The Ruby Airship

by Sharon Gosling

  A shout echoed from outside. Rémy and Thaddeus both fled to the window. Below, more shouts broke the quiet, wheeling up the tower walls as surely as a gull’s call. Beside her, Thaddeus swore.

  “They’ve seen the ship,” he said, but before there was time to do any more, the door to Claudette’s room burst open.

  “Well, well,” said the cool voice of the Comte de Cantal. He stood in the open doorway in black trousers and a white shirt that was open at the neck. Beneath his shoulder was a holstered pistol. Behind him was Yannick, still in full uniform. “What do we have here?”

  {Chapter 37}

  ESCAPE

  “Comte de Cantal,” Claudette said immediately, her voice full of fear. “It’s nothing. These — my friends believed I needed help, but I have told them I do not. They — they’re going now. Please, please, monsieur — please, let them go.”

  Cantal stepped slowly into the room, entirely unmoved by Claudette’s pleas. The scar on his cruel face seemed like a vein of cold silver in the flickering torchlight that lit the room. He looked at Thaddeus with a slow frown that gave way to lazy amusement.

  “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” he asked. “Wait a minute . . . aren’t you the little London gutter rat who became a policeman — or should I say policeboy? What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Rémy, go,” Thaddeus said tensely, stepping in front of her. “Go now!”

  “Oh no,” said the Comte. “I don’t think so . . .”

  He went for the gun holstered on his hip, his eyes fixed on Thaddeus. The policeman didn’t hesitate — he lunged for the poker leaning beside the hearth, slashing it hard across the nobleman’s forearm. The Comte roared with pain, dropping the gun, and Thaddeus spun back toward the fireplace, grabbing the silver sword that hung in a sconce above it. It was decorative and had probably never once been fought with, but it was all there was.

  “Why are you just standing there?” the Comte yelled to Yannick. He nodded his head at Rémy. “Kill her!”

  Claudette uttered a short scream as Yannick belatedly drew his sword, but he was too slow. Rémy leaped onto a small table that stood between them, rocking it forward and using the momentum as it tipped to propel her toward him. She moved so fast that he didn’t even see her coming. Rémy landed her foot at the center of his chest, his ribs cracking beneath the force of her kick. He crumpled back out through the doorway, landing in a heap as Rémy ran to the door, crashing it shut and dragging the table she’d upended across it.

  Shouts and footsteps echoed from below as more soldiers began to climb the tower stairs.

  “Thaddeus,” Rémy shouted. “We’ll be outnumbered in seconds.”

  She ran to the window. The airship was still waiting for them, but below, she saw soldiers running this way and that, pointing up at the flying vessel as they discussed how best to bring it down.

  The Comte and Thaddeus, meanwhile, were in the midst of a full-bore sword fight. Thaddeus knew enough to keep him at bay, but the Comte was by far the better swordsman. He slashed toward the policeman with a series of lightning blows. Thaddeus grunted, pulling low and slicing wildly at the Comte’s thigh, but he was easily parried with a clang that made the policeman’s teeth chatter. Thaddeus fought on, clenching his teeth harder and driving in again as the Comte curved in another slash.

  “Stop!” Claudette shouted as the two men fought, “Stop it! I am not going with them — I’m staying! Do you hear me? I’m staying!”

  The sound of running came ever closer as more soldiers made their way up the stairs. The Comte lunged forward as Thaddeus deflected another blow that sent him crashing backward against the bed. Thaddeus jumped onto it, his feet tangling in the bedclothes as he backed away. The Comte grinned, sensing a victory, but Thaddeus found his balance again, jumping to the floor as he brought his sword down in a sweep that almost caught the nobleman unaware. The Comte yelled in fury, slashing so wildly that he dislodged one of the flaming torches that lit the room. It crashed to the ground amid another scream from Claudette.

  The flame bloomed against the bedclothes, which caught light with alarming speed. In a second, the hungry fire had consumed it, shooting up to engulf the ceiling in a fury of heat and acrid black smoke.

  Rémy grabbed Claudette’s hands and dragged her to the window. “Now,” she screamed, over the sound of the inferno and the clanging of the men’s swords. “We have to go now!”

  Rémy scrambled onto the windowsill. “J,” she yelled, hoping against hope that he would hear her over the melee. “J!”

  The boy’s face appeared at the open hatch, pale and worried.

  “You have to bring it down,” she shouted, her eyes full of smoke. “The airship — you have to bring it level with the window.”

  “I can’t,” he shouted back, pointing to the flames. “One spark and she’ll go up in flames herself! And look!”

  Rémy followed the direction of his finger as he pointed down into the castle courtyard. To her horror, several of the soldiers were preparing bows and arrows. Even worse, one of them held a burning torch. If one of those hit the airship…

  Rémy grabbed Claudette, dragging the end of the rope around them both. “Thaddeus!” she yelled, as she tied it off, but the fight went on, furious and insane. “J,” she shouted, “lift us up!”

  Rémy felt the rope tighten against her stomach as the airship rose. Claudette screamed as she was pulled from the window and into the air, but Rémy held her fast. She blinked the smoke from her eyes as the room disappeared from view, shocked to see that the flames had already bitten into the roof.

  “What about Thaddeus?” Claudette yelled, looking down in horror.

  “He’ll get out,” said Rémy. “He has to. He’ll get out . . .”

  A whistling sound shot past them and the airship jerked, bouncing them on the rope like fish on a line. Rémy looked up to see a flaming arrow just miss its target thanks to J’s lighting reaction. He tried to right them again, but the sudden course changes sent the rope — and the two women hanging from it — on a wild swing, straight toward one of the other towers.

  “Hang on,” said Rémy, through gritted teeth, as she saw a stone balcony coming fast toward them. She lifted her feet, planting them against the balustrade, crashing against it hard enough to judder her teeth. Claudette screamed, the rope around them loosening as the hurried knot slipped undone.

  “Claudette!” Rémy yelled, as both her friend and the rope threatened to slip from her grasp. She grabbed the slithering rope with one hand, wrapping her legs around Claudette to prevent her falling to her death. Claudette reached for the safety of the balcony, just as the doors inside were flung open with a crash.

  “I can’t let you get away!” Yannick shouted, a mad fury in his eyes. “He’ll kill me! Do you understand? You have to stay. You must stay!” He grasped Claudette and pulled her, struggling, over the balcony’s edge.

  Rémy felt the airship jerk again and looked up to see another fiery arrow shoot past, even closer this time. A strike from one of those flaming arrows and the ruby airship would explode. Rémy swung herself toward the balcony again as Yannick wrestled Claudette inside the tower, kicking the door shut behind him. Rémy’s feet touched the balcony wall, and she teetered there for a second before righting herself and letting go of the rope.

  “J,” she screamed, as loudly as she could. “Go! Go!”

  He must have heard her, because as another arrow shot grazed the balloon, the airship lifted up and away into the night. There was a shout of fury from below as the archers realized their quarry was escaping, but by that time it was too late. As Rémy rushed to the balcony doors, the airship was already out of reach.

  {Chapter 38}

  FIRE AND BRIMSTONE

  Thaddeus stumbled, crashing against the wall, coughing as the smoke filled his eyes and lungs. There seemed to be no air anywhere in the
room, and the heat from the fire was even worse. Still the Comte seemed unwilling to give up, lunging at the policeman like a demon, almost goring him with his blade. Twice Thaddeus tried to reach the Comte’s discarded gun, and twice it was kicked farther and farther out of reach.

  “Comte,” Thaddeus yelled, over the roar of the flames, his arms burning with the effort of the fight. “This is insane! We have to get out of here!”

  “Only one of us is leaving, English rat,” the Comte yelled. “And I swear to you it’ll be me!”

  “I don’t want to fight,” Thaddeus said, coughing again, almost blind as he parried another blow. “Neither of us needs to die, but both of us will if we don’t get out of here!”

  “You don’t want to fight,” the Comte repeated with a sneer. “So, a coward as well as a fool. I should have known!” He drove right quickly enough to nick Thaddeus’s thigh. He cackled with glee as the policeman yelped in pain and stumbled backward. The nobleman lunged again, cursing with annoyance as Thaddeus parried. “Enough of this,” he hissed.

  The Comte drove forward with added fury, forcing Thaddeus back toward the flames. Thaddeus bluffed a falter, drawing the nobleman to him. The Comte sensed victory and over-stretched himself in a lunge. It was enough to give the policeman the upper hand. With a grunt of effort, he pushed the nobleman against the wall hard enough to stun him. They both dropped to the floor, Thaddeus’s left leg pinning the Comte’s left arm, Thaddeus’s sword against his throat.

  The Comte de Cantal spat in his face. Thaddeus flinched, which was just enough for his opponent to get one elbow free, crashing it into the policeman’s temple. Thaddeus, stunned, almost blacked out, and the Comte was on his feet again in a trice. He grabbed his sword, took one step backward, ready to go for the killing stroke.

  There was a deep, creaking groan. The wooden floor beneath them shook and then gave way. One minute it was there, the next it collapsed, crashing to the level below in a flurry of sparks and flame. The Comte disappeared through the ragged hole, crying out. Thaddeus lurched forward, still on his hands and knees, catching hold of his enemy’s arm and slithering to a halt against the ragged edge of wood. He scrambled to his knees, clenching his teeth as he braced his feet against the uneven floor, trying to keep hold of the nobleman. The Comte was still holding on to the sword with his other hand.

  “Drop the sword,” Thaddeus yelled as the flames grew and grew around them. “I can’t hold you!”

  The Comte swung himself toward the edge but wouldn’t let go of his weapon, trying to use his elbow to gain purchase, instead. Thaddeus reached out with one arm to grasp his shoulder, but he still couldn’t drag the man over the edge.

  “Comte!” Thaddeus shouted. “You need both hands! Let it go, before . . .” There was another crash as the fire ate away a second part of the floor. Thaddeus felt it threatening to give way beneath him but still it held. “Comte,” he tried again, his throat sore with the effort, “I can’t . . .”

  The Comte de Cantal screamed as he fell. Thaddeus tried to grip his shoulder, but the nobleman slipped away. A second later, he had vanished into the inferno below. Thaddeus rolled backward just as a tongue of flame burst through the hole, threatening to swallow him too. He staggered to his feet, searching for a way out. But the door was too far away and the floor had disappeared. Thaddeus felt the rest of the planks buckle beneath him, rising and falling like an ocean wave. They collapsed, sucking him into the black void below.

  {Chapter 39}

  ONE LAST CHANCE

  Yannick grabbed Claudette by the hair with one hand, holding a knife to her throat with the other.

  “Stop,” Remy told him. “Yannick, just stop. You don’t need to do this. Please, just let her go.”

  “I can’t, don’t you understand?” the magician hissed. “He’ll blame me, for everything.”

  “Then — then come with us,” Rémy said, thinking fast. Outside, the soldiers were still shouting, and the sounds of the fire were growing ever louder. “We can all escape together. Come on, Yannick — right now, let’s go.”

  Yannick laughed, but the sound echoed hollowly off the chamber’s stone walls. “And then what, Little Bird? There’s no place for the likes of me in your new circus, is there? You told me that already, remember?”

  Rémy shook her head. “I changed, Yannick. You can, too. All you have to do is help us now, and we’ll help you. Isn’t that what family does? And that’s what we are, isn’t it, despite everything? Family, Yannick. We’re family.”

  Yannick squeezed the knife tighter to Claudette’s neck. A bright bead of blood appeared against her skin as the point pierced it.

  “This isn’t you,” Rémy whispered. “I know it isn’t, not really.”

  The magician shook his head, but a look of uncertainty crossed his face. He hesitated, lessening his grip just for a moment, and that was all that Rémy needed. She glanced up to where the servants’ bell rope hung through a small metal ring that fastened it to the ceiling. Once a bird, always a bird . . .

  She jumped, taking off as easily as if she were taking a step. Rémy hooked one finger through the ring and at the same time raised her legs into a split position, moving so quickly that Yannick had no time to react. Claudette, though, saw what was coming and slammed her hand into her captor’s wrist, jerking the knife away from her throat. Rémy twisted in the air, turning her finger around the ring as easily as if she’d been holding onto a trapeze. Her other hand grasped the scarlet bell rope, sending it ringing wildly as she dragged it tightly through its mooring. A second later it was looped around Yannick’s throat, and she was in the air once more, dragging him to the ground. His knife clattered to the floor beside him as he lay, gasping and coughing.

  “Run!” Rémy shouted. She and Claudette reached the door together, flinging it open and crashing through it into the corridor beyond. Yannick roared with hoarse anger as he scrambled back to his feet and came after them, lurching into the corridor like a drunk.

  Rémy and Claudette ran, searching for an escape.

  “We can’t go down,” Rémy shouted as soldiers’ yells echoed up the stairs.

  “Over the roof?” Claudette asked.

  “Can you make it?”

  “If the fire hasn’t taken it already. Let’s find out, shall we?” Claudette said, raising one hand to wipe away the blood at her neck.

  They crashed into a room at the end of the corridor to find another bedroom, with no balcony this time. Their only option was the narrow, diamond-leaded window. Rémy rushed to it, flinging it open as her friend slammed the door shut and searched for something to block it with. Looking out, Rémy was dismayed at the lack of handholds she saw. She could make it, but could Claudette?

  “We don’t have a choice,” said her friend, reading her mind as she joined her at the window. “You go first, Little Bird — show me how.” She bent down, grasping the skirt of her long nightdress and tearing it off at the knees.

  There came the sound of splintering wood as Yannick hammered at the door behind them.

  “Go,” Claudette urged. “I’ll follow right behind.”

  Rémy did as she was bid, first standing on the ledge and then turning sharply. She gripped the lintel above, pulling herself up, finding purchase difficult against the smooth, white-washed walls above. She braced herself, relieved that the tiles of the spired roof were close. Hauling herself up, she turned and sat on the edge, looking over at the tower that had been Claudette’s prison. The fire had bitten hard and was flaming hungrily over the roof, sending up a plume of smoke thick enough to obscure the stars.

  Don’t think about Thaddeus, she told herself. He’s probably already out. Maybe J came back. Maybe . . .

  There came crash after crash from below as Yannick rained blows against the door. Claudette was perching on the windowsill just as she had done, but Rémy’s heart quailed at the sight beyond her friend
. The archers were gone: everyone was concentrating on fighting the fire. But if Claudette fell, there would be nothing but a hundred feet of air and then a harsh stone courtyard to break her fall, and Yannick could be behind her in moments.

  “Okay,” she told Claudette, more calmly than she felt. “First rule is, don’t look down . . .”

  Rémy felt something loom over her and looked up. The ruby airship sailed over the rocky outcrop, cabin lights blazing like the sun rising in the dead of night. She stood up, waving her arms as J brought the ship in lower.

  “Claudette,” she yelled, as Dita appeared in the hatch and threw out the rope. “Get Claudette!”

  Yannick appeared at the window, screaming with rage as Claudette grabbed the dangling rope and was whisked away. Rémy waited until her friend was climbing the rope to safety, then glanced back over her shoulder at the opposite tower. If she dropped over the right side of the roof, Rémy calculated quickly, she could reach the narrow wall that connected the two closest towers. Once she was across that, all she needed to do to reach Thaddeus was —

  A groan swelled into the night: strange, inhuman and terrifying in its magnitude. A fresh bellow of flame exploded up through the tiles of the tower’s roof, splintering them as if they were matchsticks. The sound of a hundred glass panels shattering at once filled the air, and a wave of heat rolled over Rémy, so powerful it stole her breath right out of her lungs. There were hoarse screams from below. The Comte’s men ran as cracks appeared in the tower’s very walls, ripping through the bricks as if they were paper, huge belches of flames erupting from the tears.

  Then the tower crumbled. It seemed to hang there in the flame for a moment before toppling like a child’s toy, collapsing in on itself with a rumble as deep as thunder.

  Rémy stared at the space where it had been, and she could think of just one word.

  Thaddeus.

  Shock rolled over her like a cold wave. The world turned silent as Rémy stared at where the tower had been.