Chapter 105 THE ASH IN THE DOUGH
Chapter 105 THE ASH IN THE DOUGH
The giant needle-snake tore through the heavy clouds, its silver metal scales clicking like a million scissors.
"Seraphina!" I screamed, my voice shredding into nothing against the wild wind.
The white smoke from the destroyed forge rolled over our tiny floating roof tile. I watched my father’s flour-stained shape grow smaller and smaller in the dark sky, his hand firmly locked around the silver chain on my sister's neck. He didn't look back at me. He just rode that metal monster straight toward the northern lights, leaving me bleeding in the salt water.
He took her, the thought stabbed into my brain, colder and sharper than any needle. He let me kill the Emperor. He let me smash the Council. He waited until I was completely broken, just so he could scoop up the final prize.
The sheer, boiling hatred in my stomach didn't just flare; it turned into a roaring furnace. My father had played us all. The bakery, the quiet mornings, the warm bread, it was all just grease to keep the machine moving until Seraphina’s keys were ripe. I didn't want a quiet life anymore. I didn't want to fix the kitchen. I wanted to hunt that old baker to the edge of the flat earth, rip his silver eyes out of his skull, and burn his new palace until nothing but black charcoal was left.
"Aria... let me go," Kael groaned beneath my arm.
His massive shoulders were leaking thick streaks of dark red where the silver needles had popped out. His single blue eye was foggy, filled with pain and gray grease. He was sliding toward the edge of our spinning iron plate, his fingers losing their grip on the wet metal. "The boat is gone. The gun is dead. You have to fly... before the tile hits the foam."
"I am not leaving you behind, Kael!" I yelled, my teeth grinding together.
I forced my right arm down. The purple bone claw was cracked down the middle, the yellow light from Seraphina's block still sizzling against my marrow like hot acid. Every movement felt like my arm was being dipped into a bucket of boiling oil. But I didn't care about the pain. I locked my skeletal fingers around Kael’s thick leather belt, my muscles screaming as I dragged his heavy torso back into the center of the iron plate.
"We are going north," I growled, my breath coming in ragged, bloody gasps. "We are going to follow that snake."
"We can't," Kael wheezed, coughing up a blob of dark grease. He pointed his shaking finger down at the ocean below. "Look."
I leaned over the edge of the iron tile, my good eye blinking through the hot steam.
The boiling black sea wasn't just churning anymore. The death of the floating forge had broken the final seal. The entire ocean was sliding backward, tilting like a giant bucket of water being dumped down a hole. A massive, three-mile-wide trench had opened up in the water, its black walls lined with millions of spinning brass cogs that were ten stories high.
The master loom was rising out of the water, its iron teeth snapping the air.
Our small metal plate caught the edge of the massive whirlpool, spinning faster and faster as it was sucked down toward the giant brass cogs. My single black-stained wing flapped wildly, trying to catch the hot wind from the furnaces, but the suction from the trench was too heavy. It felt like a giant iron hand was wrapping around my ankles, pulling us down into the dark machinery.
"Hold onto my wing!" I shrieked to Kael.
Before he could reach out his leather glove, a loud, heavy CRUNCH echoed from the center of our spinning plate.
The iron tile didn't hit a rock. A massive, three-pronged iron grappling hook crashed straight through the metal floor between my boots, its rusted teeth locking into the seams. The thick hemp rope connected to the hook went tight instantly, stopping our downward slide with a violent, bone-snapping jerk that nearly threw me off my feet.
I snapped my head around, looking up the length of the heavy rope.
Cutting through the thick black foam of the whirlpool was a massive, three-decked warship made entirely of burnt red brick and heavy boiler iron. It didn't have sails, and it didn't have steam pipes. The ship was being pulled across the tilted water by forty giant, mechanical iron rowers that slammed their metal oars into the sea with a rhythmic, deafening BANG-CLANG.
Standing at the bow of the brick ship, his hand wrapped around the rope winch, was a man wearing a shredded silver-threaded uniform. His face was completely covered in black grease, his left eye missing, replaced by a jagged copper coin stamped with the image of a skull.
It was Arthur. The rebel leader. He had crawled out of the sinking warship in the cavern, his body half-metal now, his chest wrapped in dirty white bandages that were soaked through with dark engine oil.
"The Council is dead, kitchen girl!" Arthur roared across the wind, a mad, gold-toothed grin breaking through his bloody whiskers. "The rebel army takes the scrap! But your little sister just closed the southern valves! The northern capital is freezing!"
He gave the winch a hard yank, pulling our iron plate straight toward the side of his heavy brick ship.
"What do you want, Arthur?" I hissed, my right bone claw flaring with a weak, desperate spark of purple smoke.
"I don't want your core, Aria," Arthur said, leaning over the wooden railing as his iron rowers drew the boat closer. His copper coin eye spun in a tight, mechanical circle, locking onto my cracked chest plate. "The baker just took the master key to the High Citadel. He’s going to stitch the whole world into a single loaf. If you want your sister back, you need a ship that can sail through the iron frost."
He reached behind his back and unhooked a heavy, black iron collar from his belt. The inside of the collar was lined with twelve long, silver needles that were dripping with fresh, yellow grease.
"Put the leash on, girl," Arthur whispered, his gold tooth catching the red light of the rising loom. "Or I cut the rope and let the cogs have your friend."