Mordecai gestured for two men to go ahead. They splashed down into the pool and waded over to the breach, cutlasses out and at the ready. Nothing jumped out at them, so Natasha waded over as well, then clambered up into the hole. She was silent a moment, then let loose a long low whistle. The pair of pirates beneath her began laughing and hooting.
"Get over here Mordecai," said his captain. "You're going to want to see this.
Mordecai sheathed his blade and moved across the pool, and then up into the breach to stand beside Natasha. The cargo hold was like many other seagoing vessels he'd seen. It was long and tall, extending all the way up to a hatch in the upper-deck. And it was crammed full. Crates, chests, coffers, and urns packed it from one end to the other, stern to bow and port to starboard. These had all shifted during the rough journey, and several were cracked and broken open to the fading light of day. In the shadows Mordecai spied gold bars, thick silver coins and casks of jewels.
A pirate splashed down next to them, out of breath. It was Guye Farrel. "Captain, first mate," he said. As he gasped the boil on his neck visibly throbbed. Mordecai tried in vain to ignore it. "There's no one aboard the rest of the ship. Found signs of life, though, and there are tracks leading into the jungle."
Mordecai caught Natasha's eye and jumped down out of the hold. "Show me," he said to the pirate.
Farrel led him back around to the far side of the ship. Cook-fire pits, lean-tos, and crates of salvaged goods all huddled under the masts and torn rigging. The sand was kicked all about, dark patches staining it liberally. There were no corpses, or live sailors from the Albatross.
Reaver Jane appeared from beneath a bit of sailcloth. She moved with only a slight limp, a gift from Fengel. That was good; she was one of Natasha's more trustworthy lieutenants. "Signs of struggle, sir," she said. "Maybe twenty people, some injured. Taken by surprise, looks like. Two days old or so, by the blood."
Mordecai frowned. "Where are the bodies? Who attacked them?" And why would they have left the treasure?
Jane shook her head. "Dunno, sir. Bodies are all gone, sailors or attackers alike. There's tracks leading off into the jungle." She gestured. "Don't look human, though."
The first mate raised an eyebrow. "Not human? Ogres?" That fit. He'd heard tales of a few tribes within reach of Breachtown. Such savages wouldn't have any need for the gold and silver in the hold, but plenty for the meat of the crewmen.
Jane shrugged. "Dunno, sir. Something else kind of odd." She gripped the hilt of the knife at her belt, as if nervous.
"Show me."
Jane led Mordecai up from the wreckage towards the tree line of the jungle. It rose up, thick and green and smelling strongly of plant life. Away from the wreckage of the Albatross, tracks could be made out. Mordecai knelt to take a closer look at them. They were strange, longer than that of a man by several inches, and not booted in any way. There were three toes, long and claw-tipped, with the heel ending in a fourth talon. Mordecai looked up at the jungle and narrowed his eyes. These didn't belong to ogres. But as far as he was concerned, the result was probably the same.
"You've heard the rumors," he said, turning back to Jane and those crew who had followed. "All manner of strange creatures inhabit this land. Looks like they got the Perinese sailors." He smiled. "But apparently, they lack a taste for gold."
He stood and looked back at the Dawnhawk. It floated golden in the light of the setting sun, dramatic against the backdrop of the Stormwall. Thick clouds roiled out of the unnatural barrier, some of them almost right overhead. In fact, it was growing darker all around them, and not just from the setting sun. Wispy clouds were forming overhead, split off from the fury of the perpetual storm and heading right for them.
"Jane," said Mordecai. "Get back aboard and have Konrad come in close. Get the ship anchored to this wreck and start moving the treasure aboard." He pointed at another pirate. "Kevyn, take a detachment of ten or so and keep watch on this jungle. Don't let anyone go in by themselves, and if you hear or see something strange, raise the Goddess-damned alarm. I don't plan to be taken by surprise the way those last poor bastards were. And all of you, get a move on, I don't like the look of those clouds coming in. Last thing I want to have to do is work in the rain."
The pirates all scurried off to their tasks. Guye Farrel stood, looking stupid, waiting for orders. Mordecai ignored him and returned to his captain.
The Dawnhawk came in closer. Lines were dropped and tied off to the rigging of the Albatross. Exuberant pirates swarmed over the wreck, grabbing everything of value and everything not nailed down. Mordecai worked with Natasha in the hold.
The crew aboard their airship threw down more ropes, along with wide cargo nets. Mordecai arranged a system for packing up the loot and moving it to the ship while Natasha took stock in the hold. Before long a steady stream of treasure was moving from the hold, over the tide pool, and onto the sand to be lifted up. He almost wanted to smile. They had taken some good hauls in their time, but this was ridiculous. Instead, he kept a careful eye out. Natasha's crew was well trained, but they were pirates. Stealing from the take was a known death sentence, but there was always someone who thought they could get away with it.
Aside from the gold and silver, there was still much worth taking. Logbooks, maps, and equipment stores abounded on the Perinese warship. Mordecai left the hold to review it, then ordered it all packed up. None were worth even a fraction of the take in the holds, but the Perinese vessel was a modern one. Everything aboard had value to someone.
The sun sank lower as they worked. Finished overseeing the sack of the officer's cabins, Mordecai returned to the hold and Natasha. There he found Guye Farrel standing near her with a wine bottle. Mordecai yelled at him and sent him scurrying off to move the crates. Natasha raised an eyebrow at him; apparently she had ordered the man to attend her. He shrugged. There were more important things to worry about. Namely, that they had not found the fabled Governor's gemstone anywhere aboard. She spoke first.
"You know," said Natasha. "I almost want to thank Fengel for stealing the Dawnhawk. I've never seen so much loot in my life. We've had to pull down some of the provisions and spare light-air canisters to make room for it all." She wore a silver crown, thirteen golden chain necklaces, and drank the wine Farrel had poured from a tall golden chalice they'd found amongst the treasure.
Mordecai frowned. "We'd have heard about this wreck soon enough. And it isn't as if this trip hasn't cost us."
"Yes," she replied with a snort. "Fengel's a silly bastard. But he always manages to make more trouble for me." Her visage darkened, and the knuckles of her fingers went white around her goblet. "I had to ask my father, Mordecai. I had to ask my father to take that rattletrap garbage scow of his. And he was so proud."
Mordecai rolled his eyes. Oh, here we go.
His captain curled a lip in irritation. She was looking past him now, somewhen distant. "He'll be upset that the Queen is gone, but you know what? Euron will be so damned happy it all worked out that I doubt he'll notice much. He will be able to say that I couldn't have done it without him. And in his eyes it'll be more confirmation that I'm not any better than he was in his heyday." Natasha fell silent, surrounded by a fortune, brooding into her goblet.
Mordecai glowered, irritated by her old complaint. "Well," he said. "That's a problem for later. As for Fengel, he's paid. The man is either drowned in the Sea or is well on his way to starvation."
Natasha frowned abruptly and looked up at him, dismay cutting through her black mood. Mordecai felt a small, petty pleasure at the sight. He knew she still cared for her husband, at least a little. Maybe this would shake her out of it. He turned away to help move another chest of gold.
The work continued as the sun set below the horizon. They didn't even have twilight to work with; the scattered rainclouds he feared dropped onto them faster than the light could fade. Fortunately, by then most of the treasure had been hoisted, or was on its way up. Konrad and the other crew aboard t
he Dawnhawk had quieted. At first they had called excited queries at those in the hold below, whooping in excitement as they brought the first loads aboard. But even the richest treasure lost its luster when compared to the monotony of moving it.
Mordecai jumped down from the breach in the Albatross to the pool. He walked around the laboring pirates and past the current pile being assembled in a cargo net for transport, the last one for the night. He made his way to the beach and then up the sand past the stern of the wrecked ship. Beyond, the jungle loomed, dark and impenetrable. The strange lizards had quieted and the gibbons fallen silent. Reaver Jane's picket stood, lackadaisical and unhappy at their task.
They need a thrashing, he thought. Bored guards were useless guards. But more importantly, they needed light. The thick jungle, and the heavy clouds just above them were drowning them in darkness. Much longer and they wouldn't be able to see their hands before their faces, and that would be the perfect time for an ambush.
Torches. There should be plenty aboard. Or at least lanterns. The Mechanist should be able to whip up—
Something was wrong. His instincts sang out. He had noticed something, out of the corner of his eye mayhap. Something that didn't belong...
Mordecai turned back to look down at the beach and the airship there. The crew worked busily below it, tying up the latest cargo net of treasure for their mates above to hoist to safety. The Dawnhawk floated at anchor three dozen feet above, lower in the air than when they'd started. Thick grey rainclouds crowned the gas-bag frame of their airship. But seen from out here, they were incomplete, thin things. More of a mist than real clouds. Through them, he glimpsed something else entirely.
Another airship.
The Copper Queen floated just above the Dawnhawk, cloaked by the unnatural clouds just beneath it. It looked terrible, black hull scorched and smoking in places, the gas-bag frame sagging on one side. Ropes and chains hung loose, frayed or broken from their moorings. It looked like it had fought a war and lost.
That wasn't the worst, however. Figures were rappelling quietly down on dropped ropes, presumably landing atop the hidden gasbag of the Dawnhawk. None of his lookouts atop the ship called out.
"Alarm!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Boarders atop the Dawnhawk! Get back aboard, get back aboard!"
He drew his sword and dashed back down the beach. The crew all about him stared stupidly. Natasha stuck her head out from the hold of the Albatross. They all looked around wildly at the sound of gunshots ringing out from the deck of the airship above them.
"Blades at hand!" cried Natasha. She stared past him at the gloom of the tree line. "Pull back to the wreck!"
Mordecai snarled in frustration. "No! Above! We're being attacked from above!"
Natasha stared at him. "What? Who? How?"
"It's your damned husband!"
Gunshots rang out from the deck of the airship above. Mordecai ignored them. He ran down to the cargo net full of treasure, tied and connected to the ship by a rope. He sheathed his sword and leapt onto the cable, climbing up toward the Dawnhawk.
A strange howl arose from the ship above him. Mordecai saw a flash of light back near the helm and a pirate flew off the deck of the ship, yelling in Greisheim. Damn you, Konrad, he thought. He had been counting on the aetherite's help once he got aboard. The rope jerked beneath him; others were climbing now and following his lead.
The deck above grew ominously silent. Figures appeared, peeking over the gunwales. Directly above, Mordecai spied the waif he'd seen on Fengel's crew. She moved out of sight, then returned with a boarding hatchet in her hands.
No. "Don't you dare," he grunted. She raised the hatchet, and he saw a flash of pearly teeth in the dark. "No, no, no, no—" The hatchet swung down.
The rope parted with a snap and suddenly, horribly, he was falling. He landed in a tangle of pirates that fell back onto the treasure on the beach, bouncing and landing and rolling painfully down to the waterline in the sand. Mordecai put his pain to the back of his mind. He pushed himself up from the sand and clambered to his feet, looking for another means of getting back to the ship.
All around him the others were falling as well. Natasha landed with a yelp as the rope she'd been climbing was cut, and the other mooring lines were falling away, the pirates upon them landing on the wreckage of the Albatross or splashing into the river. The Dawnhawk started rising.
"Get back here!" shouted Mordecai at the retreating airship. "Get back down here and face me, you cowards!"
Light bloomed up above. Lanterns on the unseen deck illuminated the ribbed gas-bag frame. A tall figure in an officer's coat leaned over the rail amidships. "Hallo the beach!" he cried.
One of Natasha's crew, Reaver Jane, took an enterprising shot with a pistol. It went wide. Two more figures leaned over the railing, each with an oil-lantern. Mordecai recognized Sarah Lome and the waif. Fengel's monocle reflected their light.
Natasha picked herself out from the pile of pirates she'd collapsed into. "You're alive!" she yelled in surprise.
"So sorry to disappoint," replied Fengel.
"Get down here!" cried Mordecai. "Get down here and fight me!"
Fengel rubbed his chin. "Now, why would I do that? I have my new ship back, and a hold full of treasure to boot! No, I think we'll be flying away now. Enjoy the beach." He made to turn away.
"Fight me fairly!" snarled Mordecai. He drew his blade and shook it at the airship as it lifted away. "Come back and fight me fairly, you dog!"
Fengel paused, and looked back down at the snarling pirates below him. "Now, Mordecai. What was it that you said?" The pirate captain made a show of rubbing his chin, as if he were having trouble remembering something. Then he snapped his fingers. "Ah. That's it. We're pirates, after all. Yes." He moved out of sight as braying, mocking laughter echoed out from the unseen deck above. The waif waved down at him and disappeared.
"Shoot them!" screamed Mordecai. "Get aboard, kill them!"
A few shots rang out. None of them hit an important mark. Natasha and her pirates ran frantically around, uncertain what to do. Mordecai raged. But it wouldn't do any good, he knew. Fengel and his Men moved out from under the Copper Queen, rising higher and higher as the raincloud above them disappeared.
A wind picked up, sending the Copper Queen drifting southward. The Dawnhawk flew away, with all their treasure aboard. And there was nothing he could do.
Chapter Thirteen
"Again," said Allen. "Thanks for not leaving me behind."
Lina moved another barrel aside. "Mmhmm."
"I really do appreciate it.
The storeroom was dark and cluttered. Sealed casks filled it almost to the ceiling of the deck above them. They held provisions like salt pork and fresh water. Other objects were jammed in there as well: ropes, spare lumber, boxes of nails. Small spaces threaded between the piles to form a twisty, winding maze that Lina could just squeeze through. At the door behind her stood Allen, the Mechanist-in-training. He held up an oil lantern scavenged from the stocks. It threw odd shadows about the confines of the space.
Three hours had passed since the retaking of the Dawnhawk. It had been absurdly easy. Fueled by their anger, Fengel's Men had overpowered the skeleton crew left aboard the ship, even continuing to pull up the loot that Natasha's Reavers thought they were recovering. Once they'd been discovered, Fengel had Sarah Lome cut all the mooring lines. The airship floated up and away into the night, leaving the Copper Queen drifting the other way, and his foul harpy of a wife screaming epithets from the sandy beach she and most of her crew were marooned upon. In all, Lina thought they'd let her go easy.
But she couldn't argue with results. There were eight captives aboard, and Fengel and Lucian were seeing to them now. She'd scurried about with the crew, making sure they were shipshape and that there hadn't been any surprises arranged since last they'd been aboard. The Mechanist took the change in command impassively, grabbing Allen by the ear and lecturing him all the way down to the boil
er room. Things had quieted, and now they hovered over the jungles of the Yulan, heading for Breachtown and its break in the Stormwall with a hold full of silver and gold. Lina had begged off as soon as she could, and now scoured the dark corners of the ship belowdecks after finding Allen out on some task for the Mechanist.
The room was of a fair size. Someone, or something could hide fairly well back here a long time before being noticed. With the recent activity in the hold she doubted that her missing pet would be there, or even on the same deck. Back here though, with pork, water, and plenty of dark crannies to hide in, she thought there was a fairly good chance of finding him. At least she hoped so. Lina wasn't particularly fond of the idea of searching the coal-stores, which was the next place on her list.
She hadn't meant to keep the thing. Especially with how badly off they'd been in the aftermath of the scryn attack. But there was just something so...innocent about the runty little creature. It reminded her of herself, in a way; both of them were small and deeply out of their element. It hadn't tried to attack her after it returned, and seemed almost affectionate. Though admittedly that might have been the drink. So she gave it a tipple to knock it out, shoved it in a bag, and took it down below to her hammock. As soon as they'd come aboard again she'd gone down to the bunks; her few meager possessions had been gone through, but the sack was still there. It was split open however and covered in blood. Human, though. Someone had obviously found the little scryn. Maybe they had even killed it. But she hoped not. I should at least have a look around.
Lina slipped the hip flask from her belt. Ryan had given it to her after rescuing everyone in thanks. She'd refilled it from his cask. Now she uncorked it, holding the open end out in front of her, away from her face. The pungent scent brought instant tears to her eyes.
"Pfaugh!" cried Allen. "What is that stink?"
"Pet food," said Lina absentmindedly.
Chasing the Lantern (The Dawnhawk Trilogy, Book One) Page 17
