Catalyst (The Second Cycle Book 1)

by Solstice Locke

  “Liam, seriously, calm down. We can get picked up for...I don’t know, petty theft. Pull a string of burglaries in one of the bigger cities. That’ll get us the right sort of attention, Alexi will never know the difference. A non-violent crime, serious enough to get us sentencing, and boom. We’re signing up as new recruits to the Legion. Right on schedule. Or, okay, maybe a bit behind schedule. But Alexi won’t question it.”

  “Fine.”

  Jade smiled. “Don’t be like that, pouty. It’ll work out. We’ll make it work. There’s are lives at stake.” He looked up at her then, eyebrow raised. “You thought I forgot. That I wasn’t taking this seriously enough? I’m hurt, Liam.”

  “You don’t intend to be selfish.”

  “But I am?”

  “Your mind tends to place Jade and all her whims above others. On occasion.”

  “Certainly above you, jackass.”

  They slipped into the silence of friends who’ve been around each other too often to ever feel uncomfortable. Jade was just as used to Liam’s heartbeat as her own. They’d come a long way since Montressor.

  While Jade enjoyed her final hours on a proper bed, legs draped over the edge so she could swing them, her gaze slipped to Liam. He was huddled in the corner, quiet and melancholy. Jade had survived their time in Montressor with her humor intact, but Liam had never recovered. He pulled everything inward. Even his appearance reflected a need to conceal. He let his hair grow long and shaggy, wore long sleeves and pants, a jacket with a high collar. The sleeves covered the tally marks that ran up the outside of his forearms, a brand for every victory he took no pride in winning.

  Jade would never add more scars for Liam to cover. While they waited together, she didn’t feel like smiling or reveling anymore. She opened her satchel and pulled out a well-worn book. The cover had been taped in place, creases like jagged scars. It was the only book she had ever read. She taught herself to read using those pages as a Lexicon. And when she met Liam, she’d taught him as well.

  “The Sovereign's Thief,” she read aloud, “by Morrgan Asher.” She flipped to the first page.

  Liam made his silent way across the room and sat on the floor near her feet. As she started to read she felt his weight sag against her legs, head resting near her knee.

  “Captain! We’ve spotted her! Foxing their radar now.” A crewman’s voice filled the room. Jade carefully packed her book in her satchel and secured the strap over her shoulders. Whatever she had said to assure Liam, the weight of the next few hours was crushing her, too. This one chance and then the hard part was over. Supposedly.

  5

  Dian searched his memory for the airship’s layout. Though he knew the general specifications for each airship model, he’d studied a detailed blueprint of the Henrietta to better familiarize himself with its unique differences.

  A narrow stairwell took him below the main deck, to the ship’s inner passages, and he veered right. Each passageway looked like the next, dark wood walls pieced together with steel supports and thin glowing tracks of the Glint being pumped throughout the structure. He counted doors and used the Glint lines to help him navigate until he was heading down another stairwell and to the bottom-most level of the ship. The cargo hold opened like a cavern as he passed through the doorway and began his descent of a ramp screwed into one of the walls and supported by scaffolding beams. Below him, the crewmen were working together to leverage boxes and sort out spilled supplies.

  Dian threaded through the clutter and hustle of crewmen. Montesque’s crates and barrels and tightly stacked goods had completely buried the crates of Glint. The toppled mass extended much higher than the tallest man there and expanded through most of the useable floor space. The crew had managed to right a handful of boxes, but it wasn’t enough and there was no time.

  The crates of Glint had each contained a tracker that would help the Peregrine tail the pirate airship. It was essential that the pirates leave with a tracker aboard their ship. Dian helped clear out crates, working toward the center of the mass to form an opening amidst the toppled tower. It wasn’t a wide enough opening to haul out any of his crates, but it was enough for him to crawl on his stomach and perhaps reach one of them.

  “The rest of this can wait,” Dian instructed, voice firm and clear as he directed the men away from their labors. “The pirates will be on us in minutes and none of you need to be down here when they board. I just need one of you to point me toward a crowbar before you leave.”

  The crew stood for a moment, scattered as they were to their various tasks, and then seemed to decide that Dian was worth following. A blonde woman tossed a crowbar at him as she followed her fellow crewmen back up the ramps.

  Dian pushed the bar ahead of him as he shimmied into the crevice of boxes. Now that he was enclosed, with heavy wood groaning around him as the precariously stacked cargo threatened to shift, he considered this may not have been the wisest course, even if it was the only one he could think up in time. He moved quickly, but cautiously, crawling until he saw the faint glow leaking out the cracks in the crate’s lid. He jammed the crowbar into the crack and pried as far as he was able. He had forgotten gloves and so pulled up his sleeve so he could feel for the tracker amongst the Glint. Glint burns were a nasty, scarring wound that spared only Chanters.

  The Henrietta shook. A violent tremor followed by the resounding screech of metal scraping metal. He reached his arm down further, trying to keep his fumbling calculated enough so he didn’t skip over the tracker. More noise filled the cargo hold, echoing off the walls in a riot. The odd particle of Glint slipped through the end of his sleeve, igniting small pricks of pain on his hands.

  The pirates were boarding.

  His fingers closed around the tracker.

  CHAPTER THREE

  HE WAS HESITANT TO MEET THE BREAST OF HER

  Tremors reverberated throughout the metal floor of the Henrietta. Dian felt the shockwaves creep up the metal of his right leg. He steadied himself, airsickness forgotten, and tried to work out the best way to salvage the dire turn in his situation.

  For his plan to succeed the tracker, currently in his hand, needed to be transferred aboard the Maiden. The bonding enchantment had been put on a common metal flask, which meant that it would guide its twin until the two were reunited. A flask was strong enough to hold the enchantment, small enough to be stored or hidden, but unlikely to be questioned if found. It was the perfect homing tool, provided you had the means of placing it on the host. Originally, the pirates were supposed to inadvertently steal the tracker along with the twelve cases of Glint. Those cases were presently buried under a mountain of crates and barrels. Dian needed a new method of transfer.

  The ship groaned and rocked.

  He needed it fast.

  The safest option was to physically transfer it aboard. Planting it on a pirate was too risky, they could discover it and discard it. Transferring the tracker to a different crate would be a shot in the dark. There was no guessing which the pirates would take.

  Dian sighed.

  He had to bring it aboard himself. The problem now was how to engineer his capture when they were more likely to kill him rather than take him prisoner.

  A clang and the screech of metal came from just outside the cargo bay door. Typically, the immense door was lowered using cables on a pulley system. Dian watched as it was pried open, the thickly twined steel cables groaning under the strain.

  Dian tucked the tracker under the inside of his belt. Hopefully, they would think him a drunk if they searched him. Thank the founders he’d thought to fill it, so they might even take it for themselves. His enchanted sword was hidden in his left boot, should he need it. His eyes jumped around the room, seeking any flash of inspiration, when he spotted an emergency kit stashed under a row of shelving.

  A squeak of air leaked from the broken airtight seal on the door. Dian ran for the kit, diving and letting his right knee take the full impact. He opened the clasp and tore through the
contents until he found a flare gun. Small, inconspicuous, but when fired burned incredibly hot.

  Wind gusted through the widening crack of the door. A thundering howl filled the enclosed chamber. The cargo bay door fell fully open, an entryway three men tall and double as wide. It acted as a bridge while tether lines closed the remaining gap until the two ships were perfectly aligned. Dian rose to his feet just in time.

  A swarm of men clamored through from the Maiden. Weapons raised, they filled the cargo hold. Dian raced back to the tower of cargo, dodged the slash of a cutlass, and leapt onto a crate.

  A little breathless, he now had the high ground and the full attention of every pirate. There was a pause while the savage men decided he posed the only threat in the room and then prepared to eliminate him.

  “Wait!” Dian pointed the flare gun down, right at the heart of the collapsed tower of cargo. They halted. “One shot and this cargo is reduced to a pile of ash.”

  A tall pirate with cropped hair and glasses amidst an array of tattoos stepped forward. “We can put out a fire. Arlo, take the shot.”

  Arlo brought the butt of a rifle to his chin.

  Dian’s finger squeezed tighter over the trigger. “Back off.”

  “Shoot ‘im!” A voice called out, Dian didn’t catch whose.

  “Does Glint burn?” Asked another.

  “If he burns the lot of it, this is for nothing.”

  At least Dian had bought himself a few seconds as they shouted amongst themselves. He still needed a better plan than holding the cargo hostage until they lost their patience and shot him anyway. He was in the process of drafting out his next move when a hand latched around his ankle.

  “Enough of this,” a tall pirate shouted, hauling him down by the leg. Dian hit the ground in an ungracious heap. Before he could regain his bearings the pirate kicked out with a heavy boot. Adrenaline shielded him for half a second before pain lanced through his jaw. He worked his tongue around his mouth and tasted blood welling in his cheeks.

  Dian’s attacker toyed with the mace in his hand, then raised it over his shoulder, preparing to strike down.

  “I wouldn’t, Elix.” A voice broke through the rest, dry and lifeless. The pirate about to strike Dian stopped, but with great annoyance. He turned toward the speaker. “Kill him, that is. I wouldn’t.”

  “Oh? And why the hell not?”

  “He’s a legionnaire.”

  Dian lifted his head, hand still holding his jaw. The pirate who spoke was shorter than most of his allies, but he carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who knew his height didn’t matter. The pirates looked to him.

  “How would you know that?” Dian’s attacker asked.

  “The way he carries himself. His haircut. The fact that there are no other crewmen down here. A few other reasons you should have picked up on, but didn’t because you’re an idiot. And, honestly, his face screams overachieving military career.”

  “You think you’re funny, eh, Liam?” Elix stepped over Dian and towered over Liam. “Alright, say he’s Legion. Why should that stop me from killing him, huh? Don’t have your puppet master with you, pulling fancy excuses out of the air. And while you’re at it, explain to me why a legionnaire would be dressed like a low crewman on a merchant ship.”

  Liam huffed, looking like this conversation was draining all his energy. But now Dian had an idea.

  Dian kicked out at his attacker’s legs. The man fell with a thud and while eyes were drawn to the man’s cry of alarm, Dian wormed away and held up his flare gun. “I was a soldier. Dishonorable discharge. Three months ago.”

  Elix pushed through the crew. He focused solely on Dian as he shouted behind him, “Men, grab what you can and start bringing it aboard. Anything you can carry in the next five minutes. Then we head out. Now.”

  The men scrambled to obey, grabbing whatever they could carry. They wouldn’t reach the Glint. Not in five minutes. Elix stepped closer, but Dian remained still.

  “As for you. Ex-legionnaire—”

  “Let me join you,” Dian said. He would see this plan through. By any means.

  “Excuse me?” Elix narrowed his eyes.

  “Let me join your crew. This job was the best I could do with my record. Aside from fleeing the country, I have few profitable options.”

  The short pirate from before, Liam, was listening. Dian watched the way he moved, the unnerving stillness, as though every motion was the result of decisive intent. There was no mistaking that he wasn’t a novice. When he spoke, his tone was dry and lifeless. Bored. “Bring him aboard. We’re a bit short-handed with the recent losses.”

  “It’s not up to you—”

  “Nor you. So let’s bring him and decide from there. Weren’t you the one who said five minutes?”

  Dian had expected to convince them, make a show of his potential loyalty or to fight for a position, but Liam was making this easy. Dian might have believed Liam and him were working toward the same goal, if that were possible. Why was a matter for after he was on the ship.

  Without waiting for confirmation, Liam cut a strip of twine loose from a crate. “If it makes you feel better, we’ll properly restrain him until the crew makes up their mind about him.” Liam approached Dian and gestured for the flare gun. Dian handed it over cautiously, but intrigued and, for better or worse, hopeful that his plan would work. “Worse case, you throw him overboard later instead of now.”

  The five minutes had come and gone. The two pirates stared in silent conversation for a few more seconds before Elix turned and headed for the Maiden. Liam pushed Dian toward the open bay doors. It worked, he would get the tracker on the Maiden. Though, Dian glanced sideways at his unexpected ally, it seemed it was not entirely through his efforts.

  Once aboard the Maiden, separating from the Henrietta was quick. The cargo hold of the Maiden was smaller than the one they left behind, but not so different in appearance. Piles of various goods or boxes, storage shelves bolted along the walls, tracts of Glint traveling up the walls. The crew that had been part of the boarding party milled in the space, tension spilling over from their divided opinions on Dian’s presence. Elix approached with unmasked anger in his wake.

  “So. This is what happens when Harrowind gutter trash try and play at leadership? No Glint. A haul barely worth the effort. And an ex-legionnaire new recruit. I’ll be having a talk with your ‘friend,’ the rest of the crew, as well. An official vote starts tomorrow. I’d not get cozy.” His eyes flicked to Dian. “You either.”

  Dian noted the shift in Liam’s stance a second too late. Blood sprayed into the air, eliciting a silence so finite and sudden Dian could hear each drop slap against the floor. Elix was on the floor, holding back blood with his hand. A clean line had been sliced into his face.

  “That’s a warning.” Liam knelt, so they were eye-level, his unnerving calm chilling the air. “Save your words. Don’t cross me or Jade. Vote if you like, but don’t forget. I don’t fight fair. I fight to win.” Liam sheathed his dagger and stood. The rest of the room regarded him with caution, but stayed silent.

  Elix rose to his feet, but his injury was mostly superficial. He kept his distance, a reluctant display of compliance. “We will vote, don’t doubt it. And I’ll not have control of the outcome, either way. But I’d watch the numbers if I was you. Cheap shots or not, I’ve been here longer. I know this crew. So let’s agree to disagree for now.”

  Liam didn’t move or acknowledge Elix’s offer. He just stared.

  Elix motioned to Dian. “And since it was your bright idea to bring him, you’ll not mind seeing that he’s properly contained until we decide what to do with him. He can make his plea for a position here once we’ve voted on your friend’s place.”

  The crew left and Dian was alone with Liam. He didn’t know if this man was truly an ally or if coincidence had aligned their goals, but he was wary of him.

  “This way.” Liam was a few paces ahead when he realized Dian wasn’t followin
g and turned back. Liam’s hands were on his hips, a cool detachment to his stare that was almost offensive. “We’re hundreds miles up,” he said, “If you want to attempt escape, wait until you have somewhere to go.”

  Dian followed. The ship wasn’t well kept. Oxidation built-up. Dust coated unused surfaces. There was an undercurrent of body odor to the floral, sweet scent of Glint. The air was cool against his skin.

  The brig was a small compartment with four barred holding cells, two on either side opposite each other. Rust had started to peel along the joints. The smell was terrible. Liam used his boot to kick open one of the cell doors, its hinges squeaking.

  “In,” he said.

  Dian took a step, disturbing puddles of collected condensation from the air cooling the metal walls and floors. Inside the cell was a bolted down cot and a bucket in the corner. Liam used his knife to cut Dian free and then shut him inside. Odd, however, that Dian hadn’t been searched for weapons or tools. Liam was apathetic, but Dian didn’t believe him to be stupid.

  Dian resisted checking his belt for the tracker. He knew it was there and checking risked altering Liam. His allies on the Peregrine would be tailing the Maiden now, but they wouldn’t intercept until it docked. With luck, they would do that soon. Dian wasn’t confident the voting would be in his favor once Liam’s friend was voted out. Liam didn’t leave, planting himself against one of the walls and staring into the distance. He didn’t react when a female voice spilled into the brig.

  “Please tell me you have a plan,” A woman stormed into the brig, slamming the door behind her and barring herself against it, “Because I think I just made everything worse.”

  Liam rose from his place, glaring at the newcomer. “What happened?”

  “I guess they’re a little pissed we didn’t get any Glint. They were talking about voting me out and…”

  “What. What did you do?”

  “Listen, it’s not my fault. I may have inadvertently...hinted...that we knew.”