by Lucy Saxon
‘It’s insane,’ Zhora murmured, shaking his head incredulously. ‘For a ship that old to have survived the journey through the Stormlands, and to have made it to land . . . a one in a million chance.’
‘Well, if you think about it, over the years there have probably been thousands of ships sent into the Stormlands,’ Aleks reasoned. ‘One of them was bound to have made it before ours. I’m just amazed there were women on board.’ Things back then had been even less progressive than they were now; he was surprised a woman had even been allowed to set foot on an expedition ship.
‘I guess it answers the question of whether the land is habitable, though,’ Drazan said, leading the way through to the galley. He poured three mugs of cider; none of them would be going to bed just yet.
‘We can’t tell anyone about them,’ Zhora said abruptly. ‘When we get back. You saw the panic on her face at the thought of other outsiders coming. Could you imagine if we went back home and told everyone that there’s a group of people living beyond the Stormlands? They’d invade their homes, make them slaves in their own country, replace their village with concrete and stone.’
Aleks grimaced. ‘We didn’t have our video recorders on us,’ he pointed out. ‘And we won’t take them tomorrow either. We have enough footage of this land looking empty . . . no one has to know it’s inhabited.’ He somewhat envied Kara and her people; they clearly lived a far simpler life than he was used to. But when he imagined living without modern comforts, and in such blazing heat, he knew he could never join them. Especially not if it meant leaving behind everyone he knew and loved.
‘But what happens when other outsiders get through? You said that it’ll be hard for them to do it without Luka’s ship, but . . . it will no doubt happen eventually. Luka can’t be the only person to design such a thing. What happens when they stumble across Kara’s people, and find out we lied?’ Drazan asked, brow furrowed.
‘We deal with that if it comes to it,’ Zhora said. ‘For now, I think all of us should go to bed. Aleks needs to rest.’
The three said their goodnights, retreating to their rooms. Despite his exhaustion it took Aleks longer than usual to get to sleep, his brain still back in the forest with Kara and her people. He still had so many questions; how long could they stay before they had to go home? Would that be enough time for him to learn everything he wanted to about their society and their land? He sighed, rolling over and squeezing his eyes shut. He’d ask Zhora in the morning.
Morning found Aleks in the ship’s tiny bathroom, trying to convince himself to leave the shower. He was still feeling the effects of his sunstroke, but the water helped immensely. Still, he needed to step out and join his crew before he wasted too much water. ‘Stop hogging the shower!’ Drazan shouted, banging on the bathroom door.
Dressed and feeling slightly more human again, he wandered through to the galley, Drazan on his heel. Zhora was up and dressed with breakfast nearly finished. He grinned playfully at his brother. ‘About time you got your lazy arse up! I thought you’d sleep through till noon,’ he teased.
‘What’s the plan for today, then?’ Aleks asked once he was halfway through his breakfast.
‘Your plan is you leave.’ Aleks’s heart skipped a beat at the interruption. He turned towards the doorway to see Kara standing there, her hands on her hips. Today she had a length of dark grey fabric draped over her shoulders and chest; was it slightly colder outside?
‘How did you get in?’ Zhora asked. The woman laughed.
‘Door was open,’ she explained, pointing up towards the trap topside. Of course, they’d left it open to give the engine room a bit of cool air overnight. ‘You leave now.’
‘Excuse me?’ Aleks frowned, perplexed. Had they done something to offend her?
‘Go back to Goddess Land, and do not come here again. We do not want you,’ Kara declared, her amber eyes cold. ‘My people, they talk of you. Some still have knowledge of old tongue, they hear you. They talk of Goddess Land, of machines, of flying. We do not need flying.’ Aleks’s frown deepened; some of her people had been able to understand them? Why was that such a bad thing?
‘So they’re curious,’ he said with a shrug. ‘We don’t mind answering questions.’ Kara glared, taking a step further into the room.
‘I said we do not need flying,’ she insisted angrily. ‘Your people, your life, in the Goddess Land, you are too . . .’ she trailed off, saying a long word in her own language with a frustrated look on her face, clearly trying to find the Siberene equivalent, . . . ‘wanting for power,’ she settled on eventually. ‘You want, want, want. You trade metal for things just to own them, you fight to take from others. You take and do not give, and my people do not need that. Leave now before you taint them, and do not send more of your people here.’
‘Hold on a minute!’ Drazan exclaimed, jumping to his feet. ‘We have been polite, we did nothing to harm you. All we want to do is learn about you and your people – we never said anything about imposing our culture on you.’
‘You impose enough being here,’ Kara snapped. ‘You talk of your home and my people listen. They wonder why we do not have those things, and when I say we do not need them they ask why. They did not ask why before you came.’
‘So you’re angry at us for opening their eyes to the world outside?’ Aleks asked. The woman nodded sharply.
‘The world outside will not be kind to us. I do not need my people wanting to be kind to the world,’ she told him, finality in her tone. ‘There is plan, to collect you when sun is highest, bring you back to village, talk more. I want you gone before that. If you are still here, I will kill you.’ Aleks flinched; there was no hesitation in her tone. ‘You come back? I kill you. Any people from the Goddess Land come back, they are dead. Go back to your home, and leave mine to be free of wanting and flying.’ She slipped a hand into a fold in her shorts, taking it out to reveal a sharp knife that glinted in the low lamplight.
Aleks held up his hands to placate her, eyes wide. ‘OK, OK,’ he said hurriedly. ‘We’ll leave. We won’t tell our people of you. But when they learn that this land is here, they will some day make it through like we did. You cannot hide forever.’
‘When that happens, my people will be prepared,’ Kara said, lips curled in a snarl. ‘You are nice people, but your land is not. Leave, or I will make you.’
‘We’re leaving,’ Zhora promised. ‘We’ll fly as soon as you leave the ship. There’s no need for violence.’
‘That is funny, coming from men of Goddess Land,’ Kara scoffed, raising one dark eyebrow at him. Still, she put her knife back in her shorts, then turned to Aleks and offered a short bow. ‘Well met, captain.’ He could hardly say the same after her threats, but he bowed anyway, and before he even straightened up she turned on her heel and left.
The three men were motionless for several moments, stunned at what had just happened. Zhora was the first to speak. ‘We’d best prepare for flight, then,’ he said quietly, shaking his head. ‘Shame, shame.’
‘I would’ve liked to stay longer,’ Aleks agreed. ‘But if she doesn’t want us here . . . this is her land, by the old laws.’ Aleks wasn’t a king; she was the sovereign here. They couldn’t go against her word. Especially not when she had brandished a knife at them, and her people vastly outnumbered them.
‘I’ll go and start bolting things down,’ Drazan declared, getting to his feet. ‘Aleks, don’t even think about getting in that pilot’s seat – you’re still on rest. For now, at least. Come on, we’d best be quick about things.’
Kara’s threat at the forefront of their minds, the three prepared their ship for flight as quickly as they could, Zhora meticulously checking over everything in the engine room. The trip back would be tough, and Aleks only hoped the ship could make it.
32
With Drazan in the pilot’s seat, they managed to get the ship off the ground and far enough out to start catching the stronger air currents. Getting in the air had been a challenge, bu
t there was just enough of a wind to lift them a couple of feet – enough to start the propellers to get them the rest of the way. Their plan was to skirt around the edge of the country itself, hoping to avoid the dead zone in the centre.
They’d only been flying for a couple of hours before disaster struck. ‘Turning the propellers on now,’ the pilot declared. Their shift system had been altered so that Zhora was in the engine room for this part, and though Aleks was meant to be sleeping, he chose to stay with Drazan. It was a shame they were leaving so abruptly; Aleks had wanted to fly out a little closer to the Dalivian side of the Stormlands, and maybe further North to see if there was any other land. But without a safe landing place, it was out of the question; the ship couldn’t keep going that long in this heat.
‘Come on, girl, don’t fail us now,’ Drazan murmured softly as the propellers whirred and whirred, the sails useless without a strong wind. Halfway to the other side of the island and they were beginning to feel the heat even in the control room.
‘Getting a bit warm in here, lads!’ Zhora warned them.
‘Not much I can do about it, big brother,’ Drazan retorted, voice wavering slightly. Even in a ship as small as theirs, the propellers were designed to aid in changing directions, not to support the ship completely in lieu of any wind.
‘Come on, come on, please,’ Aleks breathed. It didn’t work. The whining of the propellers grew louder and there was a loud banging noise. The ship jolted harshly to the left, almost sending Aleks to the floor. ‘What was that?’
There was no response through the speakers, and suddenly the smell of burning caught Aleks’s nose, making him gag. ‘Zhora, what’s happened down there?’ Drazan called, sounding alarmed as he attempted to stop the ship from dropping like a stone. ‘The propellers aren’t working – we’ve got nothing to keep us airborne,’ he muttered. When he turned to face the open doorway he could see thick black smoke drifting up from the engine room.
‘Zhora!’ Aleks shouted, loud enough to be heard down below even without the speakers, in case they’d just blown offline. ‘Talk to us, Zhora!’ There was no reply. Drazan glanced over, fear on his face.
‘If I bring her down at this speed, we’ll crash,’ he said, frantically working the controls to find some way of slowing their descent. They were still over the sea, but land was drawing ever closer.
‘Right,’ Aleks muttered. ‘I’m going downstairs.’ His heart was pounding as he rushed towards the ladder. He pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose to block out the smoke, tugging his flight goggles over his eyes. ‘Zhora?’ he called hesitantly, stepping into the engine room. He could hardly see anything, but there didn’t seem to be any movement. Dread curled in his stomach. ‘Zhora, where are you?’
The ship was dropping faster by the minute. Hurrying to the left propeller – the source of the smoke – Aleks wished he’d brought a scarf to tie around his face as the smell was making him choke. He pushed through, waving his hands in front of his face to clear the black smog and get a better look. The entire mechanism was twisted and gnarled, melted beyond all recognition. No wonder it wasn’t turning. ‘I can’t fix this!’ he shouted up to Drazan, panicked. ‘Not before we hit the ground!’ He heard the pilot curse loudly.
‘Can’t Zhora help you?’ Drazan called back, and Aleks frowned. Wherever Zhora was in the room, he wasn’t making any noise. That didn’t bode well.
‘Just try and bring her down safely!’ Aleks said, ignoring the question. Darting over to the right propeller, he let out a huff of relief; this one was intact, just knocked out of place. ‘I can get the right propeller back online – will that be enough?’
‘It’s going to have to be!’ At Drazan’s response, Aleks quickly realigned the propeller’s mechanism, relieved when it began to turn as it was supposed to. The ship jolted, seeming to slow down a fraction; it wasn’t going to make for a smooth landing by any means, but it might just be enough to save them.
‘Just bring her down wherever you can!’ Aleks yelled.
Coughing, trying to avoid inhaling lungfuls of smoke in the process, he turned to look around the rest of the engine room, squinting through the smoke to get a glimpse of Zhora. He had to get him out quickly, before the smoke suffocated him. ‘Zhora,’ he called, not quite loud enough for Drazan to hear. He didn’t want the pilot to worry, not when he needed to concentrate on landing them safely. ‘Zhora, where are you?’
He paused as he accidentally kicked something both soft and solid. His eyes stung as he waved the smoke away and looked down at the floor. Zhora lay there, skin blackened with soot, his face a mass of burns and his eyes staring up, unseeing. Aleks dropped to his knees. He shook the man’s shoulder and checked his pulse, but he knew what he would find: nothing.
Aleks lurched forward as the ship came to an abrupt halt, bouncing twice before landing. When it was still, he looked down at Zhora’s unmoving body, a lump in his throat. Gods, he couldn’t be . . . how?
‘Aleks? Zhora?’ Drazan’s voice broke through Aleks’s daze. The boy scrambled to his feet, hurrying to the ladder.
‘Don’t come down!’ he shouted hastily, standing at the foot of the ladder just as Drazan peered over the edge. The pilot looked confused and tired, coughing as he accidentally inhaled a lungful of smoke.
‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Gods, this smoke is awful! Are you all right? Hang on.’ He got to his feet, moving to open the trap to the outside world, letting the smoke drift out. ‘How bad is it down there?’ He looked grim, and Aleks swallowed harshly. His eyes watered behind his goggles, but he knew it wasn’t due to the smoke. ‘Storms, I’m going to kill Luka when we get back. Indestructible, my arse! It’s going to take Zhora days to fix this! Where is he? Already started?’
‘Drazan . . .’ Aleks started, the words refusing to form in his throat. Drazan’s frown grew deeper.
‘Aleks, what’s happened? Where’s Zhora?’
‘I don’t know what happened,’ Aleks said. ‘It looks like the propeller blew and Zhora got caught, but . . . it’s not good, Draz.’ Drazan paled, practically throwing himself down the ladder, pushing past Aleks. Now that the smoke had cleared slightly, it was easy to see Zhora lying on the floor. Drazan let out an anguished cry at the sight of his brother.
‘No!’ He dropped to the ground at Zhora’s side, gripping his shoulder. ‘No! Zhora, come on, don’t do this to me, you can’t! Come on, big brother, just wake up!’
‘Drazan,’ Aleks murmured, taking a tentative step closer. ‘He’s gone.’ Drazan choked out a sob, head bowed, hand still gripping the front of Zhora’s shirt.
‘He can’t,’ he said, suddenly sounding very young.
Aleks crouched at his friend’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry, Drazan. Gods, this is all my fault.’ If he hadn’t convinced them to come in the first place, Zhora would still be alive.
‘Don’t you dare,’ Drazan growled, startling Aleks as he looked up sharply. ‘Don’t you dare blame yourself. This is Luka’s fault for not building a better bloody ship, and Kara’s fault for making us leave so quickly, and bloody Zhora’s fault for agreeing to come to this blasted place, but it’s not yours, all right?’ The pilot was crying by the time he finished speaking, and Aleks didn’t hesitate to pull him into a tight hug. He wished he could believe his words.
‘Come on,’ he murmured, after they’d been sitting there for a while. ‘We should go up on deck, before we get smoke-sick.’
‘But what about . . .’ Drazan trailed off, eyes darting to his brother, and Aleks squeezed his shoulder.
‘We can come back down for him when the smoke’s cleared,’ he promised. ‘Get him out, clean him up a bit. Find somewhere to . . . to lay him to rest.’ Drazan flinched. Still, he didn’t resist when Aleks urged him to his feet, directing him towards the ladder.
When they emerged on deck, Aleks couldn’t help but take great lungfuls of fresh air, looking up to see the wispy black cloud that had formed above them from the
smoke. It was a huge giveaway, but he could only hope Kara’s reach didn’t extend to the other end of the country.
‘We should check the rest of the ship,’ Drazan announced, voice hollow. ‘I didn’t bring her down gently. If there’s external damage . . . we might have a bigger problem than we thought.’ If the structure of the ship was damaged in any way they wouldn’t be able to fix it. They had spare mechanical parts, but little else.
Aleks moved to throw the rigging rope over the side, climbing down with ease. The ship was slightly unstable, but hopefully that wasn’t a serious problem. Not waiting for Drazan, Aleks started walking around the ship, carefully checking the wood and metal holding everything together. They had left the wings extended, and he checked over one while Drazan went around the other side and checked the other, looking for any rips or tears. There was a small scorch mark on Aleks’s, but it was on the very edge and didn’t look like it was going to be a problem. It didn’t bode well for the propeller though, and he swore when he manually tucked the wing away in order to pull up the hatch covering the propeller. It had blown spectacularly. ‘We’ve got a problem, Draz!’
The propeller was mangled, the blades warped through overheating and covered in black dust from sparking, which explained the small burn on the wing. They were lucky it hadn’t caught alight; then they would have been in real trouble. Drazan jogged around to meet him, letting out a low whistle at the sight of the propeller. ‘Gods,’ he muttered, shaking his head. ‘Can we fix it?’
Aleks bit his lip, doing a mental inventory of the spare parts in the storage room. ‘In theory,’ he said eventually. ‘If we can straighten the blades out ourselves and clean it up a bit, I should have enough to replace the innards. It’s – it’s not pretty in there.’ Aleks prayed that was all the damage. If the furnace or engine had problems too, he didn’t know if they’d have enough parts to replace it all.
