Blood and Water - The Darkling

Chapter 13: Silence

*Unedited

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"𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 is impossible!" Alina yells.

"Improbable!" I correct.

Sturmhond nods and whoops. "Lana is right. When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable." With the moonlight gleaming off the lenses of his goggles and his greatcoat billowing around him, he looks like a complete madman.

The wind is holding steady. The Squallers and the crew seem focused, but calm. Every little thing is fascinating to me right now.

"Where did this thing come from?" Aline shouts up to Sturmhond.

"I designed her. I built her. And I crashed a few prototypes."

I nod, "Like the schematics in your cabin?"

The captain smiles down at me, "You and your perfect memory are correct, lovely."

Mal lean/ over the lip of the cockpit, trying to get a better view of the gigantic guns positioned at the foremost points of the hulls.

"Those guns," he says. "They have multiple barrels."

"And they're gravity fed. No need to stop to reload. They fire two hundred rounds per minute."

"That's—"

"Impossible? The only problem is overheating, but it isn't so bad on this model. I have a Zemeni gunsmith trying to work out the flaws. Barbaric little bastards, but they know their way around a gun."

"Perhaps a few Squallers could use the cold wind to blow through them like a Grisha-powered cooler?" I contemplate aloud.

"Potentially, I'll have to think on that one, Lana," the captain says before turning back to Mal, "Oh and the aft seats rotate so you can shoot from any angle."

"And fire down on the enemy," Mal shouted almost giddily. "If Ravka had a fleet of these—"

"Quite an advantage, no? But the First and Second Armies would have to work together."

I think of what Aleksander had said to me so long ago. The age of Grisha power is coming to an end. His answer had been to turn the Fold into a weapon. But what if Grisha power could be transformed? I look over the deck of the Hummingbird, at the sailors and Squallers working side by side, at Tolya and Tamar sitting behind those guns. It isn't impossible.

He's a privateer, I remind myself. And he could stoop to war profiteer in a second. Sturmhond's weapons could give Ravka an advantage, but those guns could just as easily be used by Ravka's enemies. But a part of me doesn't believe this wild-eyed captain is capable of such things.

I am pulled from my thoughts by a bright light shining off the port bow. The great lighthouse at Alkhem Bay. We are close now. If I crane my neck, I can just make out the glittering towers of Os Kervo's harbor.

Sturmhond does not make directly for it but tacks southwest. I assumed we'd set down somewhere offshore. The thought of landing makes me insanely giddy. Perhaps I have a death wish.

Soon I lose sight of the lighthouse beam. Just how far south does Sturmhond intend to take us? He'd said he wanted to reach the coast before dawn, and that can't be more than an hour or two away.

My thoughts drift, lost to the call of the stars around us and the clouds scudding across the wide sky. The night wind bites into my cheeks but I don't feel it even though I know it must pierce the thin fabric of my coat.