On Discord Isle (The Dawnhawk Trilogy)

by Burgess, Jonathon

  Lina hooked one arm through the rigging. She pulled the gas mask down around her neck and instantly felt better. The air was fresh and tinged by the sea, a welcome change from the recycled leather stink of the mask.

  “Come on!” she called. “I’ll stay here in case you need help.”

  Rastalak nodded. He slowly made his way outside, shut the door, then began his descent.

  Lina relaxed while she waited. She glanced down at the ocean, hundreds of feet below. I guess it doesn’t make much sense, she conceded. She could just as likely die from some stupid accident, a slip and a fall, as get blown up by a stray spark in the gas bag.

  Beneath her, the day crew went about their business. Lucian stood up on the bow, peering through a spyglass. Tricia worked with Ryan Gae on oiling the skysail armatures in preparation for an upcoming ride on an aetherline. Runt lay curled up on the starboard exhaust pipe, out of the way. Everywhere she looked her crewmates worked quietly and efficiently. Things were...remarkably peaceful. Even the crazy aetherite helmsmen, Konrad and Maxim, weren’t fighting, though each still kept an untrusting hand on the ship’s wheel.

  It had been a full day since they’d left Natasha and Fengel on Almhazlik Isle, and things were going well. Astonishingly so. When she’d first told the crew her plan, she’d half-expected to get tossed overboard herself. Yet everyone had gone along with it, and so far they hadn’t managed to crash the airship or burst into flames.

  She gazed out at the ocean, bemused. I wonder if every pirate ship could do this. Realms Below, go even further. Maybe we don’t need leaders. Maybe all those kingdoms back on Edrus and all sea-going ships could just pitch their captains, kings, and sheiks, get along like we are.

  A speck of color down on the water below caught her eye. Lina blinked in surprise. It was a ship. Not quite beneath them, but close enough, obviously trying to stay hidden in the Dawnhawk’s shadow. It was only dumb luck that the vessel hadn’t been noticed before now. That, or Gabley is slacking again. She’d have to have a word with the white ape.

  Lina scrabbled a little lower, peering down at the vessel. Months as a pirate had taught her what to look for. The ship’s hull was low in the water, meaning she sailed with a full hold. She also lacked paddlewheels and the exhaust stacks of the new naval steam-frigates. Her home port could have been anywhere on the continent of Edrus; Salomca, Perinault, or Greisheim. Lina didn’t know and didn’t really care. She wasn’t a navy ship and she had cargo, and that meant there was only one other thing she could be.

  Prey.

  Lina descended the rigging until she hung halfway between the deck and the gasbag. “Ship ahoy!” she cried. “Off the port-side bow!”

  Heads popped up from various tasks as the crew all looked about in surprise. Almost as one they moved to the gunwales. She pointed out the ship and they bent low to look at it, exclaiming in surprise. Lucian Thorne and Sarah Lome pushed through to stand beside Reaver Jane. The first mate pulled out a spyglass and peered downward. Everyone fell quiet.

  “That’s a ship, all right,” he said after a moment. “Perinese, I think. Barkentine. Too small to be Merchant Navy. They’ve seen us, obviously. Odd that they’re not running full out; it’s a miracle that we haven’t noticed them until now. Someone remind me to have a bit of a chat with Gabley’s ape soon.”

  He trailed off as he continued his inspection. Lina glanced back at the crew. Everyone was looking at each other, the same unspoken question obvious on each face. They were all feeling poor at the moment. Twice now they’d been back to port since the Yulan adventure six months ago, with nothing to show for it, thanks to Fengel and Natasha’s constant fighting.

  Lucian still hadn’t spoken up. Sod it. Lina cleared her throat. “Well?” she asked. “Aren’t we going to get them?”

  The crew spoke up all at once.

  “Can we?” asked Jonas Wiley.

  “Why in the Realms Below wouldn’t we?” asked his brother Nate, hands still swathed in bandages.

  “They’re running already,” said Sarah Lome. “We’d have to fight the wind.”

  “That just means burning fuel, which we’re doing already,” replied Reaver Jane.

  “We haven’t taken a real prize in months,” lamented Henry Smalls.

  “But can we?” asked Elly Minel.

  Lina glared down at them. “Well, why not?” she demanded, raising her gaze to the others. “I know what we’re all thinking; the captains are gone. But that was the point. We got rid of them. It’s not like we need to ask permission, for Her sake.”

  “But who’s gonna lead us?” whined Oscar Pleasant.

  “The Breachtown heist is one thing,” said Andrea Holt. “We already know what we’re about there. Someone’s got to make the big moment-to-moment decisions, though. Do we...elect someone else captain?”

  Uneasiness washed across the faces of everyone present. Lina knew how they felt. They didn’t hate Fengel and Natasha. It was just impossible to get anything done with the two of them around. Kicking them off the ship hadn’t been undertaken lightly.

  The weird thought from a moment ago still had a hold of her, though. No kings, no sheiks. An idea came to her. “We don’t have to,” replied Lina. “Look, Lucian’s normally in charge anyway, right? So when we need ordering, he takes the lead, and nothing’s changed there. For the big stuff—”

  “Yes,” said Ryan. “That’s the trick. Big stuff, like course changes and fuel and whatnot.”

  Lina glared at him. “Let’s do it by committee,” she continued. “The officers who run things normally. Lucian, Reaver Jane, Sarah Lome.”

  The crew looked to those named. Lucian collapsed his spyglass and shared a glance with the other officers. Then he gave a shrug.

  “Could work,” he said. “I’m mighty tired of an empty purse, and we’ve got to try this sometime.”

  “I guess it couldn’t hurt,” said Sarah Lome.

  “We’ll take a Crewman’s Vote on it,” said Reaver Jane. She frowned and folded her arms. “Committee’s going to need one more on it, though.”

  “Who?” asked Lucian. “Three’s a good number.”

  “I want Lina Stone,” said Jane.

  Lina started. The crew stared at her. Her heart fell into her stomach. “What?” she asked. “Why me?”

  “Because you keep coming up with these ideas. And if everything goes tits up, you’re going to be the one we blame for it. Official scapegoat. Now, let’s have that vote. All in favor?”

  “Hold on,” called a voice. Lina, along with everyone else, glanced back to Oscar Pleasant. “I’m sorry, but this doesn’t seem like a bad idea to anyone? I mean, really, a committee?” The pirate was ratlike, disheveled. No one really liked him much. Even his one-time friends avoided him of late.

  Lucian gave him a frank stare. “Do you have a better idea, Mr. Pleasant?”

  Oscar looked away and then shrugged. “Well, I mean...no. Not really.”

  “Right then,” said Reaver Jane. “Now, all in favor?”

  Most every hand shot up. The remainder went along once they saw which way things were going.

  “That’s that, then,” said Lucian. “Ship’s Committee, to the helm. Everyone else to your stations.” He grinned. “There’s a fat merchant below who needs to have his holds lightened.”

  Everyone roared their approval.

  Lina followed the officers back to the helm. Maxim and Konrad worked together to twist the ship about, Konrad on the wheel and Maxim shouting orders down to the Mechanist in the engine room. Lucian waved Lina over.

  Reaver Jane eyed her warily. “You’ve an awful lot to say of late,” she snapped.

  “She hasn’t been wrong, though,” said Lucian. He clapped a hand on Lina’s shoulder like a proud older brother. “Lina’s relatively new to the life. She hasn’t got the baggage we do, and can see a little more clearly.”

  “Maybe,” said Sarah Lome. “Four’s a bad number for a committee. Could mean a tied decision.”

&nb
sp; “Well, that’s why her position here is honorary, right, Lina?” He smiled down at her, and it wasn’t altogether jovial. “Lass, Sarah is right. Four’s a bad number for decision-making. You don’t get any say more than the rest of the crew. But we’ll want you here for input, all right?”

  Lina thought of something sharp to say, but gave a nod instead.

  Jane sighed. “All right. Enough. How do we do this?” She gestured at the deck, toward where the merchant ship would be.

  “Same as before,” said Sarah Lome. “We go in fast and hit their sails, drop to the deck and pacify them all. Quick and clean. It’s not a military ship. I don’t see no reason to change things up.”

  Jane nodded. “Good.”

  She went to leave but Lucian raised a hand. “Hold up. We offer quarter, and avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

  Reaver Jane stopped. “What? Fengel’s gone. Don’t tell me you’ve gone all soft in his place.”

  “It’s a good policy,” replied Lucian. “People who think they’ve nothing to lose fight all the harder. There might be a few hired guards down there, but we’ve found that as long as it’s not full of soldiers, which is fairly unlikely, people tend to see sense after a bit of knockin’ about.” He gave her a level look. “Remember, we’re here for the treasure. That’s the important thing.”

  Reaver Jane returned his gaze. “All right. So long as you remember that’s what we’re after.”

  She stalked down the deck. Sarah Lome turned to do the same. Lucian gave Lina a look and gestured for the gunwales.

  That went surprisingly smoothly, she thought as she left to prepare for the attack. Natasha’s crew were a bloodthirsty lot, and Reaver Jane was no exception. That Lucian got his way was surprising, though sensible. Maybe this is going to work even better than I’d hoped.

  Lina went amidships where the equipment lockers were mounted. They’d been opened up, and gunnery mistress Lome was passing out muskets, shot, and powder. Lina took a pistol and checked it, loading as she made her way to the port side of the airship just below the bow. Aside from the flintlock, she had her pair of knives and one other thing as well. She stuffed the barrel of the gun into her waistband and blew a sharp whistle with two fingers. Runt perked up from his doze on the exhaust pipe and gave an answering screech. He rose, stretched, and launched himself to soar across the deck to her shoulder, eliciting yells from startled pirates. Lina caught the scryn and scratched behind his head while he chirruped in pleasure.

  The Dawnhawk came into line on a direct heading for the vessel below. From the stern Lucian called out commands, and Lina felt a deep vibration in the deck below her feet as their engine kicked into higher gear.

  She peered over the side as the merchant ship burst into activity. There were dozens of antlike movements amongst the rigging; sailors furling their sails in a desperate attempt to get away. All pretense was gone. They knew they’d been spotted.

  Lina smiled as the airship bore down. Growing up in the slums of Triskelion, she’d learned to defend herself, but until recently she hadn’t gone looking for any fights. Life as a pirate had changed that. She wasn’t particularly bloodthirsty and did appreciate Fengel’s gentlemanly code. There was an undeniable thrill to the chase, however, and the prospect of actually having real money again almost left her breathless.

  The distance shrank between the two vessels. Now that they were close enough, Lina saw that the ship was a big three-master, with the word Kingfisher emblazoned in gold letters across its stern. It disappeared beneath their hull as the Dawnhawk overtook it, only to reappear as they veered to starboard. The captain of the merchant ship stood on the sterncastle shouting commands. The sailors scurried for the gunwales and forecastle, for weapons and belaying pins.

  “Prepare the grapples!” shouted Lucian from the stern. Fat Thomlin and the other pirates assigned to the task took up the great boarding tethers, those long coiled ropes anchored to the deck, their other ends tied to thick chains and iron hooks. “Now!”

  The pirates roared out. Grapnels sailed out through the air, dropping into the tangle of sailcloth and rigging below. The Dawnhawk shuddered as the ropes caught and pulled taut. The Kingfisher jerked. A sailor in the rigging tried desperately to dislodge the hooks or cut them free. Lina’s crewmates threw the rope ladders and drop-lines over the side of the airship, then started clambering down before they’d even had time to fully unroll. The raid was underway.

  Reaver Jane, Sarah Lome, and the other more skilled and vicious pirates dropped down to the deck. The sailors tried to fight back, but the captain and first mate gave contradicting orders that Lina’s crewmates were only too happy to exploit. Lina followed shortly thereafter, stopping halfway to clamber over into the Kingfisher’s rigging. A burly sailor was waiting for her. He was an ugly man who stank of garlic and reminded her of the obnoxious Oscar Pleasant. Lina lifted her arm and let Runt deal with him.

  Lina’s task was to make sure that the boarding tethers weren’t cut away during the raid. They needn’t have really bothered. The lookout was either down below or hiding in his crow’s nest while the sailor behind her was scurrying down the ratlines as fast as he could to escape her hissing, spitting pet. Otherwise, the rigging was empty.

  Things were progressing quickly on the deck. Lina moved over to the mainmast, where Lucian and a few of her crewmates fought the Kingfisher’s captain and first mate. Lucian performed a wild flourish that sent the captain’s sword flying off down the deck, then pointed the tip of his own in warning.

  “Stand down now,” said Lucian with a smile. “Your men are beaten. There’s no need for further bloodshed.”

  “We’ll not give in to filthy pirates,” snarled the first mate, brandishing his blade. “We throw down our weapons and we’re as good as dead.” The man had a nasty gash across his brow, and it bled profusely.

  Lucian rolled his eyes. “Please. We’re here for your holds, not your lives.” He gestured with his blade at the airship above them. “We are the crew of the airship Dawnhawk, and we have a reputation to maintain. I swear that no harm will come to you if you lay down your arms.”

  The captain reached out a hand and pulled down his mate’s arm. “That’s not what he means. You’re with the Dawnhawk? I’ve heard of you. That’s Captain Fengel’s ship.” He peered at Lucian. “D’you mean that?”

  “Sir!” cried the mate. He shot a strange, intense look at his master, then jerked his head oddly toward the low sterncastle.

  “They’ve not been a damned help since we agreed to take them back to Edrus,” growled the captain of the Kingfisher. “We could have been a hundred leagues away by now if it wasn’t for his stupid ambition. Everyone knows you can’t take an airship! I’ll not risk anymore of the crew on this harebrained scheme.”

  Lucian frowned. “What are you two on about?” He glanced at the first mate, and then at the captain again.

  Lina knelt to listen. Runt landed suddenly on her shoulders, shifting her off-balance and chirping happily through a bloody maw.

  “We’re out of Breachtown,” said the captain. “And the pacification there—”

  “Marines forward!” cried a voice.

  The recessed door to the sterncastle cabin banged open. Men in blue coats and tricorn hats boiled out with muskets held at the ready. They fired as they came, sending a hail of lead balls down the ship. Pirates and sailors both yelled in alarm. The Bluecoats shot indiscriminately; the first mate and captain of the Kingfisher both went down.

  A ball smacked into the yardarm Lina perched upon, sending a spray of slivers up at her. She cursed and scrabbled back behind the bulk of the mast for cover. Below, she heard Lucian calling the rest of their crew to face the threat.

  Lina waited a moment to peek around the mast. The Bluecoats had finished their first volley and threw themselves at the pirates with bayonets and sabers. Her crewmates fell back a bit at the charge, but with nowhere else to go, they rallied quickly. The two sides met and broke apart into individual st
ruggles that spread out across the deck.

  A figure appeared from the captain’s cabin. He was a tall man in an officer’s uniform with a long wig of powdered curls. The epaulets on his shoulder denoted him a colonel. He drew a ridiculously ornate saber and casually climbed the stair up to the poop deck. Two marines framed him as guards, swords drawn and at the ready.

  The colonel gazed out at the melee below him. “Kill them all and take the airship,” he cried. “Admiral Wintermourn’ll make us rich as princes if we do. No quarter for pirate dogs!”

  Oh Goddess on high. This whole thing was a trap. No wonder the Kingfisher hadn’t run. The Bluecoats aboard had made her play honeypot for the Dawnhawk. Every kingdom back on Edrus offered a ludicrous bounty for an intact airship. Whoever this man was, he obviously thought he could claim it. Lina felt a surge of anger; they’d walked right into it. No. No way in the Realms Below they’re taking our ship from us.

  The marine colonel said something quietly to one of his men, who nodded and sheathed his blade. The Bluecoat walked over to the sternside railing, where a fat steel tube was attached to a pivot.

  A swivel gun.

  Lina stared. A swivel gun was a small cannon, usually used in boarding actions. No sane commander would use one against his own ship. But the Bluecoats had already shown a willingness to gun down their own sailors. Loaded with shot, it would devastate those fighting on the deck, including the Bluecoats there. Somehow Lina didn’t think that the stodgy Perinese colonel would care overmuch.

  The marine tilted the gun upright and knelt for a small powder keg and bag of shot stored under the gunwales beneath it. Thankfully, they still had to load the thing.

  I don’t have a lot of time. Lina glanced down and around. No one else on her side seemed to have noticed the danger. There was one ally close at hand, though. Reaver Jane stood with her back against the sternmost mast, fending off two marines at once with a cutlass and a long knife.

  I’ve got to get down there. But how? Lina glanced around for another way, and her gaze caught on a loose rope laying on the yardarm at her feet. The far end was part of the topsail rigging for the stern mast. Likely it had been torn free by the grapnels thrown earlier.