Chasing the Lantern (26 page)

Within, my officers and I discovered a single, massive gemstone. It is quite unlike any I have ever seen, big as two fists and rough-cut of some luminous material. It is capable of lighting a darkened room as well as any lantern and shines brilliantly. The stone is a fortune by itself.

I wonder now at Acting-Governor Vrey's insistence. He could have easily kept the gem, with us none the wiser. Most curiously, I recall now that Vrey was very careful to never handle the box directly himself. How odd.

"So that's that," said Fengel. He paused to sip his wine. "I hope we get to the meat of the matter shortly?"

"Keep reading," said Lucian.

Fengel bent back over the tome.

Twenty-sixth of Marchwater. Eighth bell. Poor weather has assailed us since leaving the Colony. The winds have carried us south along the coast and show no sign of relenting. My officers are flummoxed, and insist on fighting the weather to continue bearing west. While we've enough coal on board to work the paddlewheels, I have had another idea. We will go with the winds until we are south of the Copper Isles' latitudinal. By then the weather should let up, and we can sail west without depleting our stores excessively. On another note, I have had Vrey's gemstone, the 'Lantern,' brought up to me. I must admit that it is a fascinating specimen, and I am quite taken by it.

Twenty-seventh of Marchwater. Second bell. Crew unhappy. Apparently a rumor has spread amongst the seamen from their time on the Colony. The Lantern is apparently somewhat infamous (unsurprising), and rumor holds that it is cursed. I will not have such superstition aboard my ship, and have ordered any man caught speaking of such matters flogged. On another note, Mr. Marley is becoming rather agitated about our course. I reminded him of his need to trust me. I do hope he is not becoming unreliable. It would be a shame for him to cut his promising career short.

Twenty-eighth. Marchwater. Lantern a fascinating piece of gemology. I do not have the tools to verify, but I rather suspect that it is singing to me. Could it be a Worked jewel? That would be something out of a storybook, almost. But not unheard of. Have decided that I shall keep it for myself. His Majesty will neither know nor care; I have stricken it from the audit, and arranged to have the common men who know of it flogged for insubordination concerning these crass rumors spreading about the ship.

Twenty-ninth. Have had abrupt discussion with Marley. Have apparently missed our bearing to turn west. Unimportant.

First of Highwing. Third bell? Fourth? Storm last night. As well as attempted mutiny. Marley led them against me. After all I'd done for him. Things were not going well, when we ran suddenly aground on some rocks just off the coast. Stormwall high above. Temporary truce. Taking command. Keeping Lantern on self at all times; they want to take it from me.

Third of Highwing. Ship has come to rest again, past the Stormwall and up the river. Had Marley and his mutineers killed after rescuing the ship. Handful left. No matter. I have had an epiphany. The
Lantern
does sing. It calls to me, and is on the very verge of revealing a wondrous secret. But not yet, not yet. It needs to go home. Then it may speak.

Fourth of Highwing. Crew morale low. Fires spied in the night, in the jungle beyond. Sent some scouts; they did not return. Hear drums. See eyes in the jungle. Not human.

Fifth of Highwing. They are coming. The Lantern must go home. The men struggle. It is of no import. The Keepers are here for me, for the Lantern. To bring it home. Home to their worship-fires. Home to the Tomb of the Voorn.

Their leader is before me now. He holds out his hand. I must carry the Lantern home, to Old Yrinium.

The account ended abruptly, but not, as Fengel had suspected it would, with a dramatic splash of blood or ink. He leaned back in his chair, sipping from his glass.

"Well," said Henry. "That puts paid to that. The thing is cursed. Good riddance to it."

"What a tale," said Lucian. "We're better off without it."

Fengel sighed. "I don't know. That gemstone would make us all rich. And we'd get to keep the treasure in the holds." He sighed internally. He
really
wanted to keep that treasure. And more than that, what if Natasha got her hands on the gem? It was unlikely, but possible. He had left her on the same beach that the Perinese sailors had ended up on.

The more he thought about it, the more the idea preyed upon him. He had her ship, but what if she got the gem? What if
she
was the one to bring it back to Grey? She'd be able to afford another airship at the least. She would come for him.

Lucian shook his head "No, we're definitely better off without it. Just thought you'd like to know." He stood. "Evening then, sir. I'll go make sure Lome is settled, then hit the sack myself."

Henry put away the wine bottle. Then he moved to prepare his captain's bedding for him.

"Worship fires," muttered Fengel. He sat upright as it came to him. "Lucian, give Maxim a new heading. Dead east. Watch for anything unusual. Skeleton crew: I want everyone rested and fed."

His first mate paused at the door. "Sir?"

"I saw something on the horizon to the east just before we came down here. Henry did as well. Now that I think about it, it simply
must
be one of those tribal worship fires the mad captain described." Fengel stood from his chair, removed his boots, and moved to the bed. His officers sputtered, the both of them trying to dissuade him at the same time.

"Enough!" he said with the iron voice of command. "We'll have our cake and eat it too, and make sure that Natasha won't get a slice at all. Wake me when we see something. We've got a gemstone to find."

Chapter Fifteen

Mordecai swung his cutlass at the thick foliage. Four of the tightly packed nettles fell, brushing against his unprotected forearms. Pain bloomed where they touched him, his skin feeling like it had caught fire. He clenched his jaw to keep from making any sound, yet a strained grunt pushed itself from his lips.

Morning sunlight illuminated the jungle in shades of pink and blue, though it was still too low to cast any real light in the clearing through which they forged. And the clearing was anything but. Nettles grew thickly in the space, shooting up to head height from the rich earth beneath their feet. Encompassing the clearing was the jungle; dark, dangerous, and impenetrable. To their right hung the Stormwall, close enough to shake the jungle canopy with its gusts and breezes. Directly ahead to the south rose a rocky crag, jutting up from the jungle canopy maybe a league farther on. Up above it hung their prize. The ragged form of the
Copper Queen
dangled in the breeze, somehow snagged in such a way to halt its aimless drifting.

Natasha followed on his heels, widening the path with her own blade and muttering a constant low-grade stream of invective against her husband, the jungle, and the baser attributes of the Goddess herself. Mordecai heard her gasping breaths between each curse. She was getting tired, finally.

Behind them followed the crew, or what remained of it. Their march had been forced, pushing through the night in desperation after the drifting airship. They followed it across the Silverpenny River and into the jungle on the southern bank. Through thick foliage, poisonous creepers, and surprise quicksand they ran. Numerous obstacles presented themselves. Sometime around midnight, after the second aerial attack by the aggressive, venomous spiders living in the lower branches of the surrounding trees, some of the men decided to make a stand. They refused to go any further without rest. Natasha accommodated them, leaving their corpses to feed the rich earth of the jungle floor.

Fengel had won again. Somehow he had escaped the predicament they had left him and his men in, gotten back aboard the
Queen
, made it through the Stormwall, and then crept up on them, taking Natasha's Reavers utterly by surprise. But
how
?

It was an academic question. Without another airship they'd be stranded in the jungle, at the mercy of whatever had killed the crew of the
Albatross.
They'd also miss any chance of getting the treasure back. Or any chance at revenge.

Oh, yes. Especially revenge.

Mordecai let his rage burn slowly, the fuel that kept him going. After a few more minutes they reached the edge of the clearing, skin blistered and swollen from the sting of the nettles. Natasha again took the lead and he fell back to rest his arm. He followed her back into the grip of the jungle.

Darkness enclosed them again. Beneath the upper canopy it almost seemed another world. The earth at their feet was rich and dark, thick ferns growing wild. Here and there lay deadfall trees, but there was surprisingly little dead foliage. Overhead grew the banyan and baobabs, all laced together and fighting for sunlight. The air was musty and sweet, like fruit set out for too long and gone to rot. Branches swayed overhead as the pirates moved, a sign of the monkeys and lemurs that leapt from branch to branch, spying on them from high above. Mordecai kept a wary eye about. Last evening they had been attacked by poisonous snakes, jungle cats, and unnaturally large spiders.

Natasha's Reavers trudged onward. The cracks in the canopy grew brighter as the morning went on, but precious little light spilled down into the gloom they moved through. Though there were no more nettles, Natasha still hacked at any overgrown fronds or thick vines that dared to be in her way.

The ground grew steeper. Beneath them the loamy earth slanted sharply upward until they were forced to climb on hands and knees up a slope. They had reached the craggy hill. Hopefully, the
Queen
was still caught at its summit.

Mordecai stopped to rest against the trunk of a banyan, panting heavily. The incline rose even more sharply just up ahead. Rocks protruded from the hill to form a network of minor cliffs. Natasha started to ascend. Mordecai shot out an arm. "Wait," he gasped. "We need rest before we can climb that."

His captain gave him an ugly look. Her eyes were sunken and bruised from exhaustion. The skin along her jaw was swollen from the touch of some venomous plant. "Got to catch the
Queen
," she snarled. "Stay here and have a bit of a sit for yourself if you want to."

She shrugged his hand away and threw herself into the ascent. A spasm of anger coursed through Mordecai. He forced himself to calm, or at least to somewhere calmer, then followed.

The trees were shorter and thicker here, not having to grow so high for nourishment. That also meant that there was more undergrowth. Between the rocks and the branches, Mordecai needed both hands free. He sheathed his sword. All too soon he wished he'd had it back. Branches that Natasha pushed aside whipped back at him, and his fine, soft gloves were going to tatters where he grabbed at the sharp rocks. Gradually, the gloom brightened. The way became easier, and the foliage less thick. The rocks leveled out back to an incline rather than a set of cliffs. Mordecai ducked under one last low-hanging banyan limb and stepped out into daylight.

And then he stared.

The top of the hill flattened, stretching out into a broad overhang that extended above the jungle below. It was grassy and level with the canopy of the trees growing from the flanks of the hill. The
Copper Queen
was caught on the jutting outcrop of rock by some rope that dangled from its bow, the deck being only a little higher than the rocky outcrop. Past it, the Yulan Jungle stretched for hundreds of miles, brilliant and emerald green in the morning sunlight. His captain stood only a few feet ahead.

The ship looked even worse in the daylight than when he'd seen it last. The bag was sagging, the hull was scorched through in places, and the ratlines and rigging were a tangled mess. Cannons had either broken free or unmoored themselves and lay scattered about. All in all, Euron's ship was not destined to fly for very much longer, if at all.

Also, there were apes.

They were large and white furred, shorter than a man by a foot, but thick and powerfully built. Heavy tusks poked up from their lower jaws, gleaming white in the sunlight. The apes, fifty or so, crawled about the deck, hooting and gibbering.

"Well," said Natasha after a moment.

Mordecai glanced at the outcrop and the uncertain footing of the deck. In both places they'd be at a disadvantage. And while the apes would die like anything else, there were quite a lot of them. "We should wait them out," he said after a moment. "Maybe somewhere down below."

"No."

Mordecai caught her eye and held it. "We're exhausted, and I don't think these brutes will cow easily." He grimaced back at their own ragged line of crew still making their way up the hill. "Unlike our own. There's nothing we can really do at the moment."

Natasha snarled. "You're wrong, Mordecai. There is one thing we can do; we take that damned ship back."

She hefted her blade and marched across the outcrop to where the rigging had snared.
Senseless wench,
Mordecai cursed to himself. He glanced back at the crew stretched behind him. They were just as rag-tag and exhausted as he'd said. Reaver Jane looked dead on her feet, and Guye Farrel was a swollen mass of stings and bug-bites. The Wiley brothers were gasping and cursing. Everyone else either stared at him dumbly, or had taken the opportunity to sit. Mordecai hissed a command at them, voice hoarse from weariness and pain. Those closest started and shambled forward, while those sitting climbed wearily to their feet. He made sure they were all moving before stalking over to his captain himself.

He caught up with her just below the ship where the snared rigging created a convenient ladder up to the slanting bow. Hoots and grunts echoed off the ship, and a single white ape clung to the ropes before them, jumping up and down. It noticed Natasha approach and stopped. As Mordecai walked up to her, the creature bared its fangs and hissed in warning. Some of the other apes clambering about up above peeked over the bow, curious at the noise. They stared at the pirates.