Chasing the Lantern

CHASING THE LANTERN

Book One of the Dawnhawk Trilogy

by

Jonathon Burgess

Chasing the Lantern

Copyright © 2012 by Jonathon C. Burgess

All rights reserved. Neither this book or any portion thereof may be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. All events and characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are purely coincidental.

Cover art by Ksenia Mamaeva.

Cover design by Vladimir Verano.

Interior format by Jonathon Burgess.

Editing by Susan Defreitas.

Published by Brass Horse Books.

Second Edition, November 2012

Find out more about the author and the Dawnhawk Trilogy at www.jonathonburgess.com.

For Shawna

Prologue

Captain Fengel pushed open the door. But only an inch or so. Beyond, the alley was dark and foreboding. He ignored the unhappy rumblings of the other pirates and listened to the faint, late-night city sounds that echoed back to him: a horse and carriage upon the cobbles of a nearby street, an argument in some upstairs tenement.

It was a hell of a thing, to be hunted.

That people wanted him dead he took for granted. Such dangers were endemic to the life of a pirate. It was the setting that disturbed him so. Being trapped in a foreign city, where the only friends and allies were those in his crew, that was alarming.

Nothing for it then
. At least at the moment things seemed safe.

He stepped back from the door, adjusting his monocle. Fengel turned in the small foyer to address the mob at his back. His remaining band, maybe twenty in all, stared back at him, tense and worried. They were a motley bunch of rogues, cutthroats, and scallywags. But they were his, and he was responsible for them. Not that he'd been much good for it, of late.

"All right, you lot," he said quietly. "We've lost our ship, our employer wants us dead, and so do most of the locals. Our host has graciously offered to take us to another hidey-hole until we make our run for that weather balloon down at Paine's Yards." His gaze flicked to the red-headed woman standing off to one side. She watched them, darkly amused. "Follow her in ones and twos, and for the Goddess' sake, try not to look too much like wanted men. All right? Off you go."

He pushed open the door for Sharper Mary, the mistress of the bordello where they'd gone to ground. Mary pushed past him to the alleyway outside. She didn't bother speaking. She didn't need to. Fengel knew what she was thinking; she just wanted them gone.

None of his crew moved. Henry Smalls, his short, faithful steward, stepped forward. "Captain?" he said, voice reedy. "Is this wise? I mean, you think he'll show? You can't trust an aetherite." Henry blinked and looked over his shoulder towards Maxim, their own magician. "No offense."

Maxim only glared at Henry.

Their ship gone, the artifact lost, and their employer cutting his losses, Fengel and his men had barely managed to find a halfway decent hiding place. With much apology they'd invaded Sharper Mary's brothel, boarded it up and prepared to make a last stand against their pursuers. It had taken outside intervention by an aetherite, Mary's friend and the very same slippery bastard who had killed Fengel’s beautiful airship, to find a solution.

Fengel adjusted his monocle. "Trust him? Not entirely. But he's wanted by the same individuals who are hunting us. I think this is our best bet. Now quit gabbing and get moving. One and two at a time now, off you go."

The crew moved up to the door. Sharper Mary rolled her eyes and walked up the alley out of sight. A few at a time they followed, trying to look discreet and only succeeding in looking furtive. Finally, the last of them were gone and Fengel made to move outside as well.

Someone grabbed his elbow.

Fengel looked back to see a slip of a girl, one of the prostitutes who lived and worked in the brothel. She was small, waif-like, the long golden tresses cascading down her shoulders her most noteworthy attribute. Unlike the sheer dresses of the other prostitutes, she wore trousers and a man's shirt, with heavy leather boots one size too large. A pair of long daggers poked up from her waistband.

"Captain?" she said, in a voice that all but squeaked. "Mr. Fengel, sir?"

Fengel frowned. This was going to be awkward. His crew hadn't hurt the girls, he'd trusted them to behave, and made sure of it to boot. But their stay had certainly been a tense, frightening time. What grievance did she have?

"Yes, madam?"

"Take me with you."

Fengel blinked. "Absolutely not."

"Why?"

He fought for a moment to martial all the reasons. Then he fought with himself on the proper way to say them without giving insult. The young woman cut in before he could start.

"You misunderstand. I don't want to come along as your ship's doxy, or any such thing as that. I want to join you. Be one of your crew."

Fengel blinked. "This isn't a game, young miss—"

"I can fight if I have to, and I've no qualms about stealing. I'm quick and clever, and I'm sure I can haul a rope if I have to. I've got no problems with hard labor, and if you want me to duel you or some such stupid ritual for the chance, I'll do it and I don't care how much blood gets spilled, mine or yours."

Fengel opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again. "Miss," he said finally. "We've got the whole city after us. We're pirates. Why on this good earth would you want to do such a thing?"

She gave him a flat look. "I'm a whore, Mr. Fengel. And I'm tired of it. Have you ever been a whore?"

He had to admit that he hadn't.

"I sleep with men in exchange for money. Sometimes the nice ones send me flowers or little gifts. More often I get sore privates and a fat lip to go with them. I'm tired of this life, and tired of being the one who gets things taken from her. Take me with you. I don't care if your road's a dead end. The one I'm on certainly is."

The little whore stared at him, unwavering. There was an intensity to her that Fengel found unsettling. She reminded him of someone he knew, someone he hated, yet respected. That she was small, well, that was troubling. But being a woman wasn't a problem; some of the most vicious and successful pirates in the world were women.

He made his decision and stepped aside to hold the door like a gentleman. "Very well," he said. "You can join my crew. Until you've had enough."

She let out a breath he hadn't known she'd been holding. Then she nodded, and left the brothel. Captain Fengel did the same.

Chapter One

Lina stared at her hand of battered cards and realized that they couldn’t save her.

"I'll raise ya the bench bottom," muttered a pirate.

The day was warm. Mid-afternoon sunlight reflected off the waters around them, shimmering on the chop of the ocean. Its brilliance pained Lina, the way it prickled at her sunburned skin. She hid from it as best she could by sitting low against the gunwales. But the sun still found her periodically, as the makeshift longboat crested each shallow swell with its rolling up-and-down sway. Clouds floated by up above, all puffy and rumpled with rain. Lina frowned at them. She wasn't the only one watching the sky. The others were bound to raise the stakes even higher.

"Oarlock," said Oscar Pleasant. He rubbed the week-old stubble on his chin, glancing furtively at the others playing the game.

"Gunwales," croaked Henry Smalls. Lina spared him a glance; the older pirate was tired, his features sunken and sallow. He showed worst the effects of dehydration and exposure that was slowly killing them all.

"Floorboards," said Sarah Lome, the huge piratess.

The castaways raised the stakes, bidding with the small part of the longboat that they could each lay claim to. Only half of the pirate crew played, gambling with the battered packet of cards Oscar had produced. Everyone else sat quietly, too tired to grouse, focused on their own misery. The oars lay athwart the gunwales, useless without anywhere to row to. Captain Fengel sat in the bow of the little vessel, quiet, confidently watching for any sign of their lost home port.

The pirates were watching her. Lina realized it was her turn.
All right. Time to decide.
Her sunburned fingers held a pair of deuces and nothing else worthwhile. Lina gazed at the cards a long moment, then shook her head. First chance at next morning's dew would be good, maybe keep her going long enough to spot land or a passing ship, but it wasn't worth risking the little fresh water she could suck up from the baseboards of her own tiny spot. Growing up poor had taught Lina to look after herself. You didn't do that by frittering away your only chances of survival on a losing hand.

"Nothing worth betting," she croaked aloud. "I'm out."

Oscar moved to stop her, his confident smile undercut by shaking hands. "Hold on. Maybe there's something else you can throw into the pot."

Lina glared at him.
This again?
She didn't know the pirates very well at all, but they all knew who she was, what she'd been. So far Oscar had brought it up every chance he could, even during their harried, ramshackle flight from the city of Triskelion. That part of her life was done with. Why didn't men ever seem to get it?

She glared at him. "And what would that be?"

The pirate smiled. "Those lovely golden locks of yours."

Lina blinked in confusion. The others did as well. "My hair? What? You want my hair?"

"Aye," grinned Oscar wickedly. "It's so long and soft. I've watched you each morning. It gets wonderfully damp. Throw in first lick off those, lass." He leered at her.

Lina flushed in embarrassment. This was the most disgusting thing anyone had ever asked of her, and she had heard a lot of disgusting things over the years. Her long tresses were a source of pride. They had taken years to grow and had always served her well. The gangers and sailors always paid more for a pretty head of hair.

The other pirates watched to see how she would react. Lina had done her best to keep pace with them, even chased by constables and assassins. She'd held it together and pulled her weight as they fled through the streets, then out and away from Triskelion in an old longboat attached to a weather balloon. Lina had even kept quiet after that mad, terrifying flight had ended and their makeshift airship crashed into the ocean hundreds of miles from shore. Still, through all that, the crew had yet to warm to her. They couldn't seem to understand why a prostitute wanted to be a pirate.

A hot coal of anger settled in Lina's gut.
I'll prove myself, one way or the other
. They wouldn't catch her backing down from a challenge. And if she happened to lose? Well, she'd put up with worse. "Fine," she said. "Winning hand can suck on my hair tomorrow morning, all they want."

Oscar chortled happily. "That's that then. Anyone else? No? I call." He threw his cards onto the bench before them. "Three knaves and a pair of knights."

Raspy groans and sighs of disgust echoed from the assembled pirates. Maxim, the crew's aetherite magician, threw down his cards and cursed in his thick, native tongue. He wasn't the only one. Not one of them had a hand to beat Oscar.

"That's all for me then," the ferrety pirate said with a smile. Oscar collected his deck and winked at Lina. "And I'll be seeing you girlie, first thing in the morning." He puckered wind-chapped lips and kissed at the air.

Lina glared at him. The coal of anger burned brighter.
No
. That part of her life was done, and long hair was a liability now, anyway. "No need," she said. Lina drew a long dagger from her belt, one of two knives taken from her old madam in severance. With her other hand she grabbed the back of her head and wadded her tresses into a thick mass. Growling, she cut, sawing through until the whole mess came free. Her head felt suddenly light. The ocean breeze tickled the now-bare skin at her neck. She swung the fistful of hair onto Oscar's lap. Strands like threads of gold fell down into the bilge of the boat, or flew away with the wind. "There," she said. "Have at it."

Everyone stared at her. Then the pirates broke out into laughter.

"She got you there, Oscar!"

"Good one, lass."

"Hey, Oscar, you lucked out. Now you can pretty up that ugly mug!"

The game over, the pirates all moved back to their places, chuckling to themselves. Oscar was the only one not amused. He glared at Lina, face dark. She ignored him and scuttled slowly back to her usual spot. Glancing back up towards the bow, Lina froze.