Retribution Falls

Thirty

By midday, a crowd had gathered outside Orkmund’s stronghold.

In a rare moment of architectural forethought, the stronghold had been built in front of a large square which was employed for the purpose of meetings, markets and occasional executions or bouts of trial-by-combat. A wooden stage, now groaning under the weight of spectators, stood in the centre for just this purpose. Another, more temporary one had been erected just outside the stronghold, and was guarded by burly men with cutlasses. This would be Orkmund’s podium.

Frey pushed through the press of bodies, with Malvery clearing the way ahead. Pinn and Jez came behind. Pinn had been subdued by his confinement in the Ketty Jay the night before, and Frey had extracted promises of good behaviour today. He charged Malvery with enforcing them, knowing how the doctor liked to bully Pinn.

It was fun to torment the young pilot now and then, but Frey knew how much it meant to him to see Retribution Falls before they left. Just so he could say he’d been. Just so he could tell Lisinda of his adventures, on that day when he returned in triumph to sweep her into his arms. Having asserted his authority, Frey was happy to give Pinn a little slack.

The stronghold was constructed in a squared-off horseshoe shape, with two wings projecting forward around a small interior courtyard. It was dull and forbidding, with square windows and iron-banded doors. Its walls were dark stone, streaked with mould. A place built for someone who had no interest in flair or aesthetics. A fortress.

Surrounding the stronghold was a ramshackle barricade of metal spikes and crossed girders, eight feet high and surmounted by wooden watchtowers. The watchtowers were manned by rifle-wielding pirates, who scanned the crowd below them, no doubt deciding who they’d shoot first if they had the chance. In the middle of the barricade was a crude gate, a thick slab of metal on rollers that could be slid back and forth to grant access to the courtyard.

Frey and the others fought their way to a vantage point as the gate began to open and the crowd erupted in ear-pummelling cheers. The floor shook with the stamping of feet. It occurred to Frey that they were standing on a huge platform that was held up by a scaffolding of girders, and that it might not be built to take this kind of weight. It would be an ignominious end to his adventure, to sink to the bottom of a foetid marsh beneath a hundred tons of unwashed pirate flesh.

It wasn’t until Orkmund climbed the steps to his stage that Frey caught sight of him. The pirate captain Orkmund, scourge of the Coalition in the years before the Aerium Wars, who disappeared fifteen years ago and was thought by most to be dead. But he wasn’t dead: he was building Retribution Falls. A home for pirates, safe from the Navy. A place where they could conduct their business in peace—with a hefty cut for Orkmund, of course.

Though he must have been in his mid-fifties, Orkmund still cut an impressive figure. He was well over two metres high, bald-headed and thickset, with squashed features that gave him a thuggish look. Tattoos crawled over this throat, scalp and arms. He wore a simple black shirt, tight and unlaced at the throat, to emphasise an upper body and arms that were heavy with muscle. He walked up to the stage with a predator’s confidence, surveyed the cheering crowd, and raised his arms for silence. It took some time.

‘Some of you know me by sight,’ he shouted. His voice, though loud, was still faint and thin by the time it reached Frey’s ears, and he had to concentrate to hear. ‘Some don’t. For them new to Retribution Falls: welcome. I’m Neilin Orkmund.’

The cheer that erupted at that drowned out anything else for a while. When the crowd was relatively quiet again, Orkmund continued.

‘I’m proud to see so many men and women here today. Some of the finest pirates in the land. Some of you’ve known of this place for years. For others, it’d only been legend until recently. But you’ve come at my call, and I thank you for that. Together, we’ll be an unstoppable force. Together, we’ll make an army like Vardia’s never seen!’

More cheers. Pinn and Malvery cheered along with them, caught up in the moment.

‘Now I know some of you are frustrated. Champing at the bit. You wanna get into action, don’t you? You wanna break some bones and smash some skulls!’

Another deafening cheer, accompanied by clapping and jostling that threatened to turn into a riot.

Orkmund held up his hands. ‘You’ve enjoyed my hospitality. You’ve dipped your beaks in the delights of Retribution Falls. And in return, I ask you only one thing: be patient.’

The pirates near to Frey groaned and muttered. Suddenly the fervour had gone out of the crowd.

‘I know you’re disappointed. No one wants to get out there more than me,’ Orkmund hollered. ‘But this ain’t no small task we’re taking on! We ain’t here to rob a freighter or steal a few trinkets from some remote outpost. We ain’t just a crew of fifty men, or a hundred. We’re a crew of thousands! And a crew of thousands takes time to gather and co-ordinate.’

There were reluctant mumbles of concession at this.

‘The time’s coming very soon. A matter of days,’ said Orkmund. ‘But I’ve brought you here today because I’ve something to show you all.’

As he spoke, a troop of armed pirates sallied out of the stronghold, guarding two dozen men who were carrying a dozen large chests between them. They carried the chests up onto the stage as Orkmund continued.

‘I know that there are doubters out there. What are we doing here? Why are we waiting? Who are we attacking, and why’s it still a secret?’ Orkmund said, prowling back and forth on the stage. ‘Well, first ask yourself: why’d you come to Retribution Falls? Why’d you answer my call, when you didn’t even know who you was fighting? For some, it was loyalty to me. For some, it was the call to adventure. But for most of you . . . it were this!’

He threw open one of the chests, and a gasp went up from the crowd.

‘Loot! Ducats! Money!’ Orkmund cried, and the crowd cheered anew, their spirits roused. He went to the next one, and threw that open, revealing that it, too, was full of coins. ‘All this, for you! Booty! A share for every man that survives, and a right generous share it is too!’ He threw open another one. ‘Now ain’t this worth fighting for? Ain’t this worth waiting a few more days for?’

The pirates howled with glee, shaking their fists in the air, driven rabid by the sight of so much money. If not for the respect they had for Orkmund and the multiple guns trained on them, they might have tried to storm the stage right then.

But while Pinn and Malvery were yelling themselves hoarse, Frey had spotted something. He turned to Jez. ‘Can you see the stage?’

She craned to look over the shoulder of the pirate in front. ‘Not really.’

‘Come here,’ he said, and crouched down to offer her a piggy-back.

‘No, Cap’n, it’s really alright.’

‘I need your eyes, Jez. Help me out.’

Since she couldn’t think of a good reason to protest, she climbed awkwardly onto his back and he lifted her up.

‘You know, my eyesight’s not all that great, I mean it’s—’

‘The last chest on the right,’ said Frey. ‘Describe it to me.’

Jez looked. ‘It’s red.’

‘Describe it more,’ he said irritably.

She thought for moment. ‘It’s very fine,’ she said. ‘Dark red lacquer. Kind of a branch-and-leaf design on the lid. Silver clasp in the shape of a wolf’s head. Oh, wait, he’s opening it.’

Orkmund was throwing open each chest, whipping the pirates into a frenzy with the wealth paraded before them. Frey didn’t need Jez to tell him that the red-lacquered chest was full to bursting with ducats.

And that was it. The final piece fell into place.

‘Everyone!’ he said. ‘We’re leaving.’

Pinn whined in complaint. Malvery raised a threatening hand to cuff him. ‘Fine,’ Pinn sulked. ‘Let’s go.’

Frey let Jez down to the floor. ‘Seen enough, Cap’n?’ she asked.

‘Oh yeah,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen enough.’

The streets were relatively quiet on their way back. Retribution Falls seemed cold and bleak without the din of drunken revelry. Frey stepped through the sludge of debris and bodily fluids from the night before, setting a quick pace. He was eager to get to the Ketty Jay. There was a purpose in his walk.

‘What’s the story, Cap’n?’ Jez asked. ‘Are we getting out of here?’

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘There’s no reason to stay any more.’

‘I can think of lots,’ said Pinn. ‘Most of them come in pints or bottles, the rest have big wobbling tits. Come on, how about a little shore leave?’

‘I’m trying to save us all from the noose, Pinn,’ Frey replied. ‘Stay chaste for a day. Think of your sweetheart.’

‘Thinking of her just makes me want to bang a whore even worse,’ Pinn grinned, then held his hands up in submission. ‘Okay, okay. Yes, Cap’n. Back to the Ketty Jay like a good little pilot. But I still don’t get what’s going on.’

‘Alright, I’ll tell you,’ said Frey. ‘We knew that Duke Grephen was planning a coup against the Archduke. What he didn’t have was an army big enough to take on the Navy, or the money to pay for it. Orkmund’s providing the army, and now we know who’s providing the money.’

‘Do we?’ Jez asked. ‘Who?’

‘The Awakeners.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘That chest on the podium. I saw them bringing it out of the hermitage where Amalicia was being kept. I didn’t know what was in it then, but now we do. Money. And look where it ended up: here in Retribution Falls.’

‘The Awakeners are financing the pirates?’ Pinn asked. ‘Why?’

‘Because they want the Archduke out. Him and his wife.’

‘What’s his wife got to do with it?’

‘The Archduchess is the one who’s got him talking about all these new laws to limit the power of the Awakeners,’ Frey said. He was aware that he was losing Pinn already. ‘Look, the Awakeners run themselves like a business. And there’s no question they make bucket-loads of money from the superstitious. Now if someone as powerful as the Archduke starts saying that the whole idea of the Allsoul is rubbish, people are going to start listening to him. And that means the Awakeners start going the way of all the other religions they crushed a century ago.’

‘You’re remarkably well informed these days, Cap’n,’ Jez commented.

‘Been talking to Crake,’ he said.

‘You know he’s not exactly impartial, don’t you?’ she said. When she spoke of the daemonist, he noted that her tone wasn’t as obviously scornful as it had been yesterday.

‘So why are the Awakeners funding Duke Grephen?’ Pinn piped up.

Frey sighed. This would require careful explanation for Pinn to understand. ‘Because Grephen’s an Awakener. Just like Gallian Thade. If he becomes the Archduke, than the Awakeners gain power instead of losing it. In fact, they’d become pretty much unstoppable.’

Pinn frowned, pondering that for a moment as they hurried through the narrow, filthy lanes, past peeling walls and rusted steps. ‘And the Awakeners hired Dracken to catch us?’

‘No!’ Frey and Malvery cried in unison. It was Frey who continued: ‘Grephen hired her to catch us. Because he didn’t want us talking to anyone and blowing his plan before he could put it into action.’

Pinn thought some more. Frey had a feeling of dread in his stomach, anticipating the inevitable follow-up question.

‘So who hired the Century Knights?’

Malvery covered his face with a hand in despair.

‘What?’ Pinn protested. ‘It’s complicated!’

‘I swear, mate, you have the brains of half a rock.’

‘Nobody hired the Century Knights,’ Jez said. ‘They’re loyal to the Archduke. Nothing to do with Grephen. They’re after us because they think we’re the villains here.’

‘We did kill the Archduke’s son,’ Malvery pointed out.

‘Accidentally!’ Frey said. ‘And besides, we were set up. That means it doesn’t count.’

Malvery raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d like to see you try that line of argument with the Archduke,’ he said.

‘What Grephen wants,’ Frey told Pinn, before he could ask another question, ‘is that we get killed, nice and quiet, and he gets to show the bodies to everyone. Hengar’s murderers are caught, case closed. That was the idea from the start. We were supposed to die during the ambush.’

‘What he doesn’t want is the Century Knights catching us and giving us a chance to tell our side of the story,’ Jez continued. ‘He’s afraid that we know enough to make them suspicious, and that will blow his big surprise attack.’

‘Which is happening in a few days, if you believe that Orkmund feller,’ added Malvery.

Pinn gave up trying to figure out who was after who and asked, ‘So what do we do?’

‘What we do is cut a deal,’ said Frey. ‘Talk to some people. Set up a safe rendezvous. We’ll give them the charts and the compass, let them come see Retribution Falls for themselves. Once they find the army Orkmund’s put together, they’ll believe us. We’ll offer them the big fish, and in return, we demand a pardon.’

Pinn stopped dead. The others walked on a few steps before they noticed.

‘You’re selling this place out?’ he said, appalled.

Frey was confused. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, you’re going to tell the Coalition Navy where Retribution Falls is?’

‘You think you could shout it a bit louder, Pinn?’ Malvery cried. ‘I don’t think they heard you in Yortland.’

Pinn looked around furtively, suddenly remembering where he was. Thankfully, the alley they were standing in was deserted, and nobody seemed to have heard. He scuttled up closer to Frey and jabbed him in the chest with a finger.

‘This place is a legend! This place was built with the sweat and tears of a generation of pirates. It’s been the hope of every freebooter since the Aerium Wars that they could one day find Retribution Falls and live out the rest of their days in pirate wonderland. It’s a yoo -, a yoo—’

‘Utopia,’ Jez said. ‘Pinn, it’s a dump.’

Pinn was aghast. ‘It’s Retribution Falls!’

Jez studied her surroundings critically. The sagging roofs, the cracked walls and mildewed corners, the broken bottles and bloodstains. She sniffed, taking in the rank stench of the marsh.

‘You know what pirates are really good at, Pinn?’ she said. ‘Being pirates. And that’s all. In fact, if you asked me what would happen if you took a thousand pirates and asked them to build a town, I’d say it would look pretty much like this. This place was better as a legend. The real thing doesn’t work.’

‘Let me put it this way, Pinn,’ said Frey. ‘Do you want to get hanged, or don’t you?’

Pinn examined the question for a trick. ‘No?’ he ventured.

‘It’s either you or this place. Orkmund’s working for Duke Grephen, remember? And Grephen wants all of us dead. You too, Pinn.’

Pinn opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, and then gave up trying to argue. ‘Lisinda would never get over it if anything happened to me,’ he said.

‘Think how proud she’ll be when she learns you single-handedly triumphed over an army of pirates,’ Malvery beamed.

‘I suppose I could dress it up a little,’ Pinn mused. ‘Alright, spit on this place. Let’s get out of here and stab some backs!’

‘That’s the spirit!’ Frey said cheerily.

Back at the Ketty Jay, Frey issued instructions for take-off and made sure Slag was trapped in the mess so some unlucky volunteer—Pinn—could force a mouth filter on him during the journey back. Silo was showing Frey some superficial damage to the underwings when Olric, the dock master’s assistant, wandered up to them.

‘Leaving, are you?’

‘Just got an errand to run,’ said Frey. ‘Orkmund says it’ll be a few days yet, so . . .’ he shrugged.

‘You gotta sign out.’

‘I was just about to. Be over there in a minute.’

Olric ambled away again. Frey asked Silo to fetch Crake from inside, and the daemonist came down the cargo ramp shortly after.

‘You needed me?’

‘You and Jez sort things out last night?’ he asked.

Crake didn’t meet his eye. ‘As best we could.’

Frey wasn’t encouraged. ‘Can you come with me to the dock master’s office? I need to sign out before we fly.’

Crake gave him a puzzled look. ‘Two-man job, is it?’

‘Actually, yes. I need you to distract the dock master. I mean really distract him. You think you can do the thing with the tooth?’

‘I can try,’ said Crake. ‘Did he strike you as particularly smart or quick-witted?’

‘Not really.’

‘Good. The less intelligent they are, the better the tooth works. It’s the smart ones that cause all the problems.’

‘Don’t they always?’ Frey commiserated, as he led the daemonist across the landing pad.

‘What are you up to, anyway?’ Crake asked.

‘Taking out a little insurance,’ replied Frey, with a wicked little smile.

The journey out was less traumatic than the journey there. Now they had filters to protect against the strange fumes from the lava river, and they knew the trick of the compass and the mines, things were not so daunting. The only drama came from Pinn, who had a miserable time trying to subdue the cat, until Malvery hit on the idea of getting him drunk first. A quarter-bottle of rum later, and Slag was placid enough to take the mouth filter, after which they headed to Malvery’s surgery to apply antiseptic to Pinn’s scratched-up arms and hands.

There had been talk of ignoring the charts and flying straight up and out of there, instead of the laborious backtracking through the canyons, but they soon discovered that there was a reason why nobody did that. The area above Retribution Falls was heavily mined, and Jez theorised that these ones could be more magnetic than the ones they’d encountered, meaning that they’d home in on the Ketty Jay from a greater distance. Frey decided not to push their luck. They’d follow the charts.

Frey had Jez and Crake up in the cockpit again, one to navigate and one to read from the compass while he flew. The atmosphere between them had changed. Instead of sniping, Jez tried not to talk to Crake at all, beyond what was necessary to co-ordinate their efforts. Crake also seemed very quiet. Something was different between them, for sure, but Frey had the sense that it wasn’t entirely resolved yet.

Well, at least there had been progress. They weren’t fighting any more. It was a start.

Frey was light-hearted as he piloted them through the fog. He was beginning to feel that things were really pulling together for them now. The changes had been slow and subtle, but ever since they’d left Yortland he’d felt more and more like the captain of a crew, rather than a man lumbered with a chaotic rabble. Instead of letting them do whatever they felt like, he’d begun to give them orders, and he’d been surprised how well they responded once he showed a bit of authority. They might gripe and complain, but they got on with it.

The raid on Quail’s place had been a complete success. Jez and Crake’s infiltration of the Winter Ball had yielded important information. And the theft of the compass and charts from the Delirium Trigger was their crowning glory so far. A month ago, he couldn’t have imagined pulling off anything so audacious. In fact, a month ago he couldn’t have imagined himself giving anybody orders. He’d have said: What right do I have to tell someone else what to do? He didn’t think enough of himself to take command of his own life, let alone someone else’s.

But it wasn’t about rights, it was about responsibilities. Whether as passengers or crew, the people on board the Ketty Jay endured the same dangers as he did. If he couldn’t make them work together, they all suffered. His craft was the most important thing in the world to him, yet he’d never given a damn about its contents until now. It had always been just him and the Ketty Jay, the iron mistress to whom he was forever faithful. She gave him his freedom, and he loved her for it.

But a craft was nothing without a crew to run it and pilots to defend it. A craft was made up of people. The Ketty Jay was staffed with drunkards and drifters, all of them running from something, whether it be memories or enemies or the drudgery of a land-bound life; but since Yortland, they’d all been running in the same direction. United by that common purpose, they’d begun to turn into something resembling a crew. And Frey had begun to turn into someone resembling a captain.

Damn it, he was getting to like these people. And the thought of that frightened him a little. Because if his crew got hanged, it would be on his account. His fault. He’d got them all into this, by taking Quail’s too-good-to-be-true offer of fifty thousand ducats. He’d made that desperate gamble, closed his eyes and hoped for a winning card; but he’d drawn the Ace of Skulls instead.

Jez, Crake, Malvery, Silo . . . even Harkins and Pinn. They weren’t just badly paid employees any more. Their lives had come to rest on his decisions. He didn’t know if he could bear the weight of that. But he did know that he had no choice about it.

‘No mines nearby,’ Crake reported.

‘I think we’re through, Cap’n,’ Jez said, slumping back in her seat. ‘You can start your ascent any time now.’

‘Well,’ Frey said. ‘That was Rook’s Boneyard. I hope you all enjoyed your tour.’

They managed weak smiles at that. He cut the thrusters and fed aerium gas into the ballast tanks, allowing the Ketty Jay to rise steadily. The fog thinned, and the mountainsides faded from view.

‘Never thought I’d miss daylight quite so badly,’ Frey said. ‘It better be sunny up there.’

There was no danger of sun, this deep in the Hookhollows, with the clouds and drifting ash high in the sky overhead. But the mist oppressed him. He wanted to be able to see again.

The Ketty Jay rose out of the white haze, and the sky exploded all around them. The concussion threw the Ketty Jay sideways and sent the crew flying from their seats onto the floor. Frey scrambled back into his seat, half-blinded by the flash of light, thinking only of escape.

Get out of here, get out of here, get—

But the blast had spun the Ketty Jay around, and now he could see their assailant through the windglass of the cockpit. Her black prow loomed before them, a massive battery of guns trained on his small craft.

The Delirium Trigger.

Frey slumped forward onto the dashboard. The first shot had been a warning. Her outflyers had surrounded them, waiting for the slightest hint that they were going to run. But Frey wasn’t going to run. It was hopeless. They’d be blown to pieces before he had time to fire up the thrusters.

Not like this. I was so damn close.

The Delirium Trigger’s electroheliograph mast was blinking. Jez, who had staggered to her feet and was standing behind the pilot’s chair, narrowed her eyes as she watched it.

‘What’s it say?’ Frey asked.

‘ “Gotcha!” ’ Jez replied.

Frey groaned. ‘Bollocks.’