Frail Contraptions: Voyages of the Carpathia, #2

By Shauna E. Black

Brayde loses everything when both the captain and Avilene are captured by the Tyrians. The situation goes from bad to worse after the Carpathia takes a hit, grounding the ship in the frigid mountains. Rescue seems impossible. Brayde's only option is to seek help from a group of reclusive rebels. Can he trust them?

 

Confined to a work camp with no freedom, no magic, and no way to contact the Carpathia, Avilene endures the inhuman abuse of the guards. Her reunion with Captain Xanthe is soured by the Tyrian's attempts to twist her into a tool for the Empire. Resistance lands her in a corrupt hospital with only one way out: the morgue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shauna E. Black
• Release date: Mar 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9781940855363

Book preview

Books by Shauna E. Black

Rebel Bound

Rebel Bound

Rebel Betrayed

Rebel Return

Voyages of the Carpathia

Blind Maneuvers

Frail Contraptions

Broken Mechanisms

Thunderstruck

Find out more on

http://shaunablack.com

image-placeholder

Frail Contraptions

Text copyright © 2024 Shauna E. Black

Cover design © 100 Covers

Cover images licensed by Shutterstock

Interior images licensed by Depositphoto

Published by Vivienza

ISBN 978-1-940855-36-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written permission of Shauna E. Black.

Frail Contraptions / Shauna E. Black

Summary: Brayde loses everything when both the captain and Avilene are captured by the Tyrians. The situation goes from bad to worse when the Carpathia takes a hit, grounding the ship in the frigid mountains.

This is a work of fiction. Settings and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance characters may have to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Contents

Dedication

1.One

1. THE COMING STORM

2.TWO

2. PEMBROOK HAVEN

3.THREE

3. RALLYING THE CREW

4.FOUR

4. INTO THE GALE

5.FIVE

5. FIGHT AND FLIGHT

6.SIX

6. TRAPPED ABOARD SHIP

7.SEVEN

7. THE CARPATHIA’S PLIGHT

8.EIGHT

8. SLAVEEK PRISON CAMP

9.NINE

9. THE GEISSLER FACTORY

10.TEN

10. SEARCH FOR RESCUE

11.ELEVEN

11. MEETING THE RENEGADES

12.TWELVE

12. A BRILLIANT IDEA

13.THIRTEEN

13. PLOTTING ESCAPE

14.FOURTEEN

14. SLAVEEK’S HOSPITAL

15.FIFTEEN

15. RELIEF FOR THE CARPATHIA

16.SIXTEEN

17.SEVENTEEN

17. A CONNECTED PAST

18.EIGHTEEN

18. AFTER HOURS

19.NINETEEN

19. GIFT OF PERSUASION

20.TWENTY

20. RETURN TO THE FACTORY

21.TWENTY-ONE

21. SCHEMES

22.TWENTY-TWO

22. THREAT BEYOND THE BORDER

23.TWENTY-THREE

23. INFILTRATING SLAVEEK

24.TWENTY-FOUR

24. A PLAN GONE WRONG

25.TWENTY-FIVE

25. RESCUE MISSION

26.TWENTY-SIX

26. PROMISES

27.TWENTY-SEVEN

27. SACRIFICES

28.TWENTY-EIGHT

28. A PLACE FOR US

29.BROKEN MECHANISMS: ONE

29. DISCRIMINATION

30.HOW WAS IT?

31.ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

32.ABOUT THE AUTHOR

To Mom

You inspire me with your stalwart dedication and unfailing support.

image-placeholder

One

THE COMING STORM

The wind filled the sail with a life of its own until it bucked and jerked like an angry python in Avilene’s hands.

She never should have volunteered for this.

Gritting her teeth, she wrestled to free the sail from the mainmast before the worst of the storm slammed into the Carpathia. It didn’t help that she was not only blind, eyes turned a shiny white from the slipping power of her Andul race, but she was half-deaf now, too, thanks to the storm howling around her.

The wind beat against her ears, ripped its chill fingers through the leather coat she wore, and knotted her hair. It interfered with the sound around her like the static on a wireless radio and marred the imagery that sounds normally painted for her in a kind of echolocation. The outlines of the young men beside her were fuzzy and indistinct, even when they spoke.

How long until the storm hits? Jence yelled over the wind. His lanky form stuttered in and out of Avilene’s sonic sight with his movement.

His twin brother, Leon, replied, What? This isn’t storm enough for you? The boys didn’t sound exactly alike. Leon’s voice was thinner and slightly higher pitched. He had a tendency to talk faster, with little gasping breaths, as if the words got ahead of his thoughts.

It will get worse. Brayde’s deep bass was easiest to distinguish, with its rumbling undertones. The rain hasn’t even started yet. As always, his voice calmed the raw edges of Avilene’s nerves, like wrapping her fingers around a warm cup of soup.

Let’s just get this sail down already, Webber complained, so we can hole up for the rest of the storm. The annoyance in the young engineer’s voice was clear and a far cry from his usual unflappable temper.

The wind gusted in a substantial swell, and Avilene was completely blinded for a moment, as it overwhelmed her hearing. Panic stabbed her. She fought to contain it. The images her echolocation had painted for her of the boys, the sail, the ropes, and even the deck of the ship she stood on with its gently curving prow and gunwale, disappeared into a blank nothing.

The blindness only lasted a moment. When it returned, the sound of tinkling glass announced a broken Geissler tube. Like a ghost, another voice joined the cursing of the boys and the thrashing of the sail.

This new voice was smooth and mellow, not spoken but sung in a lilting melody, bringing an ache to Avilene’s chest. Xanthe. He had left his voice behind, encased with hydrogen in the thin glass tubes lining the sail. His song was snatched from the broken tube by the wind and flung far from the Carpathia, just as its owner had been, three long months ago.

In Xanthe’s absence, Brayde had assumed command of the ship. He fit the role well. From the moment Avilene met Brayde, she recognized in him the qualities of a skilled commander, but she knew he was more comfortable as first mate and that he longed for Xanthe’s return. They all did.

Webber cursed. I said be careful!

I was being careful, Leon snapped back.

Webber wasn’t cowed. Xanthe isn’t here to replace those tubes. We already broke a section in the last storm.

What am I supposed to do with this cursed wind beating at me all the time?

Brayde was working on a stubborn rope knot. Leave them alone, Webber, he said. Avilene can replace the tubes.

He handed the rope to Avilene as it came free. Brayde’s words twisted her stomach tighter than the knot had been.

I haven’t worked out how to recharge tubes yet, she said.

Brayde placed an arm over her shoulders and squeezed. You’ll get it. With time.

She refrained from snapping back that they were running out of time. Winter storms like this were coming less often, giving way to the tranquility of the Pembrook spring. Soon, flight would again be possible. Then the Tyrians would arrive in force, drawn by the complaints of Pembrook’s new governor.

They managed to unhook the remainder of the sail from the mainmast without breaking more tubes. Webber directed them in folding it carefully on the deck into a long roll spanning half the length of the ship.

With the wind interfering, Avilene couldn’t discern the rocky shoreline just under a kilometer from where the Carpathia rested against the north side of a hill, but she could still hear snatches of the ocean surf pounding against the craggy boulders and feel the spray that spat higher than the tallest mast to douse them like salty rain.

We’ll store it in the stairwell. Webber bent to pick up one end of the rolled sail.

Avilene took up a position in the middle between Webber and Brayde. The movement shielded her hearing from the wind just long enough that she noticed a snatch of something long and thin, whipping like an erratic serpent through the air. Avilene sighed. Brayde, one of the mooring lines is loose.

Moving out of his place next to her, Brayde cursed. That stormquake earlier must’ve worked it out. Tassadar, fetch me the sledgehammer. Quinn, Eryk, come with me. Let’s get that anchor back into the ground before the Carpathia keels over.

The four young crewmen he’d called left their tasks at various positions on the deck and jogged to the gangplank until the wind swept their wavering images from Avilene’s sonic sight.

Let’s get this sail below, Webber called to Avilene and the twins.

Avilene bent to grasp the heavy canvas as Jence shifted back to fill the position Brayde had vacated.

Webber prompted, One, two, three!

They all grunted and groaned as they hefted the sail. Avilene’s arms didn’t quite fit around the cylinder, but she refused to let the boys show her up.

At the forefront, Leon stumbled into motion. I wish we were still safe and snug in the docks on the other side of the hill. It would be worth the risk.

Webber’s growl made it apparent he was still in a mood. I don’t trust docks built into a hillside, not with these stormquakes going on.

Jence chimed in, If we’d stayed, that new Pembrook governor would have clapped us all in irons by now. How safe and snug would you be in a jail cell?

But this side of the hill gets all the brunt of the storms, Leon whined. We wouldn’t have to worry about the sail if we hadn’t hoisted it to get out of the docks.

Avilene moved blindly forward, pulled by the tug of the sail. Stop griping. The hill protects us from the governor’s patrols. They don’t want to venture to this side of the hill, either.

Exactly, Leon trumpeted.

Avilene’s snort turned into a grunt as the sail shifted, and she nearly dropped it. You’ll be safe and snug in your bed soon enough.

Leon didn’t seem ready to give up complaining just yet. "I was safe and snug in my bed until Brayde rousted me. It’s too early in the morning for this."

Only because you were up until all hours playing cards with Floreen and Eryk, Avilene retorted.

A high-pitched voice accompanied the sketched auditory shape of a short girl brushing by them from behind with an armload of single-flyer wings. Save your breath, Kali chirped. Even with only half her hearing, Avilene could make out the pigtails bobbing merrily atop the head of the Carpathia’s chief winger. Boys are all babies, anyway.

I resent that, Jence protested.

Kali skipped forward and reached up to tap a hand against Jence’s chest. You mean, you resemble that. She giggled.

As Kali disappeared belowdeck into the looming mass of the quarterdeck in front of them, Avilene cocked her head. I thought I heard Kali fly in last night with somebody. She took you out for a run, didn’t she, Jence?

Jence’s voice was sullen. So what, if she did?

Kali never lets anybody but officers and wingers touch those contraptions, Avilene said. She must really have a thing for you, Jence.

The sail shifted, and she imagined the hunch to his shoulders she’d noticed before when he was teased.

Look who’s talking, Avilene, Webber said. Sometimes I think Brayde must have spilled tar on his hands, the way he pulls you around with him.

Now, it was Avilene’s turn to hunch with embarrassment. As her cheeks heated up, she welcomed the cool rain now driven by the wind. It’s a tough job, running the ship. Brayde needs my help.

Yep, Leon drawled in a needling tone. It’s pretty rough, inspecting the topdeck every night in the moonlight.

The boys snickered, and Avilene tried to laugh it off. "I can see there’s no privacy on board this ship."

Her laugh turned into a yelp, as she tripped over an uneven plank. Curse this wind. How was she supposed to sense where she was going without either her hearing or her sight?

Almost there, Webber said. Five more paces.

She was grateful for the directions, with her hearing hampered by the wind as it was. Although she’d told Brayde on occasion she didn’t need his verbal guidance, there were times she appreciated it.

I’m at the first step now, Jence said. We’ll take it nice and slow. Apparently, they were all getting in on the act, being overprotective about her blindness. Boys.

Avilene felt forward with a toe until she found the drop off to the first stair. She stepped down carefully. As they descended into the protection of the stairwell, her sonic sight slowly returned.

The outline of the stairs drifted down into a melee of sound. Children scurried past, carrying boxes and bedding. None of the Carpathia crew was older than Avilene’s own eighteen years, a fact Avilene had at first found alarming, but now accepted readily.

Avilene’s hearing wasn’t limited to the walls of the ship’s lower decks, as her sight would have been. Although she couldn’t discern details, when she concentrated, she could pinpoint the locations of youth in the officers’ quarters to the left and the galley to the right. They scampered up and down ladders in the center of each deck, moving easily between the hammocks strung throughout the lower berth and the storage bays. There was even someone in the orlop, the lowest level of the Carpathia, where the radio crackled, and the Geissler tubes whispered, waiting for Webber to call them to life.

She recognized those closest to her by the unique sounds their bodies made, in the rhythm of their hearts, and the blood coursing through their veins. Her mind interpreted it all as a detailed image. Though it lacked color, it allowed her to move with confidence again, as the door of the stairwell closed, muting the wind. Although using her Andul power to slip instantly from one location to another had cost Avilene her sight, her sonic sensitivity more than made up for the lack.

Set the sail down against the wall, grunted Webber.

They were bending down when Deryn came out of the galley, chin tilted up at them. Her squat, stocky frame topped by a tangled mass of curls was like a rock in the midst of a river. With a voice that was throaty and rich, she said, Our food supplies are getting low. How long do you suppose the storm will last?

Leon grunted as he pushed his end of the sail closer to the wall. There’s not much coin left. Have you already used up those tins of flour I bought you?

Webber spoke from behind Avilene with a defensive tone. The captain’s not here to charge Geissler tubes to sell. We’re just doing the best we can right now.

Nobody was criticizing you, Webber, said Deryn. Her unspoken words filled the awkward silence. If only Avilene could charge Geissler tubes, we’d be all right.

But Xanthe had been snatched away before he had the opportunity to teach her how. Besides, Avilene had recently avoided slipping.

Tassadar can head into town for donations, Avilene said, as soon as the storm lets up.

People in Pembrook have already given us enough, Deryn fussed.

Avilene put on her best sergeant’s expression. It’s either that or starve. When Deryn cringed, Avilene took a deep breath and reminded herself the crew wasn’t used to the severe style of Yugend Academy where she’d been raised. She modified her tone. You’re clever. You can make our supplies stretch.

Deryn nodded and returned to the galley.

The door above banged open. Galina, another winger, stumbled in, as though blown by a gust of wind and sleet. She juggled two more sets of wings.

That’s the last of them, she said. Her small frame inched around Webber when he proved to be too slow. The tips of the leather and brass wings weaved over her head, threatening to overwhelm her.

As they tilted toward Avilene, she caught them in two hands. Do these go down in the storage bay? Avilene asked.

Yes, Galina panted. Thank you, Avilene.

The wings weren’t heavy, but they were awkward. Avilene juggled them as she made her way down the central stairs to the lower deck and the left storage bay. Brayde had locked her in here when they’d first kidnapped her from the military academy of Yugend and brought her on board the Carpathia. Avilene smiled a little at the memory.

Pondering the feel of big brawny arms wrapped around you or maybe hoping those baby blue eyes will soon be staring deeply once again into yours? The sound of Sicarah’s amused tone startled Avilene, and she nearly dropped the wings.

Clearing her throat, Avilene said, I was just thinking how nice it will be to see Cupcake and Noona again after the storm is over.

Sicarah straightened from where she’d been strapping down boxes in the corner and crossed her arms over her chest, cocking one delicate eyebrow at Avilene. Darling, you don’t fool me. That wasn’t a happy-to-see-little-kids smile.

To cover the heat rising in her cheeks, Avilene thrust the wings at Sicarah. Where do you want these?

Sicarah sighed. I have a box over here. She grabbed the wings. Today she wore a leather ensemble with so many straps crisscrossing the bodice that the shirt beneath was barely visible. A frilly cravat flopped out near the neck. The ruffles of her knee-length petticoat peeked beneath the tails of a short leather jacket strapped down at the waist by no less than three belts. Her boots completed the look, the heels making a sharp clunk against the wood of the deck as she swept to the other side of the room.

You shouldn’t be embarrassed about your feelings for Brayde, Sicarah continued as she stuffed the wings into a long wooden box. We’re friends now. You’re supposed to tell me everything! She threw the clasp closed on the box with a flourish and sidled up to Avilene, linking arms with her and whispering conspiratorially, Especially about the boys you like!

Avilene’s stomach fluttered nervously. She wasn’t used to such easy camaraderie. Whenever Avilene had shared her love interest with Lorelei, her former companion, Lorelei had promptly stolen the young man away. Avilene swallowed, gathering her courage. Maybe I was thinking about Brayde, just a little.

A-ha! Sicarah said. I knew it. I want juicy details.

Laughing, Avilene replied, I was just thinking about my first day on the Carpathia, that’s all.

Placing a hand dramatically to her forehead, Sicarah said, When Brayde carried you on board in those big strong arms of his.

It was high time Avilene changed the subject before her cheeks were permanently stained red. It’s your turn. You can’t keep needling me about Brayde all the time without telling me who you like.

Sicarah’s pulse sped up, beating a staccato rhythm. There’s nobody on this ship that I like that way. Her words spilled out too fast, and the pitch of her voice was wrong, high and strained. She was hiding something.

Before Avilene could remind her that friends tell each other everything, Sicarah grabbed the lapels of Avilene’s long black coat and flapped them.

Why are you still wearing this? Sicarah asked. You’re drowning in it. I have a dozen coats in my trunk that will fit you better than this. Let’s go up to my cabin and pick one out right now.

Avilene slipped out of Sicarah’s grip and turned away, wrapping the coat more tightly around her. I don’t want a dozen coats that fit. I want this one.

Well, you look ridiculous wearing it.

I don’t care.

It’s positively dangerous. It could get caught in the rigging. Sicarah was talking so fast now, her words tripped over each other. I’ve told Xanthe that at least a dozen times, but he never listens to me, in fact he never listens to anybody. He just goes off and does what he wants and gets himself kidnapped, leaving the rest of us to— A heavy silence fell as Sicarah stumbled to halt, as though she’d only just realized she’d said too much.

Avilene hugged herself inside the voluminous folds of Xanthe’s coat. The wind howled outside against the hull of the ship, causing the timbers to creak and groan as if the Carpathia was in agony. It was suddenly too cold in the room.

After several moments, Sicarah whispered, Why do you have to wear it? Every time I first see you, I think it’s him. Emotion thickened Sicarah’s voice. Her head was bowed, making her look shriveled and small.

Taking a deep breath, Avilene turned back and hesitantly held out an arm. Sicarah threw herself at Avilene, nearly knocking her off her feet. They gripped each other for several long moments.

When Avilene felt she could speak around the lump in her throat, she said, I guess I wear his coat as a sort of penance.

Sicarah looked up. What happened wasn’t your fault, Avilene.

Um, it sort of was.

You didn’t know Lorelei was going to betray you and trap Xanthe like that.

I should never have taken him to Proteus in the first place.

He told you to take him there. He’s the captain. You don’t say ‘no’ to Xanthe.

Regardless, Avilene said forcefully to stop the argument, this is my promise to him, and to you, that I’ll get him back.

Sicarah stepped away, staring up at Avilene with a shocked expression. And what am I supposed to do while you’re going on this rescue mission? Stand by and polish my buttons? I don’t think so. Now you listen here, miss academy stoo—

Sicarah! Brayde’s distant voice bellowed from the deck above.

Avilene put up a hand to forestall Sicarah. "Brayde’s calling for you.

Oh, very convenient, Sicarah said, jabbing a finger at Avilene. "But we’ll continue this conversation later, never fear. You’re not going waltzing off on your own on some rescue mission, Ensign Pikar."

Avilene smirked at the use of her old Yugend title. Yes, miss. With her sonic sight, Avilene could sense Brayde storming down the hall of the crew’s quarters above and pounding on the door of Sicarah’s cabin. His breath was coming in short, upset huffs, his heart pounding. We’d better hurry, Avilene said. Brayde is fit to be tied.

image-placeholder

TWO

PEMBROOK HAVEN

The tails of Xanthe’s coat caught on a corner of the stairs as Avilene scrambled up to the second deck. Sicarah tutted from behind and unlatched the coat with a muttered, I told you so. Ignoring the jibe, Avilene yanked the coat free and hopped over the final step.

We’re here, she answered Brayde’s most recent bellow.

With her sonic sight, she sensed him turn from his search of the quarters on the right and stride back to the central stairs of the deck. As soon as he spotted Sicarah popping up from below to stand beside Avilene, he launched into a tirade.

Where have you been, Sicarah? Brayde’s shout was so loud, it drowned everything else out for a moment, and all Avilene could see with her sonic sight was him. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.

Not everywhere, Sicarah replied tartly, perching a hand on her hip. Or, obviously, you would have found me in the cargo hold.

Avilene winced. Can you lower your voices?

Brayde glanced at her, his angry expression falling into one of dismay. Right. Sorry, Avilene.

Sicarah’s voice came out quieter, but the tone of annoyance remained. And just what’s put the burr in your heel that you’re so desperate to find me?

Mim heard something— Brayde looked around. Confound it. Where’s she got to? Mim? Mim!

There was a squeak from the galley on the left, and the sound of a chair being overturned, followed by the crash of broken glass. With her sonic sight, Avilene sensed Mim leaping from a seat in the galley so fast she dropped the teacup she was holding. Mim seemed to hardly notice as she charged through the door and out into the central chamber, crashing into Brayde in her haste. She backed away quickly, even as he reached out to steady her. Blinking rapidly, she looked up at him. If Avilene could see color, she was sure Mim’s brown cheeks would be morphing into a flaming red.

With rosebud lips and dark hair bobbed to curl gently at her chinline, Mim looked like a confused cherub most of the time. She dry-washed her hands. I’m sorry, Brayde, she mumbled.

Before Brayde could reply, Deryn came storming out of the galley. I hope you’re planning to clean up that broken cup, Brayde.

Me? Brayde asked.

Deryn wagged a spoon at him, flipping batter onto his shirt. I almost had Mim calmed down, then you went and set her off again.

What did I do? Brayde said.

Avilene grabbed his arm before his temper could get the better of him. We’ll get it cleaned up, Deryn. Just give us a minute.

Deryn returned to the galley, grumbling too low for any ears but Avilene’s.

Huffing a breath, Brayde gestured at Mim, Tell Sicarah what you heard on the wireless, Mim.

Turning luminous eyes on Sicarah, Mim swallowed hard. She started speaking hesitantly, stumbling a bit over her words. I was down in the orlop, right? Webber asked me to listen to the wireless while he was getting the sails stowed for the storm. He set the dials for me, but it was still all full of static. I guess because of the weather.

Avilene heard Brayde’s breath shorten and sensed his impatience. Even Sicarah’s mouth pursed more tightly with Mim’s continued rambling.

What did they say, Avilene prompted curtly, over the wireless?

Turning her big eyes to Avilene, Mim blinked for several moments, like an owl caught in daylight. Can we fly in a storm? she asked.

Avilene frowned. Is that what they said?

Mim turned back to Sicarah, her voice rising as she started to speak more rapidly. Because we have to fly to Pembrook right now, or they’re going to get caught!

Whose getting caught now? Sicarah asked.

Oh, for the love of Pete! Brayde grumbled. Mim heard something about a search.

It felt as if ice water had been showered over Avilene as Mim grabbed Avilene’s hand. That new governor, the one Brayde’s always complaining about?

Governor Hassinov, Sicarah supplied.

Yes. He’s ordered troops to search the houses in Pembrook.

Avilene’s heart pounded in rhythm with the others. From the moment Hassinov landed in Pembrook two weeks ago, it was obvious this would happen. But Avilene had hoped he wouldn’t act this soon.

She turned to Brayde. I told you those false papers were a bad idea. They must have roused the new governor’s suspicions.

Holding up his hands in defense, Brayde said, Don’t blame this on me. Sicarah, is there any way we can get this ship over to Pembrook?

Sicarah shook her head. We can’t fly in this storm. Besides, we’d be sitting ducks for the soldiers over there. She put both hands on Mim’s shoulders, looking squarely at her. Mim, did they say which end of town they’ll search first?

Mim’s heart was fluttering