Zoe Archer - [Ether Chronicles 03]

by Skies of Gold

  He’d prefer knowing Kali was in their cabin, resting, or even tinkering in her makeshift workshop. But he also loved sharing this with her. Having her beside him. It was possible they wouldn’t survive the coming fight. These hours together might be all they had left.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  * * *

  Fletcher had been right. The pilot house of a speeding airship wasn’t a comfortable place. It hadn’t been built with anything but utility in mind. She had nowhere to sit, and leaning provided little relief. There was always the option of sitting directly on the deck, but the floor was hard and chill and would leave her behind aching. She wore her warmest cloak and even wrapped a few spare blankets around her, yet despite this and the shelter of the pilot house, frigid air jabbed her like needles and worked its way into her bones.

  Her body was miserable, but she ignored it. What she wouldn’t, couldn’t, ignore was this time with Fletcher. If they lived through the confrontation with Mayhew, Fletcher would likely be assigned to a new ship and sent on mission. Gone for who knew how long. So she had to clutch at whatever time she could spend with him now. She wouldn’t toss these moments overboard like so much unwanted scrap.

  So she stayed upright and forced herself not to shiver as they raced over the ocean. The water passed hundreds of feet beneath them in an unrelenting iron blue sweep. From this height, the rough waves appeared tiny, tipped with white. She’d no desire to get closer to them and see just how choppy those waters really were.

  The sky fascinated her, because where the ocean seemed endless, the sky was without limit. It stretched up and up, boundless and blue. As blue, she realized, as Fletcher’s eyes.

  They passed the hours talking. More of their youth, and the years that led them to becoming their present selves. She spoke of Nagpur, and he told her of the many ports of call he’d seen—places she hadn’t given much thought to, until she saw them through his eyes. She realized that anywhere could be fascinating with the right company.

  “I’d be keen to go there with you,” she murmured, when he talked of the mountains crowded around Hong Kong Bay, the countless junks in the water, and tetrol-powered gliders that wheeled across the bay, transporting passengers and cargo from one end to the other and trailing smoke like gray banners. Britain kept a supply of airships there, too, ready to protect their acquisition and keep enemy intrusions at a distance.

  “You’d like it,” he said, his grin white in his dark beard. “The street market in Sham Shui Po—you’ve never seen clockwork devices such as these. They would make British inventors throw away their tools and become crossing sweeps. Except you,” he added. “The Chinese engineers would cry at their workbenches if they saw what you can build.”

  “I don’t want to make anyone cry.” She quirked a smile. “Maybe I can give them a small sense of inferiority. But tears—never.”

  “Crowds of inventors in Sham Shui Po. There’ll be a cloud of humility hovering over the district when you walk through. But I’ll protect you if anyone gets drunk and rowdy on their shame.”

  “I’d say that I could protect myself,” she answered, “but who’d refuse a Man O’ War for a bodyguard? Or as a lover?”

  His look grew heated. “There are hotels and pavilions along the bay. We could lie in bed and watch the lights and lanterns dance on the water, and make love while the street musicians play their erhu violins outside.”

  Her throat closed and behind her goggles, her eyes burned. It sounded wondrous. And something that would likely never happen. In wartime, a Man O’ War didn’t likely get leave long enough to take his lover on a trip to distant shores. If she and Fletcher had any time together at all, it would be in little fragments, grabbed here and there. It would be better than nothing, but far from perfect.

  Eventually, the sky darkened as night fell. A rare privilege, seeing the sun slip beyond the horizon as the ship flew through the air. But with nightfall came a brittle wave of cold.

  “You’re going below,” he commanded.

  “I’m f-fine.”

  “And your lips are blue. Go now.” He slowed the ship enough so that there was no possibility she’d be pushed overboard by the wind.

  Arguing would be hopeless, and, she had to admit, her whole body ached with cold and weariness. She’d need to be in top form—or as good a form as she could manage—when they intercepted Mayhew. Before she left the pilot house, she raised up on the tips of her toes and brushed her mouth over Fletcher’s, loving the feel of his beard against her skin and the warmth of his lips. They clung together like that, with him wrapping an arm around her waist, the other hand still on the wheel, until she shivered, and not from desire.

  He sent her away, a gentle push on her lower back to urge her on. After one final look at him over her shoulder, she took a lantern and eased down the companionway. They hadn’t turned on any of the lights topside or below decks, the better to hide their position. It felt eerie to move through the flying airship alone, but at least it was warmer. She gathered some food from the galley then took it to their quarters.

  As she ate her dinner, she studied the charts that included Greenland. But they revealed nothing except a cartographer’s skill—no prophecies of the future, only a sparsely populated coast and an interior filled with ice.

  She awoke with a start and a stiff neck, still sitting at the table. Unrelenting night filled the windows. Fletcher was still up there, guiding the Persephone. The ship’s internal audio communication devices had been damaged in the crash, and she hadn’t possessed the time to restore them before they’d left the island. She had no way of speaking with him now. All she could hope was that he felt her thoughts of him.

  Lonely and worried, she crawled into bed fully dressed, except for her boots. She kept her prosthetic leg on. If there was an emergency, it would take too long to put back on, and she needed to be ready in an instant.

  She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep. Too much weighed on her mind and heart. Yet as she lay in bed—their bed—she inhaled deeply, taking in his scent of flesh and metal. He might be several decks above her, but his presence enveloped her, and she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

  Brilliant, unsparing white light filled the cabin. Kali blinked awake. Her movements roused Four, who’d burrowed beside her for warmth. He scurried beneath the blankets as she rose and walked to the windows.

  Ice. Ice everywhere. She’d never seen such endless stretches of it. A few gray rocky peaks jutted up from the ice, but that constituted the whole of the landscape. Nothing could live down there. Nothing, it seemed, did. It was merciless, barren, beautiful.

  She touched her fingertips to the glass, and immediately pulled them back. They burned with cold.

  Checking her watch, she noted that they were nearing the time Fletcher had estimated. Not too long before they arrived close to Redmond’s position on the west coast. She could feel the ship’s slight deceleration as they neared their target. After bolting down some breakfast, she swaddled herself in her cloak and more blankets. Then hurried through the passageways of the ship, until she reached the companionway.

  Wrapping a scarf around her lower face, hunching down to keep herself low and less likely to be blown off the ship, she raced up the companionway. The wind tried to claw her from the deck. But she ran the short distance to the pilot house.

  Fletcher still stood at the wheel, guiding the ship over the ice. A bit of frost clung to the sleeves of his coat, glittering in the morning light, and his hair was windblown. Large, dark, and wild, he reminded her of one of the old Celtic gods from her father’s tales. The kind of god that either brought the world into being, or destroyed it.

  Her heart leapt to see him again. It was silly—less than eight hours had passed since she’d gone belowdecks, and he’d been close the whole time—and yet it felt like a reunion after long, long years had passed.

  He glanced at her, his gaze warm. “Sleep well?”

  “It’s hard to know.”

  He he
ld out one arm, inviting her close. She wasted no time accepting the invitation, wrapping her arms around him while he held her. Coils and springs still wound within her, but their tension loosened at his touch.

  “And you?” she asked. “Did you miss your bed?”

  “Aye, but not for sleeping.”

  She warmed everywhere, the chill dispelling. And, in truth, he looked almost as fresh as when she’d left him, with only the slightest shadows beneath his eyes. He’d said that Man O’ Wars didn’t need much sleep—but when they’d shared a bed, he always stayed the whole night, even though he was likely awake for most of it. But he remained there because of her.

  Now they stood together in the pilot house as a world of unending winter passed beneath them. Only a few moments passed before Fletcher pulled back on the throttle, slowing the airship.

  “The coast’s approaching,” he said.

  She couldn’t see anything except ice and rocks, but then, within minutes, did: snow-topped mountains rose up sharply, then plunged down into the sea. As Fletcher brought the Persephone over the jagged coastline, Kali made out gentler slopes of stone, some even dusted with furze and gorse. Another time, she would’ve appreciated this rough, unsparing beauty. Yet it also revealed that, while the conditions wouldn’t be easy, the enemy could certainly position a base here. Putting them within short distance of Canada, and then into the soya-rich fields of the United States.

  “Any sign of Mayhew or Redmond?” she asked.

  Fletcher peered into the distance. “None yet, but anything can change in an instant. You should go check to make sure the guns are warm enough to fire.”

  He’d slowed the ship and brought it low enough for Kali to comfortably walk on deck without fear of flying over the rails or suffering hypothermia. The air was clean and sharp as a surgical blade, and almost punishingly clear. She fumbled in her pockets and pulled out a second pair of goggles, ones with tinted lenses, and exchanged those for the others she wore. Much better. She didn’t feel half-drunk on light, though any exposed skin felt the bite of the wind.

  She tested both weapons, running them through their paces of loading and unloading, plus dry firing. If the metal was too cold, the superheating from shooting the gun could cause the whole thing to shatter. Not very desirable in a fight. She’d be as likely to be wounded or killed by her own weapon as the enemy’s.

  “Kali!” Fletcher called sharply from the pilot’s house. Running back to him, her breath came fast and quick. The time had arrived.

  “There.” He pointed at a spot on the ground, about a mile ahead on one of the rocky inlets.

  For a moment, she saw nothing. And then—something flashed on the ground. Again. And again. Forming a pattern.

  “It looks like a mirror using sunlight to make a signal,” she murmured.

  “A distress signal,” he said grimly. “In naval code.”

  “Mayhew?”

  Fletcher gave a clipped nod. “He’s laying a trap for Redmond. Whatever airship Mayhew procured, it won’t be enough against the Demeter. So he’ll bring Redmond down to him and attack him on the ground.”

  Kali shivered, but not from the cold. She squinted at the sky. “I don’t see Redmond. No reinforcements, then.”

  “Going into this fight, I figured we’d be on our own.” Fletcher’s voice was stony. “Nothing’s changed.”

  They talked quickly of their strategy. It wouldn’t be long before Mayhew spotted them, if he hadn’t already, and there wouldn’t be time in the heat of the fight to discuss tactics.

  With their plan settled, Fletcher hauled her against him and kissed her, hard and quick. She refused to cling when he broke the kiss, though part of her wanted to hold tight and not let go. Instead, she took a step back. And then another.

  “Fletcher—” She could assemble the most complex clockwork device, but not the words she so desperately wanted to say. All she could manage was, “Fly well.”

  Inwardly, she winced. Coward. But she also knew that it would be disastrous to tell him how she felt in the moments leading up to battle. No use clouding their minds or hearts. Not with their lives—and the lives of Redmond and other Man O’ Wars—at stake.

  “Good shooting,” he answered, but there was something in his voice, something raw that told her he understood, felt the same.

  She spun away and ran for the ether cannon.

  Fletcher’s pulse hammered as he brought the ship closer to Mayhew’s position. The blade-sharp calm he usually felt before a battle was nowhere to be found, and he knew exactly why: Kali. The welfare of his crew always concerned him—putting them in the line of fire wasn’t an easy decision, but he’d done so when duty required it, and with the knowledge that his men fully expected to be in combat, and maybe even lose their lives in service to their country.

  But he’d never loved any of his crew. The beat of his heart and the breath in his lungs didn’t depend on them.

  If anything happened to her . . .

  He shoved the thought from his mind. Battles weren’t won on fear. If that calm wouldn’t come to him on its own, he’d force it on himself.

  So he focused on the landscape. Mayhew had set his ship down between two peaks, giving him protection, but the pinnacles also offered a small vessel like the Persephone an excellent means of easing close without being seen. Fletcher brought his airship low and stole toward Mayhew’s position. He skirted around the base of one crag, keeping the ship close to the mountain. From her position at the rail by the ether cannon, Kali could have reached out and brushed the tips of her fingers against the rocks. But she was wise and kept her hands safe.

  There was a notch between the two peaks, just wide enough to accommodate the Persephone. Mayhew would be looking to the north, his attention fixed on the sky, giving Fletcher a small, brief advantage. He and Kali would have only a few moments of surprise before Mayhew turned his own weapons on them.

  Fletcher slipped the Persephone through the narrow opening, his movements at the wheel precise. There, just ahead, was Mayhew’s ship. It was the same one he’d used to reach Eilean Comhachag, but he’d modified it, transforming it from a seafaring vessel to an airship using scavenged and assembled parts to make ether tanks and turbines. Parts likely taken from naval ships.

  Vessel and man, both altered. Fletcher almost admired Mayhew’s ingenuity. Almost.

  The distress signal continued to flash from the deck— one of Mayhew’s henchmen was using a large mirror to transmit the false danger, clearly coached ahead of time by the lieutenant. The other thug, Robbins, stood ready beside an ether cannon. And lurking behind them was Mayhew. Fletcher only recognized the lieutenant by his hair color. But his size and form had changed, grown bulky and large.

  There wasn’t time to get a closer look at Mayhew’s transformation. Instead, Fletcher brought the Persephone in at an angle, giving Kali a clear shot with the ether cannon.

  She knew her cue. Without hesitating, Kali fired on Mayhew’s ship. The ether-powered shot slammed into the deck, punching a massive hole in the planks. Grady, the thug holding the mirror, was flung to the side, the mirror he held shattering. Mayhew was also thrown back from the force of the blast, but he got right to his feet. The lieutenant ran to his own ether Gatling gun. He unloaded a barrage of fire. The high-powered bullets riddled the Persephone’s hull in fast succession.

  Kali dove for cover, and Fletcher remembered to breathe only when she stood up, unhurt save for scratches.

  Fletcher brought the airship around, making sure that Kali could keep up the cannon fire against Mayhew. But the Persephone quaked from the force of the enemy’s ether cannon. Fletcher managed to steer the ship so she didn’t take the full brunt of the shot, protecting the ether tanks and the turbines. But one of the lower decks suffered the blow, with a wound torn in the hull. He winced. Patched together as she was, the ship couldn’t take many hits before turning to a rain of splinters and scrap.

  Kali fired the ether cannon again. A huge explosion sho
ok the air as her shot hit the enemy’s cannon. The weapon erupted in a massive ball of flame, engulfing the thug manning it.

  For a moment, Kali’s hands fell away from the cannon. She stepped back. Fletcher couldn’t see her face, but he knew the posture of a person in shock. He knew her thoughts: she’d never killed a man before. She was a builder, a creator. And she’d taken someone’s life.

  God, if only he could leave this bloody pilot’s house and go to her. Comfort her.

  Yet someone had to pilot the ship. Had to make sure they survived. And they needed someone manning the weapons. Otherwise, they had no defense against Mayhew.

  Fletcher started to steer the Persephone into retreat. They’d have to find another way to fight Mayhew, or hope that Redmond would notice the battle and keep clear. But then there came the distinctive boom of an ether cannon. The Persephone’s ether cannon.

  Kali was back at her post.

  She wanted to vomit. Kali’s hands shook—hell, everything in her body shook. She could hardly believe what she’d done. With one pull of the rope attached to the cannon’s firing lever, she’d erased one human’s existence. After seeing thousands killed in Liverpool, now she was the killer.

  But they had been civilians. Innocents. They’d posed no threat. The man she’d just killed had wanted her, and many more, dead. There had been no choice, only duty. This was a fight that had to be won.

  And her responsibility wasn’t over. She had to keep Redmond and the other Man O’ Wars safe. More important, she had to protect Fletcher. If that meant exterminating a hired gun, then, by all the gods and goddesses, she’d do it.

  So she took up her position again, despite the roiling in her belly and her nerves stretched tight enough to break. As more gunfire rang out, memories of Liverpool tried to flood her mind—the sounds of cannons, Gatling guns, rifles, the screams of the wounded and dying. She shook her head, driving the memories away. They were more dangerous than the guns shooting at her now.