Chapter 16
Will kept his head down and clung to the shadows to avoid drawing attention as he, Sebastian, Serena, and Malcolm made their way through Vaelstead.
The Sky Lords were celebrities in all of the sky cities, revered for returning stolen relics and boosting the economies, but Vaelstead was especially familiar.
Dorian Duaric had always favored it, and after about a hundred trips there, Will did, too.
He had their path memorized, and the consistent sights and smells were oddly comforting.
They stopped near one of the main roads to hop on a tram that would take them most of the way to their destination.
Will lurked in the back with his hood pulled low, watching through the foggy window as the winding alleys and twisting skyscrapers gave way to apartment complexes, to smaller townhouses, to tiny dwellings dotting open fields.
Vaelstead’s main island was a developed metropolis, but the surrounding islands were largely farmlands. Their destination lay beyond even them.
The tram only took them so far, so when they reached the rural district, they continued on foot. No one said a word as they traversed deep into the idyllic countryside and across the narrow bridges that connected each smaller island.
Will couldn’t imagine how anyone lived back here, isolated from everything, but he supposed it was a necessary sacrifice in exchange for a peaceful existence.
Eventually, the final farming island broke into a dozen tiny ones, each big enough for a single property. Will’s gaze fell on one in particular, distanced from the rest.
The house was small, hardly any bigger than the Captain’s Quarters on the Maelstrom, and so far removed from civilization that Will might have thought it abandoned if not for the flickering oil lamp in the window.
The bridge tethering the tiny island to the rest of Vaelstead looked suspicious, but Will knew that a much heavier man than himself crossed it regularly.
Though the bridge wavered above the dark sky, strung like a tightrope across the void of oblivion, Will’s gait was unchanged as he strode across, his companions at his back.
When they arrived at the door, he lifted his hand to perform a rhythmic, rehearsed knock.
Silence.
Sebastian tried knocking again, louder this time. When he too received silence, he grumbled in annoyance.
“I know you’re in there, old man,” Sebastian said.
“Who’s there?” a gruff voice called back.
“Your gardener,” Will said.
“I didn’t call no gardener.”
“No?” Will scanned the sparse landscaping. This place might have been charming in the hands of its previous owner, but the current ones couldn’t be bothered to trim a bush or pull weeds. The little surviving foliage was overgrown, contributing to the forsaken look of the place. “You need one.”
At last, heavy footsteps scuffled to the door and cracked it ajar.
The man on the other side was a spitting image of Sebastian—if Sebastian was in his sixties.
His brown skin was weathered from years spent in the sun, and his ungroomed gray beard was decorated with small braids and beads.
He was broad like his son, too, his size built from pure muscle, although his form looked a little softer every time Will saw him.
“You’re letting yourself go,” Will said, folding his arms and looking Dorian Duaric in the eye. “Damn shame.”
Duaric looked at each of his children, the automaton, and then back to Will. His eyes narrowed, as if none of them should be here, but then a wide grin broke through his dour expression.
“We weren’t expecting you for three months!” Duaric pulled Sebastian into a bone-crushing hug first, then Serena, and finally, Will.
Will endured it, but the outpouring of affection made him stiffen.
“What’re you doing here?” Duaric asked.
“We’ve got your money,” Serena said, cutting to the chase. They came by every time they stopped in Vaelstead to deliver the Duaric’s so-called retirement funds. “And we’ve found something.”
“What sort of something?”
“The Skystone!” Malcolm declared, far too loudly for Will’s taste.
Duaric’s eyes widened at first, then darkened in understanding. “I see,” he said. “You’d best come on in.”
The exterior of the dilapidated residence belonging to Sebastian and Serena’s parents was a ruse. The inside was spotless and warm, lit by a crackling hearth and multiple oil lamps that radiated hospitality.
“Whiskey for William . . .” Duaric said, pouring amber liquor into a small glass and handing it to Will. “Ale for Bas . . .”
“And hot chocolate with bourbon for Serena.” Hedy Duaric, Sebastian and Serena’s mother, limped over from a hot chocolate machine not unlike the one in Serena’s cabin, and placed a steaming mug in her hands.
“Thanks, Mom.” Serena put her arm around Hedy and squeezed.
If Sebastian was a younger replica of their father, Serena took after their mother. They had the same playful smile, the same strong figures, the same bright, intelligent eyes.
Serena gestured to Hedy’s twisted left leg. “How’s it doing?”
“Oh, you know, the pain comes and goes. I’ve taken up knitting to pass the time.”
“You have not,” Serena said with a laugh.
“I have!” Hedy insisted. “I’m shit at it, but it’s not so bad.”
Serena cackled and Will’s lips nudged up into a smile.
Hedy Duaric had been the former engineer on the Maelstrom until an accident landed a sizable pipe on her leg.
The way Serena told the story, it was only Ozzie’s quick use of Silverspoon that prevented Gareth from having to amputate it.
Dorian’s reasons for faking their deaths and quitting the skies were complicated, but Will knew her injury had played a significant role in the decision.
Across the room, Sebastian clinked his mug with Dorian’s and took a gulp of ale, laughing at a joke Will hadn’t heard.
It gave him flashbacks to his childhood, where he would sit in the Maelstrom mess with them and wonder how a family of pirates could be so functional when his only parental figure was a sadistic lunatic.
Sebastian and Serena were some of the most capable people Will knew, and it baffled him that they’d attained such admirable skill sets through tough love and affirmation rather than banal threats and punishment.
Somehow, Hedy and Dorian hadn’t instilled a thirst for power in their children, either. That was the only reason Will was here and one of them wasn’t the Sky Lord instead.
Despite the Duarics insisting he was family, Will always felt out of place among them. He didn’t share their easy smiles, their inside jokes, or the unconditional assurance he wouldn’t be cast out for saying the wrong thing.
Even Malcolm’s origins were with the family, having been crafted by Hedy a decade ago. The automaton had already made himself busy tidying up the place and stoking the fire.
Will lingered by the counter, an outsider infringing upon a family reunion. Not wanting to think about it, he threw back his glass, relishing the harsh burn of the whiskey and going straight for a second pour.
“Come,” Duaric said suddenly, breaking away from Sebastian. “I want to hear about this Skystone business.”
Will sank into a worn leather armchair by the fire while everyone else took seats around the living room. Sebastian helped Hedy elevate her leg while Dorian sat across from Will, a familiar gleam in his eye as his gaze dropped to Will’s right arm.
“Can I see her?”
Saying no would be rude, and Will actively tried to stay on good terms with the man who had offered him salvation, so he extended his hand and summoned Hellsgate. The curved black blade flashed to life, glinting red in the fire’s glow. Duaric leaned forward and caressed it almost lovingly.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “As beautiful and terrible as ever.”
He didn’t try to take the sword—couldn’t, without digging into Will’s arm—but Will’s grip was tight all the same. When he released it, Hellsgate vanished in tendrils of smoke.
“How’s she serving you?” Duaric asked.
“Well,” Will said with a nod. “I’ve gotten the hang of it.”
“He’s done more than get the hang of it. He’s a menace with that thing,” Serena said, crossing her legs atop the sofa. “Took down the Stormrunner the other day.”
“Graven’s Stormrunner?” Hedy asked, leaning forward.
“I helped,” Sebastian said, at which Serena rolled her eyes.
“Barely. I’m the one who failed the engines.”
“I dealt with that automaton.”
“Please. Amaya did a better job with that automaton than you.”
“Don’t you—”
“The Skystone,” Duaric interrupted his children’s bickering, still leaning forward. “You’re sure you’ve found it?”
Nodding, Will withdrew Amaya’s locket from his pocket and opened it, setting it on the low table between him and Dorian. Hedy gasped, and Dorian’s eyes narrowed in intrigue.
“We didn’t find it,” Will said. “Graven did.”
“Did he now?”
“On a girl from Sorrento. The Lord Mayor’s daughter, no less. We intercepted the ship transporting her.”
“Oh, poor thing,” Hedy said, clucking her tongue. “Is she dead?”
Serena snorted a laugh. “Not a chance. She’s made herself right at home on the Maelstrom.”
“Let me guess.” Duaric’s dark eyes slid to Sebastian. “Your new flame?”
Sebastian nearly spit out his drink. “Maker above, no. Not my type. Will likes her, though.”
Will’s glare shot daggers at his friend, who just smirked.
“What? I see things.”
Duaric sighed, shaking his head as he turned to Will. “What’d she do, offer to warm your bed in exchange for a Sky Lord’s protection?”
“Dorian!” Hedy admonished.
“No,” Will snapped, his cheeks heating. That wasn’t a visual he needed, and the implied insult against Amaya’s character made his fingers twitch. “Amaya, she . . . she’s important. She can activate the stone.”
“Activate it?”
“It glows when she touches it.”
“Just her?” Duaric asked. Will nodded, and Duaric shook his head again in resigned dismay. “If you’ve got the stone and the one person who can activate it, Alastor’s about to come at you with the strength of a thousand suns, boy.”
Will scowled; he knew that better than most.
Dorian continued. “If you’re smart, you’ll hand over the Skystone, ditch the girl, and move on with your life.”
“We can’t do that,” Will said.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because Graven believes Ronan Pearce is in the Skyvault with Genesis—he’s always believed that. He’ll use Pearce to seize control of the relic industry, and then he’ll take Genesis for himself.”
“And your plan is to do what, exactly?”
“Get to the Skyvault first. Find a way to disperse the storm from inside with or without Pearce’s help, and revive the industry on our terms.”
Duaric growled, shifting in his oversized chair. “So you’re going to destroy my ship and get yourselves—and your girl—killed on the off-chance you can use Pearce to reshape the industry.”
“It’s my ship, now,” Will said.
The words, which came so easily elsewhere, tasted bitter in Duaric’s presence.
“Dad, come on. Nothing’s getting destroyed, and nobody’s getting killed,” Sebastian said.
But that wasn’t true. They’d already lost men over this.
“You’re not invincible—any of you.” Duaric made eye contact with all three of them, but Will swore the old pirate’s eyes lingered on him longer.
“What makes you think Ronan Pearce’s goals would align with yours if you found him?
What makes you think you can protect Miss Amaya long enough to find out?
Why are the contents of the Skyvault so much safer in your hands than Graven’s?
You’re hardly a paragon of virtue, William. None of you are.”
“We’re nothing like Graven. I’m nothing like him,” Will said, his voice pitching low. “But I know how he thinks. Do you really want the sky cities run by a tyrant?”
“I want the sky cities to prosper; I don’t really care how. This plan of yours is a pointless, half-baked suicide mission.”
Duaric’s words cut like a knife. The blade twisted in Will’s gut, tangling his sense of identity into a mass of self-loathing.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d craved Duaric’s approval until it was withheld.
“Then what would you have us do? Nothing?” Serena challenged.
“Like I said. Ditch the girl—”
“No,” Will cut in, standing. He tossed back the last of his whiskey and slammed the glass down on the table, snatching the Skystone locket and shoving it into his pocket.
“This is the plan. This is the only plan. We don’t have to settle for Graven’s world when we can build one of our own. You taught me that.”
“Aye. But I didn’t give you my ship so you could blindly fly it into the Aether Storm,” Duaric called as Will thundered across the room.
“We won’t be flying blind. We have the Skystone. And you didn’t give me anything,” Will snarled back. “I’m not your fucking charity case.”
But that wasn’t true, either. An ache in his right forearm reminded him of it.
Will was also keenly aware they didn’t yet know how to use the Skystone, but he pressed on.
“I passed the Trial without your help. I earned my title. I keep your secret, and I fund your life. You don’t get to tell me what to do with my ship.”
To drive his point home, Will grabbed his coat from the rack by the door and dug through the pockets for a hefty bag of talents—six months’ living expenses, delivered three months early. He tossed it at Malcolm, who caught it in both hands.
“I’ll see you all back on the ship.”
“Will—” Sebastian started, but Will ignored his friend, shrugging on his coat and foraging out into the dark alone. The door slammed behind him, the sound rattling through his hollowed core.