The Immortal Storm (Sky Chaser Book 1) (18 page)

42
Preparations

Kite hugged his arms, trying desperately to keep warm. The snow was falling thick as ration pack porridge on the black rocks outside the Hangar Deck. The
Phosphene
had landed in a shallow ravine on the edge of the Wildemark,  near a frozen river the Askians called the Lethe. The compacted snow came halfway up the porthole windows. Even with a portable radiator belting out scalp-prickling heat the atmosphere was achingly cold.

The Captain had called them together for a debriefing. Everyone seemed on edge about the mission to Skyzarke. Even Clinker  seemed unusually muted while he went about servicing the two stormwings in readiness for tomorrow's flight. The only one who didn't seem pressured was Birdy, who lurked at the back showing little interest in what was being said.

Kite listened nervously while Shelvocke brought them up to speed. “As you are all aware we have been given permission by the Vox Memoria to enter Skyzarke,” he said and paused to let Kite feel even more ill at ease. “With certain unforeseen
conditions
attached.”

Kite wished he'd seen Shelvocke's face when Dr.Nightborn told him the Genetrix's conditions. He'd half-expected the Captain to go to Skyzarke regardless. But then he'd lose Dr.Nightborn's confidence, and Shelvocke couldn't afford for that to happen. Many of the crew were already jittery after news about the crawler had spread. Shelvocke had no choice in the matter.

“Our objective is to enter Skyzarke, confirm the location of the Cloud Room and to secure whatever information it contains,” Shelvocke went on. “I will not lie to you. This mission is the most dangerous the Murkers have ever undertaken. The enemy may already be aware of our presence. There can be no room for error.”

Welkin smoothed out a hand-drawn map on one of the spare benches.

“When I was based at the Northwall air station I flew regular patrols over Skyzarke,” he said, frowning a little as if the memory of that time made him uncomfortable. “Since my missions were mostly reconnaissance I got to know the region pretty well.”

Kite moved closer for a better look at the map, brushing Fleer's shoulder as he did. She immediately shot him a withering look. Two days and still she hadn't forgiven him for embarrassing her in the High Hollows.

“Skyzarke is an elevated valley known as the Vale,” said Welkin, showing them the sketch he'd made from memory. “On all sides are hills and forests and further back a mountain range. The city is situated here, on the shore of a lake.”

The lake. Kite remembered Ember's description of it.

Fleer pointed. “The hills beneath Cold Bastion,” she said. “We can fly in from the south. Across the Lethe.”

Welkin shook his head. “The hills to the north and south of the city and the slopes of the eastern mountains are heavily patrolled. The thundermoths know the snow-yacht routes well enough by now,” he said, pointing to the left side of the map. “The blind spot is the narrow approach from the west, here. It's in a natural gully. It will offer us some cover. But that's only one of the problems. Thundermoths are built for this climate and terrain. For once the stormwings won't be our advantage.”

“Mr.Clinker is hoping to improve those odds,” Shelvocke said, nodding to the workshop where the Chief was busy tuning the stormwings. “I have every confidence in his abilities.”

Kite tried to commit the map to memory. The Wildemark, the Vale, Skyzarke and the locations of the Cloudguard bases and outposts, Northwall and Cold Bastion. Near Welkin's finger was crescent of unnamed spider-shaped symbols.

“What are those?” Kite asked.

“Floating ice-mines,” replied Welkin. “The gully's covered with them.”

Kite frowned. Ice-mines? Thundermoths? “Can't we go on foot?” he asked.

“Remember this was a war zone, Nayward,” Welkin said, shaking his head. “The snow's sunk with craters and all kinds unexploded ordnance. It's an approach by air or nothing.”

Fleer had been staring at the map for some time, as if committing the details to memory. “We can navigate the ice-mines,” she said, keenly relishing the challenge. “We can outmanoeuvre the thundermoths.”

“Then we are agreed,” Shelvocke said. “Lieutenant Fleer will be Squadron Leader, since this mission has the added complication of a passenger.”

Kite's cheeks burned.
Passenger.
No doubt that was what Shelvocke really thought of him. But in all of this there'd been no mention of Ember.

“I'm taking the mechanikin,” Kite said.

Shelvocke turned to him. “That is out of the question, Mr.Nayward,” he said. “This mission has enough risks already, no thanks to you.”

“But Ember has to be there,” Kite protested. “That’s the one she’s trying to find is in the Cloud Room. That’s her mission.”

“That is assuming she is telling us the truth,” Shelvocke said.

Kite frowned. “Why would she -”

“You may have been taken in by her stories, Mr.Nayward.” Shelvocke interrupted him. “But we have more to lose on this mission than your precious profit. The Clockwork Jinny stays on board until we know where and what the Cloud Room is. That is the end of the matter.”

Could Ember have lied to him? Her memories were all jumbled up after all. But that wasn't the point.

“The mechanikin still belongs to me,” Kite said.

As soon as the words slipped out Shelvocke's expression darkened.

“Do not try my patience, Mr.Nayward,” the Captain said, his voice booming to the Hangar Deck's hollow corners. “I have endured your onerous presence until now but your stubbornness is getting to be tiresome. If you want to stay aboard this vessel learn to act like a member of the crew and follow my orders!”

The echo of Shelvocke's voice faded. The old radiator buzzed in the cold vacuum that followed. Kite stared back fearlessly at first. He had no idea what 'onerous' meant but he doubted it was a Weatheren compliment. Defying Shelvocke now would have been the easiest thing in the world...

But hard as it was to admit Shelvocke was right. He wasn't acting like a member of the crew. He was acting like a spoilt child. How much courage had it taken Welkin to turn against Cloudguard? Or Fleer to walk away from the sanctuary of the High Hollows and fight with the Murkers? Clinker, Birdy, even Shelvocke. All of them had made sacrifices that he couldn't possibly understand.

Kite swallowed bitterly. “Yes, Captain,” he mumbled.

After staring at him for a long moment Shelvocke turned to Welkin and Fleer. “The mission begins at 04.00 hours,” he concluded, giving the pilots a stiff salute. “Be ready. All of you.”

“Roger that,” they said, returning the gesture.

Kite said nothing.

The Captain returned to the NavDeck leaving them to make final  preparations for the mission. Kite left Fleer and Welkin to it. He didn't think they'd want him in their way. Not after he'd just let them down.

By the open ramp doors Kite watched the snow swirling by the mosfire beacons. He had to be smarter than this. Letting Shelvocke get under his skin would get him no-where.

Boot rubber squeaked behind him.

Kite was surprised to find Birdy there. Hands in pockets, all sheepish and tongue-tied, he looked like he'd been waiting for the moment.

“Just wanted to say, you know, good luck,” Birdy said, stiffly.  “For tomorrow.”

Kite nodded slowly. “I have a feeling I'm going to need it,” he said.

Birdy nodded back, obviously relieved to have got that off his chest. He scratched his nose and glanced up at the ravine walls. “I was thinking of going topside,” he said and shrugged. “You can tag along if you want.”

Kite glanced over his shoulder at Fleer and Welkin. Both were diligently checking their gear. Fleer her rebreather equipment and Welkin his shockgun charger. Kite supposed that's what real pilots did before a mission, not feeling sorry for themselves...

“Sure,” he said. “Why not.”

Birdy certainly knew his way around the
Phosphene
. He showed Kite a secret way up through the three decks, navigating by hidden ladders and seldom-used companionways until they reached a small hatch somewhere above on the Nav Deck.

“Does Shelvocke know you come up here?” Kite asked.

“Not likely,” replied Birdy, twisting the wheel-lock free. “He'd probably confine me to my cabin if he knew.”

Compacted snow sloughed in, breaking over Kite's shoulder. Birdy went first through the tight hatch. Kite squeezed after him and climbed out the fulgurtine's freezing top deck.

The view stole his breath. The
Phosphene
looked like a pale blade, cleaving the ravine in two. Pale light filtered down between black rock walls, glinting off the snow-patterned armour. Mottled grey and blueish white, the jigsaw sections of the cladding panels fitted snugly into each other. A near perfect camouflage.

Kite followed Birdy up to one of the giant communications dishes mounted on the Nav Deck roof. The crisp, sharp air stung his nostrils as he climbed the ladder to the gantry.

From up here Kite had a three-hundred and sixty degree view of the fulgurtine. From bow to stern and the staggered decks between. Either side the hull tapered away to the floor of the shadowy ravine where Shelvocke's Sergeants patrolled the landing site. They looked tiny like ants in a spill of salt.

“Ray reckoned coming up here would help me with the training but I ain't scared of heights,” Birdy said, fearlessly clambering on to the railing. He leaned out and held up his arms, as if to prove a point. “See? Ain't scared of heights.”

Kite hoped Birdy hadn't dragged him up here to have it out about the crawler. He really wasn't in the mood. “Look, about what happened with the -”

“You scared of dying?” Birdy interrupted him.

“Sometimes,” Kite said, unsure where Birdy was going with this.

“I'm scared of dying,” said Birdy. “All right? That's nothing to ashamed of is it?”

Finally Kite understood what this was all about. It certainly took some courage to admit something like that, especially to someone you hardly knew.

“There’s no shame in that,” Kite said. “Everyone's scared of something.”

“Yeah, what you scared of?” Birdy said. “The Foundation?”

Kite shook his head. “No, not the Foundation,” he said.

“What you scared of then?” asked Birdy.

Kite watched the soft flutter of snow settling on the
Phosphene
's upper decks. Maybe there'd been a time when just thinking about the Foundation could send him into a shivering panic. But behind all the armour and the cruelty the Weatherens were just men. Easily burned and broken. No, these days something else haunted his thoughts.

“Being alone,” Kite said, eventually. “I guess that's what scares me more than anything.”

Birdy listened and nodded. He clambered down from the railing and stood beside him for a moment.

“Ray's scared of spiders, you know,” he said.

Kite turned. “What, the Chief?”

“Oh yeah! He saw one the other day in his workshop,” Birdy said. “Welkin had to come and get rid of it. Can you believe it? Ray Clinker!”

They chatted and joked for a while and Birdy shared a dram of Morning Glory he'd pocketed from the Galley. The stuff always made Ersa silly as a fish but Kite figured a sip couldn't do him much harm. Soon the honey-sweet drink had warmed his belly and taken the chill out the air. After his recent battles Kite was glad of Birdy's company. Having never had someone his own age to talk to he was beginning realise what he'd been missing.

“Is there really something in Skyzarke that'll defeat the Foundation?” Birdy asked, offering him another swig. “This thing Shelvocke's been on about?”

“There better be, Birdy,” Kite replied. “Or we've come a long way for nothing.”

Truth was Kite didn't know what to think any more. Maybe Shelvocke was right. Ember’s scrambled memories could be dangerously inaccurate. Worse, she could have been spinning him lies. Kite tried not to think about that.

“I hate the Foundation,” Birdy said, quietly.

The half-light was fading fast. Already the sky had turned a soft grey. In a few short hours Kite would be on his way to Skyzarke. Whatever the truth about Ember he was going to find out soon enough…

“Me too,” Kite said.

43
The Ghosts of Skyzarke

“Ice-mines, dead ahead, over!”

Kite shook the snow from his goggles. He'd been a little groggy up until then but the sight ahead had soon sobered him up. A hundred horned barrels, each one bigger than a man, began to take shape in the mist. Frosted warning lights glowed amber on their crowns. Anchored to the Vale hills 20 feet below by ice-dripped chains. Silent and deadly these phantoms haunted the hills. Maybe insisting on coming to Skyzarke wasn't such a good idea after all.

“Sky Chaser, try not to fall off.” Fleer's voice crackled over the radio again. “We won't have time to go back and collect you, over.”

Kite crunched his teeth.
Sky Chaser
. Fleer’s idea of a joke - a call sign for the newbie.

“Ready, Sky Chaser, over?” Welkin said, giving him a friendly nudge with his elbow.

“Roger that, Frostbite,” he said and remembering his brief  communication training added, “er, over.”

Welkin pressed down on the pedals. The stormwing growled and the acceleration made Kite's boots shift a little. Thankfully the short safety line linking their harnesses kept him from tumbling backward.

Wedged against the bulky shockgun charger Kite couldn't see much of anything. Feeling blind and disorientated all he could do was cling onto to the Weatheren and put his faith in Welkin's piloting skills.

“Watch yourselves, over!” Fleer said, her voice edged with nerves.

Seconds later ice-mines were all around them.

One by one they whistled by, trigger horns barely an arm's length from the stormwing. Kite tucked in his elbows. Death's head warnings grinned from under congealed ice. A scratch was all it would take for a jet of super-cold quickening ice to freeze them in a heartbeat.

“Clear ahead one league,” Fleer said, sounding relieved. “But stay sharp, there might be patrols, over.”

The ice-mines thinned. Kite made out ghostly outlines in the snow. Buildings and walls, the traces of outlying settlements.

“Skyzarke should be just over those hills, over,” Fleer said.

Kite leaned to his left, straining for his first glimpse of the city. The mist and the hills slipped away and nestled in a valley, on the crescent of a milk-white lake was a skyline of frozen towers.

The stormwings hushed down silent streets. Toppled spires and caved-in domes and once great buildings were encased in walls of ice, capped by hills of snow. The occasional soft cracking of stressed ice the only sound.

The destruction was sickening. Entire districts had been flattened by some incredible force. Glassy craters left in their place. Others hadn't been touched since the moment the ice had consumed them. Roads with wheeled landmachines. An train tipped off its tracks.

Then Kite spotted them...

Withered and ice-burnt faces caught in their final moments. Men, women and children. Whole families.
Dozens
of Askians taken by the sudden flow of ice. A swell in his belly gave him the urge to turn away but he forced himself to take in the horror. This is what the Genetrix had wanted him to come to Skyzarke. This is why Ersa had been so haunted by its name...

“Now do you understand, Sky Chaser?” Fleer said.

“Yes,” he whispered. “
Yes
.”

The stormwings set down amongst snow-covered rocks a short distance from the frozen lake. Kite unclipped his harness from Welkin's belt. He dragged down his rebreather mask and vomited into the snow.

“Focus, Sky Chaser,” Welkin said, giving him a thump on the shoulder.

Slowly Kite wiped his mouth. “Roger that, Frostbite,” he mumbled.

Welkin unhooked the electroscope from his belt. “I'm getting all kinds of EM readings,” Welkin said. “There's definitely a huge magnetic disturbance above the city.”

The Undercloud above them was a sickly bile green. Luminous rings rippled across its belly. On the hill overlooking the lake, reamed with waterfalls of ice, three vast funnels pointed at the Undercloud.

“What are those things?” he asked.

“Cloudbusters,” Fleer said. “The Patriarchs built them to keep the skies clear for the astronomers.”

Kite scanned the hillside below the cloudbusters. Buildings had been buried under drifts of snow, compacted and flattened.

“Ember said she used to go down to the lake,” he said and pointed to the hill beneath the cloudbusters. “I think the Observatory must be over there somewhere.”

“Let's hope the doll was telling the truth,” Fleer said.

She hinged the short wings under the deck. Attaching her safely line to the rear rail she hauled the airmachine onto her back like folded wings.

“Frostbite, stay here and keep watch,” Fleer said. “Any sign of trouble, head back to the ice-mines. Sky Chaser, you're with me. Ready?”

“Roger that,” Kite and Welkin replied.

Kite crumped across the snow after her and they made their way down to the shore. Little more than a breath of air stirred the mist over the lake. No wind. No thunder. He'd never known the world so still.

He remembered how Ember had once described the lake, reflecting the sun and the stars. Now it reflected the ice sculptures of frozen ships. Masts and rigging sparkled with icicles. A great cargo clipper, four times the length of his old sandboat, had been sealed on the crest of a crystal wave. Packing crates and barrels had been suspended in the air. Gnarled and sinewy remains of sailors remained twisted in their death-throws.

A promenade ran along the lake shore. Aisles of street-lamps bowed with cowls of ice. Soft humps pimpled the snow here and there. Kite shuddered. Bodies.

Without warning Fleer pulled him down. She pointed to where a flight of stone steps lead part the way up the hillside, recently cleared by shovels and scuffed with muddy bootprints.

“Frostbite, any corpusants, over?” Fleer said.

“Nothing, over.”

Kite scanned the hillside. There wasn't much to see much in the curtain of snow leaking from the Undercloud. But half-way up the hillside he picked out a vaguely dome-shaped structure.

“They could be waiting for us,” Fleer said, following his gaze.

“Only one way to find out,” said Kite.

A channel had been cleared at the end of the steps, down to a path of scuffed flagstones. Treading lightly they followed the flagstones until they came to a wall of ice beneath the dome. A towering doorway had been blasted open. The ice there still blackened with scorch marks.

Kite picked up a splintered timber plank and brushed the snow from it. A ringed planet and fat stars and a playful comet with a smiling face had been expertly carved in the wood.

“This is the place,” he said.