The Immortal Storm (Sky Chaser Book 1) (21 page)

48
The Return

What Kite had first thought was thunder wasn't thunder at all, but something much more deadly. Delayed booms crashed together in waves. The Undercloud flashed again and again with screams of blue fire. Shockcannons. Discharging back and forth in ferocious barrage.

The
Phosphene
had been found.

Old instincts told Kite to land. Find a hiding place. Hold out until the danger had passed. But adrenaline and fear had renewed his courage. He was done with hiding.

Sinking his weight on the pedals Kite pushed the stormwing into a descent. This time she responded without protest. Snow-frosted rocks whipped by. Gathering speed he begged her not to stall and heeled the booster, gaining the air he needed to ascend rapidly into the brittle clouds.

A killing cold slapped against his chest. Soot swirled by. Each breath was tainted with hot metal and burnt air. The overlapping drone of turbines came closer and closer. Kite readied himself, trying to still his thundering heart.

The clouds whipped away and the fury of mosfire and smoke washed over him. Horizontal lightning cut his vision, chased by the pneumatic thump of mechanical recoil. The two fulgurtines circled each other, shockcannons blazing. The Corrector’s gunship the
Occluder
, with flanks emblazoned with Foundation’s eye, and, less than a league away, the
Phosphene,
manoeuvring in a slow deliberate arc.

At first Kite's heart leapt at seeing the beaten-up old airmachine, but she'd already taken a ton of shockfire damage. Scarred black from impacts the stern had been breached, the unclad armour warped and swinging by rivets. Fires flickered within. He could imagine the crew battling the flames in the damaged sections.

Regardless the
Phosphene
seemed to be on the offence now. Her portside armaments recoiled with each discharge. Kite flinched at the blinding flashes that turned the snow to steam. Each volley seemed to punch deep into his guts. Bolts smacked like fireworks against
Occluder
's skymetal hull. The Cloudguard fulgurtine shuddered and klaxons broke out from her decks. Return fire came swiftly, chopping the
Phosphene
's Main Deck and tearing off railings and armoured panels. Both vessels seemed equally matched. But blow by blow, bolt by bolt, the
Phosphene
was taking more and more damage.

Knowing a single bolt would reduce him to ash Kite kept  to the cover of the snow-heavy clouds, using the wreaths of smoke to mask his approach. By the league-wide smoke trails Kite reckoned Shelvocke had been circling, maintaining his course. That could only mean the Captain was holding out for the stormwings' return. Kite knew had to get on-board, and quick.

Under the smoke Kite spied the Hangar Deck's ramp door had been extended. Twin blue lights swished back and forth - Clinker's signal batons. Rolling into a zigzagging dive Kite made for the signal. Wind and wash battered him as he swung into the cold shadow of the
Phosphene
's keel. The trapeze had been cranked out ready for him. Soberly Kite remembered he hadn't attempted an aerial landing before. He tried not the dwell on that.

Secured on a safety-line Clinker shuffled out the ramp's edge, holding the batons wide. Kite struggled to line up with the blue halos, fighting the drag caused by his damaged wings.

In the corner of his vision the
Occluder
's batteries flashed. Bolts  hammered into the
Phosphene
's upper deck. Kite lost his concentration, veering wildly out into the debris. Sparks rained hot and hissing against his patchcoat. He rolled back under the keel while the
Phosphene
returned fire. It terrified him to think how tiny and insignificant the stormwing was in the midst of battle. Just one stray bolt, one piece of shrapnel, would send him to his death.

There wasn't time to use the trapeze...

Kite accelerated at the baton lights. Clinker reeled out of his way, cursing loudly. Kite hurtled into the Hangar Deck, slamming on the airbrake to avoid the
Windspear
's stern. The Helicoil screamed into reverse. The grinding noise swilled in the hollow metal cave. With all his remaining strength Kite swung the stormwing down to the deck with a thunderous clang.

Kite crouched there for a heart-hammering moment. Smoke and vapour swirled around him. A short distance away Birdy was standing by the ramp controls, staring at him, mouth agape as if he'd just seen a ghost.

Using his safety-line Clinker hauled himself in from the wind and the smoke. “Raise the damn doors!” he shouted.

Birdy slapped the button. The crimson warning light swirled and the ramp pistons began to contract.

“I-I smashed up the wing, Chief,” Kite said, while Clinker helped him out of the cloud-soaked harness. “Sorry.”

“You let me worry about that, lad,” Clinker chuckled, but there was a hint of sadness in his tone. “Least you're back in one piece, aye? You and Valkyrie, born survivors!”

Frantically Kite scanned the bulkhead. Fleer's stormwing was hung up, dripping with meltwater. He nearly blurted out a tearful cry. Until then he hadn't understood what losing Fleer would have done to him.

“W-Welkin didn't make it, Chief,” he mumbled.

“But you
did
, lad,” Clinker said, clapping him on the shoulder. “That's all that matters, right?”

Kite swallowed sorely. His ears buzzed from trying to keep all that bottled-up emotion from blubbering out of him. “Roger that,” he said.

“Incoming!” Birdy suddenly yelled. He dropped to his knees, plugging his ears with his fingers.

The impacts sent Kite scrambling for a handhold. Sparks rained passed the portholes, followed by a twisted section of gantry. Tools slid off Clinker's worktop and clattered, loud and terrifying on the metal deck.

“They'll be nothing left of her at this rate!” Clinker said, grabbing the emergency telephone from the wall. He cranked the lever and began yelling over the barrage. “Chief here! Lad's aboard now, Captain. Feel free to get us the hell out of here. Aye, he's a mess but he's safe...”

Kite slid down to his haunches. Safe? He didn’t feel safe. Chill water dripped from his numb fingers, but he wasn't cold at all. His whole body seemed to be on fire. He buried his head in his hands and plugged his ears with his fingers, anything to blot out the hellish noise.

Close by a soft familiar voice said, “let me look at you, Kite.”

Dr.Nightborn knelt beside him, pulling swabs and ointment from her black medical case. She diligently cleaned his nose and mouth of blood, brining stinging tears to his eyes. He'd never been more grateful to see her lovely face. How she managed to keep such a level head in all this madness Kite would never know.

“Fleer's all right isn't she?” he asked.

With a painless
click
Dr.Nightborn injected his neck with medicine from a dispenser. Almost immediately the glass-sharp pain in his nose and the throb in his ribs seemed to soften.

“She's alive, yes,” Dr.Nightborn said, managing to sound relieved and angry all at once. “Despite her best attempts to kill herself. You two seem to be in competition in that regard. Where does it hurt?”

“Pretty much everywhere,” Kite said, pointing at his ribs and wincing.

While Dr.Nightborn checked him over Kite realised the roar of shockcannons had faded. The
Phosphene
had begun powering into a rapid ascent. Shelvocke had shaken off the Cloudguard for now. Maybe not safe but for a moment at least Kite could feel less like prey.

His mind seemed to burst with bright memories. Kite wanted to tell Dr.Nightborn about his adventures. How Helka and the Watchers had fought the Weatherens on the Lethe. About Skyzarke and the Observatory and…

The photograph of Ember.

“I have to find Fleer,” Kite said, struggling to stand.

“She's with the Captain,” Dr.Nightborn said. She caught his arm. “You're in no shape to go running around. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

Kite shook his head. “Y-you don't understand,” he said, untangling his arm. “I have to stop Ember.”

Bruised and numb, hoping it wasn't already too late, Kite began limping toward the stairwell.

49
Broken Promises

Kite stumbled through the hatch and onto the Nav Deck, breathing hard from the climb. Shelvocke and Fleer stood near the helm controls, their conversation cut short by his untimely appearance. Fleer gave him a brief sideways look, with the tiniest flicker of surprise. Her hair hung in spikes, ragged with sweat. Droplets of ice-water on her flying coat sparkling blue and red in the warning lights. Thankfully she looked unhurt but was clearly exhausted, as if her own escape from the Lethe had been an adventure equal to his own. But Kite’s relief soon dissolved away - Shelvocke already had the photograph.

“The whole mission was a waste, Captain,” Fleer was saying. “The Cloud Room wasn't in Skyzarke, just Arcus's workshop in the Observatory. The Foundation had been there first. Then they wiped the whole site with an airquake and...Lieutenant Welkin was…”

Shelvocke didn’t look up from the photograph. “Lieutenant Welkin knew the risks,” he said, without emotion. “This man in the picture. It's the Starmaker?”

“Yes,” said Fleer.

“No,” said Kite, stepping closer.

Fleer gave him an exasperated look. “But we were in Arcus's workshop,” she said. “There were other dolls too. I saw them.
We
saw them. Captain, he's lying.”

Kite hated himself for making her think that. He wished there was a way to explain to her. If Ember could wander the
Phosphene
’s corridors at will she might already be here, listening to their conversation.

“I wonder why,” said Shelvocke, turning the photograph over. “Translate this for me, Lieutenant.”

Fleer took the photograph, giving Kite a baleful look. “It's Patrician's script, some sort of rhyme but I don't recognise it,” she said.

“Read it to me,” said Shelvocke.

Fleer read the rhyme:

When stormy is the weather and thunder shakes the sky.

The Children of the Sun will ask the question why.

Where has the Sun gone? Why does it rain?

Oh! Will we never see the Sky again?

Kite blood ran cold. Ember's fatal rhyme. As if he needed any more convincing...

“It is called the Forecaster's Fable,” Shelvocke said, looking at him. “A quaint nursery rhyme to warn Weatheren children about the perils of disobedience. Our mysterious Starmaker is full of contradictions. But then Mr.Nayward knows all about that, don't you?”

Kite said nothing.

“There's a date here,” Fleer said. “
AC1017
. That's the old Askian Calendar. The year the Fairweather-Skyzarke war ended.”

On hearing this Shelvocke began to smile. “On the contrary, Lieutenant, our mission was not a failure,” he said, seemingly seized by a revelation. “I think we have finally solved the mystery of the Starmaker.”

One of the map screens flickered. Kite glanced at it nervously, hoping it was just a coincidence.

Shelvocke began to pace back and forth, feverish with his own theory. “If we assume Arcus made the Clockwork Jinny during those final days in Skyzarke then he must have sent it south to find the Cloud Room at the same time,” he said. “The Starmaker must have known it's secret. But how? What is so important about the Cloud Room? Why would the Weatherens be desperate to find the Clockwork Jinny now? After all this time when Skyzarke has been destroyed and Arcus is long de-”

“Don't say it,” said Kite.

Shelvocke stopped his pacing. He had his back to the controls and couldn’t see the flickering screens. “There's something else isn't there?” the Captain said, taking another look at the photograph. “Yes, something about the Starmaker and...his dead daughter.”

Kite swore under his breath. As soon as Shelvocke’s words left his mouth the atmosphere change. One of the screens faded to a lifeless black square. EREBUS's sombre image began to waterfall with disruptive scan-lines. Panic pinched Kite's nerves. Sometimes he hated being right.

“You have to land the Phosphene,” he said.

“I don't not take orders on my own vessel, Mr.Nayward,” Shelvocke said. “Especially from you.”

Then EREBUS vanished. One by one the Nav Deck monitors began to blue-screen. Alarms pinged. Only then Shelvocke realised something was amiss with his vessel. Kite knew it was already too late.

Ember was here.

Blue light cascaded out of the air. An embryonic shape began to emerge, growing and sharpening, taking on the shape of a miserable young girl.

“The girl in the photograph,” Fleer said, aghast.

Kite looked at Ember, unable to believe his own eyes. She was identical in every detail. Torn from another age. The same milk-white hair flowing to her waist. Those innocent, mischievous, dangerous eyes. Not Askian silver but an eerie mosfire blue. And the dress, all spiral lace and pretty bows, had been perfectly recreated.

Shelvocke was panicked. He stabbed madly at the control panel keys. “EREBUS, report!” he demanded. “EREBUS!”

But it was hopeless. Kite knew EREBUS had been supplanted by a new power now - one that had complete control of Shelvocke’s vessel.

“You went to Skyzarke without me, Kite Nayward,” Ember said, her pretty face a picture of perfect misery. “You didn’t take me with you like you
promised
.”

Kite realised he was afraid. He'd faced Gutter Savage and fought the Umbrella Man. He'd been scarred by the hot lick of mosfire and seen men eaten alive by its blue flames. But nothing terrified him more than Ember right now.

“I-I couldn't tell you about Skyzarke, Ember,” Kite said, hands raised in a vain hope of calming her.

Ember's eyes cycled with dangerous colours; purple and pink and purple once more.

“You broke your promise, Kite Nayward!” Ember screamed at him like a toy-throwing child, the corners of her mouth twisting demonically. “And broken promises mean broken bones!”

The alarms died to a silence that sucked all the lights away. Blinded by the darkness all Kite could hear was the drumming of his heart. Then his vision adjusted and Ember was a shadow with eyes like beads of pin-pricked blood.

“Please, Ember,” Kite begged her. “Don't say it.”

But her next words came shredding from the Nav Deck speakers, harsh and hostile. “When stormy is the weather and thunder shakes the sky. The children of the sun will ask the question why.”