Beneath a Burning Sky (The Dawnhawk Trilogy Book 3) (29 page)

She turned to face the Castaways. “Look, Euron Blackheart abandoned you here a couple decades ago, and it’s been horrible. You want out. We understand that. But do you know what’s happening out there? Haventown is under siege. The Perinese are invading the Copper Isles. If you don’t tell us what you know about the Stormhammer, then there ain’t gonna be anything to fly home
to
.”

Before Morgan could reply, she rounded on Natasha. Runt rumbled unhappily at the sudden movement. “Captain, we need all the hands we can get, right? Anyone who can hold a sword. Let’s just agree to fly them back to Haventown. Is that so hard?”

Lina quieted. She waited, hoping that everyone would see reason. It was stupid to argue when so much was at stake.

Natasha stared at the Castaways. She sheathed her cutlass, then fished out her copy of
How to Pillage Friends and Intimidate People
. The pirate captain consulted a section, grunted to herself, then looked back up at them, face sour. “I guess that’s...acceptable.” She jabbed the tiny booklet at Morgan One-Eye. “But get to the damned point and tell us about the Stormhammer.” She then gestured behind them all at the tunnel. “And how did that thing outside even get here?”

The leader of the Castaways frowned but lowered his rusty cutlass. He looked to his mates, who all nodded warily. It was as much as Lina had hoped for. The offer of a free ride away from the island seemed to cut through their isolation-induced misanthropy.

Morgan jammed his blade back into the rough hempen loop of his belt. “Aye. A deal it be, then. We’ll tell ye everythin’, an’ ye take us away from this place. Perinese or no, we’ll have our vengeance on Euron Blackheart!”

A ragged cheer erupted from the Castaways. Lina blinked.
Have we stood here this long without letting slip who Natasha really is?

Morgan One-Eye turned back to face her with a grim smile on his lips. Natasha stepped up beside Lina, shoving her booklet back down her shirt. “Well?” she asked.

The pirate jerked a thumb at the huge device behind him. “This be the only Voorn building on th’ isle. Yer precious Stormhammer’s right there.”

Natasha sighed in exasperation. “We figured that out,” she said flatly. “How does it work?”

Morgan snorted. “Haven’t a clue.”

She started, taken aback. “What? You’ve been here for decades!”

“Oh aye,” replied the Castaway, a snarl creeping onto his face. “An’ we spent the first few years guardin’ it dutifully. We weren’t going to play with the damnable thing. Voornish machines? Pah! Could have blown up an’ taken us all with it. No, we didn’t even touch it until a few years ago, when we were desperate enough for parts. An’ then we still lost Gareth. Stank in here like cooked chimp for a week.” He shook his head, and the rest of the Castaways muttered rueful confirmation.

Lina felt her heart sink. The Perinese would be stopped up at the Graveway for only so long.
Maybe Rastalak can figure this thing out.

Natasha was frowning but appeared otherwise unfazed. “Fine. What about the thing outside?”

Morgan shrugged. “Can’t help ye much there either, lass. Like a dragon but all machine-like. Voorn brass, just like this place here. Fell over the lip of the isle two days ago, then started rampaging around. Damn near killed us all, ’til we fled here. Now it’s got us trapped.”

Natasha made a pair of white-knuckled fists. “Everywhere I go. By the hairy arms of the Goddess! I can’t get away from that ridiculous, overbuilt—”

Runt chose that moment to have a fit. He rose up higher on Lina’s shoulders to wave back and forth, chirping crankily just as he had in the jungles outside the pyramid.

Lina reached up to soothe him. “Runt, calm down. Calm down!”

“Chirr!”

The last thing she needed was to put the Castaways on edge again. Lina gestured to her friends. “Allen, Michael, get over here and help me!”

The two young men looked at each other, then at Lina and Runt. Allen was still mottled black and blue where he showed skin, and Michael’s neck was still swollen red. Michael took a step towards her, his trepidation plain. Allen stood frowning in place, then cursed as he ducked a stream of poisonous spittle.

She ignored them both and turned to the Castaways. “Don’t mind Runt. Normally, he’s really sweet.”

But they didn’t seem alarmed. Or even that curious. They watched Lina dance about like a particularly weird circus performer. One of them, a bald fellow with a leathery, repeatedly sunburned scalp, scratched his bushy beard.

“Realms Below,” he grunted. “O’ course it’ be cranky. It’s bleedin’ pregnant.”

Silence reigned within the pyramid.

“What?” replied Lina. “No, that’s not possible.”

“Oh aye. Got all the signs, right? Swollen, cranky, you can even tell by the color of the spittle she’s throwin’ about.”

Lina looked at the noxious streams puddling on the brass floor of the ancient structure. She shook her head. “No, Runt’s a boy. I had him checked with a disgraced horse-doctor back in Haventown.”

The old pirate snorted. “Well, I guess that shows me then, don’t it? Only I spent three years trappin’ an’ eatin’ scryn, ’til there weren’t none left on this damned island. Pools o’ rum and a heavy stick. Fry enough o’ th’ little bastards and you eventually figure it out. There aren’t any scryn menfolk. They’re all born pregnant, an’ after enough time an’ alcohol, they get all swollen with babes. That one’s gonna pop any day now.”

Lina looked up at Runt, at a loss for words. Her pet was curling down again, chirping crankily, leaning into her hand. Her scales were warm against Lina’s palm.

“But...that’s wonderful!” she said aloud. Relief washed through her, and Lina turned to her crewmates. “Guys, Runt’s going to be a
mother
. Isn’t that great? I mean, things make much more sense now. And think of all the little scrynlings we’ll—”

The men and women of the
Dawnhawk
stared in utter horror. Michael Hockton stood frozen in midstep, Allen was cringing, and Farouk chewed on his lip. Ryan Gae paled. Reaver Jane and young Paine joined Rastalak by taking slow steps backward, their distaste plain. Natasha drew her blade, holding it up as if to ward Runt away. Even Butterbeak seemed to share her look of revulsion.

“That be a noxious truth,” said Morgan One-Eye. “But it be beside the point. We’ve told ye ’bout yer artifact and that monstrous machine outside. Now let’s get back aboard yer ship an’ get out of here!”

Natasha glanced at him, not moving her cutlass an inch. “We need to figure out how to fire the thing first—or to take it back with us, if we can. Don’t worry your ugly little heads, though. I won’t let it be said that Natasha Blackheart breaks her word.”

“You break your word all the time,” Lina said, sulking. Why wasn’t anyone else happy about the good news?

“Well, yes,” replied Natasha, looking back to her. “But not about important things.”

“You took us to the Graveway,” continued Lina, “when Captain Fengel made you promise not to.”

“Because he’s a gigantic damned worrywort,” she said, exasperated. Natasha turned back to the Castaways. “Anyway, let’s turn this thing on and smite the Perinese. Then we can all fly away.”

But the old pirates had changed. Morgan and his mates stared at her with unbridled rage. They drew their ragged weapons and raised them up again, promising violence.

“Blackheart.
Blackheart.
Yer his daughter!”

“Uh,” said Natasha taken aback.

“Of course Euron sent his daughter to find his toy! Or were ye just plannin’ ta use it for yerself?” Morgan took a step forward.

Natasha shifted her stance, raising her cutlass in guard and launching Butterbeak into the air. “Hold now. This hasn’t anything to do with my father. Not really.”

“Euron Blackheart!” howled Morgan One-Eye, as if he could make the pirate king hear him. “We’re going to gut yer daughter an’ her crew, steal her ship, an’ then come fer yer head!” The Castaways all roared their approval.

“Now hold on a damned—” But it was too late. The Castaways charged, and then the fight was on.

Runt uncoiled from Lina’s shoulders and launched herself into the air. It was their usual tactic, but she grabbed after her pet desperately. “No!” she cried. “Runt, come back, you’ll get hurt—”

Morgan One-Eye hacked at Lina’s head with his notched and rusty cutlass. She ducked back with a curse, then leaped aside as he thrust at her, throwing her off-balance. For all his age and appearance, the man was still deadly with a blade. He pulled back for a final blow, only for Natasha to appear between them.

“I’ve wanted to kill you for over an hour,” she snarled, parrying his blade with her own, raining flakes of rusty steel down on Lina. Morgan met her challenge. Lina took the opportunity to slip away, drawing her daggers as she did so.

She had immediate need of them. Runt flew awkwardly through the air, hissing and spitting and glowing red as she went. A Castaway stepped up in front her, the scryn-eater. He raised up a heavy, makeshift club made out of an old oar.

Lina yelled and threw her dagger. It went end over end before sinking deep into the old pirate’s arm. He gave a cry of his own, dropping the club as Runt flew past.

There wasn’t time to dispatch the pirate. She had to get Runt back and keep her safe from the bloodshed around them. It was a task easier said than done, however. Runt flew through the melee, lashing out at whoever was closest.

“Here, Runt!” Lina cried, leaping over Rastalak as he grappled with a Castaway. She grabbed for the flask at her hip and uncorked it with her teeth. “Come here! You can’t fly around like this—think of your children!”

Runt flew past big Farouk, forcing Lina to duck under his arm as he laid out another pirate. Runt suddenly reached the wall and eeled about, circling back around behind the melee. Lina cursed and tried to anticipate her, moving laterally. Reaver Jane put paid to that, tripping over a stray piece of Voorn machinery and knocking them both to the ground.

Lina scrabbled up to her feet as Paine went running past. She took a wild swing at the Castaway chasing him, and the old pirate cried out, his rusty boat hook falling into view. She ignored them, stepping atop a cursing Jane to push past their assailant in pursuit of her pet.

Runt was just up ahead. She’d half fallen, half landed on the steps of the Stormhammer dais, her bloated, wormy length too heavy to keep aloft anymore. Lina made concerned noises and scurried over the arcane machinery, coming at it from the side.

Things sizzled and hummed about her, releasing brief arcs of galvanic energy to flash in the gloom. Lina hissed as one hit her hand, burning it. Then she was on the stair and kneeling and scooping up her scryn with one arm.

“There, there,” she cooed.

“Chirr,” said Runt. Her pet was weary and lethargic. Lina could only smile. After months of uncertainty, now she knew why Runt was so out of sorts. She hugged her pet close.
You’re going to be a mother soon!
At least, if these bastard Castaways didn’t get her.

Lina whirled with renewed purpose, raising her only remaining dagger.
No one is eating you—or your scrynlings.

But the battle was won. The Castaways could fight, but their failing, feeble weapons betrayed them. They were fleeing even now for the tunnel entrance with Natasha chasing after them, a smile on her blood-covered lips.

The older pirates ran outside yelling. Natasha jerked to a sudden stop behind them and spread her arms to prevent anyone else from passing. A mechanical roar answered Lina’s curiosity, as did the tremor of earthshaking footfalls. Lina sheathed her dagger and cradled Runt as she ran down the stairs, crossing to the tunnel entrance.

“Hold,” said Natasha as Lina pushed through her crewmates. She stepped up beside Michael Hockton, who wiped sweat away from his brow. He smiled at Lina, though he froze upon seeing Runt.

“They’re done for,” continued Natasha. “Those poor bastards might as well have been unarmed. Now
that
thing has them.” She rested her cutlass on one shoulder, then held out her other arm for Butterbeak to land upon.

“Captain Blackheart,” said Allen. “What’s...what’s making that noise?”

“It’s the Dray Engine,” she said flatly.

“That can’t be!” added Etarin. “We left it behind on Almhazlik.”

“Tell it that yourself,” she replied. Natasha gestured outside with her gore-slicked cutlass, and the monster came into view.

Memory didn’t do the thing justice. It towered over the Castaways it now chased, a reptilian horror rendered in Voornish brass. The thing stood on its hind legs like some ungainly land-bound dragon, reaching and grasping for prey with rending forelimbs. Its inner workings—whirling gears and churning pistons—ticked along between the armored plates of its hide. Every few steps it would raise its coffin-long jaw up at the sky to roar, and a mechanical cacophony echoed from somewhere deep in its chest. Then it began the chase again, its red glass eyes eager.

Away ran the Castaways, fleeing towards the jungle as fast as their geriatric legs could carry them. It wasn’t fast enough. Lina watched the Dray Engine reach the slowest of the pirates. The monstrous machine darted forward, leaning suddenly, faster than should have been possible. She thought it was going to snatch him up whole and devour him like a sea serpent eating a shark. Instead, it closed its maw and knocked him over.

The poor fellow yelled in terror, one arthritic hand raised up to ward away the ancient machine. Lina watched with her crewmates, rapt, as the Dray Engine came to a sudden stop. Then it lifted one armored foot above the old pirate and stepped down slowly as the fellow beneath it shrieked. His screams went on for far too long.

Steam gushed forth as the Dray Engine snorted in satisfaction, then turned to face the rest of the Castaways, who had frozen in horror. It roared, and they screamed in kind, fleeing again for the jungle. Almost leisurely now, the Dray Engine pursued them.

No one made a sound within the tunnel about her. Even Runt had quieted in response to the noise and horror taking place outside.