The Cartographer Complete Series by A C Cobble

Author:A C Cobble [Cobble, A C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781947683167
Publisher: Cobble Publishing LLC
Published: 2020-07-23T22:00:00+00:00

The Captain III

“Are you sure this is wise, Captain?” asked Pettybone.

“Of course so,” she chided her first mate. “What would be unwise about it?”

“Sorcerers, spirits, violent death…” muttered the man, peering anxiously over the gunwale into the fog. “An attack we only suspect may be coming but we don’t know when. It all seems rather, well, insane I suppose is the word I’m looking for.”

“The spirits favor the bold,” insisted Captain Ainsley. She propped a tall boot on the gunwale in front of her and rested a hand on one of her two long-barreled pistols. “All of those giant palaces we see in the city below us when we lift off, all of the estates out in the countryside, how do you think those people made their wealth? It wasn’t by sitting at home and taking no chances.”

Pettybone snorted. “A lot of people have ended up dead, too, by taking chances.”

“If you don’t fancy dying a rich man, then you’re on the wrong airship,” declared Ainsley.

“I fancy being rich. I don’t fancy dying,” complained the first mate.

“What was that?” asked Ainsley, suddenly leaning forward and peering into the fog. She pushed up the brim of her giant, tri-cornered hat with one finger, wondering if the disturbance she’d seen below was a quiet gust of air, a laborer moving quickly through the night, or something else.

“Nothing, Captain,” said the first mate, joining her in peering into the darkness below them.

Suddenly speaking behind them though she’d made no sound on the approach, the odd priestess who traveled with the duke whispered, “Is the cannon ready?”

Ainsley nodded.

“Winchester spread word two turns ago that Duke was departing on the airship. That’s enough time for our enemies to assemble their attack. They won’t wait long. It should be any moment now,” advised the woman, crouching down and looking directly into the fog across from them.

There, thirty yards away, docked the Cloud Wolf, their sister airship. It occupied the berth they were assigned to, according to the bridge master’s logs. At night, the two ships looked identical. If anyone came sniffing around for them, they hoped their deception would lead their pursuers to the Wolf.

Through billowing tendrils of fog, the vessel passed in and out of view, sometimes only the globes of fae light set on its deck providing any certainty it was still there. Then, the fog drifted away for a moment, and a shadow passed distinctly in front of one of the lights.

“Now,” hissed the priestess.

Ainsley called loudly, mimicking a tropical bird from Imbon, which she suddenly realized was a rather grim choice, but her men below heard it and understood. The bank of cannon under the deck exploded, sending a blistering volley of scattershot into the flank of the ship just thirty yards away.

Splintering wood and falling sail could barely be heard above the echoing boom from the big guns. A second volley followed heartbeats later, the aft guns run out on the starboard side where the sweeps normally emerged. It gave them two bites at the apple, so to speak.

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