engine. It had taken a direct hit. The engine room was taking on water through two head-sized holes in the hull, and a pair of men were manually working the bilge pump to stem the influx of Katamic ale. The engine itself was a wreck of shattered steel and cast iron, hopelessly irreparable. The scent of brine should never overpower the odors of grease and charcoal in an engine room, but the furnace was cold and soaked, the engine shredded and washed with seawater. Something incongruous caught Madlin’s eye, something no one who hadn’t taken a steam engine to pieces and reassembled it a hundred times would have noticed: a piece that didn’t belong. It was an apple-sized sphere, embedded in the side of a ruptured boiler. Madlin pulled a pocket knife from her jacket pocket and pried it loose. It was a cannonball, a perfect sphere that had been flatted on one side by its impact on the Darksmith. What stood out were the runes carved all over the iron surface.