Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

Annika’s tale would stand, though; the ship was captained by one of the Huldrene, a woman who’d found Hannasvik too small for her. Ursula Ylvasdottor hadn’t abandoned the village, however. Using Freya’s Cloak , she’d carried the village’s wool to market and procured items that they couldn’t produce themselves—including false letters of origin.
    Annika had never been aboard the ship. She’d traveled most of the distance to Smoke Cove in her troll and walked the remainder of the way, accompanied by her mother and her friend Lisbet. In Smoke Cove, they’d met with Captain Ylvasdottor, who’d given Annika her identifying documents, an engineer’s license, and a personal reference, then pointed her toward Phatéon .
    “It was August, I think,” she continued. “We sailed around the north of the island because of the number of megalodons reported to the south.”
    “That was a bad year,” Collin broke in, nodding. “Four years ago, I remember. You still hear the whalers talking about it, howthey’d find themselves a pod, then the moment their harpoons drew blood, they were caught in the middle of a feeding frenzy. The megalodons would ram the hulls of any ship nearby, attacking them whether they ran their engines or not. Any little sound would bring those sharks. They sank two dozen ships that year—maybe more, because there were others that went missing, and no one knew what happened to them.”
    Annika nodded. “The captain never ran her engines, anyway—that was why I wanted an airship. Aside from the stoking, there wasn’t much to do aboard a sailing ship, so I spent most of my time on the deck, watching for icebergs. When we came around the island, we sailed as close to her shore as possible. Oh, but I remember the hills. They were so green, like a blanket of velvet beneath the sun.” She didn’t need to lie about that, or fake the wistful note in her voice. Her home was beautiful, from the black sands to the craggy, barren peaks. “I saw the troll then, sitting not far from the beach.”
    Dooley leaned forward eagerly. “What was it?”
    A machine covered by seal- and shark-skins, with a ruff made from the fur of a great Arctic bear and tern feathers collected from the nesting grounds near Hannasvik. Four times as tall as Annika, with squat legs and a square body, it had been built from the salvaged remains of the sentinels and war machines left by the defenders waiting to intercept the Horde’s navy. Its giant head could house a seated driver, who was surrounded by levers. It had enough room in the heart for three people to sleep and cook. A belly full of coal fed the troll’s furnace, and an ass made of a boiler and a steam engine moved it.
    “At first look, I thought it was a rock—black and brown and mottled. But it must have just been warming itself in the sun, because it stood.” She came up out of her chair and bent over, her hands on the deck and her bottom in the air. “On four legs, like an Arctic bear, but bigger. Much bigger. Then it rose on two legs, like this. The belly was gray and smooth. Its breath steamed, and I’llnever forget how it roared. I’ve never heard anything so terrifying before or since. Then it walked away, with long arms swinging.”
    She sat again. Dooley’s mouth had fallen open.
    “It’s an animal?”
    “I don’t know. It had a big, shaggy head, but I couldn’t see its face properly. I only had the impression of a creature that was lumpy, disfigured—particularly when it was sitting. If it hadn’t moved, I’d have never known it wasn’t a rock.” She paused and looked to the clock. Only a minute or two more. “If you’re looking for personal accounts, you can ask the captain of Freya’s Cloak . She saw it, too.”
    The first mate huffed out a laugh. “I’d wager anything that what you both saw was a bear washed in on an iceberg. And I can tell you the explanation behind what you think you saw is aboard this ship.” James waited until everyone looked at him. “It’s Hymen Island, and the virgins who live there. You want to keep men away, you spread those rumors about witch-women and spirits. And when people see a bear washed up on an iceberg, they assume it’s a troll.”
    Dooley was shaking his head. “The Church has only been using Heimaey for forty years. And though there’ve been tales of this sort for centuries, the lore specific to Iceland and those fissure eruptions dates from almost eight decades ago.”
    “So