Maledictus Aether (29 page)

“Why?” I question, and here he
laughs lightly, his chin on the crown of my head now while he holds
the side of mine against his shoulder. I look up at him as best I
can from this perspective.

“They are the physical proof of the pain you have suffered
and gone through,” Lucian begins, “and proves to those who lay
claim about you having not suffered at all that you have, in fact,
gone through much more than they have, and survived. It is the
physical proof of a survivor, of a fighter, and for that reason I
find them just stunning. Even if you would not have them, the scars
that are in your spirit and in your mind are just as real, even if
we cannot see them. Truly, they are beautiful.”

At a loss, I click my tongue at
him.

“It’s true,” he protests,
laughing lightly. I can hear it come to life in his chest, the
sound making the heat rise to my cheeks. “Did I tell you about what
the pirates did to me?”

Shaking my head now, I ignore
my embarrassment in order to listen to his tale.

“I was a slave, see, aboard that vessel, and the captain
was a cruel piece of work. If I was the least bit tardy, I got
whipped – be it my chest, my back, my sides; nothing was spared –
and sometimes we slaves would be put against one-another in the
hull, the pirates betting on the outcome, and we would only be
armed with knives and protected by the rags on our backs.” His
voice has gone from merry to sad, almost sorry even, but I cannot
see his expression so I cannot tell what he is feeling. So,
instead, I close my eyes and hold him a little more tightly,
memorizing the scent I already know so well.

“I have seen my fair share of
violence and murder,” he states, his arms tightening in turn around
me. I feel him press his lips to my head, and he moves to rest his
cheek there quickly afterwards, continuing his story.
“Consequently, I have killed in turn. The scars on my own body are
proof of the hardships I have gone through, as are yours.”

I let my eyes open, my eyes
falling to the faint scar I can see peeking out from beneath the
collar of his shirt, cutting over the skin where a main artery lies
beneath his skin.

I know why he is telling me
this story, and I appreciate it; however…

“I cannot look at scars and
admire them; I am not that brave,” I whisper, closing my eyes again
and refusing to imagine him like that. Bloody, cut open and
bleeding, dressed in rags and fighting another human like some
animal. Stripped of his humanity. “Your scars… just make me
sad.”

“Why is that?”

Sighing, I shrug a
shoulder.

“You have had to live through that suffering, that kind of
pain, and it was forced upon you,” I state simply. “Pain, I find,
is not something to be proud of. It is a reminder from the world to
you that you have made a mistake, and you must suffer for
it.”

Now he sighs, shaking his head
slightly.

“Perhaps I will convince you
otherwise,” he muses, and I shrug again, “in time. For the moment,
let us just leave it at this; you need to rest for tomorrow.”

We pull away from the embrace at last, looking at each
other and smiling sheepishly. A thought occurs to me as his hands
linger above my elbows, holding my arms loosely, and I look down to
where mine are holding him just above the waist.

“You may stay here, if you like,” I suggest, looking back
at him
. He cocks his head to
the side curiously, and I elaborate. “Either one of us could die
tomorrow, you know. Call me a selfish man, but I want to have as
many hours as I am permitted to have to spend it with
you.”

For a moment he looks at me,
looking almost confused, but then he laughs lightly, nodding his
affirmation.

Tomorrow’s battle will be fierce, of that I am certain;
bringing the fight to London is a daring move, and could mean the
death of Sky Piracy just as quickly as it can bring freedom from
the Fleet’s relentless assault on us. Constantly attacking ships
sailing twenty thousand feet in the air, letting those very same
ships crash to the earth and the sea; raiding the Skylands and
setting fire to homes, dividing and conquering as they
go.

For this one last night, I want
to be surrounded by those I care about.

The sun is painting the morning
sky a fiery red, as if foretelling today’s bloodshed, and the light
spills in from the window as I sit on the edge of my bed, pulling
the laces of my boots tightly and fastening them. Lucian, on the
other side of my bedchamber, is throwing his waistcoat on and
buttoning it up. I stand to my feet and tap my toes against the
floor, looking to my friend afterwards and walking towards him,
snatching up the leather strip he uses to tie his hair together and
offering to do it for him.

As I pull back his dark hair and tie it at the nape of his
neck, a small knock sounds at the door. I call towards whomever
stands behind it to come in, removing my hands once my work is
done; his double-check my handiwork, finding it satisfying enough.
While I retrieve
Zenith
and slip it
over my head, the door slips open and admits a man into the room,
one I’ve come to know relatively well.

“Angelo wanted me to inform you
that we have hit European skies, and are nearing London,” Cephas
informs me, watching me from just within the door as I prop my foot
onto the edge of my bed and strap my steambolt to my right thigh.
Once I secure it, I straighten and press down on the wrinkles that
have formed on my tailcoat. “We are at a decline, having hit ten
roughly five minutes ago.”

“I will make my way to Tier soon,” I say calmly, looking to
my father. He is dressed the part of a Sky Pirate at last, having
stuck to his other attire until today. At his hip, over the black
coat he wears, is a scabbard with a blade I have not seen before.
“I suspect I must go to the landing deck first.”

“Well, that
is
where they are waiting for you,”
Lucian comments, letting his blade rest on his right hip, held
there by a leather thong stretching over his left shoulder. Placing
a hand on his hip, he looks at me with a grin. “Shall I make the
preparations, then?”

“Please do,” I nod, looking then to my father. “My father
and I will head to the landing deck, and I shall meet you at Tier
in, say, twenty minutes.”

My Quarter Master nods his
understanding, excusing himself with a tilt of his head to my
father before he walks out to care for his designated tasks. I
watch him leave, unable to stop myself from doing so, and I cannot
help but wonder if this was the last time we will have the kind of
peace we have had. Then, I turn my attention to my father, pushing
all other thoughts from my mind and focusing on the task at
hand.

“How many men?” I question,
walking around him and picking up my steambolt from my desk,
checking the casings as I start off through the common area. He
follows behind me, shutting the door and keeping pace while I
holster the weapon.

The deck is alive with activity; men and women of all ages
are going in either direction as we hit the main hall, bowing their
heads slightly in respect as we pass or even stepping to the sides
and saluting, for a reason of which I am not quite sure of. Each of
them looks the very part of a Sky Pirate, outlandish garb on their
persons, and armed to the teeth. Some have multiple rapiers
strapped to them, others various guns, and some have weapons more
native to their culture, such as bows and arrows, tomahawks, and so
on.

“Three thousand,” my father
answers as we walk, listing them as we proceed to the fourth level,
then the third. “Two of those are on other ships, following our
path; the final thousand is in the ship – a handful of Gun Masters
are at their battle stations awaiting orders, Sailing Masters have
been assigned tasks at the helm, and Tier awaits to be manned. The
foredeck is armed and ready for deployment, and levels one to five
are already being fed power.

“As you requested, the final two have been reassigned to
Tier,” he finishes, and I nod. “Lastly, there is also that other
thing you requested. It has been prepared, and the ships are armed
and ready to deploy.”

“Fantastic,” I nod, climbing the stairwell to the second
deck. “Once the gathering on the landing deck is completed, I want
all hands to their stations; every ship still tethered that can fly
is to take to the skies. The
Alitis
will not be
landing; is the landing party ready?”

“Awaiting command,” he
confirms, and I nod. My mind is firing one fact after the other,
trying to see if I have forgotten anything crucial. It sure feels
that way, and I do hope I have not.

We reach the first deck, and the hallway to our left
showcases the windows that reveal the burning sky, but opens up to
a common room that has a small gathering of people here, all
heading up the last flight of stairs that leads to the landing
deck, where the ships are tethered to the
Alitis
. We
follow after these men and women, and I pull my goggles over my
eyes, the same as everyone else around me, to protect them from the
chill that is relatively warm despite the altitude. From the view,
I estimate that we are at seven thousand feet now.

Europe stretches beneath us as we sail the skies, Great
Britain near the horizon beyond France, as we fly over its land.
Far below, buildings dot the earth, such as Paris in the distance
and Marseilles disappearing behind us. The skies are clear of
clouds, leaving it to smooth sailing all the way
through.

On the landing deck, countless men and women stand, cowls
from their coats pulled over their heads to battle the chill of the
wind and goggles, if they have any – which the majority do – over
their eyes. The shadow of the helm is cast over the crowd, the vast
expanse of brown and grey that is the ship’s outer shell shines in
the morning light. Airships of all colours and kinds remain
tethered to thick hooks sticking from the ground, lines thrown over
their decks to keep them secured to the ship. The
Aether coating these ships catches
the light and reflects it the way the starry heavens do.

My entrance does not go unnoticed; what was once a loud
crowd chatting excitedly is now one that watches me in uncanny
silence, voices fading until not a soul speaks. As I walk through
it, my father in tow, the sea of nationalities parts, letting me
make my way to the front and battle my nerves in silence, trying to
shove the fear and uncertainty from my mind.

You do not have to do anything
tomorrow, for anyone but for yourself.

I step up onto the platform, his words ringing in my mind.
The sea of ships sailing all around us, following the
Alitis
as she carves the path to London, almost hides the
blue of the skies. I decide to ignore them all, taking a deep
breath as I turn to face the crowd rather than the
ships.

You can do this; I would wager
my life on this claim.

The sea of men and women watch me in return as I look at
the crowd, hundreds of them standing here, from all corners of the
world but brought together for the common dream of freedom.
Everyone is scattered throughout the
place, no group clustering together in the slightest.

I vaguely notice Lucian
slipping into that crowd, snaking his way to the front but a little
to the right, watching me. Then, I steel myself and begin, taking a
deep breath.

“Three thousand,” I start, my
voice carrying all the way to the far end of the crowd. My hands
shake a little, so I fist them at my side; I have never been a
public speaker, and when I would speak to a crowd it was always in
the heat of the moment, and never did their very lives depend on my
command.

No, I told myself I would not
think about that.

“That is how many we are today; we are three thousand
strong. I will be perfectly honest with all of you; I was not
expecting that many people – or any, if I am completely honest.
This was a goal I planned to take on alone, but I realise now that
I could have never done so. Therefore, I would first like to thank
you all for making this a possibility, and remember that should any
of you fall, your names will never be forgotten. This I promise
you.

“The second thing I want to address is the goal: to bring
Her Majesty’s Royal Aerial Armed Forces to its knees, to bring an
end to the raids and the attacks on our kinsmen,” I continue,
pressing my hands together at my back now to hide their shaking. “I
am aware that I have only been amongst you all for less than a
year, but know that I consider you all a part of my family, if not
by blood then by word; and as such, I am willing to do everything
in my power to ensure the survival of us, as a people.

“I will make my personal goal
painfully clear to you all; General Luther Stewart is my prey. I
will not rest until I have hunted him down and torn him from the
world of the living, and I vow to do so on this very day. You all
have your own tasks, and I am confident that you will all see these
tasks through to the end.

“Today will either end in honour and glory or bitter
defeat,” I state, looking at each of them in turn. Of course, at
the very end of my sweep of the crowd, I lock eyes with Lucian
standing amongst these people, and he tilts his head while offering
me an encouraging smile. This action allows me to pull my hands
from my back and stand not as a military soldier but a Sky Pirate
Captain, and finish that bold statement.