Hunt for the Pyxis

by Zoë Ferraris

  The captain studied the ships through Nelson while everyone held their breath. “The Virgos have forty-eight guns apiece, the Muscans fourteen,” he muttered. “The big one in the center—she’s a Leo craft, as big as the Argh.” He lowered the spyglass, appearing to be calculating the odds.

  “I guess the Argh is only safe when it’s up against one ship,” Herbie whispered in Emma’s ear with a squeak. “That’s a whole fleet!”

  “It’s the Cetan ship that’s really dangerous, sir,” Mouncey said nervously.

  Lovesey, who returned to staring through Nelson, said, “Actually…she’s not the one we need to be worried about. Look behind her.”

  It took a moment for them to see it, but sliding around the back of the Tunsley was the smallest but deadliest of the ships, the Darknall. She was a real dragon-of-war. Like the Markab, her spiked beams were red and black. The ship itself was as skinny as a dragon if you took off the wings and the scales and the long, deadly tail. But the sheer size of its rigging made it imposing. There must have been two dozen great sails and twenty smaller ones, all sharp, triangular, and somehow clawlike. At the top, her sails were tilted rearward to resemble the spikes on a dragon’s back. With her massive wings, she could lift herself into the sky with lethal speed. Yet the most dangerous part of her was the protruding, snoutlike bow. All her cannons were concentrated there, stacked up in layers like fearsome black teeth. When fired together, they spat out a veritable meteor of fire and steel.

  The Queen’s colors flew from every ship, announcing their loyalty to Virgo as well as their intentions to capture the Argh. Not a soul aboard the Argh thought otherwise, but all eyes turned to Lovesey anyway.

  “If it weren’t for that Draconi craft, I’d say we could take them,” Lovesey said. “But that Draconi cannon, she’ll be our end.”

  “What about going to submarines, sir?” Wardle asked.

  “We’ve still got that Cetan craft to contend with. She’ll be much stronger than us underwater.” Lovesey gritted his teeth. “Damn! Araby, go tell Shucks anyway, make sure he’s prepared. And summon more monkeys.” Araby went racing out of the room.

  “Mouncey, keep a straight course,” he said. “Just as soon as that wing is repaired, we’re taking to the sky. We don’t have a choice.” He strode out of the room and left a stunned silence behind. The Arghs’ faces were a study of confusion and fear. The captain was taking the fleet head-on? There was a time for bravado, but this wasn’t it, not when the odds were so plainly against them.

  “What is he thinking?” Mouncey asked. “That dragon-of-war can fly twice as fast as we can!”

  Emma felt her stomach sink. Everyone was looking at her. She knew what was on their minds—it wasn’t every day that the captain would put the whole ship in danger. This was all her fault.

  Summoning her nerve, she turned and put her question to Mouncey: “What can I do?”

  The wing masts unfolded, stretching outward with terrible slowness and a creaking of wood. Dozens of Arghs scurried onto their frames, unfurling the canvas. The sails gave a round of angry cracks as they caught in the wind. Once the Arghs had returned to the deck, six of the biggest Arghs—three of them girls—climbed into the propelling generator, a contraption of gears with a giant wheel at its center. The Arghs pushed the wheel like oxen in a mill. The wings began to flap in slow, heaving motions, up and down, as the deck started to shake.

  At first it seemed that nothing more would happen. Looking across the water, Emma saw the Muscan junks joining the rest of the fleet. The Draconi craft alighted to meet them. They were small ships, easy enough to lift into the air. But the Argh? It was impossible! The wings beat faster. The whole ship began to shudder. Windows rattled and maps fell from their shelves. The vessel groaned.

  “Here we go again,” Herbie said, grabbing on to a desk. Emma had to admit she was frightened this time too.

  “Batten down!” the captain shouted on deck. “Everyone to the lines!” There were ropes coiled at every corner and curve, beneath every pile of wood, and Emma knew now that they were meant for strapping yourself down. Each line was fixed firmly to a railing or mast, and all the Arghs took a line and strapped themselves to it.

  Mouncey held out two lines. “Take them!” he shouted. Emma and Herbie quickly tied the ropes around their waists and pulled themselves to the front windows.

  The ship jerked out of the water. Emma sucked in her breath as it began a slow climb, its body turning upward, its wings flapping with more power. Beside her, Herbie muttered a prayer. For a dizzying moment, it seemed that the ship would plunge back into the water, but with an ease that surprised her, the bow nosed upward yet again, and Emma felt the horrible shuddering give way to a sudden lightness. She seized Herbie’s arm, but as the ship tipped higher, they both lurched backward.

  Desperately, they pulled themselves back to the window. A cannon shot broke the silence, and the Argh shook with the force of a blow. Emma could smell the first tang of gunpowder.

  The scene below was a messy network of lines and people. Arghs were running about, getting tangled with one another. She saw Laika scrambling to load a cannon.

  A Muscan blew past the Argh’s bow and shot its guns at her masts in an attempt to push her into the Draconi ship’s range. The Argh banked to the right to avoid the Muscan. More cannon fire ripped the air. It was coming from below. Judging by the sound, they were Leo cannons.

  “Take her higher!” Lovesey called to the bridge. He was roped to the mainmast, red-faced and shouting. “Get her out of the Zosma’s range!”

  Mouncey tilted the wheel back and they went higher. Emma watched the Muscans follow. The Argh was at a terrible disadvantage. She was a gigantic ship. She couldn’t swing around half as quickly as the dragon-of-war, and with the Muscans closing in, she was a sitting duck. A cannon shot hit the stern. A terrible crunching of wood was met by shouting and a horrified scream. Smoke began to fill the command room. In the alarm, the Argh faltered and fell right into the Draconi ship’s sights.

  The Darknall was athwartships, heading straight for their port side. Mouncey tried to maneuver, but cannon fire sprang from the Draconi ship’s muzzle like a belch. Twenty square feet of fire and metal hit the Argh’s mainmast dead on and blew it in half. The monolithic mast splintered with a sound like thunder and came crashing down, all thousand pounds of wood and iron. It fell to the port side, cutting through the top deck as if it were cake and barely missing the wing before sliding over the side. Emma thought of all the birds. Had they been in the aerie when it fell?

  She had no time to consider, for a second later the command room windows exploded inward, showering everyone with glass. One whole corner of the room was torn away. Emma would never know if the explosion was from the Darknall or if it had come from a Muscan cannon shot. She felt a shock wave and fell over, tumbling through splintered wood and broken glass.

  The ship was off balance, falling forward and to starboard. The Argh’s wings were still flapping in long, sure strokes as it struggled to right itself. The ship was roaring, faster than she’d ever gone on the water. Emma groaned and forced herself to stand up. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything, so she kept her eyes on Herbie, who was getting up beside her.

  The command room’s wooden wall had been blown away, and the wind was pouring in freely now, whipping the charts out of their cubbies. Paper was flying wildly about.

  Mouncey was the only other person on the bridge. His face and clothing were blackened, and his shoulder was bloody where shattered glass had torn his neck and arm. The look in his eyes was one of pure determination. The Draconi ship was a good distance behind them. Emma could see its black wings whipping furiously.

  “Where’s Lovesey?” Herbie cried.

  “I don’t know!” Mouncey said over the wind. “Everyone got blown to the deck. Look there. The captain’s down!”

  “What’s happening?” Emma asked.

  “We’re outrunning them!” Mouncey replied. “The Musca
ns don’t have the wing power to keep up with us, but that dragon-of-war is still behind.”

  Emma spun around. The Darknall was indeed coming closer.

  “Check the atlas!” Mouncey shouted. “We’re supposed to be heading toward Pisces, but it doesn’t look right! I’m afraid we took the wrong Strand!”

  Herbie and Emma scrabbled through the books on the floor, looking for the atlas. Most Strands were marked with their name and destination painted on a large wooden buoy. They had probably missed the buoy sometime during the battle, and now they had no way of knowing what Strand they were on without consulting the book.

  Herbie seized the atlas and set it on the table. Emma helped him find Pegasus, and they held down the pages to read.

  “Look for any Strand that has black and gray islands to the port side!” Mouncey shouted. “And dark-blue waters. And fat pelicans!”

  “Black and gray islands to the port side. Dark-blue waters. Fat pelicans,” Herbie said. They flipped the pages until they found it. Herbie looked up. “It says this is the Strand to Orion. We’re heading toward Rigel.”

  “What?” Mouncey spun around, his knuckles white on the wheel. “That means we’re heading straight for the navy blockade!”

  There was a roar behind them, and they saw that the dragon-of-war was in firing range. Mouncey jerked the wheel again. The Argh lurched, dropping altitude and rising again as it tried desperately to get the Darknall off its tail.

  “There’s more navy ahead?” Herbie exclaimed.

  “Yes!” Mouncey screeched. “The biggest fleet in the galaxy! We’ll never make it through there!”

  “What kind of ships are they?” Emma asked, coming closer.

  “Virgo men-of-war and Leos!”

  “Any flying ships?”

  Mouncey’s expression was one of frozen fear. “I don’t know!” he said. “No one in their right mind would ever go there!”

  He brought the ship higher, and the Darknall quickly followed.

  “It looks like there are no exits on this Strand,” Herbie said. “Shouldn’t we turn around?”

  “We can’t—not with that dragon-of-war behind us!”

  “Well, we have some time before we get to the blockade,” Herbie said. “This is a very long Strand!”

  “It goes ten times faster when you’re flying!” Mouncey said, his voice cracking.

  In fact, they could see the navy blockade up ahead. It was a terrifying sight. Large buildings had been set on floating docks, and ships were stationed around them all. There were dozens of vessels at the first row of buildings alone. As Mouncey had anticipated, they were mostly Virgo men-of-war and Leo craft. The blockade extended as far as the eye could see. There were hundreds of vessels laid out for miles.

  “Can they reach us with their cannons?” Emma asked.

  Mouncey shook his head. “We’re too high! But keep an eye out for Draconi ships…. ”

  Herbie, who had been looking back anxiously at the Darknall, said, “Guys, I think they’re about to fire!”

  Behind them, the dragon-of-war gave a screech as its cannons shifted into place.

  “Mouncey!” Emma cried. “If we make it through the navy blockade, then won’t we be in…”

  “Yes, Eridanus!” He banked so sharply to port that Emma fell against the wall. She quickly scrambled back up. Mouncey was turning back and forth, trying to see the Darknall and steer the ship at the same time. The Argh’s wings flapped harder. Emma felt it surge forward, desperate to outrun the small dragon-of-war.

  When she looked forward again, she got a shock. About one mile ahead, two enormous metal poles stuck up out of the Strand. Between the poles hung a gigantic piece of netting that was clearly designed to stop flying ships from entering Eridanean waters.

  “Mouncey!” she shrieked. “Look out!”

  He saw it and jerked the wheel back, desperately nosing the Argh upward. The ship was flying so fast that they reached the netting much more quickly than anticipated. Emma couldn’t see how they’d be able to avoid it. Up close, she got another shock. It wasn’t netting—it was metal. Enormous chain mail. Hitting any part of it would destroy the ship.

  The Darknall hissed and screeched again.

  Mouncey pushed the Argh upward. From beneath, they heard a terrible crunching of wood as the Argh’s lower hull hit the metal.

  “They’re firing!” Herbie shrieked.

  Emma spun and stared straight into the Darknall ’s maw.

  The Draconi ship fired. The explosion—so close this time—seemed to blow straight through her head. She heard nothing after that—not the screaming of the wind, not the groaning of the Argh, not the distant cries of the crew below. She could only feel the strange sensation of falling….

  The wind was still blowing, but everything else on the Argh was eerily quiet as Emma lifted herself off the floor. She coughed, choking on the pungent smell of burning wood and smoke. Herbie was climbing to his feet near the table. She went over to him.

  “Are you okay?” she said over the wind.

  He gave a dry laugh, wiping blood from his arm. “Once again, I am okay…. ”

  Mouncey was still clinging to the wheel. His shirt had been torn off and his back was speckled with blood, but he had managed to keep the Argh up. Emma looked out at the deck and caught sight of the starboard wing. Its tip was torn off, and the rest was cracked and smoking.

  “The wing!” she cried.

  “It got hit by the Draconi cannons,” Mouncey croaked. “She can’t fly anymore. We have to set her down.”

  “Where’s the dragon-of-war?” Herbie asked.

  “She hit the netting,” Mouncey said. “Crashed into pieces!”

  The wind was softening as they descended. The wing workers had realized that the starboard wing was disabled, and they had stopped the wings from flapping. Now the great ship was gliding. From what they could see below, the Strand was empty of buildings and ships. They’d left the blockade behind, and around them was a great sea of green, brackish water dotted with islands in the distance, and beyond that—darkness.

  “Shouldn’t we land before we get to all those islands?” Emma asked.

  “We have to get as far as we can,” Mouncey said. “The navy will be coming after us.”

  “But it’s getting dark!”

  Santher came barreling onto the bridge, looking panicked. His face was scratched and smoke-blackened. “You can’t put her down!” he cried. “We’ve got a hole in the hull large enough to sink us!”

  “We’re landing,” Mouncey snapped. “We have no choice.”

  “But we’ll start taking in water,” he said. “Eridanean water! Memory water! Do you know what that means?”

  “We’ll probably get past those islands,” Mouncey said. “But we can’t land in darkness. There are too many islands, and I won’t be able to see.”

  “He’s right,” Nisba said, appearing in the doorway behind them. “We have no choice but to land.” They all turned to her. She was still deathly pale, and she moved terribly slowly, as if every gesture was painful. “Set us down in the light. And don’t hit the rocks. She’s already got enough holes in her.”

  Only the wind made a noise as everyone looked nervously out the broken windows, watching the waters of the Strand get closer.

  “Santher, come with me,” Nisba said. “We’ve got to help land this thing.”

  They went down to the deck. Emma watched them tie themselves to lines on either side of the bow. The ship was very close to the water now. All Arghs who could stand were holding tightly to their lines and hunkering down away from the railings. Santher waved an all-clear sign and shouted, “She’s about to touch down! Three…two…one! ”

  The Argh hit the water with a terrific shudder that rattled Emma’s skull and shattered the remaining glass in the windows. Water sprayed out behind them in an enormous jet as they skimmed along the Strand, slowing one painful second at a time.

  As soon as the ship came to a halt, th
e crew burst into action. Santher ran toward the stairs, shouting for all able-bodied Arghs to follow him. He took them downstairs to seal up the ship’s lower decks. Nisba gathered a group of monkeys to fold up the wing masts and set out the sails on the remaining masts. There wasn’t much wind, but if they sat still for too long, they would surely get captured by the navy.

  The Argh sailed ahead, its crew crouched behind railing poles, nervously scanning the waters around them for any sign of the navy. Aside from the wind, the Strand was strangely quiet. The Eridanean air was warm and close, and it stank of the repulsive elements of the sea: black kelp, rotten fish, and stagnant brine. A thin fog lingered all around them. There were so many islands that they formed an unbroken chain on either side of the ship. Their shores were dark and craggy, like prehistoric figures rising from the mist. If there were ships here, they were well hidden in the islands’ many coves and inlets.

  After having their wounds bandaged in the infirmary, Emma and Herbie had gone straight up to the Markab. It was still on the top deck, lying on its side like a beached whale. It was a heartbreaking mess. All the sails were torn, the captain’s wheel had come off, and there was a split in the hull. During the Argh’s flight from Pegasus, the Markab had slid even farther down the deck, tearing off one whole wing mast and snapping the main.

  Emma tried not to cry as she surveyed the damage. She and Herbie climbed into the cabin and looked around. The captain’s desk had come out of the wall, there was glass everywhere from the broken windows, and bilgewater had spilled into the room, creating a horrible stench. Every new injury she discovered filled her with an even stronger despair—one more thing they would have to fix before they could even think of setting off again to find Mom. Restoring the Markab would take a week at best, and that was only if Santher and the monkeys could work on it full-time like they had before. Right now, they were busy repairing the hole in the Argh’s hull.