In the Wake of the Kraken

by C. Vandyke

  That must be the Red-Eyed Jackal.

  ‘I am willing to offer some mercy,’ he continued, his voice cold and stern, sending shivers running down Ade’s spine. ‘Hand over my property, and we’ll leave your little dinghy in one piece.’

  Sylvie didn’t respond with words, instead firing a second cannon shot into the side of The Ambush, this time much closer to the Jackal’s place at the helm. The airship rocked again, but the captain maintained his footing. His face hardened, and he held one hand aloft.

  ‘So be it. Men! To the cannons!’

  At this, Sylvie finally seemed to reconsider her attack, and turned to Ade, her eyes wide but determined.

  ‘Ade! Take us out of here!’ Her shouts were barely audible over the sound of The Ambush powering up its cannons. Ade spotted five or six of them protruding from the port side, each one bigger than the single cannon on The Stickleback. One, at least, seemed somewhat damaged by Sylvie’s shots. ‘Head South-West, follow the compass on the panel. I’ll keep firing, but to win this fight we’ll need the Arconite gas!’

  She raced to the helm, flipping switches on the panel as Ade struggled to direct the course of the ship. He’d seen a handful of compasses for sale around The Hub, but he’d never got up close to one, never mind used one for navigation. Sylvie pulled a small lever and the balloon holding them aloft hissed as the Arconite replaced the lifting gas.

  ‘You have Arconite?’ Ade shouted over the din. ‘You can’t use that here! If one cannon shot hits the balloon we’ll be blown to bits!’

  Sylvie didn’t seem to hear. Ade stumbled as the Arconite took effect, lifting The Stickleback even higher. The ship shuddered as it narrowly avoided a streak of cannon fire.

  ‘Sylvie! It’s too dangerous!’

  He flinched as Sylvie’s head swivelled to face him, her eyes blazing. ‘We don’t have a choice!’

  ‘Yes we do!’ Ade yanked the wheel to the left to try to maintain their course. ‘Give him back whatever you have of his! Please!’

  Sylvie slammed her fist onto one of the panel buttons and leaned in close to Ade. ‘That,’ she hissed, ‘is not an option.’

  She pushed Ade to one side and spun the wheel, sending The Stickleback veering starboard to avoid another cannon shot from The Ambush.

  ‘They might be big,’ Sylvie grunted, turning the wheel back and starting off towards the cannon. ‘But we’re faster!’

  She sprang forwards, the rapidly rising ship doing nothing to impede her balance, and turned her cannon downwards to target the Jackal once more. Ade turned his attention to the sky in front of him, his brow furrowing as he tried to navigate their way through the dark clouds.

  The clouds...

  The night sky darkened further, jet-black clouds growing so dense they seemed impenetrable. More worrying was the speed they were moving, heading towards them at an incredible rate.

  ‘Sylvie! What–’ A powerful surge of wind rocked the side of the airship, nearly knocking Ade off his feet. He turned to Sylvie, but whatever she was shouting was lost as a ferocious wind battered the airship. Ade grabbed hold of the wheel and steered into the wind, clinging to the spokes with all his strength as the roaring gales tried to force the wheel in the opposite direction.

  It was no use—no amount of Arconite Gas could compete with the pummelling winds. The Stickleback creaked under the strength of the incoming storm, and the planks beneath Ade’s feet tilted, threatening to pull him off his feet.

  ‘Sylvie!’ he screamed, praying at least an echo would be carried to the stern. He gritted his teeth under the strain of the wheel pushing against his body, his arm muscles on fire as his strength began to fail. Hot tears welled in his eyes, whipped away by the winds as fast as they broke free.

  It’s no good. I can’t hold it!

  His prayers were answered as a second pair of hands clamped down over his. Sylvie, sooty and sweating from working the cannon, clenched her teeth and forced the wheel back with an astounding strength.

  But it was too late.

  As the pair worked to bring the ship back on course, the howling winds were pierced by the shriek of an oncoming missile. Ade looked up just as the Jackal’s cannon shot tore through the balloon, sending a criss-cross of blinding white light erupting all around.

  The Arconite!

  Time seemed to slow. Ade was vaguely aware of Sylvie grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the bow as the mast crashed to the deck behind them. Flaming debris fell around him like confetti. His ears ached under the bombardment of shrieking winds, splintering wood and falling metal.

  And, as they fell faster and faster through the dark, cloud-filled skies, there was another sound, barely audible through the cacophony. Amidst the chaos, the Red Jackal was laughing.

  Ade’s body ached all over. His head pounded so hard it was as if brain was trying to escape his skull. He didn’t dare open his eyes for fear of what would greet him.

  How am I alive?

  He tried to remember what happened after the exploding balloon tore The Stickleback apart, but his mind was blank. The last thing he remembered was Sylvie pulling him away from danger.

  Sylvie.

  His eyes burst open. Head swimming, he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. He had expected to wake in a shipwreck, but instead he was in somebody’s bedroom. Turning his head, he took in walls adorned with posters of maps, constellations and even airship blueprints, and shelves full of unfamiliar gadgets and knick-knacks. Someone had laid him in a small bunk and covered him with an extremely garish multicoloured blanket.

  What the hell?

  His body screaming in protest, he pushed himself upright and removed the storm cover from the nearest porthole.

  Oh my God.

  They’d made it! They were on The Cartographer’s Fleet! A lifetime on The Hub had familiarised him with the flags of the most populous and travelled states, and the Fleet’s silver compass on a field of stormy blues was easy to recognise.

  I can’t believe it!

  The ship itself was vast, so much so he couldn’t see the end of the deck. The wooden planks continued on until they were lost in the clouds. Tilting his face upwards, Ade gasped as he took in what must be hundreds, if not thousands, of balloons holding the mammoth vessel aloft.

  ‘Wow...’

  ‘Pretty cool, right?’

  Ade jumped, banging his head on the brass porthole frame. He turned, rubbing another injury he really didn’t need, expecting to see Sylvie. Instead, he was confronted by a dark-haired teenage girl leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. She wore the tell-tale leather bomber jacket of a member of the Fleet and a wry smile.

  ‘Wha...where’s Sylvie?’ Ade stammered, far too distracted by the girl’s watchful eyes.

  She grinned and threw a thumb over her shoulder. ‘She’s speaking with Dr Oboler. I was sent to check you hadn’t died in your sleep or anything.’

  Ade frowned, unable to tell if that was a joke. ‘Who is Dr Oboler?’

  ‘Typical Hubber,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘No “nice to meet you, Amelia, what a fascinating ship you live on Amelia, thanks for giving up your bed Amelia”, nope! He only wants to see the famous scholar.’ She stared at Ade in mock indignation before bursting into a fit of giggles at his confusion. ‘I’m joshing with you, mate! Follow me.’

  She turned and skipped into the corridor. Ade’s body throbbed with pain as he jumped out of the bed and chased after her. Amelia led him down a labyrinthine set of corridors, always disappearing around a corner just as he caught sight of her. Giggles ricocheted off the metal walls, reverberating back and forth until they seemed to be coming from all directions. Ade was ready to give up and head back to the bedroom when he rounded a corner and saw two women standing beyond an open doorway ahead, silhouetted against a huge window overlooking an array of weather balloons of various shapes and sizes. One of the figures was a stranger to Ade, but the other was very familiar.

  Sylvie.

  He approached the
pair and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut short by the strange older woman speaking in a loud, excited voice.

  ‘Let me see it, then!’

  Sylvie reached into her satchel, which had miraculously survived the crash, and pulled out a rectangular slab of solid gold. The woman, who Ade assumed to be Dr Oboler, took it reverently in both hands and held it up to the light. As it shimmered, she beamed with delight. ‘Oh my goodness...this is the missing piece! And it’s flawless! I’ll take it right away.’

  ‘Gold? Really?’

  The two women turned in unison, shocked by Ade’s outburst. He strode forward, unable to fight his incredulity.

  ‘You fought a pirate ship three times the size of your own, you sent us straight into a storm, you almost got us both killed using bloody Arconite…and it was just for money?’ He glared at Sylvie, his fists clenched with rage. ‘You’re...you’re...nothing but a thief and a pirate yourself!’

  Sylvie’s expression changed. Tears veiled her eyes as she glanced between Ade and Dr Oboler, her lower lip trembling. She took the slab and strode over to Ade, silently handing it to him. The surface of the metal was completely covered with odd hieroglyphs and writing in an unfamiliar language.

  ‘Not for money,’ Sylvie said quietly, eyes locked on the artefact. ‘For the secret...the secret to finding my parents.’

  Ade paced the deck of The Starling, wringing his hands as he waited for Sylvie to surface. What she and Dr Oboler wanted to do bordered on madness. He half hoped she would return saying she’d changed her mind.

  Amelia had no such anxieties; she had enthusiastically offered her family airship for the journey, and now she sat cross-legged on the deck, singing to herself and beaming with excitement. She was a strange girl, but there was something endearing about her. She had...an energy.

  The airship picked up speed, and soon the Fleet was nothing but a speck on the horizon. They were almost in empty sky.

  It’s time.

  Ade had heard of the kraken, of course; everyone on The Hub had. That didn’t mean he’d ever thought it was real—not in a million years. Sylvie said she had always believed, ever since the day her parents disappeared in a freak storm. She swore she’d seen it, lurking amongst the clouds, its tentacle whipping forward like a bolt of lightning. Ade was sceptical when she told the story. That was, until Dr Oboler deciphered the slab.

  After what felt like a lifetime, Sylvie emerged from below deck, her expression one of determined intensity, her goggles magnifying her glittering blue eyes. She held the gold slab carefully in both hands, as if it might crumble to pieces between her fingers. Amelia jumped up at seeing Sylvie, her own dark eyes shining with anticipation.

  ‘Are we really going to do it, Ms Anchorfast?’ she said, excited fists clenched in front of her. ‘Summon the kraken?’

  Sylvie nodded, gently grabbing Amelia and Ade’s arms and pulling them close to her. She took a deep breath before finally speaking.

  ‘Kids, this has never been done before, and could be really dangerous. I need you both to stay here, far back from the bow, no matter what.’

  I don’t like this.

  ‘But Sylvie,’ Ade said, struggling to keep his voice steady. ‘What if you need help? We can’t...I can’t let you get hurt. I don’t know what I’d do if...if...’

  ‘Ade,’ Sylvie lifted his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. Tears glistened beneath the goggles. ‘You’re strong. You’re resilient. You’re a survivor. You’ve proven that already. I have absolute faith that you’ll be okay, both of you.’ She turned her head to Amelia, whose smile had transformed into a grim line, her bottom lip quivering.

  ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen,’ Sylvie continued. ‘But it could be bad. You two stay back, stay safe, and take care of each other.’

  ‘But what about you?’ Ade could no longer disguise his fear.

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ A small smile passed over her lips and her attention shifted beyond the pair of teenagers, out into the open sky. ‘I’m going to see my parents.’

  She squeezed Ade’s arm and strode towards the bow of The Starling, full of purpose. Ade wanted to follow, to save this person who had taken him on this adventure and whisked him away from his life of poverty on The Hub. He hadn’t known Sylvie long, but he liked her. Only now did he realise how attached to her he had already become. He edged closer to Amelia until their arms touched, desperate for some sort of comfort. She didn’t move away.

  Sylvie reached the bow of the airship just as the Fleet disappeared from view altogether and they transitioned into completely empty sky. There were no islands or balloons to be seen, just clouds that darkened more with each passing second. She knelt, placing the slab into a square, copper container connected by thick coiled wire to a metal rod mounted on the figurehead. A large silver-coloured switch adorned it, and Ade bit his lip as Sylvie reached out and flipped it without hesitation. She rose to her feet, eyes locked on the sky.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Ade's heart pounded in his ears. Sylvie stood motionless, fists clenched by her side. Suddenly, the dark clouds flashed with streaks of white, blue and yellow and the sky rumbled with a roaring thunder. The previously calm wind whipped into a frenzy, rushing over the deck and knocking the breath out of Ade’s lungs. He felt the hairs rising on the back of Amelia’s arm.

  A new sound pierced the air, turning Ade’s legs to water. It was an ear-splitting, reverberating shriek, shaking the planks beneath their feet. A blinding bolt of lightning split the sky with an almighty crack, striking the rod to form a towering string of energy connecting the airship with the heavens.

  The cacophony continued as the very sky seemed to twist and break open above them. Ade’s stomach turned to ice as two gargantuan iridescent tentacles penetrated the void, looming overhead like cobras poised to strike through the clouds at their prey.

  Sylvie raised her arms above her head and turned her face upwards. Ade watched in horror as a titanic, monstrous beak emerged through the clouds and let out a gut-wrenching cry which was almost deafening. The wind grew stronger, surrounding the airship in clouds so dark the flashes of lightning were barely visible.

  Ade couldn’t see Sylvie. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He stood frozen, buffeted and blinded by the ferocious winds raging around them.

  Then, suddenly, it all stopped.

  There was no wind, no clouds, no kraken...nothing but clear, blue skies. Ade’s stomach clenched as he stared at the bow of the ship, his eyes searching for any sign of Sylvie.

  She was gone.

  He expected to panic, to feel lost, but he didn’t. He felt...proud.

  She did it.

  A small cough brought him back to his senses, and he turned to Amelia. Her hair had blown away from her face, revealing immaculate cheekbones flushed the slightest shade of pink. She dipped her head, and Ade followed her gaze down her arm to her fingers, tightly interlaced with his.

  When did that happen?

  He loosened his grip, letting her hand go, but he didn’t move away. A slight heat touched his cheeks as Amelia’s mouth curved into a knowing smile.

  ‘Well,’ she said softly, turning to look into the now tranquil sky. ‘Now what?’

  What We Dare to Behold

  B.K. Bass

  It is said the eddies of the clouds hold a collective memory of every place in the cosmos and everything that’s ever occurred. It is within the Aerotarium that the most ambitious—and some would say eccentric—of scholars pursue the secrets hidden within the clouds.

  It is a rare occasion on which I leave the comforting confines of my apartments in the Aerotarium. A component of the Cartographer’s Fleet, yet ostensibly apart from it, this bastion of learning is devoted to studying the more esoteric wonders of the Cumulocarta—an ever-present system of storms in the center of the archipelago.

  It is within this massive balloon I have spent the last ten years devoted to discerning the truth of the past from the tempest’s eddies a
nd currents. My quarters are modest; little more than a hammock and a small pantry to sustain the needs of the body. Beyond these mundane concerns, my books and instruments are all that matter. These reside within a small library, with a hammock tied betwixt two bookshelves. The collected knowledge of my studies and those who came before me serve as the walls of my home.

  Little did I think—as I studied the Cumulocarta from the comfort of the Aerotarium—that the research which cloistered me there would one day cause need to remove myself from those comforts for closer inspection of my findings.

  Alas, studying the world from afar yields only a distant reckoning. To delve into the details, one must venture boldly forth.

  And so, I find myself in Rustowne on a day of remarkable chill. The storms wreathing the nearby Whispering Isle never relent, but at present writhe with an unprecedented violence. A destination for those whose intrepid nature often borders on insanity, it is said those who brave the storms might discover the Well of Eternal Life, a place of legends fed by the great waterspout supporting the island in the sky. There, they might gain the eponymous promise of the well.

  Early explorers created Rustowne as an outpost for those who might launch expeditions into the storms of The Whispering Isle, as well as those who might exploit them. Held aloft by a multitude of patchwork balloons and tethered to the isle itself by chains and bridges, the place gets its name from the quality of its structure. Buffeted constantly by the storms, rust covers every inch of the floating city. It is a wonder of the world that the place does not simply shatter into a million fragments with the gentlest of breezes, let alone withstand unscathed what amounts to a hurricane on an almost daily basis.

  Yet it endures, and by its proximity to such alluring a destination, Rustowne attracts the boldest of aeronauts—and the most insane. Many allege the man I seek to be a bit of both, and in both regards an exemplary specimen.