None of it made sense, but right now, it didn’t matter. Morton took a deep breath, accelerated, and rolled the dice.
A scream outside his cabin door roused Gallows. Enoch was already in the passageway.
‘The hell’s going on?’
‘I’m unsure,’ the Stone Man said.
Men and women stumbled out of their cabins, bleary-eyed. Wall-mounted ignium lamps cast a weak glow, painting shadows over worried faces.
‘What’s the meaning of this?’ a wiry old gentleman asked.
‘Fire drill,’ Gallows said, ‘nothing to worry ab—’
An explosion blew a door from its hinges further along the passage. Behind the coppery smoke, silhouettes marched.
Then the gunfire started.
‘Everyone stay in your cabins and barricade the doors!’ Gallows yelled.
Some listened—others screamed and fled.
‘We should find Serena and Myriel,’ Enoch said.
Two pilots in Stormrider jumpsuits shoved past Gallows, fastening their flight goggles.
‘They caught Morton with his pants down,’ Gallows said, breaking into a run. He helped an old woman to her feet and into her cabin. ‘They’ll hit the ignium lines and cut the lights.’
‘How do you know?’
‘It’s what I’d—’
The lights disappeared, steeping the passage in complete darkness. A shrill alarm wailed.
‘I’ll lead the way,’ said Enoch. ‘Do you have any idea who we’re up against?’
‘No.’ Amid the yells and panicked cries in the darkness, Gallows’ heart hammered louder. ‘But Finn warned me that someone was after us.’
‘The Queen of the North advertised their contract with the Stormriders—no-one would engage a force like that unless they knew they’d win.’
Some of the airship’s crew ushered passengers back into their cabins, while others ran and hid.
When Gallows found Serena’s cabin, it was empty. Myriel’s, too.
Shit. ‘No sign of a struggle,’ he said. ‘C’mon, don’t stop.’
Panic rose with each step, spreading like wildfire.
‘How likely is it that they’d have escaped in time?’ Enoch asked.
‘Serena’s more powerful than anyone else here,’ Gallows said. ‘Right now, she’s safer than all of us. We need to hit Vabrizio’s collection and get our weapons back—if we can’t put up a fight, it won’t matter who—’
Gallows stopped. Slumped on the floor were the bodies of the two Stormriders, blood pooling from their sliced throats. Bloodied footsteps trailed away from the corpses, black against the ship’s red emergency lighting. It didn’t look like they’d been given a chance to fight back.
Enoch’s right—no-one would go up against the Queen—unless they had people on board already.
Enoch bent down and closed their eyes.
Farther along the passageway, the screams got louder.
Gallows grabbed Enoch. ‘Upper decks, c’mon.’
They climbed a twisting staircase towards Vabrizio’s collection room, Gallows’ stomach knotting like a noose. Gunshots snapped and the metallic stench of spent ignium filled his nose and throat.
He took the stairs two at a time and came to a heavy fire door—Enoch wrenched it open, and the sound of shotgun blasts greeted them.
‘Stay quiet.’ Fists raised, Gallows stepped into the passage and hugged the wall. A portable ignium lamp lay on the ground outside a luxury cabin door; fingers from a severed hand curled around its handle.
A raider wrapped in leathers and flight goggles stalked the corridor, the shotgun in his hand blasting fleeing passengers. Gallows crept behind him and rammed his face into wall-mounted ignium lamp, glass shards embedding in the raider’s face. Gallows broke his neck before he had a chance to scream, then prised the shotgun from the dead man’s fingers.
In silence, Gallows and Enoch climbed the decks towards Vabrizio’s collection room, stepping over bodies and sticking to shadows. A solitary raider—a woman—prowled through the passage; Enoch grabbed her, shoved her into a utility closet and barred it shut. ‘Less bloodier than your methods,’ he said.
Gallows ignored the jibe. Sweeping his shotgun at every dark corner, he found Vabrizio’s room. Arrogant asshole’s not even locked it.
He eased the door open. If the raiders had been inside, they’d left without taking anything. Enoch stood guard while Gallows fastened his short sword around his waist and fixed a sheathed knife to his lower back.
Not much, but it’ll have to be enough.
Gallows wiped his sweat-slick palms. ‘Bastards have probably released the life capsules already, but it’s worth checking—’
A series of small explosions ripped through the floor and strangled the words from Gallows’ throat. The world turned a blinding white, and he plummeted.
Bullets raked the Queen’s hull and smashed her skyglass, showering Serena with jagged shards and exposing the deck to a biting wind.
She and Myriel careened through choked passageways, surrounded by fleeing passengers in every direction.
A fighter craft emerged from the clouds for another attack run, soaring past with a shrieking howl.
‘We gotta get off this deck!’ Serena called over the din.
Serena half-fell, half-barrelled down a flowing staircase, towards the lower decks, almost losing Myriel in the process. People wandered, dazed and bloody. Voices cried for separated children.
Clasping Myriel, Serena squeezed between passengers and into a narrow corridor.
‘We can hide until they’ve—’
Skyglass erupted and two raiders swung inside, their momentum kicking passengers to the floor. They charged through the escaping crowd, their faces concealed by goggles and oxygen masks.
When they drew their shortswords, they wasted no time in getting to work.
‘Oh my Gods…’
Men and women tripped over themselves, covered in blood and screeching for help. Some threw their friends towards the sky pirates in a bid to escape with their lives.
Serena grabbed Myriel. ‘C’mon!’
More pirates abseiled the Queen’s exterior and swung through the shattered skyglass on snaking ropes. Lashing wind and freezing rain bit at Serena’s skin.
A girl around Serena’s age stood frozen as a pirate approached her. ‘Take what you w-want, just let me li—’
The pirate drew his sword across her throat.
Serena wanted to throw up. ‘Turn back! Back!’
Bullets ricocheted off walls as they fled. Serena struggled through the tide of panicking passengers.
‘This way!’ Serena commanded. She and Myriel cut through the Primrose Lounge, stepping on smashed glass and clambering across overturned tables. Guests huddled behind the bar, whimpering and clutching broken bottles as if they were swords.
‘Do you have any idea where to go?’ Myriel asked.
‘The maintenance conduit was my first instinct, but if they’ve cut the power, they have access to—damn.’
A pirate blocked the exit ahead; one of them loosed rounds from his revolver, laughing as he made an old man dance.
Behind them, bullets and shotgun blasts grew louder.
‘We’re trapped,’ said Myriel.
I can stop him. I should stop him.
Serena concentrated—her power was there but weak, too fatigued from using it on Nyrsson.
Serena yanked Myriel and huddled behind the door, mere feet away from the pirate with the gun. A full bottle of Glenfortoshan whisky sat on a table—Serena grabbed it.
‘Serena?’ Myriel urged. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Getting help.’
‘From who?’
Serena closed her eyes, her fingers dancing of their own accord. Flicker bounced through the Primrose Lounge, a tiny orb of light in the stewing dark red of the lounge. He shot past the pirate and bounced off his head again and again. The pirate cursed the bird and bullets struck the ceiling—when Serena
heard the gun’s empty click, she made her move.
‘Now.’ Serena darted past the opening while the pirate reloaded, Myriel on her heels. Gripping the Glenfortoshan, Serena swung at the pirate and smashed the whisky bottle across his head.
He staggered forward into a wall before slumping to the floor.
The old man he was terrorising mouthed his thanks and ran off, face slick with sweat.
‘Thank you, Flicker. Come on, before this asshole wakes up.’
‘Why didn’t you simply reach into the pirate’s mind?’
‘I… I couldn’t. But Flicker, I’ve already… touched him. The connection is still there. It takes less energy than reaching into someone new.’
They turned into twisting passages, the crimson emergency lighting washing the world in blood. Silence spread over the passage here. All this, to kidnap Genevieve? Vabrizio?
Serena’s pace faltered. What if they’re here for me? What if Gallows and Enoch are dead?
Serena helped Myriel over an exposed pipe spewing ignium.
‘People are dying all over again. Myriel… What if this is all my fault? If I surrender myself, maybe—’
Myriel placed a hand on Serena’s shoulder. ‘People die every day, girl—it doesn’t mean we should give up and hand ourselves to our enemies. Do you trust me?’
‘I… Yes.’
‘Then believe me when I say we’ll get through this.’
Voices approached them, whooping and howling. Serena pushed on, finding a maintenance hatch. Flicker pinging against its narrow walls. She had no idea where to go, but behind her fancy façades, the Queen was a labyrinth of conduits and narrow passages. She’d find somewhere to hide.
Serena, Myriel and Flicker spent a good ten minutes inside the airliner’s skeletal structure, clambering over and under pipes and passages.
Serena mopped sweat from her forehead. ‘Shit. I reckon we’re going back up as opposed to down.’
‘As long as there is no gunfire or rampant murder, I’m happy.’
Serena eased out into an empty corridor. Bodies littered the floor and blood squelched beneath her feet. A fire door barricaded the end of passageway.
Serena yanked the handle. ‘Locked. Probably Vabrizio’s security.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Airship safety—you can isolate certain decks and areas if there’s a fire. But sometimes you have to trap people inside, so you don’t risk the entire ship.’
Myriel’s wrapped her arms around her chest. ‘That’s awfully morbid.’
‘We’ll find somewhere else.’ Serena stepped over bodies, voices growing louder every step of the way.
‘Hurry,’ Myriel warned, ‘they’re not far behind.’
‘There.’ Serena found a door and pushed. A cold, steel-grey utility room lined with piles of laundry welcomed them.
‘Past the shelves.’ Serena squeezed behind the towering stacks, listening for enemies.
After a minute, they came to a narrow channel filled with criss-crossing pipes. Ignium gas hissed through more than one hole, leaving the channel in a murky, orange haze.
They pushed through; the ignium stung Serena’s throat, but unless she planned to stay here for several hours, it was harmless.
An explosion erupted from somewhere far-off, shaking the floor and sending the shelves collapsing like dominoes. The room lurched; Serena tripped and scraped her hands on a metal edge.
Myriel helped her up. ‘What was that?’
Serena’s palms turned clammy. ‘One of the Queen’s thrusters… It’s just been destroyed. We should…’
‘Should what?’
A faint tingling ran down Serena’s arm. ‘Gallows—he’s near. He’s alive.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Come on!’
Serena pressed through the channel and out into another deck. Taking two steps at a time, she flew up a spiral staircase to the next deck. She snatched glimpses of passengers fighting off pirates with knives, rapiers and even coat stands. Lightning flared against skyglass, a harsh white snuffing the emergency light for a split-second.
It lit up Ludovic tal Nyrsson’s unmoving body.
Serena froze, staring at him.
Myriel tugged at her arm. ‘We’ve no time to dwell on it.’
‘R-right. Come on. I think I know where Gallows went.’
They made their way towards Vabrizio’s cabin. Bullets bore into walls and steel rang against steel with a grating disharmony.
‘There’s gotta be something I can do to stop all this killing…’
‘No.’ Myriel seized Serena’s shoulders and pulled her away. ‘I know it’s hard, but if they’re after you, then don’t give them the advantage of knowing your location. Your power weakens you, Serena—save it for when we need it.’
Serena wanted to protest, but a presence loomed at her back.
‘I’m relieved to find you safe,’ said Enoch. ‘Come—the time for fighting is over—we’ve already lost.’
‘Excuse me?’ said Myriel.
‘We cannot defeat this enemy,’ Enoch said. ‘We should make haste to the emergency life capsules immediately.’
‘Not without Gallows,’ said Serena.
Enoch lowered his head. ‘Gallows is gone.’
The pirates outnumbered the Stormriders two to one, but the mercs were veterans—Morton himself was a medal winner, a champion, and the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.
He spun through the air, guns rattling with heavy thumps. The pirates’ weapons were better—while his fighter fired in one-two punches, their weapons spat bullets in a rapid frenzy.
Two Phantoms shot past, hunting an enemy Avispa—Darron and Schaefer.
Darron loosed a volley, sending the pirate spinning away. Schaefer closed the space, hunting the Avispa and finishing the job, destroying its tail assembly and sending it into the depths.
Morton spotted another enemy fighter making an attack run on the Queen. He chased after it, got it in his sights and sent stuttering hot metal through it. It wavered in the air, spiralling down towards oblivion and exploded.
He hooked up with Qitarah, and together they arced towards their mother craft.
Turbulence rocked Morton from side to side and bolts of lightning slashed past him. An Avispa spun towards him, opening fire—at the last second, Morton twisted away.
But the bullets tore into one of the Queen’s secondary thrusters. It ruptured and wrenched away, swallowed by the dark sea beneath.
We’re losing.
Qitarah shot towards the Avispa, drilling bullets into its wings and skyglass, killing the pilot.
Morton kept up the hunt, destroying two more Avispas, doing what he could to protect the Queen. He soared over the airliner—dots spilled out of her shattered skyglass and dwindled into nothing.
Passengers.
But that wasn’t the worst of it: Pirates in breathing masks descended from hooked cables on the airliner’s hull—next to her fuel lines.
Damn.
Morton signalled his squadron. Enemy infantry over fuel lines—do not engage. Repeat: Enemy infantry over fuel lines—do not engage.
One stray bullet and the whole vessel would erupt.
It wasn’t normal behaviour for sky pirates, but now Morton realised they weren’t planning on bringing the Queen down—they were planning on capturing her mid-flight.
He shot past, unable to shake the feeling he’d been played for a fool.
Gallows clambered to his feet, dizzy, confused and aching. His fingers were still coiled around his shotgun.
Vabrizio’s collection lay splintered and broken around him in an otherwise empty cabin. Shallow lacerations sketched over his arms and chest, but as far as he could tell, nothing was broken.
‘Loot’s through here, blew two decks at once!’ A scrawny kid with paper-white skin and a shaved head stood in the doorway, detonator in his hand.
Before he could utter a warning to his friends, Gallows raised hi
s shotgun and sent him flying back in a bloody mess.
He ventured into the corridor. Bullets chewed through bulkheads and raiders whooped and howled, but they were interested in bigger game than Gallows.
He took refuge in a ransacked cabin, wiping sweat and blood from his face. He checked his ammo—empty. Shit.
Gallows took the opportunity to rest and clear his head. They must want Genevieve, or Serena… Where’s the safest place—
The flush of a toilet hissed, and a huge, grizzled pirate stumbled out of the cabin’s bathroom. The scars on his face outnumbered the hairs in his torch-orange beard.
In an instant, Gallows brandished the shotgun like a club and swung it into the pirate’s jaw. He staggered back, but not far enough—when Gallows attacked again, the pirate wrenched the weapon from Gallows’ hand and hurled it away booted him in the chest.
Gallows unsheathed his sword and lunged, slicing through the pirate’s coat and bloodying the blade’s tip.
The pirate stepped back and screamed—but not in pain: It was a war cry. He unsheathed a sabre, eyes beaming and his few yellow teeth glistening with saliva.
His blade blurred—Gallows ducked and weaved, deflected where he could, and retreated to the passageway.
The pirate feinted left—Gallows fell for it, and the sabre pierced his thigh.
Another war cry tore out of the pirate’s mouth and he advanced, rounding on Gallows and pressing the advantage with a fluid series of slashes and slices.
The slender blade clashed against Gallows’ shortsword—he swept the sabre away but it left him exposed—the pirate kicked Gallows through a door and into another cabin.
Broken wood sent sharp pain through Gallows’ lower back; he rolled and brought his blade up in defence—but the room wasn’t empty.
A woman sat at the edge of a double bed, stuffing aeron notes into her top pocket. Curls of long, blonde hair trailed past her shoulders like threads of sunshine.
‘Zach, you’re supposed to be rounding up the cattle, not slaughtering them.’ She stood, using a silk handkerchief to wipe blood from her rapier. That’s when Gallows noticed the bodies of an old man and woman in the bed.
Wrath of Storms Page 9
