Stormbreak (Seafire #3) - Natalie C. Parker Page 0,106

sound of impact. The nose of Sledge’s ship vanished inside the crusher and plumes of angry fire jumped into the sky. Explosions chewed along the hulls of both ships, ripping into steel with ferocious teeth.

Smoke and debris flew across Caledonia’s vision even as the way ahead cleared.

But the Blade burned.

She could not stop now, though for a moment she thought her heart might. The screams were blistering, and the last thing she saw before she ducked her head low, aimed for the tunnel, was Sledge’s crew leaping from the aft deck of the Blade, their bodies bright with flame.

There was nothing she could do. She heard the electric snap as the Hands of the River disengaged their shield and peeled away, and then darkness enveloped her.

She recognized the dank smell, the strange wet coolness of the air as she zipped down the corridor. Within seconds, she’d spotted the bright end of the tunnel, and soon she was through the Net.

The other side of the megaship was strangely quiet. With one hand on the wheel, Caledonia turned to search for signs of pursuit or anyone ready to fire on her from above, but there was no one here. They were all focused on the battle raging on the other side.

The fins of a dozen sharks dragged lazy trails around her small boat as she cut across an empty mile of sea toward the rig. The closer she got, the more the air smelled of that Silt-sweet perfume. Lofted high on a dozen sturdy legs, a platform supported the heart of the factory. The only way to reach it was to climb.

The sea remained empty as she closed in and tucked her boat beneath the rig. Caledonia tied on to the floating dock beneath the tent of its legs and hoisted her pack onto her shoulders. She stepped tentatively onto the dock and began to climb, pausing to listen for danger every so often. But the rig was silent. The only sounds were of the battle raging far in the distance and the pounding of her own heart inside her head.

She climbed, hand over hand. The mag bombs at her back weighed her down and lifted her up at the same time. She was so close to breaking the cycle. All she had to do was get to the top and set the charges. This was it.

The ladder ended on a shallow platform beneath the main level. Caledonia had a moment to note how this sublevel was open to the air on all sides, and she was beginning to consider where to place the first bomb when a fist cracked against her cheek.

Stars burst behind her eyes. Before she could open them, a kick to the back of her thighs knocked her off balance. She landed hard on her hands and knees, the weight of the mag bombs pushing her even lower.

Blood coated the inside of her mouth and she reached for the gun strapped against her leg, but a hand snaked out and caught her wrist.

“Caledonia.” Lir said her name like a caress. “I knew you would come.”

Before she could answer, his fist came down again and all went dark.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Pain and light returned in the same instant. The sun was too warm on her right cheek, the ground too hard against her left. She was lying on her side on a platform high above the ocean with hands bound behind her back. The sun beating down on her told her she was still outside, and quiet voices nearby told her she was not alone.

Caledonia blinked, willing the fog to clear from her vision. When it did, she almost wished it hadn’t.

She was on the main level of the rig, the wide platform stretching out like the deck of a ship. On one side of the platform a line of cranes curled over the edge from which crates of baleflowers or Silt could be loaded and unloaded from ships far below. On the other side of the platform the factory itself seemed to grow up from the floor, smooth walls extending into snaking pipes that coiled and twisted through the air.

Only a few feet away, two young men stood side by side, their heads tipped together as though in deep discussion. Lir. And Donnally.

Lir held a knife loosely between his fingers, spinning the blade against the tip of his index finger, listening with a distant expression on his cold features, while Donnally stood with his arms folded across his chest, emphasizing