Black Recluse

by Anna Bowman

  He’s done it to himself. A cold voice inside Solomand whispered. He doesn’t want you interfering.

  But even if it was true, Solomand could not honor such a wish. Not anymore.

  “Ivan?” Solomand’s boots crunched on debris as he took a step towards the man.

  Cold eyes opened, stabbing at Solomand with an accusing look that made his stomach turn. Solomand knew he deserved it, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

  “What the hell have you done to yourself?”

  There was no answer. Ivan’s head tilted back against the wall, and he slurred something in his native tongue Solomand couldn’t make out. He made up his mind.

  “You’re coming with us,” he said.

  Ivan’s eyes did not open. “I will not leave this place. Except maybe in coffin,” he muttered.

  “That will damned well happen if you stay here any longer,” Solomand said, ringing the water from his cap before returning it to his head.

  “Better to go in coffin than with you, Captain Black.” There was no small measure of contempt in his voice.

  Solomand stood over him, wanting the Ice Wolf to stand up. To fight him. Anything.

  “To hell with you then, you Slavik bastard!” He slung a piece of the rotting board from the collapsing ceiling over Ivan’s head, expecting him to dodge it and knock him across the room. Instead, Ivan fell to the floor, unconscious.

  “Shit.” Solomand’s shoulders slumped, staring at his friend’s limp form and fighting back a rising sickness.

  It couldn’t be Ivan laying there, more dead than alive. Breaking himself from the thoughts he knew would send him over the edge he turned to Will.

  “Let’s get him back to the ship.”

  Will managed to lift the Slav over his shoulders and carry him alone, something he never would have been able to do six years ago. “We taking him to Ashbury?” he asked Sol as they walked back out into the rain.

  “No. I’ll have Zee take him back to the Castle in the Sky Rail,” Solomand said. He saw the dealer approaching another junkie, slipping him a small vial.

  The bastard.

  He couldn’t force it on his hapless clients if they didn’t want to take it; Solomand knew this. But the still voice of reason was quieted under a blanket of fury. Falling behind Will, he circled back and came up behind the man. He’d ruined enough lives to forfeit his own, but Solomand only cared about one.

  The dealer did not cry out when the blade slit his throat. He slumped to the ground as Solomand cleaned his knife on the black coat and then walked away without sparing the man another glance.

  Chapter 4

  Rayn

  Rayn watched the colors of the sky fade and transform as the day, like all the others before it, drew to an end. Once again, she had broken the promise she made to herself that today would be different. The air filled with the smell of exhaust as passenger ships and scout skiffs came into the dock for the night. Tattered flags of orange and red fluttered in the breeze, markers for pilots. A flagger waved the last airship in, steering it clear of the smaller skiffs. It docked at the port with a heavy clank, blocking the smooth flow of purple and orange clouds around the setting sun.

  As a mid-class vessel, it was sad looking even among the smaller airships. Osprey was painted in letters that looked like they were melting off the rust-tinged shutters. It was oblong with the standard three-decks. These ships were able to support a few passengers for longer trips, but their primary purpose was delivering supplies to more isolated outposts. The Osprey, however, looked like it would not survive another run. The massive propellant fan on the back let out a whine that sounded like nails scraping against metal. Rayn cringed as she turned and shuffled away with a sigh. There was no point in watching the sunset if that depressing piece of machinery was blocking the view.

  A group of women dressed in corsets and long skirts laughed together, waving and blowing kisses at the pilots on the docks. Rayn scowled and crossed to the other side of the road, shoving her right hand deep in her pants pocket. Her fingers clasped around the medallion she always carried, and the restless stirring inside her grew a little more intense than the day before.

  Every dusk as the ships docked, crowds of bored villagers flocked to the platform, hopeful of stories and supplies or spendthrift sailors eager to buy a night’s company. Rayn thought everyone involved was rather stupid and strode at a hurried pace to the outskirts of the dull little sky port. Shouting and laughter drifted through the alleys behind her along with the faint sound of boots thumping on the dirt path. The footsteps grew louder, rising above the noise of people cavorting through the town, but Rayn did not turn around.

  Tomorrow I’m leaving, she promised herself again. This was not her home, and it never would be.

  Her pace quickened until she reached the small shop on the village’s edge, nestled between two large trees. The battered sign blazoned with ‘Gunsmith’ shifted on its hinges in the warm breeze. She stared at the word for a moment then sighed before turning the lock and pushing the door open. There was no work, except for the rifle of that idiot boy Gabriel Glass, which she was in no rush to fix.

  Tomorrow would be the day she’d walk onto one of those airships and never look back. Except, there had been countless tomorrows where she couldn’t quite manage to follow through. She bit her lip, mad at herself for being such a coward.

  The smell of oil and metal mingled with the scent of grass as she stepped inside. The door slammed shut, then burst open again. Someone staggered into the shop causing Rayn to jump with alarm. She spun around and backed against the tool bench, drawing her revolver in one fluid motion.

  “Are you the gunsmith?” the man asked, then jerked his hands up. “Easy.” He gulped, backing away, his steel-blue eyes fixed on the gun-barrel inches from his face. “I don’t want trouble. I have a business proposition.”

  “Who are you?” Rayn asked. Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of proposition?”

  The choking smell of tobacco filled the room. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, the same as her, wore a navy-blue overcoat and calf boots in the fashion of an aviator. His clothes were worn and faded, though, unlike most pilots who took care to keep their appearances polished. His sleeves slumped down, revealing a leather cuff around his left wrist with a flat dial and flashing buttons on the front; it was a transmitter; pilots often wore these to communicate with their crew.

  “My name is Solomand Black.” He inched his hands down. “And I am in rather urgent need of a gunsmith aboard my ship.”

  An airship Captain. Rayn lowered her revolver. “What could you possibly need a gunsmith for aboard a passenger vessel?” Her head tilted back.

  The Coalition prohibited airship guns since the end of the war, but that didn’t stop marauders or pirates from equipping themselves, and it was risky business getting involved with those sorts of people. Once you were on the wrong side of the Coalition, it was impossible to go back—or so she’d overheard.

  Solomand ran a hand through his disheveled coal-black hair. “Well, it’s sort of a, er, refurbished, passenger vessel. Sensitive cargo is more my line of work.” His brow furrowed. “It’s for defense.” He glanced out the window at the settling dusk, a nervous look crossing his face again. “I can pay you whatever you want, but I have to leave here in.” He dug out a pocket watch and glanced at the ticking hands. “Ten minutes ago.”

  Rayn returned her revolver to the holster on her thigh. “Whatever I want?” She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and reached into her pocket. The metal was warm against her palm as she clasped the medallion again. She didn’t believe in fate, but this could be her chance to find the answers she needed.

  “Yes!” Solomand leaned forward on his toes, his eyes searching the darkening sky out the window. He stuffed the watch back in his pocket. “We’ll be gone for about two months—what do you say, er…” His eyes trailed up and down her body. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” He took a step closer an
d flashed her a smile she presumed he meant to be charming.

  Rayn frowned, crossing her arms, disenchanted. Although, there was something about his haphazard appearance that was not hard on the eyes, he did not have the oil-slick salesman display most of the other pilots who berthed here had: clean-shaven and clothes with starched creases as pressed and fake as their personalities. His beard could have either been neatly trimmed—the product of missing a week’s shave—and his clothes were worn and spotted with stains, which at least gave the impression he worked for a living.

  “Rayn.” She still eyed him with suspicion.

  “Rayn. What a beautiful name,” Solomand leaned forward, trying to catch her gaze. “Just Rayn?” He attempted to smooth his tousled hair.

  “Yeah.” Her lips pursed together in a tight line, annoyed for having allowed the previous thoughts to slip into her mind.

  Solomand abandoned his ill attempts to be suave and pulled out his watch again. His eyes grew wider when he saw the time, and his gaze darted back to the window. “Well then, what do you say, Rayn? Do we have a deal?”

  Rayn’s bag was already sitting on her bed, packed and waiting. She had, however, failed to acquire any travel papers or passports. It was a complicated legal process, and she doubted whether she could get them at all. If any of her legal certificates existed, she had yet to locate them. There had been a fire, she was told, and most of her personal belongings were destroyed. Her only option to leave without those papers was to stowaway or find a Captain who wasn’t keen on asking too many questions.

  Solomand Black seemed like every other pilot in one respect: ready to flirt with anything but probably harmless. Rayn was confident she could handle his type. And he was unlikely to ask about her identification.

  “Two months.” She ran her fingertip along the narrow scar under her chin, thinking.

  “At the most.” Solomand’s eyes were growing wider. “I need an answer soon—I should have already left.” He glanced over his shoulder at the door as he tugged on his sweat-stained shirt collar.

  Rayn had no intention of coming back, but she was enjoying making Solomand Black squirm. Besides, she wasn’t about to let him know how eager she was to accept his offer. She chewed on her bottom lip and breathed out.

  “I might be able to spare the time,” she relented.

  Solomand’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a sigh of relief.

  “Thank god. I was afraid I’d have to take you at gunpoint,” he chuckled. Then he winked. “Just joking. I’m not a pirate.”

  Rayn gave him the sort of scathing look that always worked to silence smart-mouthed customers who had anything to say about the price of her work. Solomand cleared his throat, averting her gaze.

  “Alright, well, best get your stuff so we can get the hell out of here.”

  He pulled a cigarette case from his pocket. It slipped from his fingers and clanged on the floor. Solomand scrambled to pick up the scattered bits of black tobacco before hurriedly rolling a cigarette.

  “Fine by me, Captain Black.” Rayn stepped behind the bench and pushed open the door to her room.

  The chirping of crickets drifted in from an open window. Rayn stood by the unmade bed and paused. The room was bare of any personal items, except for the black rifle leaning in the corner.

  Rayn looked around. A little voice inside her head tried explaining the insanity of her actions. There was nothing for her here, except the gun of that asinine adolescent. It would probably be doing the town a service if she didn’t finish that job.

  Am I really going to leave? She didn’t know the man who waited outside her room, yet she was not worried about jumping aboard his ship and leaving town.

  He’s like all the other idiot pilots.

  Solomand Black was nothing she couldn’t handle.

  Still, she had more or less made up her mind this was a permanent move. If anyone else had done the same, Rayn would have been the first one to point out how idiotic the plan was. But something inside her told the voice of caution to be silent.

  She pulled out the medallion and traced her fingers along the missing triangular piece at the bottom of the oval. Around a small compass in the gold-tinged metal was the inscription I will come for you- S.L. The S and the L were on either side of the missing triangle’s point. Aside from the rifle, this was the only clue to her past. The words on it made her more determined than ever.

  Rayn squeezed her fingers around the medallion before shoving it back in her pocket.

  “No more waiting,” she muttered and snatched a pair of fingerless, leather gloves of the bureau. She pulled them on to her elbows and slung the leather satchel from her bed over her shoulder. She grabbed the rifle and ran her hands over the smooth, black stock before hooking it over her shoulder with a belt of ammunition.

  Time to leave this place behind.

  She glanced around the room one more time, her heart beating with excitement as she pushed the door to the shop open. A low, ringing sound rose above the noise of insects outside the window, and the airship captain’s transmitter emitted a frantic beeping.

  “Get down!” Solomand jetted across the room and slammed into her before she had time to react. They both crashed to the floor as bullets splintered the walls over their heads. Her rifle slid from her shoulder, the bolt digging into her side as she hit the ground.

  It took Rayn a moment to catch her breath.

  “Get off,” she gasped, coughing as she wriggled from beneath Solomand.

  “Keep down! He pressed her closer to the floor as another round of bullets broke out, hitting lower this time.

  “What the hell is going on?” Rayn yelled, her nose against the floorboards.

  The demoralizing ring gave her the panicky feeling of being underwater.

  “Shit!” Solomand rolled onto his back, sliding closer to her. “That’s the 201st Airborne Division out there.”

  “The what?” Rayn’s heart pounded against the floor. “What’s a damned Coalition unit doing all the way out here?” She turned to glare at him. “Just who the hell are you?”

  Avoiding a legal matter of travel papers was one thing. But dealing with the 201st Airborne was another.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  She realized too late she should have kicked him out the moment she set eyes on him. Or shot him.

  A deafening boom silenced Solomand’s reply. The shell tore a massive hole through the roof, and they were showered with a layer of wood fragments and plaster.

  “Those bastards are fast,” Solomand remarked, spitting out a mouthful of white dust

  Shouts rang out in unison with pounding feet on the roof. The 201st’s airship, Pandora, whirred overhead. Rayn coughed as she breathed in the debris-filled air.

  I’m going to die here.

  Her thoughts were on the medallion again. There was a nudge in her ribs, and she turned to Solomand. He brought his face closer to hers, and Rayn could see the growing terror in his eyes.

  “We have to get out of here!” He gasped for breath between coughs.

  Something fell through the hole in the roof and landed with a series of plinks a few feet away. More muffled shouts sounded out as the object began to fizzle, and the shop filled with pungent white smoke. Rayn curled her legs into her stomach, gagging as her lungs filled with a burning sensation.

  Solomand coughed again.

  Then, sounding more collected than he should have been, he announced, “Time to go.”

  Hurling a metallic object over his shoulder, he yanked her to her feet and held her by the arm as he sprinted to the door.

  There was a “clank” on the wall as the 201st jumpers descended through the roof. Loud yells were followed by a fiery blast. Something hot ripped through Rayn, and her side erupted in pain. Fighting nausea, she forced herself to run alongside Solomand Black under the cover of a heated smog among the noise of shouts and gunfire. The shadow of the airship Pandora loomed over them.

  Chapter 5

&
nbsp; Rayn

  Rayn felt like her chest was on fire as she pushed herself to keep up with Solomand. He dragged her alongside him as they sprinted through the billowing smoke, breathing in the sulfuric air. Her eyes burned in the swirling blackness as Solomand maneuvered through the volley of bullets that whizzed past on either side of them. Their boots kicking up bits of gravel, they tore down the path toward the center of town and out of the thick air.

  The unusual commotion shattered the peaceful evening in Port Ashbury and brought the town’s residents to their doors. When they saw the imposing shape of the Pandora above, they retreated, barring their windows and doors. Not one of them was crazy enough to risk getting involved with the 201st. The airmen were legendary for leaving a wake of destruction behind wherever they went, no matter how neutral the territory was.

  Rayn felt like her ears were filled with water, one more side effect of the acrid smoke grenade. Her vision going blurry, she made out the outline of Solomand’s airship docked at the sky port.

  Oh hell.

  Her spirit sank realizing it was the sad ship she’d seen berth earlier. Not a match for a three-legged dog let alone an S-Class Ally attack ship. The Pandora drifted closer, the noise it generated drowning out the sound of the passenger vessel's turbines. Still pulling her along, Solomand clambered up the grated-metal ramp and they both dove into the open doors of a cargo bay. Sprawled on the cold steel floor, Rayn coughed up a mix of mucous and grime.

  “What the hell, Solomand!” An agitated yell carried through the hull.

  Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Rayn looked up to see a wiry young man in an engineer’s jumpsuit running toward them. His brown hair was smeared in grease like the rest of him. Swinging a wrench in the air, he stared murder at Solomand. His light-brown eyes were underlined with dark circles, making it look like he hadn’t slept in days.

  “You didn’t waste any time bringin’ those bastards on our heels!” he fumed. “I just got these damned engines working properly!”