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The Skyborne Grudge – Extract

A Black Library Publication

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The Skyborne Grudge

Guy Haley

Drekki stood with one foot on the gunwale of the Aelsling’s forecastle, elbow on his knee, steadying the sextant he held up to his eye. His flight mask was flipped up, face scrunched tight in concentration. His drillbill, Trokwi, perched on the crest of his helm. Beneath his left arm he had a chart, clamped in place while he adjusted the whirring, pinging aether instrument with truly duardin levels of dexterity. Before the ship a mighty sky-island reared, a dagger-edged sliver of rock thousands of raadfathoms tall. This was the object of his interest.

‘Oh, this is promising,’ he said. ‘Very promising.’

‘I can only agree, captain,’ said Otherek Zhurafon, the ship’s aether-khemist. He watched Drekki’s target just as avidly, the array of lenses upon his helm focusing and refocusing, whining the soft whines of precision-engineered equipment as he took preliminary readings for aether-gold, chamonite and other marvellous things. On the other side of the bronze head of Aelsling poking up from the bow, the Dispossessed runesmith Kedren Grunnsson smoked his pipe while taking in the view.

‘That island is on a counter-orbit around the Eye,’ Drekki said, speaking loudly over the buzz of the forward aether-endrin. ‘You know, I thought so the last voyage. It’s dropping too. I reckon, by, well, let’s see…’ He muttered some calculations under his breath. ‘I’d say due to pass down into the Second Air in about fifty-three years or so. Useful navigational marker, that. Definitely worth this little diversion. Profitable information!’

‘We’re supposed to have a member of the Navigators’ Guild aboard our ship, according to the Code,’ said Otherek.

Kedren chuckled around the stem of his pipe, a sound like stones being ground hard against one another. Otherek handed out these gentle reminders from time to time. Their kinship with admonishment amused the Dispossessed.

‘Indeed we are, my friend, but as you know, the advertised position is still open,’ said Drekki, adopting an air of mock gravity. ‘Alas, despite many enquiries for the post, I have yet to find a navigator who meets the exacting standards required for my crew.’

‘Technically, it’s the Admiralty’s crew, Drekki,’ said Otherek.

‘Technically it’s the Admiralty’s ship,’ shouted Kedren. ‘Don’t stop him treating it like it’s his.’

Drekki gave Kedren a smile that said it didn’t matter what the contracts read; the Aelsling was his and always would be. After all, he was the one that stole it. ‘Well, the Admiralty, I am sure, would want the very best navigator to serve in their crew, and to guide their ship,’ said Drekki. He enjoyed these back and forths with his officers. It kept his tongue sharp enough to cut through the more annoying parts of the Kharadron Code, when the need arose.

He found that happening pretty often.

‘And should an individual of such exceptional calibre present themselves,’ Drekki went on, ‘then I would be glad, glad I say, to contract them. Until that day comes, however, we must make do with me. As the Code provides, a captain’s navigational measurements are suitable to be stamped and submitted to the Nav-Guild in lieu of a navigator’s readings, should there be no officially recognised guild member present on board to take said readings.’

‘Endrineer, captain and navigator. You can’t do it all yourself, lad,’ said Kedren.

‘Why not? It saves money. I like money.’ Drekki lowered the sextant, and snapped the levers into their off position. Aether displays flashed numbers. ‘Five thousand, four hundred and twelve raadfathoms tall, five hundred and eighty wide, nine hundred or so deep. Quite the shard. We’ll cut close, see if there’s anything valuable to be had from it.’ He shot a look at Otherek.

The aether-khemist grumbled in the affirmative. ‘Looks promising, even from out here. Getting a good aether trace. I’ll prepare my equipment. Not had an up-close surveying session for a while. It’s about time, if you ask me. Too many courier runs. Too many passengers and packets. Not enough gold. Are we Kharadron or Sigmar’s postal brigade?’

‘Do we have time?’ asked Kedren. ‘Bavardia awaits. Two days away, by your reckoning, captain, and you said we have to be there on schedule.’ As a special advisory contractor to Otherek, and a non-Kharadron to boot, the runesmith had no official standing on the ship, but Drekki had come to rely on his sense, and his friendship.

‘There’s always time for profit!’ said Drekki cheerfully.

‘Thought you’d say that,’ said Kedren. He turned around and called back down the length of the ship. ‘Gord!’

The ogor was amidships, bending pieces of metal with his bare fists under the direction of Endrinrigger Bokko Dwindonsson. The ogor looked up, brutish head puzzled above the rim of his custom suit’s helmet ring.

‘Wuh?’ he said.

‘Get the lads ready. We’re going close. Might be fighting,’ shouted Kedren.

‘Right you are,’ said Gord, visibly brightening at the mention of fighting. Not even his bulk could rock the steady deck of the Aelsling as he got up. The ship’s whistle tooted once. The quiet work of the arkanauts stepped up a gear. Kedren knocked out his pipe on the handrail and stowed it. Bokko collared Adrimm Adrimmsson, who grumbled as usual, to help him gather up his engineering. Gord went round bellowing at the crew, who fetched weapons or manned the guns. Drekki folded his sextant and tucked it back into its pouch, grabbed a shivering hawser coming off the shrouds to the forward engine, leaned out into the void, and called to the cockpit.

‘Helmsman Evrokk Bjarnisson, thirteen degrees coreward, angle down, five degrees, take us past this metalith in brisk fashion, if you please.’

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A Black Library Publication

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Cover illustration by Gameco Studios (Regis).

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