Chasing the Lantern(84)

But no.

Mordecai hated Fengel and wanted him dead. Yet this desire paled beside that of Natasha. His captain was driven, almost manic. At several points he'd thought to sway her from her mad course. Every attempt had been met with withering scorn. Still. He thought he'd almost had her. Until they'd seen smoke on the horizon, and then a distant, shining dirigible in the light of the setting sun. There'd been no choice then, though still he tried. It galled him to watch Fengel go, but the Queen would never catch the Dawnhawk now. They had just enough coal and burnable fuel scavenged up for a return to Haventown. That was their best bet at the moment. Go home. Set a trap. Fengel's Men would have to return sometime.

That wasn't happening. Natasha lashed them onward. Mordecai had spent all night keeping their haphazard vessel aloft and chasing their prey. On the verge of passing out, he'd slipped down below to rest for an hour or two, and had only just now been kicked awake by his captain, her face grim, preparing herself for a fight that he knew would not happen.

The pre-dawn twilight set the eastern sky afire and the canopy below them a softer shade of blue. They flew lower than Mordecai would have liked, but that could not be helped. To the northeast hung the Dawnhawk, a speck against the horizon, just barely visible.

He yawned, just as a spring popped free from the rudder linkage overhead. It shot out past where his head had been a moment before, across the deck, whistling over the tired and edgy crew up to the bow, where Guye Farrel was coiling rope. It pelted the man hard across the back of the neck and Mordecai watched him topple, momentarily stunned. He hit the deck, then shot up, swearing and yelling at the ship, the men around him, and the more notable aspects of the Goddess. Other members of the crew started to mutter, either at the rattletrap airship they all worked to keep afloat, at Farrel, or just at their situation.

Mordecai knew a tipping point in the making when he saw one. He didn't intend to let it even form. The crew hurriedly bent back to their tasks as he stalked down from the aftcastle deck, yelling orders and cursing them aloud. He stalked up to where Farrel was ranting and quieted the man with a glower, until Farrel looked away to sullenly coil rope again. Mordecai turned and strode back down the deck, sighing under his breath.

Sad thought it was, he missed their Mechanist. Well, not really. But the youth's skills would have been invaluable now. Mordecai somewhat regretted leaving him behind.

The sun finally rose above the horizon to spill gold across the jungle below them. Mordecai marveled for a moment, caught by the view. The Yulan was amazingly clear, its clouds high and distant. He could see for miles and miles in every direction, even to the omnipresent Stormwall bordering them distantly to the west. Even the Dawnhawk looked clearer, its magnificent frame shining, the skysails along its side all but glowing.

Mordecai frowned. He stalked back up to the bow. Guye Farrel flinched at his approach; Mordecai paid him no mind and drew out his spyglass instead. Through it, the Dawnhawk resolved, far clearer than it should have been. They were gaining ground.

Fengel had to see them. The clear skies of the strange jungle continent worked both ways. It was possible that the Queen hadn't been spotted during the night. Possible, but not plausible. Mordecai had been working under the assumption that they were making a pursuit they couldn't possibly win.

So why were they catching up?

He strode back down to the aftcastle. He took in the status of the ship as he went and ordered crewmen to tighten ropes here, loosen the rigging there. Back near the captain's cabin their lone cannon lay lashed to the deck. He ordered five crew to free it and secure it up on the bow. Then he ascended to the helm.

Konrad had the ship's wheel in hand. The aetherite was muttering to himself, probably arguing with the invisible daemon on his shoulder. The man hadn't dealt well with their recent troubles. During the last surprise attack and theft of the Dawnhawk, his counterpart Maxim had unleashed some apparently extremely unpleasant hex upon the man.

"Navigator," said Mordecai. "Bring us over six degrees. See if you can get us some height."

Konrad started at his voice. He turned tired blue eyes toward Mordecai. "What is the point?" he asked in his thick accent.

"We're gaining on our prey."

The ship's navigator stared at him, then nodded slowly. Mordecai turned away and descended back to the deck, where the door to the captain's cabin was shut. He rapped on it, waited, and went to rap again. Before he could knock a second time, however, the portal opened wide and Natasha glared at him, eyes bloodshot and baggy. She couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour. For a wonder, she didn't stink of booze.

"What?" she asked, voice tight.