Queen of the Sky Frontier - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Under the dark skies of night, the port city of Charlestown looked better than it did during the day. By day the scars of the war were all too easy to see, from the wrecked airships in the shallows of the harbor to the shattered munitions factories and burned-out houses. The war had not been overly kind to the city, and two years was not long enough to heal the wounds.

Captain Black was none too happy to be here. He had not been this far East in years, and he felt all but trapped so close to the sea. His ship, the Polaris, was disguised as a cargo ship, with her gunports hammered shut and her deck clogged with empty barrels and crates so she looked like a trader loaded with goods to be shipped out from the port.

They'd been here two days already, and every day he worried that some officious port officer would notice the supposed trader ship that wasn't unloading anything. Black had to keep his men mostly aboard and below, sending only a few at a time into town to listen for news. His ship had four times the complement of a genuine merchant ship, and with their scars and ready knives, they looked like exactly what they were - pirates.

"Any word?" the voice from behind him was startling, and Black tried not to show he'd been surprised. He glanced back at his passenger, snorted. Cassius Rane was a queer one. Pale and soft like all those Yankee businessmen, yet he had a reserve, and moved quiet as a stalking cat, even if he did dress like a dandy.

Black turned away and peered through his spyglass again, watching the lights as the airships came and went out over the sea. The lights of the garrison at Fort Sumter across the harbor were a constant reminder of their dangerous position. All it would take was one over-curious officer, and they'd have to find out how fast the Polaris really was. She was a Valkyrie-class ship launched before the war, one of the first generation with an enclosed gasbag. She was long and lean and supposed to be faster than any other ships launched by the Union. Right now that was not comfort enough.

"Nothing yet," Black said by way of answer. "Her ship was supposed to be here already. You'd better be right about the timing, because we can't risk staying here much longer."

"Overseas travel can be unreliable," Rane said. "But I am sure she will be here. And relax, Captain. I will smooth things over if trouble develops."

"So you say," Black said, not looking around. "I don't quite trust you with my life, nor my ship. Sorry to say."

Rane shrugged. "Fair enough. Just hold steady for a little longer. She'll be here."

Black heard the heavy step on the deck and knew who it was without looking. "Merodach, stay below. Someone might see you."

"I'll stay well away from the lantern," came the growling, guttering response. Even the perpetually calm Rane gave back as Black's dreaded first mate lurched forward with his low, rolling gait.

Merodach was Experimental, something not intended, who had barely escaped destruction by his horrified makers. He stood with a perpetual hunch, though if he stretched to his full height he would stand over seven feet. He was covered everywhere with thick black fur that drank the light and made him all but invisible in darkness, despite Black's concerns. His body was massive and thickset, with overlong arms heavy as tree limbs and corded with muscle that all but dragged the ground when he walked.

It was his head, however, and his face, that inspired the most fear in men. His was the head of some animal - long-jawed and heavy-skulled, with carnivorous fangs and a single feral eye that reflected the dim light like a lantern. His other eye was artificial, a festoon of dark metal and copper coils covered over with a black eyepatch.

He was near to mutiny from being cooped up below decks while they waited. Black couldn't allow him to be seen, and the confinement made him harder to control, for all that he was a force of nature on a good day.

"No sign of the wench?" Merodach snarled, his speech always thick around his long teeth and animal tongue.

"No," Black said. "But Rane promises she'll be here soon enough." He smiled a bit into the darkness as he deflected his mate's anger toward his unlikable guest.

"She best be here soon. I've been cooped up like a worm on the gun-deck, eating gunpowder and incinerating rats 'til I'm yearning to wring a few necks." He knotted his hands on the rail and the wood groaned under his grip. Rane sidled away and Black stifled laughter.

"I almost wish those pasty ass-coves up at the fort would start something so I could see how many I can kill before I die shitting blood." Merodach bit the hard wood of the rail, the sound like crunching bone.

"Captain!" one of the men called, climbing up from the main deck. "The ship we've been waiting on just put in."

"Is she on it?" Black snapped back.

"Don't know sir, but it's the right one."

"Fine, let's go meet her then." Black turned to Merodach. "You stay here and keep out of sight, but be ready to stain the harbor red if trouble starts." He turned back to the waiting crewman. "I want six men with all their fingers and both eyes. Pistols only, no swords. We have to look respectable." He turned to Cassius. "And you, you're coming with me. Time to see if your information is worth a shit nickel."

---

Azrael descended the gangplank carefully, deliberate. The night was cold, and she could see her breath before her, fogging in the light from the string of lamps that guided her down the ramp to the platform of the sky-dock. She carried one bag only, and she watched the shadows, seeking a sign of someone awaiting her as she'd been promised.

There was no one. The smells of the sea were strong here on shore, stronger than they had been while flying far above it. She hesitated at the foot of the gangplank, then stepped off and thus returned to the land of her birth.

It was not as she'd ever expected. No one to meet her, no one at all, and it was cold and dark, so she could barely see the city spread out below. Lights glimmered in the night, and she heard the soft thrum of another airship passing in the darkness.

She stopped on the platform and smoothed her hair, set down her bag and thought for a moment. She had a little money, she supposed she would have to find lodging. There had been an expectation of someone to meet her here, and now she felt lost. More lost than she had for the past week on board the ship.

A churchbell rang somewhere, tolling midnight, and she reached down for her bag when she heard footsteps. She stopped, stood calmly and waited.

A man came into the light of the platform, followed by others. He was tall if slender, with black hair and keen, high-boned features. Behind him was a smooth-faced man in an expensive gray suit. The others were rough-looking, like street criminals, and all of them wore guns.

The lead man stepped to meet her. He was clean-shaven and looked not too much older than she, though he had a hardness to his features, a cruelty. He came within a few paces of her and bowed, a little too elegant.

"Azrael Dire, I presume. You could be no other." He straightened and looked her over. "I am Captain Mordel Black, here as representative of your mother's estate. Welcome home."

---

Black looked the girl over, hardly impressed with what he saw. She was keenly pretty, and her heritage was plain in her wide-set eyes and the slight copper cast to her skin. She wore her black hair up in a tight bun and a high-necked dress that was almost somber it was so lacking in any decoration or flourish. What he hadn't expected was for her to be so small. Asmodel Dire had been tall and broad-shouldered, her daughter was slim and came scarcely to his breastbone. Her face was impassive, reserved, though her eyes watched everything.

"Please, this way," he said, gesturing. She reached for her bag and he took it first, handed it off to one of his men. When he turned he saw she'd stepped back away from him, a watchful look in her eyes. She did not seem afraid, just mistrustful. "It's perfectly safe," he said. "We can speak aboard my ship, out of the cold."

She looked at him silently, then at his men, nodded once and followed his motion. For all that he knew she'd been stuck in some Austrian girls' school for better than a decade, her reserve was off-putting. How the hell had Dire whelped this tadpole? He followed along behind her where he could keep an eye on things, Cassius bringing up the rear.

"This is Captain Dire's daughter?" Black said sidelong to the northerner. "This little doll? What good is that going to do us?"

"She's more important as a symbol than anything else," Cassius replied softly. "Let us see what she's made of before we worry, hmm?"

Black sneered unseen as they left the platform for the dark, threaded down the long stair as the wind picked at them. "Have it your way," he said under his breath. "But if this all goes to shit, don't think I won't cut your balls off and feed them to the crows."

---

Azrael followed along quietly, taking everything in. This was her first time in America since she was a child, and she looked for something - anything - familiar to reassure her that this was not some dream, but it was all darkness and cold and these strange men all touching their guns as if they expected to be attacked at any moment. Safe, he'd said. If it were safe, why did they need guns? She'd never seen so many in her life.

They crossed the harborfront, the men edging away from the lamp-posts and staying in the dark until they climbed another gantry to another dock, and boarded a sleek, dark vessel much smaller than the fat liner that had carried her across the Atlantic. She hesitated before boarding, but where else could she go? She climbed the gangplank and saw that more men were ready, began at once to loose the lines and prepare to cast off.

Black gave an order and she felt the deck thrum beneath her feet as the engines came alive. He took out a spyglass and scanned the city one more time before he put it away and motioned for her to follow him. In truth the cold was getting to her, biting through the light coat she wore. She was not accustomed to the wind up so high.

She followed him down the companionway and through a polished door into what seemed to be his cabin, or part of it. It was more spacious than she expected, but the roof was quite low, making it feel cramped. This room was largely taken up by a long wooden table that gleamed from age and the polish of use. Brass fittings guarded the corners and stout bolts stuck it fast to the deck.

To one side was a smaller sitting area, with a beautiful Chinese lamp providing a warm glow beside a couch and two upholstered chairs. Black closed the door behind him and Azrael sighed as the cold was shut out. It was warm in here, growing warmer as the engines stoked higher and created more heat. She glanced and saw the other one - the well-dressed man - had also joined them.

When she turned back she saw one of the chairs move and gasped as she realized it was not a chair covered by a fur as she'd thought, but something alive. It stood, powerful limbs uncoiling in the lamplight, a massive, bestial head turning to look on her with a single yellow-golden eye.

She stepped back and collided with Black, and he took her shoulders to steady her. "Shame, Merodach. You'll frighten our guest."

The monster snorted like a bull and came closer, and it took all of Azrael's willpower to refrain from cringing. She was determined not to show weakness before these men, whatever came.

"So this is Dire's girl?" the thing growled, the deep sound almost rattling her teeth. He snorted again and she felt the hot breath on her face. "This tiny thing?"

"Enough," Black said, and she was surprised to see the thing subside, take a step away. After a moment, it inclined its head apologetically.

"Forgive my first mate," Black said. "He forgets himself sometimes." He let go of her shoulders. "Not all Experimentals are pleasing to look on." He gestured toward the couch. "Please, sit. May I get you something to drink?"

Azrael held up a hand sharply. "No," she said, the first word she had spoken to them.

"Ah, well. Just sit then," he said.

"No," she said, louder. "Before anything, I will know what happened to my mother. I will know now."

Black pursed his lips, as if thinking. "Well, you know she is dead."

"Yes," Azrael said. "I was told that, but the telegram said only that she had been killed. It did not say how, or why, or by who."

"Well," Black said, pulling off his gloves. "There is a great deal to tell, but it comes down to this: your mother had risen to a position of leadership among the Corsairs of El Dorado -"

"My mother," Azrael said sharply. "Was not a pirate." She said it with no place for argument.

"Of course not," the other man said, folding his expensive coat carefully. "She was a filibuster, of sorts. A woman of vision and ambition. Most certainly not a pirate." He smiled, and at her unasked question he touched his collar with two fingers. "Cassius Rane," he said. "I represent certain. . . business interests in your mother's legacy."

Azrael turned back to Black, and he took a breath. "There was a struggle for power within the Brethren - is there not always a struggle for power?" He shook his head. "The Brethren have become divided now, with factions vying to take control. Your mother's loss left a great void that is not yet filled."

"Who," Azrael said. "Who is responsible?"

Captain Black seated himself slowly in the high-backed chair, his face thrown into shadow by the nearness of the lamp. His beast Merodach loomed beside him like a shadow. "At the moment of her greatest triumph," Black said. "With Empire within her grasp, your mother was betrayed and murdered by an upstart pirate woman who has become our constant nemesis." He slapped his gloves down in a gesture of contempt. "By Captain Eden Kane."

Continued in Chapter 3

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