“You don’t think the Air Corps knows?”
“If they did, they’d have come for our ships by now,” Quimby said. “Not many other ways to punish us. We already work the worst jobs in Smoketown.”
Kipling climbed into the front seat of the Sun Dragon while Quimby slid into the pilot’s position. She worked the controls for a while, testing them and practicing the maneuvers. Kipling noticed she was careful not to actually engage the air motors and use up any of their remaining pressure. She occasionally asked him if he knew how to work some system or another, and he relayed what he had seen Atlas do, but his knowledge of the airship was soon exhausted.
Finally, they lapsed into silence, waiting for Rocky to return. Kipling ate the rest of the kelp bulbs that Laslo had given him and downed some more of Atlas’s water supply.
He was feeling much better. His skin was warmer and he felt more buoyant. He lit up his hand and was happy to see it had a healthy glow again, though he wasn’t sure how bright he could get.
He scanned the tunnel cautiously. “There aren’t any nightbeasts in here, are there?”
“Not here,” Quimby replied. “We keep these tunnels sealed. There are plenty inside this mountain though. More reason the high-lifers don’t come down.” Quimby discovered Atlas’s supply of goat cheese and bread and worked on polishing off what was left. She offered a piece to Kipling but he shook his head. He’d learned that lesson.
Quimby blew out the lantern and they both got as comfortable as they could in the cockpit seats.
“What’s this friend of yours like?” Quimby asked from the darkness.
“Which one?”
“The one you’re going to save. Sam . . .”
“Samra.” Kipling said.
“You think she knows you’re coming for her?”
Kipling thought about it for a little. “I don’t know. But I know if it was me that was taken away, she would have come for me.”
“Sounds like a good friend.”
“She’s my best friend.”
Quimby stayed quiet for a few minutes, then piped up again. “What about the one who flies this airship. What’s he like?”
Kipling tried to find the right words to describe Atlas. “He’s . . . determined.”
“Would he be mad that we’re stealing his airship?”
“Yes.”
Kipling could hear the smile in Quimby’s voice as she spoke. “Good. We’d probably get along.”
Kipling wondered again where Atlas could have got to. Was he still wandering around in this mountain somewhere? He hoped that wherever he was, Fledge would keep him safe. Part of him felt he should be off looking for Atlas now, but he was already on one rescue mission.
Did guardians have this problem? How do you decide who to save first? Kipling brushed his fingertips across the warhook. As soon as he found Samra, he’d come back and find Atlas and Fledge. They’d just have to hold out till then.
Kipling wasn’t sure when he nodded off, but the next thing he noticed was Quimby’s hand squeezing his shoulder. “Wake up. It’s time to go.”
Rocky was ahead of the ship, working on the gate in the dim light of a single lantern. He slid open one half of the door, just enough for the Sun Dragon to slip through with its fins stowed. Quimby kicked the rudder controls and swam the ship through the gap and into the darkness outside.
Rocky whispered from the doorway. “You’d better hurry. Dex is starting to assemble the aircrews in the aerodrome. They’ll be on the move within the hour.”
“We’ll move fast,” Quimby replied.
“Be careful,” Rocky said. “We tried to wait till the worst of the nightbeast hours were over, but you’ve still got a while till dawn. Who knows what’s still out there.”
“We’ll be all right,” Kipling replied. He lit himself to a dull glow and freed his warhook. The sleep and the food had done their job. He was as ready as he was going to be.
“See you when you get back, Q.” Rocky gave a quick wave and hastily slid the door shut. Once he was gone, they were left to the darkness and a dull, cloud-filtered moonlight from high up the ravine. Quimby pivoted the aircraft toward the rising slope ahead. There was no wind in the ravine and they were in far too much of a hurry to pedal-kick their way up the slope, so she was forced to engage the air motor. She hauled back on the lateral tail fin controls and pressed the power lever forward. The Sun Dragon sprang to life.
Kipling’s skin tingled with the cool air as the wind swept over him and tousled his hair. As Quimby navigated them through the canyons, they rose steadily over the terrain. When they climbed past the misty cloud shrouding the top of the ridge, Domino, the moon of the morning, was low on the horizon, already chasing her sister moon from the firmament. The sky in the east had yet to lighten. They cleared the ridge and Kipling caught his first sight of the open valley and Port Savage.
The valley was alive with movement.
A cavernous orifice in the southern mountainside was lit up and glowing. Airships were filing through the opening.
“Hey! We need to hurry,” he shouted to Quimby. “They’ve already started!”
Quimby rose a few inches to peer over the dash, then slammed herself back into the seat and shoved the air motor lever to full power. The Sun Dragon surged forward. They crested the next ridge and she nosed over hard. The downdraft off the mountain caught the partly open fins of the ship and pushed them onward. In the distance, Kipling spotted a double envelope ship that moved like twin sharks. It was nearing the gate. He pointed it out to Quimby and she nodded, then he ducked below the windscreen to eliminate the drag.
“Faster,” he whispered to the ship, wishing that in this moment it could become a real creature, born of wind and fire, and able to hear his plea. The whirling fans of the Sun Dragon spun on, air pistons hammering beneath the floor, and Kipling felt that just for a moment, maybe it had heard him. For that moment he felt they were not just two lives but three, all fixated on a single goal.
All together, they raced for the floating city.
34
ERIC
She didn’t realize she’d screamed until the faces turned toward her. They were all masks of surprise and shock, and in some cases fascination—a crowd of onlookers leering from behind Lord Savage and his son. Borgram was there, as was Admiral Orloff, and a gaggle of other fancily dressed partygoers. Dozens of men and women hovered on the edges of her vision, but she could only focus on one thing.
Enzo was dead.
Samra hadn’t ever seen a dead man before, but she had seen Enzo, and that was no longer him.
“This is your gift to me?” Marlow Savage sneered. “Fine party manners you’re showing tonight, Eric. Your mother would have been appalled.”
Eric’s face was crimson. He hissed at the two men holding Enzo’s body. “What did you do?”
The big man bearing the bulk of the weight spoke up. “Just doin’ as we was told, cap’n. Found him this way.”
Samra couldn’t comprehend the calm in the man’s voice. He spoke as casually as if he was toting a bag of vegetables or a bucket of water.
“I feel I won’t be getting much useful information from this man, Eric,” Marlow said, a cold edge to his voice. “Did you at least retrieve his key to the relic?”
“He has it on him,” Eric said. “Around his neck.” He gestured to the smaller man. “Give me the stone.”
The small man patted around Enzo’s chest, but didn’t find anything. He then rummaged in the dead man’s pockets, eliciting mutters from the crowd. “Ain’t there, sir,” the man replied. “No stone.”
“It was on him when we brought him aboard.” Eric’s face was now an even darker hue. He took a step toward the men and held up a fist. He spoke with clipped words, clearly trying to control his emotions. “My father would like the key. Now. Where is it?” He jabbed his hand out, palm up, waiting to be obeyed.
The big man looked at his shorter companion, then shrugged. “Couldn’t say.”
Eric fumed.
Marlow had his arms crossed and up to this point had watched the proceedings with an expression of apathy. He now rolled his eyes. “Disappointing. I almost thought you had done something worthwhile this time. But I see you’ve merely caused a spectacle and turned our guests’ stomachs.”
Eric scowled and hissed at his men again. “Get rid of him.” He waved them away, then turned around to face his father. He held up his hands. “It’s not what it looks like. He was well enough when he came aboard. It was a minor puncture wound . . .”
“A good captain would have enlisted a better ship’s doctor,” Marlow said.
“My doctor has always been adequate,” Eric sputtered.
Behind him, the two men, apparently unsure of how best to obey their captain’s orders, turned and pitched Enzo’s body over the edge of the dock.
Three things happened immediately. A number of women in the crowd screamed. Samra also heard a distinct shout of “No!” coming from the other direction—the direction of Eric’s ship. The third thing that occurred was that a brown and black creature leapt from a starboard window of the ship, tucked its wings together, and dove for Enzo’s falling body.
Samra rushed to the edge of the dock and peered over the edge. The creature she now recognized as Fledge, the cliff fox, plummeted after its master, ears back and screeching wildly as Enzo fell. The two of them narrowly missed a cluster of airships and disappeared into the darkness in the direction of the sandfall.
Samra choked back another cry and looked to the ship and the tiny window the cliff fox had jumped from. Through it she spotted a face. The features of the face were stricken, eyes wide and mouth agape. A boy. He stared at her for a brief moment, horrified, then promptly disappeared. Samra watched the empty window for another second before turning her eyes back to the drop-off. A handful of gawkers rushed to the edge of the dock, looking for the results of the crewmen’s action.
Eric had his face in his hands, covering his mouth.
Marlow Savage’s expression had morphed again. His nostrils were flared and his eyebrows were pitched steeply toward the gap between his glaring eyes.
“Are you quite finished?” he roared.
Eric flinched but stayed silent.
“Unless your crew of reprobates has any further exhibitions they’d like to perform, I think we’re all quite finished with your idea of entertainment.”
Samra noticed Admiral Orloff in the crowd. While most of the viewers were whispering in hushed tones, he was smirking.
Eric seemed to have shrunk to half his size next to his enraged father. Samra looked to Captain Savage and found she had taken a step closer and bore a concerned look on her face. Almost protective.
Samra scowled, unsure how the captain could show pity for someone so vile.
Marlow Savage exhibited none. He turned toward the assembled crowd. “Since my son has seen fit to ruin this festive occasion, this party is now over. I’ve had quite enough entertainment for one night.” He scowled at the library and its occupants. “In fact, I’ve had enough of this entire city. I will not be staying.” He gestured toward the Storm Gate. “My destiny lies out there, in the desert. My reward for years of labor is there, not in this mindless carousing.” He inspected the drink in his hand, then pitched the entire thing over the edge of the dock. He brushed his hands off. “I’m leaving. Now. Anyone who wishes to be a part of the future of this city can follow me. Those who linger do so at their own peril.”
He gestured to one of his men. “Ready the fleet. We’re departing.”
Marlow strode over to where Samra and Captain Savage were standing. He glanced at Sunburn, and then at his daughter. “Perhaps now is the opportunity for my eldest to finally step into her place—and renew some hope in the next generation of the family Savage.” His eyes swept over Samra with disdain, then he walked away in the direction of his ship.
Samra looked back to the window. Amid the shouts from the crowd, no one else seemed to have heard the yell from the boy. No one except Eric. He was staring at the opening in the hull of his ship as though he could reach through it with his mind and extract its secrets.
Captain Savage reached a hand for his shoulder. Eric flinched and knocked her hand away. “Don’t touch me.” His eyes returned to his immediate surroundings and the chaotic crowd. Party guests were scattering in every direction, gathering belongings and locating lost partners. “I’m sure you’re quite pleased,” Eric spat.
Captain Savage retracted her hand. “You know I had no part in this.”
“Of course not, Sister. You’d be too high above such a thing. Your methods of infuriating father are always precisely calculated. Mine are the result of rampant incompetence!” He screamed the last words at the two crewmen who had thrown Enzo off the dock. “What are you still doing here? Are you too stupid to know you’re done! Get off this dock. I never want to see your miserable faces again!” He took a step toward them with a fist raised. The smaller of the men balked and began to scurry away, but the big man with the broken nose stretched himself a little taller, swelling his chest and standing his ground. Eric hesitated only a moment, then drew the ceremonial cutlass he had dangling at his waist.
The big man still looked undaunted, but his smaller companion grabbed his arm and hauled on it. The defiant man reluctantly turned away and moved off. Eric spun around and searched the dock. The crewman in the stiff coat and brown boots stepped forward. “What are your orders, sir?”
Eric sheathed his sword. “Locate the crew. Ready the ship.”
“Aye, sir,” the man replied. He began to move away but Eric wrenched the man’s shoulder by the fabric of his coat. “And find me that relic key.”
Eric’s eyes swept over Samra, the captain, and Sunburn, but said nothing else. He spun on his heel, walked up the gangplank of his ship, and disappeared.
“Orders, Captain?” Sunburn’s expression was all business. There was not even a hint of the smiling man Samra had been laughing with just a few minutes before.
“Sound the Fury’s bell. Summon the crew. We follow my father.”
“Why?” Samra asked. She searched the captain’s face. “Didn’t you see what just happened? They killed him!” She could still picture Enzo’s pale face as he fell—the cliff fox racing to catch him. “I knew him. He was my friend!”
Captain Savage regarded her coolly. “That man was dead. If he was your friend, he is no longer. You will have to find time to mourn your losses later.”
Samra saw something new in the captain’s eyes. Something that hadn’t been there before. An intensity of thought, but also a sharp edge. For the first time Samra recognized the captain’s resemblance to her father.
“We’re returning to the Fury.” The command did not invite further discussion. The captain pressed past Sunburn and headed for the elevator, which had just returned from another run. Captain Savage elbowed her way past a few guests, who then took it upon themselves to vacate the waiting area and give her room. She entered the elevator and spun around, facing the doorway.
Sunburn gave Samra a gentle push and the two of them followed, climbing aboard the elevator in silence.
As the wooden contraption clacked and vibrated its way downward, Samra’s eyes once again found the hull of the Savage Stranger. She couldn’t help but wonder about the boy. She knew his face. She could see it in her memory. It was the boy from the cavern.
The boy with the lantern.
The boy who had saved her.
She dwelt on the memory of his horrified expression the entire way back to the ship.
Atlas was reeling. The hold of the airship seemed to spin beneath his feet. If his stomach wasn’t so empty he was sure he would be sick.
He braced a hand against the wall.
He saw him fall.
Thrown like a bale of hay from a hayloft. No one had tried to stop them.
He hadn’t done anything. He’d just watched.
His hands shook and h
e staggered a few steps.
What would he do?
Atlas stumbled to the window on the far side. Was there anything down there? Water maybe? Maybe Enzo had grabbed on to something. Maybe Fledge—
He scrambled up the trough in the animal pen and stuck his head out the window.
There was nothing down there.
A few ships glowing faintly far below, and darkness.
Enzo was gone.
Footsteps sounded overhead. Shouts. Atlas squeezed back through the window and looked around the hold. Where could he hide? He saw no way out.
All around him the ship creaked in the wind. There was nothing left to do.
He climbed out the window.
Samra ignored Cog’s drunken greeting upon their arrival aboard the Fury. She paid no attention when Sunburn and the captain disappeared in opposite directions above deck. She climbed down to the sleeping berths and stared at her reflection in the polished metal mirror hanging on the door at the end of the cabin.
A dress-up doll in a party dress. That’s what Eric had called her. Is this the person the boy had seen?
She barely recognized herself. The dress. The bow. The carefully contoured lines of makeup on her face. Ribbons in her hair.
She tore the bow off first. Then the ribbons. Then the dress. She used the fabric to wipe her face, then found a wash pail and a cloth to finish the job. She scrubbed at her face till the blues and pinks and purples were gone. She scrubbed till she could see her own skin shining in the mirror, glistening with droplets of water.
Then she found her clothes. Her trousers and tunic. Her shark’s tooth necklace. The feathers from a storm crow. She even found the spare stick of ceremonial paint that her stepmother had stuffed into her pocket. She took it out and applied it around her eyes and drew her family symbols on her cheeks and chin.
She was a Skylighter again.
Faster Than Falling: The Skylighter Adventures Page 34