Chasm Walkers Read online

  “You know something of this?” I stepped closer, frustration welling. “Is this your precious Order?”

  “No this is…” Ashton shook his head. “What do you know of the Coalition of Khent?”

  “From just after The Great Calamity?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.” Ashton walked to the stairs and peered up at the men moving on the deck overhead. I followed his gaze, heard Riley’s voice, and nodded when Ashton put his finger to his lips. Whispering, he continued, “Well, you know that it originally formed as Europe’s answer to the problems our country created by setting off The Great Calamity.”

  “I know what it is. All of Europe banded together to create laws against us.” My father had spoken of their green uniformed guards stalking our halls of power as the new government struggled to rise from the ashes of our near destruction. “What of it?”

  “That was its original purpose, but in the years since it has transformed into something more. Something with teeth. Recent events convinced the member countries to imbue the coalition with more power than it has ever had.” Ashton’s voice sounded strange, gravelly with emotion. “They have declared a blockade around North America. Outer City vessels specifically, as these ports are launching points for refugees seeking passage to Europe.”

  Dust rained down beneath the footsteps of the deputies moving on the deck above us. I wondered how much time had passed and how long before Riley got curious as to where I was.

  “Lilah said as much. The passenger vessels skirt the known stopping points on the sea. The sky is too big for even Europe to police.”

  “That was before they moved to ring the blockade around Outer City. It is much smaller, a more defensible position.”

  “They are invading our…shores?” I moved closer, watching Ashton’s expression. There was more. “How did you know this would happen?”

  “I’ve come to ask Riley to stop the refugees.” Ashton side-stepped my question. Facing me, his earnest look took me back. “It is of dire importance that no more vessels leave with the intent of seeking refuge in Europe.”

  “Do you know about the mutation to the Trembling Sickness?”

  He shook his head, but his gaze slid from mine.

  I stepped to him, my impatience grating on the headache storming behind my eyes. “A straight answer for once, Ashton.”

  The buckles on his long overcoat jangled as he ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “I have seen it, but do not know the direct cause of it. Not yet. But Riley must understand that galleon full of infected passengers was a shot across your bow.”

  “A warning…from the Coalition of Khent?”

  “Yes, a warning Riley would do well to heed.”

  A terrible thought occurred to me. “Are you working for them?”

  “No, but I am privy to their inner workings.”

  “How?”

  He raised a dark brow. “Spy, remember?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You have an informant inside, then?”

  “Yes. So I am aware of what is happening in a broad sense. Particularly the goings on of the Minister Secretariat.”

  “Who is it now?” I asked, wondering inwardly that politics had continued to thrive amid the disasters plaguing our world.

  “Baumton, a lesser duke from the old society, seized control of the coalition a year ago, some say through nefarious means, and rules it with a ruthless hand. Today’s tragedy was engineered by his people.” Ashton pulled on his leather vest with both hands, straightening it. “Riley was at the intake camps in Spain. Saw their ever-tightening grip on the refugees. Ask him what he thinks they would do to keep the Trembling Sickness from wiping out Europe as it has nearly done here in the city-states.”

  “Are you saying the coalition infected the passengers and then sent the galleon barreling toward Outer City? That this carnage was deliberate?”

  “I am saying that you once thought The Order to be a most cruel opponent. But with the coalition under Minister Secretariat Baumton’s rule, there is no telling the horrors in store for those caught trying to run the blockades…” Ashton’s voice trailed off at the sound of boot steps near the stairs. Blindingly fast, he drew the revolver at his chest.

  Riley’s voice, barely above a whisper, called down from the deck. “You OK down there?”

  I glanced at Ashton and then up at Riley. Both men ruthless and dangerous. They should not be in the same space if I could prevent it.

  “I am fine. Is it clear for me to come up? I do not think I can look at another body today without feeling faint.”

  A hint of a smirk played across Ashton’s face.

  “One minute.” Riley answered and then his footsteps faded, his words muffled as he spoke to his men on deck.

  “I have to go,” I whispered, turning to leave.

  “Charlie,” Ashton said and the rasp in his voice made me pause. “I—”

  “Riley will get suspicious, and I do not think I can weather another one of your kind of escapes.”

  “You of all people should not be involved with investigating this. You should be far away from here.”

  “There are a lot of things I shouldn’t be, Ashton. None of them has ever stopped me.”

  He smiled then, but his eyes were sad. “Trust me, you must leave here, Charlie. If not for your own safety, then for those around you.”

  “There is no trusting you anymore, Ashton,” I murmured. “Betrayal leaves a mark that does not fade.”

  He regarded me silently, his jaw working.

  “Riley believes he can keep you safe, but Viceroy Arecibo is a ruthless man. He will not rest until you are back in his grasp. You are far too valuable now.”

  The mention of my captor, the vile sound of his name, made my stomach knot.

  “What do you know of my value?”

  Ashton said nothing, but held my gaze. I wondered how much he saw of what I had done aboard that galleon.

  “Here,” he pulled something from the sheath at his thigh, flipped it mid-air, caught it by the end, and then offered the handle to me. “You should have something better than a stick to defend yourself next time.”

  I folded my arms and gazed up at him. “I am not afraid of Arecibo or your Order.”

  “Of course not. Blackburn’s Daughter fears no one.” He held out the weapon further. “But I find that steel in my palm makes for an even heartbeat. Do you not?”

  A sheath of dark hair fell across his chiseled jaw as he looked down at me. I sighed, taking it as if to simply appease him, but the heaviness came with a measure of comfort I had not realized I missed. It was not a dagger as I supposed, but a large, cylindrical handle. I knew this. Flicking my wrist, I whipped the telescoping sections of metal outward, the baton ratcheting into place with a satisfying clang.

  “T-This is mine.” I looked up at him, bewildered. “Isn’t it?”

  “It is.” Ashton nodded, his gaze searching mine. “It was designed for you.”

  “But…what?”

  Riley’s form appeared at the top of the stairs. “Charlotte?”

  Ashton melted into the shadows, moving further into the bowels of the vessel.

  “Ashton,” I whispered, chasing after him, my mind reeling. Visions of the weapon in my hand clashed to the forefront. The feel of it smashing through bone. The sound as it sliced the air as I leapt toward…what? Ashton’s form dissolved with the darkness, and I stumbled, desperate for answers. “Why can I not remember?” I found him at the aft end of the ship, climbing through a hole in the hull to a small dirigible tethered underneath the frigate. “How do you know about this?”

  He looked up at me, his dark gaze alight with the port lamp’s glow. “I know, Charlie, because I taught you how to wield it.”

  “What?” Stepping toward him, my heart rammed against my chest. “You know what happened to me? What I cannot remember?”

  Sorrow crept across his gaze. “It was the only way.”

  “You cannot leave me with all of
these questions,” I said reaching for him. “Ashton…”

  “Soon, Charlie.” Ashton reached out and took my hand in his, squeezing gently. “I will tell you everything.”

  Staring at him with open-mouthed shock, I did nothing as he unhitched his ship and slid away into the glowing firmament below.

  My thumb found the collapsing mechanism, and the baton sections slid back into its handle just as Riley’s drawl sounded behind me.

  “Are you all right, Charlotte?”

  Swallowing hard against the lump in my throat, I forced calm into my voice, “Yes, I…just have had as much death as I can handle, I suppose.”

  “We’re going to meet at the inn. Decide what to do next.”

  I nodded and followed Riley. Mouth dry with sudden panic, I hoped the dark of the hull hid the shaking of my hands.

  The next time I saw Ashton he would not escape without answering to me.

  6

  Riley

  So many citizens crowded into the inn’s dining room for the meeting that Riley found himself standing, along with a dozen other men, in the rear of the space. Chairs skidded against the wood floor as people moved amongst one another talking in hushed whispers, waiting for information. With nightfall, the lamps that lit up Outer City cast the devastation of the wreck in sharp angles against the inky sky through the window. The smell of coffee and miraculously, biscuits, did nothing to warm the cold dread present in the sullen group.

  Despite his worry for his people, Riley’s gaze kept wandering to Charlotte as she leaned against the far wall of the inn’s dining room and listened to the discussion. Pale, with her long ebony hair over slight shoulders, she looked for all intents and purposes, her twenty years. But the coiled tension to her stance, the way she shivered periodically as if catching an icy breeze, her restless gaze, it all reminded Riley of what she truly was. A girl, who, against impossible odds, had survived. Despite his failings and wrong turns. Despite a madman’s intent. Charlotte Blackburn lived. The pads of his fingers found the mech-glove encasing his left hand, the heat of the gears dissipating in the cool night air. Where his device enabled the use, the normal use, of his paralyzed hand, Charlotte was a whole other story.

  Strikingly fast, she had moved on that galleon like nothing he’d ever seen. Charlotte ran in a blur that made him feel as if he’d been standing still. Those things, the mechanica, as Lilah called them, they did more than simple mech-gadgets and gear work appendages did. Charlotte was clearly stronger now too, and if he would admit to himself, more ruthless. He’d known, in that moment in the warehouse when he’d realized she was infected with the Trembling Sickness, that she was different somehow. Able to slow or withstand the affliction like no one else, but it had clearly been gaining on her. Now…now he didn’t know what to think. And the Tremblers reaction to her put a knot in his gut. Before, she could sense them. Now they ran from her in pain. Riley didn’t know if that was good or not. At any rate, it meant the connection between her and them was stronger.

  Edmund Frinkle hefted his rotund body to the head of the table and squinted at the ledger in his chubby hands. Adjusting his pince-nez spectacles closer to his beady eyes, he read in a solemn voice the results of his inventory. “Well, we’ve lost most of our food stores.”

  Riley’s jaw ground as a round of disheartened moans met Frinkle’s announcement. A series of panicked glances shot his way from the gathered crowd.

  “And, we had begun storing our medical and equipment overstock in that area, and we lost a good portion of that when the storage buildings fell.”

  “Is there any good news?” Riley asked sourly. He should not have let Frinkle give the results.

  The Weather Master’s hand shot up. Riley sighed. “You don’t have to raise your hand, Mr. Percy.”

  He stood, wringing a roll of aether paper in his hands. “We’re looking at a storm coming either later tonight or early tomorrow. That will replenish the water reserves we lost fighting the fires and because we foolishly used our drinking water barrels to barricade the port,” he said while glancing at the woman sitting next to him.

  “Well it was a better plan than your running about screaming,” the woman snapped.

  “I most certainly was not screaming!” Percy shouted. “We are fortunate that the storm is on its way.”

  “The one we cannot defend against because half of Port Hayden’s sheltering buildings are now nothing more than debris in the ocean?” The woman shot back.

  “Now the galleon crashing is my fault?” Percy snapped. “What about—”

  “All right, Percy,” Riley interrupted. To the woman, he nodded. “And thank you, Ms. Timble. If not for your quick thinking we likely may have suffered more casualties.”

  The woman crossed her arms, sniffed, and glared at Percy. Riley drew in a calming breath. “We’ll figure something out,” he offered. “Make more supply runs down to the city-states, maybe form another salvage party to the wastelands, see what we can find.”

  “We’ve picked everything clean for miles,” Percy said. “Only thing left is the ocean.”

  “Don’t be daft,” someone called from across the room.

  “I’m saying those ships are our only remaining option,” Percy shot back, his face going red. “I’ve seen ‘em. From the weather stations.”

  Another round of argument met his remarks and Riley let his head fall back, eyes closed. They were not wrong to panic. Not really. He had no idea where they would find a viable place to get what they needed. Lilah caught his eye with a small gesture and he nodded, clearing his throat.

  “Doctor Bartlet, have you news on the victims?” Riley asked, aloud.

  All eyes shifted to Lilah and Riley cringed, knowing her quiet nature abhorred being the center of attention. She stood, adjusting her dress skirts with delicate hands, and cleared her throat nervously.

  “I know there is a difference,” Lilah began, her soft voice barely audible. “Between what we have experienced with our loved ones before and what the passengers of the galleon seemed to exhibit today, but...” she shrugged. “I am ill-equipped here to truly uncover what this new illness means.”

  A cacophony of questions erupted from the group, but Riley’s gaze snapped to where Charlotte had stood upon mention of the affliction. She was not there. Glancing at Lilah and deciding she could handle the queries, he wove through the chairs and made his way to where she’d been. Through the hallway, he spotted her form near a window and went to her.

  “How’re you doing, Charlotte?” He asked quietly.

  “Tired.” She turned, her pale gaze catching the lamplight from the candle on the sill. “But good. Alive, at the very least.”

  He nodded, noting that Charlotte seemed to quake in her boots and, even though he did not know if it was the bone chilling effects of her affliction or the very real possibility that she was breaking apart mentally, he wanted to hold her. To tell her that she was safe now, but the truth was, she was far from it. And then there was Lilah. His heart tumbled at the thought of hurting such a sweet and honest woman. The way she looked at him, the way Jack did. It was too much to worry about. Right now, he just needed to keep everyone alive.

  “You’ve been quiet since the frigate,” he said. “I wonder if you should’ve kept clear of all that given what you’ve been through.”

  She shrugged, not commenting. The bruises and cuts on her hands and neck made him frown. They had not been treated and yet looked better than his own injuries. Charlotte stirred from the view out of the window after a time and turned to him.

  “What was Percy talking about?” she asked.

  “Ah, nothing viable.” Riley leaned a hip against the writing desk. “He’s been going on about those ships for a while now.”

  “Tell me,” she asked, and the intensity of her gaze took him aback.

  “Charlotte, he’s out of his mind. It’s the panic talking.” Her eyes did not waver and so he relented. “As the Weather Master, he is out on the different stat
ion balloons all along the coast. He said he can see the sunken iron-clads, even the vessels that crashed before the Reaper invasion.” She shifted towards him, curiosity brightening her face. Riley shook his head. “It’s hogwash. The waters of the sea surely dissolved any wreckage by now. You know the poison churning in these toxic waters.”

  “What do you think he’s talking about, then?”

  “What?” Riley blinked, unsure if he liked the sudden calm overtaking her appearance.

  “He must see something. A shape to make him believe it is ships. What do you suppose he’s talking about if not vessels?”

  “I don’t know…rocks?” It sounded dumb to him even as the answer left his lips.

  “What if there really are ships down there? What if we can salvage what they had on board?”

  “We can’t though.” Riley stood, not liking the turn this conversation was taking.

  “Why?” Charlotte shivered, and the mechanica sparked at her arm and hands. It lit up the dark room like a flash, and Riley glanced over his shoulder.

  “Because those waters are too deep for any man to dive without air and it’s too cold to survive even if he could make it to the vessel. Let alone the constantly shifting earth, the lava spurts, the…” he lowered his voice. “Strange creatures.”

  She waved off his last comment.

  “What if those were not a factor?”

  “But they are,” Riley crossed is arms.

  “There is equipment capable of keeping one alive…providing the oxygen needed. I have read about diving chambers, I even once witnessed a demonstration of one of Le Sieur’s hydrostatic air machines at the fair as a child—”

  “All right, there is nothing here,” Riley cut across her. “Nothing I can get my hands on. No one even knows if that sort of thing survived the quakes, let alone the Reaper invasion.”

  Charlotte’s lips formed a tight line, her gaze full of frustration.

  Determined to dissuade any wild idea she might have, he pressed on, ticking the reasons off on his fingers. “And it is not just the air. It is the cold. That water freezes anything that stays in it longer than a few minutes, especially in the deep trenches where Percy claims to have seen those ships. Heck, some winters the waves have ice in their swells. Ice, Charlotte. Like the north, but here, because our weather is so chaotic and severe since the Great Calamity completely altered everything. The ocean is unpredictable at best. Deadly.”