Storm Dreams (The Cycle of Somnium Book 1) (8 page)

Cassidy stepped forwards and peered into the box through a wide gap in the front. Inside thousands of tiny gears and wheels sat motionless. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Karl sighed. “Of course not. But I hoped.”

“Do you know if it works?” Cassidy asked.

“Cannot even turn it on.”

***

Banner’s ability to jump from storm to storm with very little time in between astonished Cassidy. The captain seemed able to predict everything about the weather just by gazing over the horizon and tasting the breeze.

As Brewster predicted though, the storms thinned, and talk continued about returning to the Twilight. The loss of a single engine didn’t slow them much since the
Nubigena
had six, but they’d have to get a new one eventually. For now, Karl rigged an old plane engine in its place.

“This might sound like a crazy question,” Cassidy said to Brewster, as they gazed out one of the aft windows of the gondola, “but what all do we do? I mean, do we have some kind of mission or purpose?”

Brewster looked thoughtful as he watched the grey clouds vanish behind the ship and form a purple line. “Survive,” he said, at last. “The Armada will hunt us until we’re dead, or whatever it is they do with captured dreams.”

Cassidy nursed a whisky. “Why are we so much of a threat?”

Brewster shrugged. “Hell, I don’t even know who they are. Police of the Everdream, yes, but beyond that...” He trailed off. “I just know they’ve been chasing Banner long before I hooked up with this outfit, and he’s the only one who’s held out this long. I’ve talked with a lot of people in the Twilight.”

Cassidy took another sip. Energy cracked in the distance. Reflections of the strange light bounced off the rolling clouds. The
Nubigena
trembled.

Brewster gave a sardonic grin. “Say goodbye to reality.”

Cassidy’s chest tightened as the ship broke through to the Twilight. The drabness hit him with full force now as the
real
world showed him the muted colours of this in-between one. The clouds were green this time, but a sickly shade like overcooked peas. The sky looked as if someone had come along with a straw and sucked just enough vibrancy out to leave a hazy memory of what
real
colour had been.

He thought of the woman in the green dress. The fabric had reminded him of what a forest canopy would look like if it were gathered up, squeezed into one long bolt of fabric and sewn into a single evening gown. And her eyes. If Cassidy never remembered another thing about her, it was the green of her eyes. He’d just let her die. He’d almost let Karl die. Cassidy slammed a fist against the metal frame around the circular window in his quarters. Pain forked through to his bones. The Mauser would never be off his side again.

He lay on his cot and stared at the ceiling, feeling the Twilight air creep into the ship. In a few minutes he would be breathing it again instead of the ozone-thick smell of the storms. The richness of the air in the lounge. April’s scent as she’d handed him the coin, what Brewster had called a Walking Liberty. Have I ever loved anyone, he wondered again, as he drifted off to sleep.

Cassidy stood in a sepia briefing room, receiving orders from a commander too blurry to recognize. Several airmen stood next to him, snapped salutes and then made for their fighters. The Sopwith he always flew stood on the runway, looking as if it had come right out of the shop.

The interior of the plane looked like a Fokker though, with controls similar to the one he flew now. He turned dials and flipped switches without thinking. He pumped up the gas tank as the flight crew armstronged the prop. The fighter thrummed as if it couldn’t wait to take to the sky. Everything happened on automatic. No thoughts. No options, just pre-recorded action.

He taxied the Sopwith to line up with the others and, in moments, he was in the air. Time jumped ahead in spurts. They were engaging the Germans now. He didn’t know where, but a castle loomed below, surrounded by acres of brown and red fields. A dot appeared in the distance and he was drawn to it as if nothing else existed in the world, his hatred raging out of control. A single fighter—

Cassidy’s eyes flew open as red light exploded through the glass portal of his quarters, igniting the walls with a shifting watery effect. He leapt to his feet and glanced out at the sky beyond the starboard hull. A shimmering galleon rode the air beside them, matching their speed. Its fluttering sails shone with their own light, along with the vessel itself. Pirates? Cassidy thought. In the air? He grabbed his Mauser and headed for the bridge.

Cassidy burst through the door. “There’s a ship out there.” Half the crew already stood at the helm.

Banner glanced over, then turned back to the red ship, still flying starboard. The captain’s glance had been grim, but he muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear, “It’s all right, boys. She’s just saying hello.”

Brewster nodded to Cassidy from across the bridge. He wasn’t smiling either. Franz adjusted his gun belt.

“Get up to the crow’s nest,” Banner said to the young German, using the term Brewster had recently given to the gun platform up top. “Make sure Ned doesn’t do anything stupid.” Franz snapped a quick salute and was gone.

“Who are they?” Cassidy asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but the red glow sent tremors into his voice. Brewster and Banner exchanged furtive glances. “Are they ambushing us?”

Brewster shook his head. “Twilight’s a big place. We’re bound to see them from time to time. They spend most of it in the
real
world.”

The red ship glided closer, to within feet of the
Nubigena’s
hull and a light coloured flag stood out on the main mast. The pirate crew began throwing lines. The black grappling hooks stuck straight to the main hull and gondola as if magnetized, instead of hooking on. The lines became rigid making the Zeppelin and the glowing vessel one.

“Shouldn’t we do something?” asked Cassidy.

“We’re going to do something,” Banner said, setting the controls to remain on course and speed. “We’re going to go say hello.”

Everyone except Karl stood by the main door as Banner looked out the hatch window. “Okay,” he said, twisting the handle and swinging the hatch open. A gangplank extended from the galleon. Men stood in two rows facing each other at the other end. “They’ve signalled a greeting first, so we’re going over there. Be civil and courteous, and watch yourselves,” Banner said as he started across.

“They look like pirates,” Cassidy said.

“Of course they’re pirates,” Banner snapped.

Cassidy brought up the rear as they made their way over the thin bridge. He couldn’t feel any wind as if the plank had invisible walls keeping the gusts at bay. They crossed as easily as they would have on the ground.

Sailors stood out on the decks wearing the uniforms of a 17
th
century European navy, but time had aged them into looking more like the tattered garments of military vagrants. Banner and his men filed onto the half deck and inspected the crew. A man stood in the centre. His white hair flowed down his shoulders and over the grey naval uniform. His yellow eyes twitched between the members of the
Nubigena’s
crew, like a feral animal taking in its surroundings. A scar ran from his forehead to his ear as if he’d narrowly missed a lunging strike in a sword duel. Beside him stood a shorter man in similar uniform. Probably his first mate.

Banner gave a crisp salute. “Captain Falkenberg,” he said in a military tone, “permission to come aboard.”

The grey captain remained silent for long seconds as he continued studying the men before giving a grim nod. “Where’s your crew?” Captain Falkenberg asked. His voice came out tired and gravelly. “You had at least twenty last we met.”

Banner glanced back at his men and returned his attention to the captain. “I see the ship still sails.”

Cassidy tightened his grip on his belt, wishing he could wrap his fist around the Mauser. All eyes fixed on the two captains, as they regarded each other across the deck. Captain Falkenberg gave a slow nod. “You still flying that bloated contraption?”

Banner nodded. “Nothing ever catches her.”

Falkenberg put up his hand and brought it down in a waving gesture.

“At ease,” the man beside him shouted. The ship came to life as the lines of sailors broke formation and returned to their stations around the ship. They spoke a language Cassidy didn’t know, though it sounded close to German.

“Parley,” Falkenberg said.

Banner nodded his approval. He turned back to his men. “Cassidy. Ned.” He motioned them to follow, leaving Brewster and Franz to watch the gang plank to the Nubigena.

The captain led them to his cabin beneath the quarter deck. Cassidy couldn’t help involuntarily brushing the Mauser’s grip with his arm as they passed the gaunt sailors. The second mate pushed the door open.

Falkenberg sat down at the end of his private galley table and regarded them with his yellow stare. He motioned for them to sit. They did, but in a formation so that no one stood behind them, and Cassidy noticed Banner positioned himself in view of both the captain and the door.

“I’d been hoping we’d cross paths,” Falkenberg said. He continued glancing between Cassidy and Ned as if daring them to make some kind of move.

Banner sat back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “No wine?”

The captain grunted and a sailor brought them each a goblet of foul grog.

Banner eyed the murky liquid. “You used to serve wine.”

Falkenberg growled. “You used to have manners.” He rapped his pale knuckles on the table and motioned to Cassidy and Franz. “They know?”

Banner shrugged. “Know what, Captain?”             

Falkenberg bit his lip. His breathing got heavier. “Your captain used to serve under me.”

“First mate,” Banner said.

“First mate,” the captain added. “Sailed with us for several years before running off to fly in airships.”

Banner sighed. He leaned towards Falkenberg and rested his elbows on the table top. “You said parley, Captain. What about?”

The captain contemplated silence for almost half a minute. “A favour.”

“We’ve delivered your letters before, brought you supplies,” Banner said with a shrug. “I’ve never minded doing that.”

Falkenberg shook his head. “Bigger favour.” He folded his hands and leaned closer so his and Banner’s heads were only inches apart. “The boys prefer the air in the
real
world, but I get tired of being trapped on the sea, so I’ve been dipping into the Twilight more than I used to.

“A few months ago we ventured in farther than before. Our ship was intercepted by some kind of airship, like yours, but more like a big balloon.” The captain made shapes in the air as if trying to outline the craft, but gave up. “Anyway, this ship wanted to trade. We had nothing they wanted, and I don’t suppose we could have used anything they carried, but we did exchange stories.” He glanced over at Cassidy and Ned. “I guess your captain here hasn’t told you, but I’m a cursed man.”

Cassidy squinted.

“The good captain here lost a few games with the devil,” Banner said, cutting in. “He’s not the best poker player.”

Captain Falkenberg brought his fist down on the table. “It wasn’t a game. That demon tricked me into—” He cut himself off. “My men and I are cursed. We’ll be sailing about till Judgment Day and there’s nothing to break us loose.”

Cassidy glanced at Franz and over at Banner to see if they actually believed the story. Their expressions looked neutral. “The captain on the ship,” Falkenberg continued, “told me about something called Celestial Pardons.” He held up a hand before anyone could speak. “I know you modern folk put little faith in the Almighty, but whatever these scrolls actually are, they can let us die, and we can move up to the Heavenly Realms.”

Banner shrugged. “I’m happy to hear it.”

“There’s one in the Everdream,” Falkenberg said.

Banner began to rise. The captain placed a pleading grip on his sleeve. “It’s on the edge, Banner. The Armada hardly patrols it. You could get it in a few minutes. There wouldn’t be any risk. I’d go there myself, but the ship can’t get that far into the Twilight. You fly into the Everdream all the time.”

“Only for men,” Banner said. “Never for anything else.”

“You owe me mercy,” Falkenberg said.

Banner shook his head.

“You
owe
.”

Banner’s face tightened. “I served you.”

“For a few years,” the captain said, his voice rising to a shout. “My men have sailed endlessly for over two hundred.” He grabbed Banner by the shirt and pulled him close.

Before Banner had even reached the captain’s face, Cassidy had the muzzle of his pistol at Falkenberg’s temple, but Banner waved Cassidy back.

“You owe me,” the captain shouted. His teeth showed full and bright. “Who found you in the sea floating on a wooden plank, about to fade out of existence as the storms moved on? Who pulled you up out of the brack? You would have been the ghost of a memory if it hadn’t been for the energies in this ship,
Captain
. You’re alive because of me.” Falkenberg remembered himself and released his grip. “Just do this one thing.”

Banner looked visibly shaken. He eyed Cassidy and shifted his gaze to Brewster and Franz. “I’ll have to talk to my men. They have a say.”

Falkenberg opened his mouth, but closed it again. He gave a heavy sigh and retreated back in his chair.

Cassidy remained standing. He holstered his weapon. Was Banner serious? Franz didn’t speak, but kept his steely gaze level on the grey captain.

“We’ll talk it over,” Banner said and moved towards the door.

The first mate handed Banner an envelope, which Banner stuffed into his jacket. Falkenberg ran a hand through his mane of grey hair. “When can I know?”

Banner stopped. He didn’t turn around. “You’ll know if I bring you a scroll.”