by Anna Bowman
“Then we shouldn’t have anything to worry about, should we, Jank?”
Solomand jumped up and clapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder before running past him, yelling, “Will! Get us the hell out of here!”
He clambered up a set of stairs and disappeared.
Jank stabbed his finger at a panel by the doors, muttering obscenities before dashing away. He didn’t give Rayn a second look. Rayn rolled to her side and glimpsed the approaching Pandora before the bay doors slid shut. With its menacing, black airfoils and sleek, crafted nose, it looked like a dark cloud in the sky moving towards them, unstoppable. For a moment, it reminded her of a fierce eagle before it snatched up its prey in readied claws.
And we’re the prey.
She thought of Solomand’s ship, dwarfed by the mighty Pandora. There’s no way he can outrun them. There was a sickening feeling of dying hope in her stomach as she sat up.
“Brace yourselves. We’re about to shake these pelicans.” Solomand’s voice sounded over the intercom.
The little airship shot forward. With a jolt, Rayn skidded across the floor grabbing for something to hold onto. The wall was coming straight at her.
I never should have gotten out of bed today!
She slammed into the hull, pain exploding in her head as everything went a starry black.
When Rayn came to, she thought she was dreaming.
“You’ve finally done it.”
She heard a man’s voice: it was a low rumble. The sound of boots clanking on the grated-metal flooring drew nearer.
“After six years.” She recognized Solomand’s gruff tone. “And I’ll be damned if I’ll let those—”
He stopped mid-sentence as he arrived back in the cargo bay. The man he was with was a head taller than Solomand, skin a deep, olive tone. A jagged scare peeked out either ends of an eye patch over his left eye. Solomand wore a panicked expression when he saw her. He ran to her side, while his companion walked behind him at an unhurried pace.
Rayn sat up, untangling a hand from her hair and stood. She doubled over as a barrage of stabbing pains jabbed throughout her body.
“Are you alright?” Solomand’s eyes widened as he dropped to one knee.
He looked her over, searching for any injuries. As it dawned on her that this was not a dream, all Rayn could see when she looked at Solomand was the smoke and flames billowing from her shop. He was the one responsible for it.
You weren’t planning to go back. A voice inside her mind reminded. Her anger intensified. That’s not the point!
“Rayn!” He took her head in his hands. His fingers were callous against her skin. “Are you alright?”
He tilted her head from side to side. Rayn was too groggy to protest at first. She stared for a moment, her thoughts beginning to settle, the pangs becoming duller.
She jerked her head free from his grasp.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, unable to hide her flinch at the acute pain surging through her head. She slumped back, falling into the other man’s arms. The belt of ammo she had been carrying slid from her shoulder and clattered on the floor. Rayn looked down, the fog on her mind lifting as a horrifying realization set in.
“My rifle.”
It was the Medved, a Slavik design chambered in a coveted .308. Her second most prized possession could not have withstood the blaze. The vision of the black stock, twisted and scalding, flashed before her.
“Your rifle?” Solomand’s look of worry passed for a moment and he laughed. He actually laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll find you another one.”
He attempted to look over her again.
Rayn’s lips pursed together, her face growing hot. She could hear a hammering noise in her ears as adrenalin rushed to her head. She thought of the work she had put into restoring the Medved. She polished it for hours, coaxing all the dents and scratches from the barrel and receiver. The protective coating of velvety slow rust-blue took weeks to complete. And most of all, the stock was from the Black Ash, an almost impossible wood to find.
“It. Was. Irreplaceable!” She managed to say, through clenched teeth. Her hands were shaking now as they balled into fists at her sides. “That means there isn’t another one!”
“Look, I’m sorry.” Solomand did sound apologetic.
“Sorry?” She shoved free of the other man’s grasp, drew back, and punched him in the nose. Her hand throbbing, she glared at him.
Solomand staggered backward with a startled expression, his hand moving to his bleeding nose. A tear rolled from the corner of his eye as he stared at her with a shocked expression. The Osprey shuddered and lurched to one side.
“Take her to a cabin, Will.”
Solomand darted back down the corridor, his head upturned as he clutched his nose. Blood trickled down the sides of his face. Rayn stared after him, her heart still racing.
“I’m sorry, but you’re liable to get a concussion if you stay here—the way Sol flies,” the man called Will said.
His tone was steady, almost void of emotion. Rayn turned her eyes to him, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. His muscular stature made him look like his last job was something to do with intimidating people. He wore a grey, button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows—clean and tucked into his trousers. The light in his single eye made it appear several different shades of brown, ranging from reddish to the dark color of earth. There was a kindness in his expression that seemed unfitting for his stature.
With an amused grin on his face, he asked, “Are you coming, Rayn?”
Rayn could tell he wanted to keep his distance but would also have no issue throwing her over his shoulder. She had no desire to experience any more of Solomand’s piloting skills from the cargo bay, anyway. She nodded, biting her tongue, still too furious to speak.
Will picked up her bag from among the litter of tin cans and boxes that were scattered everywhere.
“This way.”
He motioned up a spiral staircase of twisted iron, and Rayn followed him.
The hopeless airship shuddered again, and Rayn reached her hand out, catching hold of the riveted walls of the narrow corridor. Will leaned against the wall and kept walking. His broad-shouldered frame nearly filled the hall. They turned down another passage that had four doors on either side. All were equipped with wheel locks like the kind on Rayn’s shop door. Will opened the furthest door on the right and stood clear as Rayn stepped inside the cramped cabin.
“Sorry,” Will looked sympathetic as he sat Rayn’s bag down inside. “Sol will be along after we lose the Pandora.”
The Osprey swayed to the left, causing Rayn to fall sideways. She managed to land on a bunk. Will caught himself on the door frame with little effort.
“This is going to be harder than the last time,” he said. Then, after a pause, “It always is.”
Last time? It always is?
“Terrific,” Rayn muttered.
Her shoulders slumped as she ran her hand on the rough fleece blanket, watching the gears on the lock turn, sliding the bolts into place with a clank. As Will’s footsteps faded from earshot, she sank onto the flat pillow.
Another bolt of pain shot through her side.
“Owe!”
She looked down and saw blood seeping from a tear in her vest. Groaning with annoyance, she undid the four clasps and opened it the rest of the way, her hand shaking the whole time.
Her cream-colored shirt was torn and soaked red; blood still oozed from the gash in her side.
It’s not that bad, Rayn told herself.
She hoped it wasn’t, anyway. She felt ill. Her head throbbed and her nose still burned from the odorous gas the 201st had dropped. Light-headed and sick to her stomach, she slumped back onto the bed, tearing the blanket loose. She closed her eyes as she feebly pressed the fleece into her wound. It probably wouldn’t matter anyway. As the airship tipped from side to side, she didn’t see how such a horrible pilot as Solomand Black could ever evade the Coalitio
n’s most elite airship.
✽ ✽ ✽
Silence permeated the town square, filling the air with an uneasiness, even a girl of ten could feel. Rayn hid behind the crates, covering her nose with her sleeve to shield it from the scent of rotting vegetables and fish. Easing up on tiptoes, she peeked through the wooden slots to get a glimpse of the scene playing out.
Her heart pounded with fear as she watched the officers drag the barefoot boy into the midst of the crowd. He looked to be about ten; the same age as Rayn. His skinny arms were tied behind his back. His clothes were patched, frayed and filthy. The constables forced him roughly to his knees. One cracked a short whip across his neck, saying something in a sinister voice. Rayn sucked in a breath as she heard the whip tear at the boy’s skin, but the boy didn’t make a sound. Her heartbeat seemed to be the only noise in the horrible silence.
‘Why don’t they do anything? She thought in anger of the crowd.
Her fingers trembled in rage, and she snatched up a chunk of rock from the ground. She wanted to help the boy, but someone had told her to stay here. Someone important to her. Glaring savagely at the grey-uniformed backs of the coalition officers, her eyes fixed on the boy again.
He stared up at the men through uneven, black hair that fell over his eyes. One of the men raised his whip again, but the boy gave a defiant grin, and his reply broke through that harrowing quiet of compliance.
“Do what you want, Choiro!”
The word was in another language—an insult—and Rayn recognized it, though she didn’t know what it meant. The man raised his hand to strike the boy, but he did not flinch, the defiant grin still on his face.
✽ ✽ ✽
The image began to fade.
Damnit, no!
Rayn tried to hold onto the dream, desperate to remember more. Who was the boy? Was he the one she was looking for? She felt confident with a little more time she could remember, but the dreams were always cut short. Then, jarring her awake, she felt a hand on her. Her eyes flickered open to see Solomand stooped over her, his hand slipping beneath her shirt.
“Get off me. Pervert!” She said, jerking her handgun from the holster and smacking the startled captain across the head.
“Gah!” Solomand fell backward, holding his head, his face twisted in pain. “Will, grab her.”
Will took hold of Rayn’s wrist and wrenched the pistol from her hand.
“You sure this was a good idea?” he asked, eyeing Solomand’s bleeding head.
Solomand gave Will a dark look. Will shrugged but kept his distance as Solomand turned to Rayn.
“Alright, you’re going to stop this crazy bashin’ me in the head shit right now! You’re hurt, and if I don’t do something about it soon, you’ll not be able to lift that damned oversized pistol of yours!”
Rayn glanced at the medical kit on the floor, the stabbing pain in her side reminding her of the bleeding injury. She realized Solomand had been trying to help her, not feel her up.
He was probably enjoying it, she told herself to extinguish the growing shame.
“What are you, a doctor now?” She scooted away, which made her dizzy.
Solomand massaged the bleeding welt on his temple.
“No. But I’ve patched enough wounds to know what the hell I’m doing.” His brow furrowed and he cringed as he raised himself to one knee. “Now, are you going to let me do this the easy way, or does he have to hold you down?”
He thumbed a finger toward Will whose eyebrow was raised. Rayn thought he looked like he wanted to say something to Solomand but was holding it back. Her hands shook as she tried to prop herself up.
Do I have a choice?
She considered the unpleasantness of being held down by the giant, but what was the point? Solomand was right. She nodded as she lay back down, not wanting either of them to see how weak she really was.
Solomand took her wrist gently and felt her pulse, all the while staring at her. As he frowned with worry his eyes seemed to become more deep-set and the steely blue somehow more intense.
“Will.” Rayn was relieved when Solomand looked away. “Bring some water, will you?”
Will nodded, lumbering across the room in two long strides. Rayn gazed at the door as it closed behind him, dreading being left alone with the airship captain who had destroyed her world in a manner of hours. Her heart was racing so fast her chest ached.
Probably dehydration.
She licked her lips as she glanced back to Solomand. He was rifling through the med-kit. Rayn felt a twinge of guilt as she looked at the bloody welt on the side of his head. It would have been easier to dismiss the feeling if he showed any sign of a grudge. He didn’t.
She inhaled, holding her breath as Solomand’s hand touched her side. His eyes lingered for a moment on a scar over Rayn’s stomach; the discolored lines of smooth skin cut into a black, irregular shaped birthmark. It looked like someone had tried to piece her back together after an accident of some kind. Rayn often traced the outlines, wondering what happened to make her skin look that way. Solomand, to her best estimate, appeared to turn a shade lighter. He looked up, wearing a weak smile.
“This will probably hurt like hell.”
Rayn gritted her teeth and laid her head back against the bed.
“Just do it.”
She glared at the ceiling and twisted fistfuls of blanket in each hand as Solomand eased a giant splinter out of her flesh.
“Sorry.” His eyes narrowed as he concentrated on getting the rest of it out. “That’s the worst of it, though.”
He set the tweezers down and picked up a bottle of antiseptic, which he splashed on the wound.
“Ahh!” Rayn yelled, jerking upright as the searing sting spread across her side.
Solomand placed a firm hand on her arm and eased her back down.
“I lied.”
“Bas—tard!” Rayn gasped out in two breaths as Solomand packed clean gauze into the side and skillfully bandaged the wound.
“Sorry.”
“Liar!”
Solomand grinned and sat back on his heels. His eyes narrowed into an intense gaze as he stared at her again. Rayn felt the uneasy sense that he was searching for something, then light rushed to her head before she collapsed back onto the pillow. The last thing she remembered was the strained frown on the airship captain’s face before her eyes drooped shut.
✽ ✽ ✽
Solomand stumbled out of the cabin where Rayn lay unconscious but stable. His hands shook as he turned the lock to close the door and stopped, staring at the blood on his fingers—Rayn’s blood. As the Osprey rocked wildly, he doubled over, unable to keep down the contents of his stomach.
Shit.
He wiped vomit on the back of his hand and slumped against the hull of the ship. Bolts digging into his back, he fought back memories.
No. He forced them from his mind. Not here. Not now.
The gradual tightening around his chest felt like someone was trying to squeeze the air from his lungs.
Get up!
His legs refused to listen, and he started crawling forward, breathing short gasps of air. Glimpsing the bloodstains on his hands, he clamped his eyes shut and dry-heaved.
Solomand didn’t hear Will until he clamped his hand on Sol’s shoulder.
“Sol.”
“Yeah?”
Solomand slowly breathed in, jerking his head up. Will didn’t have to say it. He could already hear the high-pitched hum of the Pandora’s engines. The 201st hadn’t taken long to catch up; he knew they wouldn’t. Now, they would soon be within distance of engaging his airship with their long-range guns. Hopefully, Jank had got the new fuel cell in with his own adjustments to increase the power ratio.
“Don’t worry.” Will squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll lose ‘em for you.”
His boots clanged on the grated flooring as he sprinted away.
“Thanks,” Solomand mumbled.
He gulped against the taste of bile in his th
roat, forced his eyes open, and continued to crawl down the corridor. There was an explosion outside, and the airship violently tilted. Solomand crashed into the hull.
“Son of a…” He rubbed his bruised forehead.
And he talks shit about my flying.
“I’ll be right there.” He called to no one in particular as he crawled, inching his way toward the flight deck as the corridor light flickered out.
Chapter 6
Solomand
Heat distortions rose from the engines as the turbines eased to a stop, the whine they emitted sounding like the cry of imminent death. Solomand’s hands shook as he lay against the wall where Will’s last-minute maneuver had thrown him from his seat. Fuses on the broken control panel popped, sparks flying from frayed wires. The sound of the Pandora could be heard, speeding after the fake stream of gray exhaust—a tracer Jank had rigged for such an occasion. The clouds provided a perfect cover for the Osprey to drop into the shadow of trees on a remote landing pad while the Pandora raced after the concocted trail.
This was the third time Jank’s clever trick had saved their skin. That and the wooded, hill-country, which spanned for hundreds of miles. They had never failed to escape the so-called Hounds of Hell the Coalition employed. The only target they never managed to sniff out was the battered airship no one else would give a second glance.
Solomand slowed his breathing as the 201st’s ship faded from earshot.
Safe. For now.
He sat up, groaning as he pressed a hand to his head.
“That was too damn close.”
A voice crackled over the intercom.
“That’s the sound of the engine dying, Sol.” Jank’s voice became garbled for an instant. “A lot of damn good that fuel cell did!”
Solomand rubbed the back of his neck, giving Will a sideways glance.
“You don’t think he thinks I was flying, do you?” He was unhappy to admit that even with one eye, Will was a much better pilot than him.
“Give him a minute.” Will unclipped his harness and slid from the cracked, leather control seat. “He probably had his sense knocked out.”
He offered Solomand a hand.