She raised her revolver, held her breath, and fired two rounds in quick succession.
Her first bullet caught Maybe-Tad in the chest, his body spasming when she decided on electric rounds and the revolver’s enchantment obeyed. The second bullet struck the sword’s hilt, but the sword only teetered on its course. No time for a third shot. She only just leapt aside as the blade whizzed past, a whoosh and gust of air hitting her ear. No time to regain her bearings, either, before the sword pulled a hairpin turn and resumed its course for her face.
Jade didn’t hear Liam approach, but suddenly he was there, hand closed around the enchanted sword’s hilt. At first, it looked as if he were the one holding it up. Then he let out an exhale and grabbed it with his other hand, throwing his weight backward to counteract the pull of the enchantment. His feet began to slide along the stone as the sword inched closer to her.
“Jade, fucking move!”
She moved, but not away. An idea had struck and she went with it. Jade fell to the ground at Liam’s feet and rolled onto her back.
“Are you fucking insane! I can’t hold—”
The sword’s tip followed her like a magnet, twisting so it was now straight up and down. Liam’s strength couldn’t hold out at such an angle. Jade watched the tension in his muscles, the tremor as he struggled to keep the sword in place. She rolled to the side just as his arms sank and the sword drove itself into the ground. It wiggled feebly but was wedged deep enough that Liam could safely release it.
He stared at her, jaw tight and eyes slightly wild. She grinned. He must have doubted her, even for a second. But whatever emotion he wore was just as quickly wrung out for blank stoicism.
“What? It worked.”
He shook his head, closing his eyes in that strained ‘Meria-give-me-patience way that usually accompanied interactions with her. Jade was still grinning as she followed his huffy steps toward the Maiden. The docks were a mess with unconscious—and dead, but that hadn’t been intentional—bodies and the screams had drawn some notice from other crews. Jade didn’t doubt that a unit of Legionnaires would be showing up in the very near future.
They were about to ascend the first set of stairs when Jade caught the sound of metal scraping stone. She turned as her new pet beelined for her yet again.
“What the shit, bullshit enchant—ugh.” Jade caught the flying sword as it passed. It was like wrestling a rabid animal as the weapon bucked and jostled in her hands to try and spin around and reach her. With a few more growls of impatience, Jade walked until she was close to the solid stone foundation of the docks.
Two hands gripping firmly, Jade swung the sword into the stone. She rammed it repeatedly, hacking at the solid blocks until dust and pebbles began to break loose. The sword’s blade began to dull, then dent, then bend. Her shoulders were burning with the strain. She drew on all her anger and malice until the blade was a mangled strip of steel and, finally, detached from the hilt. It clattered harmless to the ground, the enchantment spent from the abuse.
The hilt continued to wiggle in her grip, fucking stubborn bugger, but the enchantment was too weak to manage flight. She tossed it into a nearby garbage can.
3
This was Dian’s final mission with the Kestrel APU, his unit of three years. He was glad to be seeing the end of it. His transfer to Kestrel had been a “formal request.” Now the transfer would be on his terms. If all went according to plan he would trade air patrol for command on solid ground.
The platform rattled under his boots as he climbed to the top and boarded the Henrietta. Lift enchantments kept the ship continually airborne and once his steps crossed the threshold his stomach lurched with the gentle sway of the vessel. The dizziness would fade, provided he stayed away from railings and didn’t look down as they sailed, but the beginnings of air-sickness had constricted his throat. His mouth was incredibly dry without a mint leaf to chew, a result his mother would call the consequences of him not visiting enough.
The airship untethered and floated gently away from its dock. Enchantments thrummed throughout the ship’s structure as their spells were rallied to use for altitude and steering. The ship rose steadily higher and Dian forced his eyes toward a wall, desperate not to watch the slow climb of scenery. He was focused on breathing, eyes shut so he could count down from one hundred, when the Henrietta’s captain came bustling toward him.
“Officer Faer! I’ve given the crew the complete run-down of your instructions, as requested, and we are departing on schedule.” Captain Florence Montesque was a portly man with styled facial hair and a multi-hued velvet coat with long tails and too large buttons. He was a flashy person who showed status with gaudy displays of color and size. He also had a soft spot for Legionnaires and so had graciously volunteered the use of his ship when other captains would not. Dian owed this man for the ability to carry out his mission.
“Thank you, Captain, you’ve been more than accommodating and helpful. I just need to ask that you not address me as ‘officer’ while I’m on board. Remember, I am meant to be another crewman, not a soldier.”
“Oh, of course. Forgive me, it slipped my mind. Though, I do miss the uniform,” he noted with a gesture at Dian’s clothes. A plain buttoned shirt tucked into brown pants and a jacket for the cold and wind. Dian was so rarely out of uniform he owned only one other pair of pants and a handful of shirts, all the same color.
Montesque swayed with the ship as he stood, his body assuming a mechanical synchronization. Dian couldn’t master the effect. His body repelled flight at every turn. The wind picked up and they started to coast, Dian’s nose flared as he sucked in air.
“If I may, how long have you been at this game, hm? Still don’t have your air-legs?”
“Not quite.”
“And it is your business to catch pirates, eh? In the air?”
Dian set his hand against the cool sheet of metal. Globs of old paint lingered over the bolts and screws. It was a horrible color, pastel off-ish pink/beige. It looked the way his churning insides felt. He wanted to push his forehead against it. “They’re a menace to Vacua’s commerce. And the Legion needs the manpower.”
“So they are, in fact, allowing convicts to serve?”
“Some of those captured are given the option of service to the Legion in place of prison or work in the Glint mines. Free Chanters are growing in numbers and animosity. General Kannan thought it the best course to find other ways to bolster our numbers.”
“But the Maiden, surely, is too ambitious a capture?” Montesque played with the end of his thin moustache. He looked more a circus ring-master than a respected merchant captain. “I will admit, that I had my doubts accepting your proposal to act as bait in this endeavor. The Maiden is a wretched scourge. That blasted captain has too much guile and too much luck.
“Speaking of our quarry, I feel obligated to reiterate that I am thrusting myself, my ship, and all aboard it into the path of scoundrels. Which is all well and useful to you and, agreed, my eventual advantage to rid the Winds of pirates, but I am a businessman first and foremost, so my cargo and ship is my life. You understand.” He twirled the end of his long moustache. “With all the reports of Chanters popping up throughout Liore, who knows what we may find.”
Dian turned. “Chanters aren’t the problem.”
Montesque narrowed his eyes, his tone judgmental. “Are you a supporter, sir? These Free Chanters striking out at the very core of our country?”
“No, I don’t support Free Chanters,” Dian stated with an air of thoughts unvoiced. People were quick to throw differences into labeled boxes and quicker to bolt the box closed with warning signs. They were scared, and perhaps not without reason, but it was a subject that Dian believed to be grey rather than black and white. He wasn’t quick to share his thoughts on the matter, but otherwise his discomfort with the topic was well masked.
“Pardon me, but their kind would not be an issue if they had to buy their enchantments like everyone else. There are reg
ulations for a reason and these random nobodies are doing whatever they like. Just the other day my crew had a run-in with some young thing stealing from our hold. She slipped a cloak over her shoulders and it started to glow at her touch. My crew saw it with their own eyes when the next moment she appeared to have vanished completely. Imagine.”
Illegal enchantments had always existed. Though, he had never heard of any real invisibility enchantments, that didn’t mean a talented corsair couldn’t work out the coding for something close or similar. Gideon Muray, if the talk was to be believed, could pull it off easily. Muray could release dozens of ‘invisibility’ cloaks into the greater market, letting them circulate until picked up by people looking for illegal enchantments. Corsairs enchanting outside of government regulations wasn’t a new issue. It was a fact of society that people find ways to circumvent the rules. This wasn’t a concept that sprang to existence when the first Chanters appeared thirty years ago.
“Regardless, Captain Montesque, Chanters have no need of Glint. It’s unlikely that we’ll see them trying to steal ours.” Dian had intended his tone to bring an end to the conversation. When Montesque made no move to leave he attempted an awkward sort of smile/grimace and added, “Thank you for your help, again, but I don’t want to keep you from your work.”
Montesque waved a hand at Dian’s attempt to dismiss him, as if he were shooing away the formalities and they could chat as friends. “Nonsense, my work takes me where I like, and right now I am quite enjoying this conversation—”
The ship jerked suddenly, forcing both of them to reach out for balance. Dian threw himself against the wall, stomach somersaulting. He was breathing heavy and air-sickness returned with a dramatic punch to his senses.
“Ha-ah, that was quite the air-pocket.” Montesque righted himself quickly. “Are you quite alright?”
Dian couldn’t nod. His stomach was churning. His only focus was on breathing.
“You’ve gone rather pale, if I may say. A little green in the cheeks—”
“Cap’, we got some trouble ahead.” Dian breathed out relief at the appearance of the first mate, a dark haired, wide-set man named Jameson. It kept Montesque from hovering so he could pull himself together. Jameson addressed both of them when he said, “There’s an airship in sight. They’re foxing the radar, so must be pirates.”
“So the real fun begins,” said Montesque.
“But there’s a problem.” Jameson scratched at the coarse hair of his beard, eyeing Dian. “You remember that new kid we hired not three weeks back? Turns out he had a hand in loading the cargo. Bloody boxes’ve all shifted after that pocket. I’ve got men on it now, assessing the damage, but the—”
“The crates of Glint?” Dian edged past Montesque, turbulent stomach ignored. “Have any of them been damaged?”
Dian read the brief pause, the quick exchange of looks between Captain and First Mate. He was on the move before Jameson could provide a proper answer.
4
Cheers erupted among the crew of the Maiden. Well, not cheers so much as a hearty murmur of assent. The entire crew of thirty-odd men and women were grouped on the airship’s main deck, the strong wind squeezing through cracks in the high side walls meant to shield the heavier gusts. Jade stood on the quarterdeck, perched with her feet balancing on the bottom rung of the railing. Her voice barely carried over the wind as she flailed her arms with each promise she had no intention of keeping.
Her grandiose display didn’t appear to be working. The crew exchanged glances, crossed their arms, fidgeted. Jade was giving them the performance of her life, yet nothing but crickets.
She nodded, lowering her arms and adopting a more genuine tone. This would require an entirely different tactic.
“I know, I know, you’re hard pressed to trust my judgment. I get it.” A tense shift throughout the crew confirmed their distrust. The document proving Shepard’s release of command to her hadn’t been met with a single objection—aside from the seven left behind when they decided to loyally stay by Shepard’s side in his time of loss. Her ability to provide profits, however, was in serious doubt. They currently sailed through the awakening dawn toward their quarry. Clouds and fog dispersed the purples and reds of a rising sun. The mountains were a dark, looming silhouette to their right.
Jade lowered her gaze, saturating her speech with as much sincerity as she was capable. “I don’t blame any of you for doubting. All I ask is that you allow me to prove myself to you. We came here for a reason. That reason is the rumors that none other than Florence Montesque—of Montesque Shipping—is said to be carrying a large shipment of Glint. Rumors vary, but the total has been named at anywhere from ten to twenty cases. Pure, refined, Vacuan Glint. Before you vote me out, let me prove that I’m worthy of your trust.”
Jade’s coat flapped loudly behind her. Since stepping aboard the Maiden as Captain a few hours ago she had thrown herself into the role. Captain Jade Avaris. She wanted to bark orders. Demand a ‘sir’ at the end of every statement. Wear a scowl while taking jaunts about the airship. Assert herself as a no-nonsense, but still beloved Captain.
Reality had instead presented her with a skeptical crew unswayed by displays of mock authority or flashy design. There was no appreciation for the fashion and beauty of their Captain, only skepticism about her capabilities since she wasn’t technically even really a pirate. The rumor of this Glint shipment was perfectly timed luck. Sure, there was no way this was not some Legion funded sting to capture pirates, but that’s why Shepard had to go. He had come to a similar conclusion and Jade couldn’t have him turning down such an obvious trap. They would likely be apprehended by legionnaires if they went after this shipment, but as that was Jade’s intention she was happy for the opportunity.
“So let’s set a course, helmsman, and get us that plunder!”
“Will you get the fuck down, already? They bought it.” Liam’s voice was like a wasp buzzing in her ear. So harsh and critical. He yanked on her sleeve to pull her down.
Of course they bought it. Ten cases of Glint were enough for every crewman to retire to a modest living. Enchantment was essential to the function of Liore, but each nation’s government regulated the supply of its citizens, allotting only so much to a household. And then the enchantments themselves were strictly regulated. Enchanters had to follow pages of rules and standards for each specific code. Corsairs, however, worked outside those standards. But even corsairs needed Glint so they paid well for unregulated supplies of it. Very well.
Liam dragged her through the ship’s passageways, toward the Captain’s cabin in the far back of one of the lower decks. The interior of the Maiden was bare metal, studded walls, exposed coils of wiring or brass piping, and grime caked into nooks. Oak trim extended throughout the ship’s high traffic areas. Oxidation formed in irregular patterns along the railings and fixtures, creating splotches of greens and blues in the metal. There was a smell throughout the ship, the saccharine, floral stench of rapid Glint consumption. It was consistently cool. The high amount of enchantments working together to power the airship sucked all the heat from the air. In places like Vacua’s Royal Court or Legion HQ, it was rumored that there were so many enchantments you could see your breath even on the hottest days.
The wood trim continued into the spacious Captain’s Cabin. Dark cherry furniture broke up the riveted metal sheeting along the walls. Plush rugs and drapes and shelves overstuffed with books and trinkets softened the room. It was a cozy space that made you want to hole up with a book and read under the light of a sphere. One entire wall was glass, allowing her to see down to the glowing threads of enchantment in the towns below. With the door firmly latched behind them, they could speak freely.
“I’ll be sad to see the last of this bed,” Jade said, more to herself than to Liam.
“You’re not worried?” Liam folded his arms across his chest and leaned on the desk. He was such a serious person. His thin lips were always scowling. His skin was ghastly pale a
nd yet she had never noticed his cheeks flushed from exertion or embarrassment. She craved moments that could catch her off her guard. You knew you were having a good time when you felt it even in your blood.
“No, I’m not. This will all be over by tonight.” She tossed her hair over a shoulder and flopped backward onto the bed, bouncing on its magnificent spread. “I bought us the time we need. You should be thanking me, honestly.”
Liam huffed, lowering his head. “You run your mouth too much.”
“So?”
“You’re making promises and pandering. None of which you can back up with actual action. You’re bluffing this entire crew—”
“Yeah, an entire crew that’s about to be Legion property in less than twenty-four hours. We both know those cases are a trap.” She snorted. “Like any moron wouldn’t see a lure like that from a mile away.”
“Except you just incited a crew of well-equipped, inventive pirates who’d rather fight their way into chains than be taken easily. What do we do if they win?”
“Then fine. They won’t know we had any warning.” Jade put a hand on either cheek, feigning shock. “A trap? It can’t be. They done fooled us all.” She snickered, leaning back and studying her nails.
“You’re laughing, but they’d kill us over less.”
“Then we just jump ship at the next port. Before questions and expectations start up. We disappear, no problem. They’re not gonna look for us over it, come on. They’ll move on and we’ll be a distant memory.”
His tone dropped, lowering to a volume she could barely hear. “That throws off our entire plan.”
“No, not entirely.”
“Stanslav gave us a week. One week and then he figures us for lost and finds some other hopeless vagrants back home to do what we couldn’t. If we lose this chance—”
Catalyst (The Second Cycle Book 1) Page 3
