‘Stupid girl,’ he said, the Tarevian sneaking into his words. ‘You are supposed to be asleep, da?’
Serena fought to keep the tremor from her voice. ‘The storm woke me.’ She peered beyond Jozef’s girth. His skinny companion scribbled a message from a Bride’s Code machine. ‘What’s going on?’
He blocked her gaze. ‘Did you finish your reading and arithmetic?’
Serena gazed at the hammock trailing around her feet. ‘Yes.’
‘Stupid lies from a stupid girl! If you don’t want to be stupid, learn!’
She balled her fists. ‘Don’t call me stupid.’
‘Read your books, stop skulking in the night and I won’t have cause!’
‘I’m tired of spending days at a time locked up in here! Why can’t we go out? Why can’t we visit anywhere? Why can’t we see the places in all the books you make me read?’
‘The books are so you don’t need to see them!’
‘That’s… That’s stupid!’
‘I am an Elder, girl, do as you’re told!’
Thunder rolled outside. Jozef flinched at it.
Serena’s pulse quickened. ‘Since when have you been scared of thunder? What’s going on?’
‘Tell me what you read today.’
‘C’mon, don’t change the-’
‘You did not read the Analectus, this I know!’
‘Fine. I read a chapter of Captain Crimsonwing and the Armada of the Damned. Happy?’
‘Stupid book for stupid children!’
‘Jozef!’ called the skinny boy. He strode over from the old man’s cabin. His face was stricken with spots, and a feeble attempt at a moustache sprouted on his lip. ‘The Horizon Bridge, it-it’s gone!’ The words strained with the squeak of an unbroken voice. ‘The Enlighten has been destroyed… We have to turn back to the Isles!’
‘Hush hush!’ Jozef pushed the boy back into the cabin. ‘Back to bed, Serena child.’
‘I’m not a bloody child.’
‘No swearing! If you ever want anything out of this life, girl, you must do as you’re told. Good girls don’t sneak off or give lip to their elders! Off to bed!’
Jozef locked the door behind him.
Serena kicked the hammock away and slammed her own cabin door loud enough for Jozef to hear. She sat on her bed, knees up to her chin. She picked up her copy of Armada of the Damned and tossed it into the corner.
Outside, the storm turned violent.
Sweat matted hair to her forehead, and raw red skin painted her palms and forearms.
Images popped in and out of her head like half-remembered memories.
‘Sunbeam,’ she said. Her head pounded, sweat clung to her. The room smelled of bleach, making her dizzy. Pins and needles ran through her arms. No, not pins and needles.
Electricity.
She was still connected to Sunbeam. He was miles away. He was in pain.
Flicker…
Scruff…
The thread stretched over great distances. Like a song from childhood, she detected brief glimpses of the creatures before the connection disappeared.
Her neck prickled. A dull ache ran from her shoulders down her back.
She’d dreamt of Jozef. Whether from the tumble or the dream, her stomach twisted with maggots.
The tumble.
She sat bolt upright.
As clear as a blade of lightning in the night, her attacker appeared through the white noise in her head. Inhuman, scarred, hateful. Korvan.
A cramped glass cage surrounded her. Like an ice cube. She rolled off the single bed, feet sliding on the pristine white floor, and pounded at the door. It wouldn’t budge.
She yelled for help. No-one answered.
Peering outside, she saw only blackness. She battered the window with both fists.
And then white light flooded her cell.
A voice hissed through an intercom above her.
‘Serena. I’m relieved you’re awake.’ The voice ran smooth and slow, every word weighted like a judge passing sentence. ‘I am Pyron Thackeray.’
Smoke billowed from the Schiehallion’s wounds, but she was still mighty.
Tugarin’s Talon, the Overseer and the Callan flew alongside her.
N’Keres’ confession had reached far and wide. The Watch made a show of arresting their own. Lockwood dissolved the blockade around Wrenwing Gap. Any Raincatcher allied with Vaughan was given a choice—leave the city or join the effort against Thackeray.
They chose to fight.
Tugarin had inspired them. The death of Captain Fitzwilliam rallied them. The Stormweaver, the Desert Rose and the Angelharp—they flew alongside the Callan and Tugarin’s Talon. Word had spread through the city. The “Raincatchers’ Rebellion”, they were calling it.
Fallon deployed Bulldogs to secure the train tunnel exit they’d used to escape One Three Seven before. Lockwood sent the Moonwaltzer to provide air support.
They were a ragtag bunch: RSF, army, Hunters, Raincatchers. Hardly a cohesive fighting force.
But today they were kin.
‘You’ll have questions,’ said Thackeray. ‘But time is short.’
The glare had dimmed. The floor beyond the cell was the cold, steel grey of an airship hangar. The walls were steeped in shadows, like the inside of a Spire. No markings, no warning signs, no safety notices. She could be anywhere.
Pyron Thackeray stood behind a console just yards from her.
‘You can hear me?’ Serena asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Is that what you want? To talk?’
‘Discourse can prevent wars.’
‘Maybe you should’ve tried that before you bombed half of the kingdom.’
Thackeray sat close enough for Serena to see the smile play on his lips.
‘The Night of Amberfire proved actions, as well as words, are needed.’
What was she supposed to say? The Prime Councillor had her locked in a cell—to talk?
‘You mean like killing hundreds of people?’
Thackeray didn’t respond, didn’t shift.
‘Reckon you should’ve killed Enfield first,’ Serena continued. ‘Instead of Alspeth tal Simara.’
‘Enfield was unfortunate.’ Thackeray’s eyes squeezed shut. ‘And removing Alspeth was not something I did lightly.’
‘“Removing”, is that what you call it? Say it straight: You murdered her.’
Thackeray shook his head. ‘You’re right. I murdered her.’ He stood up and limped towards the cell, cane in hand. ‘For the kingdom.’
‘Bullshit.’
Thackeray had an avuncular quality to him, something Jozef never did. His smile was warm. ‘You believe I haven’t sacrificed anything.’
‘Maybe ’cause you’re still breathing. The noble Prime Councillor, shot in front of his whole city. Guess you’re leaving out the part with the low-velocity bullet.’
Thackeray didn’t smile so much after that. ‘Someone has to lead this kingdom.’
‘Kings are generally known for that.’
‘King Owain has been dead for some time.’
King Owain? Dead? ‘You’ve been running everything for years,’ she said. ‘What about Princess Anabelle?’
‘As I said, time is short. I realise you have no reason to believe me, but what I do, I do because I must. I do not seek glory. I do not seek forgiveness nor recognition—all I want is to secure our nation’s safety, and I will take all measures to see that done. History shall remember me as a tyrant. Alspeth tal Simara will be remembered as a hero who strove for peace—but to find peace, one must prepare for war.’
‘Cool. Why are you keeping me in a playpen?’
Thackeray’s face softened. ‘After I learned of Enfield’s treachery, I dug into his private files. I uncovered communications between him and Idaris. Not easy—but his final communication had interesting things to say about you.’
Her blood froze. ‘You don’t believe all that crap, do you? About Sirens and demon
-kin?’
Thackeray stayed silent.
‘He’s wrong. You’re all wrong. I’m not a sorceress or an Idari witch. I’m just a girl.’
Thackeray’s hands tightened around his cane like the teeth of a wrench. He returned to his console and spoke into an intercom. ‘Send him in.’
The latch on Serena’s cell door opened.
A silhouette resolved itself from the shadows.
Roarke’s coyote eyes looked her up and down.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sand dunes crested toward the horizon in an expanse of tumbled gold velvet. Lightning Spires shimmered in the south-west, shouldering the sky. Mountainous raw ignicite jutted from the earth like Aerulus’ fingers clawing from the centre of the world. Its glass amber caught in the sun.
The Obsidian Sandlands.
From the sky, the world looked beautiful. A canvas of gold and orange, like autumn leaves. Aurien tal Varaldo couldn’t have painted a better picture.
But Outpost One Three Seven stained the canvas. Its boxy structures lay like scattered pebbles and the blackened husk of Sturrock’s Bulldog squatted like a broken gravestone.
The Schiehallion lumbered towards it. She was torn up, but she was tough.
Gallows checked his ammo, and checked it again. Valentine stood by his side, doing the same.
And then there was Damien. He’d removed the bullet from his shoulder himself. Said the pain purged whatever war was going on inside his head. Gallows didn’t question him.
‘Size of enemy force unknown.’ Commander Lockwood’s voice boomed through the entire airship. Gallows hadn’t seen her since she took an Eagle and battled the Wraiths… Since Royce died. ‘Expect a fighting force greater than our own. Major Fallon’s intel suggests both priority targets are located in this installation.’
Thackeray—and Cronin.
Fallon had said Cronin had evacuated the young and fighting fit from the Gravehold. Were they in One Three Seven? Why?
‘Expect heavy resistance,’ Lockwood continued. ‘Lance Corporal Valentine and Tyson Gallows will accompany teams through the facility. The Raincatchers will deploy infantry and I will provide air support from the Schiehallion. Pyron Thackeray and Lenis Cronin are traitors and war criminals. They are to be apprehended alive. Let’s restore pride to our kingdom.’
The warship hovered in the air above One Three Seven.
They had a fleet of airships and an army at their back.
Gallows couldn’t let anyone else get to Cronin before him.
The door closed behind Roarke.
His presence was a violation of the pristine, glacier-white cell.
The look in his eyes… Serena stepped back. ‘The hell do you want?’ Her voice cracked as she spoke.
‘Ain’t as hard as you reckon you are, muck rat.’
Serena looked out to Thackeray; he’d retreated to the darkness of the chamber.
‘Just you and me,’ mouthed Roarke, his voice a slow, predatory drawl. ‘How will we spend the time?’
Serena couldn’t think of a retort. ‘You don’t know what’s happening, Roarke. You don’t know what he’s capable of. Thackeray, Vaughan—they were working together. They tried to kill us!’
‘Tried to kill you. Anyway, the arsehole’s in the ground, where his kind belong. I’m gonna be Guildmaster.’
‘Vaughan’s dead?’
‘Bloody right he is. Wish I gutted him myself.’ Roarke spun his knife in the air and caught it. ‘Reckon I’ll make do.’
Serena’s back hit the wall. ‘Fitz! What about Fitz?’
Rage flashed in Roarke’s eyes. He booted the bed. ‘I warned him about you. You little runt, you slut. I warned him! Strikes me that if it weren’t for you, he’d still be alive. He was a good man, but he got soft. You stupid cow, you’ve no idea what that man went through—what I went through. Idari whore!’
‘I ain’t Idari! Thackeray, tell him! Tell him!’
There was no reply.
Roarke cackled. ‘Nobody here to look out for ya now. No Fitz. No Clara. No little slack-wit mate.’
‘What do you want, Roarke? What did Thackeray promise you?’
‘Promised me the Guild. In return I’ll make you talk. I know you, see. I know you. I’m the one that catches the muck rat when it scurries on the deck.’
Panic broiled in her. ‘I’ve got nothing to tell you, Roarke.’ The words tremored. ‘You’re being lied to. Thackeray already knows everything!’
Roarke slapped Serena’s face.
He dragged her to the floor and stood over her. He forced Serena’s leg down when she kicked out at him. Terror paralysed her.
‘What’s the Idari’s plan?’ The knife hung above her.
‘You’re… an idiot,’ said Serena. ‘Stupid, stupid man. What do you reckon Thackeray’s gonna do when you’re done here?’
…Flicker bouncing, Scruff rolling…
Glimpses, memories, connections…
Roarke shook his head and stooped low. ‘Always fancied having a go of you, but now? Nah.’ He spat on Serena’s face. ‘Wouldn’t touch an Idari whore. I got some standards.’ Roarke’s body odour nauseated her, his hot breath burned her skin.
But terror had the unusual effect of making her brave. ‘Guys like you… You’re a sad little man, Roarke. What, were you too busy spending aerons in the Courtesans’ Guild to help Fitz? Too busy pretending the girl you were with actually liked you?’
Roarke’s face brimmed with anger. ‘Muck rat!’ he spat. The point of the blade caressed her neck. Serena laughed it off.
…Flicker bouncing, Scruff rolling…
Glimpses, memories, connections…
Sunbeam racing through the street…
‘Reckon I’m done listening to your filth,’ Roarke spat.
‘Get off me.’ She didn’t have to shout.
Roarke stood up and stepped back.
He shook his head. ‘What…?’
Serena got to her feet. She wiped her face. Her heart accelerated. Electricity made her tremble, like a revving engine. Ice water rushed through her veins, a building force threatening to erupt. The sensation was powerful—dangerous.
She liked it.
‘What… What did you do, you little bitch?’ Roarke flew at her with the knife.
‘Stop.’
He did.
Serena’s senses prickled. An invisible weight pushed through her, growing, building…
Glimpses, memories, connections…
…Flicker bouncing, Scruff rolling…
Sunbeam obeying commands without words…
Roarke’s nasal voice screamed at her. Threats. Empty, distant.
‘Silence.’
Roarke stopped.
Sparks ran through Serena’s arms. invisible threads spun from her fingertips. An unseen hand guided her, propped her up as her limbs grew heavy as anchors. Her chest thrummed with energy, amplified like an overpowered airship engine.
Sunbeam obeying commands without words…
Gold light filled Serena’s head.
She surrendered to the force waking within her. Her mind fell into a trance, replaced by instinct and sheer power. The electricity—the storm—flew out in invisible waves, silencing the world. Fire filled her, flowing like water, directed by her will. A melody cast its way from somewhere deep within her, a song woven across untold eons.
Unbidden, the thought fell into her head.
Her fingers danced.
Roarke lifted the knife.
It turned in his hand.
He angled it towards his chest.
And he shoved the blade up into his own heart.
Blood spilled around Roarke’s fingers, thick and dark. His face contorted. Breath hissed but he couldn’t form words. He took a step back and fell to the floor.
The hilt stuck out from his chest.
Serena stood frozen, fingers splayed out in front of her, tears streaming from her. She gasped for air.
Roarke’s wild hands
smeared grimy trails of gore on the tiles. His mouth struggled and blood soaked his clothes. He lifted a trembling finger to Serena.
Then his arm fell to the floor.
Serena pulled her eyes away. She vomited, stumbled back against the window.
She’d done that.
She’d made him kill himself. The command had entered her head and transferred into Roarke’s consciousness. The energy drained from her like water down a plug hole.
Musa above…
‘I… I didn’t mean…’
The chamber beyond the glass snapped into light.
Pyron Thackeray sat there, scribbling notes.
Serena’s fingers trembled. ‘You… You watched the whole thing.’ Her words sounded weak, like someone with bloodlung. ‘You… You knew he would attack me. You knew I would kill him.’
Thackeray sat still, analysing her. His breathing came through the intercom above. ‘Yes.’
She hated Roarke, but this…
The temperature around her plunged. The bright scarlet pool expanding around Roarke’s body desecrated the sterile white of the cell. It was obscene.
And she’d caused it.
Exhausted, her legs buckled. She slid down the window, unable to take her eyes from Roarke. Her body turned numb, and when he spoke, Thackeray’s voice was distant. ‘You’re a weapon, Serena. You simply needed the right trigger.’
An alarm sounded, red lights spinning in the darkened chamber.
For the first time, Pyron Thackeray looked worried.
The Schiehallion hung in the air above Outpost One Three Seven. Smoke trailed from her wounds and the remaining rotors strained with the weight of her, but she still packed a punch.
The Overseer performed an initial flyby—all clear.
Lockwood brought the Schiehallion closer to the ground. Panels in her belly opened, cables trailing to the ground.
Gallows insisted on being among the first to rappel. He jumped backwards from the lip of the compartment. The rope snaked through his hand. He straightened his body, almost in line with the horizon, and zipped down to the desert, landing with a thud. He unhooked and raised his Vindicator.
More troops fanned out around him. Along with the Overseer, Tugarin’s Talon, the Moonwaltzer and the Callan circled the sky. Between them and the Schiehallion, any Wraith craft would think twice before engaging.
Symphony of the Wind Page 62
