by B.J. Keeton
“You will unhand me,” Dirk choked out. “Now!”
“He ain’t worth it,” Roebuck said. “Let him go, or he might have ya sacked.”
The Shrew dropped Dirk, who fell to the floor with a whimper. A long silence followed, in which Dirk quietly massaged his throat and neck while the others looked on. Finally, Jude decided it was time to leave. If they were going to explore the forbidden level and make it back to the ship in time, they needed to hurry.
“Let’s ride the lift back up,” Jude said. “We’ll stop at twenty-five and see if anything worthwhile is there.”
The others obeyed, though Dirk shot him a mutinous smile before getting onto the lift. With the Shrew and Valencia both working the ropes, they made it to the twenty-fifth floor in another fifteen minutes. Once again, the statue of the man with the two fogspawn greeted them. As they got off the lift, Jude realized there were several side rooms along the way, all leading up to the bolted iron door at the end of the corridor.
“I reckon I can break that lock in no time,” Roebuck said.
“I can help ya,” the Shrew added. “I feel like breakin somethin.”
Jude looked into a few of the side rooms and saw nothing of value. There were papers littered across the floor, but their writing was all in the old language. In the fourth room, he bumped into Dirk, who appeared to be fumbling with something in a desk.
“What are you doing?” Jude asked.
“Searching for treasure, I suppose,” Dirk said irritably. He turned to face Jude, as if trying to block Jude from seeing something. “Nothing in here but a few useless documents and half-rotted papers.”
Jude went to look behind Dirk and when he did, he was fairly sure he saw Dirk pocketing a piece of parchment. He couldn’t be sure, so he didn’t say anything, but he was more interested in what Dirk was trying to hide in the desk. Sure enough, there was a drawer pulled out, and Dirk once again tried to prevent Jude from reaching it.
“What’s inside it?” Jude asked.
“Just papers,” Dirk said quickly. “Nothing of value.”
Jude sidestepped him and pulled the drawer out further. He saw what Dirk was hiding: inside the drawer was a large and rusty iron key. Jude took it, ignoring Dirk’s attempts to stop him, and went back out into the corridor where the Shrew and Roebuck were trying to break open the door.
“I think I have something that might help,” Jude said.
“What did you find?” Valencia asked, stepping out from one of the side rooms.
“A key,” said Jude. “I think it might unlock that door.”
He handed the key to Roebuck, who started for the lock.
“Wait!” Dirk said. He pointed at some writing engraved at the top of the door. “Don’t open it. It says not to open it!”
“You know the old language?” Jude asked.
Dirk nodded. “Quite a bit of it, actually.”
“Why the hell haven’t you told us that before?” Valencia snapped. “We could have used your help.”
“Because I didn’t read anything worth repeating,” Dirk said. He looked around nervously, as though he were afraid the walls might come crashing down at any moment. “But the writing on the door reads, ‘Death to those who try, damnation to those who succeed.’ We don’t want to open that door.”
“Is that really what it says?” Jude asked the Shrew.
“The first word is ‘death,’ but I can’t read the rest,” the Shrew said. “Ah, it’s probably just a warning to spook thieves.”
“Please.” Dirk looked at Jude, and he was alarmed to see that there was real fear in the man’s eyes. “You can’t let them open it. You can’t—”
“The key don’t fit,” Roebuck said.
“Good,” Dirk said with a sigh of relief. “Excellent.”
“Well, we might as well head back,” Vale said. “If the key doesn’t fit…”
“Doesn’t matter,” said the Shrew. “I just broke in.”
There was mechanical clicking, and the bolts tilted vertically so that there was nothing barring the door from being opened. All around the corridor, there was clicking and whirring as cogs—which Jude hadn’t noticed before—began spinning. The Shrew moved to open the door, but he only had time to slide it slightly ajar when the cogs started spinning even faster.
Something bad was about to happen.
A rumble ripped through the area and echoed throughout the Auger’s Lighthouse. Part of the wall on Jude’s left started crumbling, and he had just enough time to move Dirk out of the way before they were both crushed to death by falling rubble.
The others had moved away from the door as the cogs started spinning even faster, and Jude suddenly realized their purpose. The faster these cogs spun, the further the door opened.
The problem was, now, Jude didn’t want the door to open.
“Let’s get back to the lift,” Jude said.
The others didn’t move.
“I said let’s get back to the lift!”
The others seemed to snap out of their daze and headed for the lift platform. More of the wall fell away and the floor began to shake as they ran. The Shrew was the first to the lift, and he began untying the ropes so he could get the lift moving again. Valencia and Dirk were next, and Vale began helping the Shrew. Roebuck’s short legs would not allow him to run as fast as the others, but Jude had to make sure everyone was safe before he got onto the lift. He slowed down so that Roebuck could catch up.
“A true friend,” Roebuck said, smirking.
Before Jude could say anything, a large chunk of stone fell from the fogspawn statue and hit Jude in the head, sending fiery pain down his spine. His surroundings began to blur, and he felt warm blood trickle down his forehead and into his eyes. The world shifted around him, and he suddenly realized he was on the ground and that Roebuck and Valencia were dragging him onto the lift. There was shouting everywhere.
“Is he alive?” he heard someone ask.
“Yeah, but it don’t look good,” Roebuck said, hovering over him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jude thought he saw a shadow moving toward him. He tried to blink, but the crumbling fogspawn statue and Roebuck and the shadow all meshed together to form one distorted image. Jude could feel the lift going up, but his vision was finally gone. All he could see was blackness. The last thing he heard was Valencia shouting.
The last thing he felt, however, was something strange and powerful coming over him.
It’s going to be all right.
***
When Jude awoke, he was lying in a cot in the infirmary aboard the Gangly Dirigible. His head was bandaged, covering one eye, but he could see that it was dark. There were no windows in the infirmary, but Jude was fairly sure it was nighttime.
In a nearby cot, Robert Gwynn was snoring loudly, and the only other person in the room was Fritz, who also appeared to be sleeping. For some reason, Jude felt an urge to stand up—to run through the halls and out onto the main deck. His head ached, and he wondered if the injury was causing him to have funny thoughts.
Jude stood up and his legs shook badly, but he managed to stay standing. Slowly, he moved out into the hallway and looked around. The corridor was empty, and he headed for the stairwell with the dim hall lamps guiding him. As he made his way up the stairs, he felt better—more alive—or maybe it was just his head injury tricking him to feel that way.
With his good arm, he began to feel around his head and let his fingers run along the length of the bandage, feeling the texture of the cloth. Jude wondered if this was real. Maybe he was dead—
You’re not dead.
Jude nearly lost his balance. He could’ve sworn he’d heard a voice inside his head that wasn’t his own. He grabbed for the rail and continued going up the stairs. His mind was playing tricks on him—that was all. He finally reached the main deck and stepped outside.
There were stars all across the sky, and it was a fairly cool night, but Jude wasn’t cold. He
felt the breeze nip at his face and arms, but he still couldn’t figure out why he’d come outside in the first place. Then, he felt his stomach jolt as he turned to look behind the Gangly Dirigible, and he knew, sort of, why he’d come there. The Auger’s Lighthouse was visible in the moonlight, appearing to hover in the distance like a sinking zeppelin.
Good riddance.
Jude didn’t even realize he’d heard the strange voice again. He was too busy trying to think. He felt tired, beaten, and sick, but he also felt stronger. Even though they had left the abandoned skyport behind and it was all over, Jude couldn’t help but think that this was the beginning of something important. He felt relieved, and as he looked up at the starry sky, he smiled.
Chapter ten
You’re not the sick child you once were. You no longer cry in the night for the limbs you can barely remember having. Now, though, you question yourself. You’re no longer sure of your place, your purpose, and because of your insecurity, I feel your resolve weakening.
A time of change is upon us, my friend. If I did not know you so well, I would say you like me being here. Perhaps you do, and I have simply underestimated you all these years. Perhaps you are not just a vessel as I once thought.
Perhaps we can work together…
***
“Gully,” Demetrius Rucca said, “how close is the nearest skyport?” He leaned over the desk in the corner of the Primrose Doubloon’s captains’ cabin, studying a map. Both hands lay flat against the nearest sides of the map to prevent it from rolling in on itself. A sextant and an astrolabe held down the other two.
And Rucca could not make heads nor tails of any of it.
The first mate walked over to the desk and looked over his captain’s shoulder. He pointed at the marker that indicated where Rucca thought the Primrose Doubloon was, and asked, “This where we are?”
Rucca nodded. “As far as I can tell, yes.”
Gully studied the map for a few more moments and said, “Hell if I know, majesty.”
“That makes two of us, then, Gully.” Rucca leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I don’t think I was cut out for this, after all. Perhaps my father was right. Maybe I am not meant to fly one of these.” He gestured around the room.
“Now don’t say that,” Gully said. “I can get one of the sailors in here, and he’ll point us in the right direction.”
Lovely.
“Oh yes,” Rucca said. “Do that. And then, while you’re at it, why don’t you just tell him he can sleep in my bed, too.”
Gully looked sheepish.
“I will not be undermined by my own crew.” He paused. “Again.”
Gully was silent. Eventually, he said, “I don’t think—”
“After the water incident a few days ago, more of the crew seems to respect me. Not all of them, but some. More. I will not have them thinking that I am unsuited for my position.”
“And what if they do?” Gully asked. “Just throw the bastards off the deck. Let the fog rip the insub…insub…”
“Insubordination?”
“Yeah, just let the fog rip that away with their skin. Teach em all a lesson.”
Wouldn’t that be nice?
Rucca pursed his lips. “No,” he finally said. “I’m not ruthless. I never have been. I’m cold, I know, but I’m not a cold-blooded killer.” He reached out and touched the miniature sculpture that represented the airship, then he slid it to the other side of the map, to the large skyport marked Cloud Nine. “I just want to go home.”
Gully opened his mouth, then closed it. He cleared his throat, and Rucca guessed he was getting his courage up before he spoke. “I don’t think, majesty…I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“I know, Gully. There is a limit to my father’s patience, and there is an even lower limit to my father’s patience with me. I led a group of men and women who stole an airship holding a fortune in clean water. I’m a pirate now, and pirates do not get to return home.”
Before Gully could reply, Rucca yanked the map off the desk. The miniature airship, sextant, and astrolabe went flying, but he didn’t care. Gully would pick it up for him. He was good for something, at least. Even if Rucca wasn’t.
Without another word, he wheeled his chair around and pushed the joystick forward. He left the cabin and rolled onto the deck, holding the map in his lap with one hand. The wind threatened to steal it from his grasp, but he found himself a sheltered spot to park himself next to the foremast and began studying the map.
Without the miniature airship to mark a probable location, Rucca was even more lost than he had been inside. He kept looking down at the map, then out toward the horizon. He would turn his chair occasionally to offer a different vantage point, but nothing changed. He could still tell nothing about where they were or where they should be going.
Then, as he stared off into the distance, he thought that he saw a ripple in the cloudtop. He snapped his fingers at a young sailor and beckoned him over.
“Do you see that?” Rucca asked as he pointed. “Over there?”
The sailor squinted and strained. “No, sir. I don’t see a thing.”
“Do you have a spyglass I can borrow?”
“Me, sir? No. Not at all. I can find you one, though, I bet.”
“Do that,” Rucca said. “Bring it to me as soon as you can.”
The young man nodded and rushed off. Rucca stared at the ripple he saw in the distance for a quarter of an hour. The young sailor returned and knocked him out of his reverie by placing a small spyglass in his hand.
“This is all I could find, captain. I’m sorry it ain’t no bigger.”
“This will do fine,” Rucca said. Finally, one of the ship’s crew called him captain. Perhaps the crew could be unified, after all. “Thank you.”
The young man beamed and went back to his duties as Rucca rolled up his map and raised the scope to his eye. There was something out there, after all. He tried to focus, and he saw that it was a small airship skimming along the cloudtop.
It was moving directly toward them.
Snapping his fingers again, Rucca got the young sailor’s attention once more. He held out the spyglass and said, “Tell me what you see.”
The young man looked through the spyglass in the direction Rucca indicated and said, “I’ll be damned, captain. It’s a skimmer.”
Rucca was unfamiliar with the term. “A skimmer?”
“Yes, sir. Small ships without gasbags. They’re a fairly new model, but cheap. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one. Just heard about em.”
Rucca had never even heard about these so-called skimmers. “And how do they work?”
“I’m not entirely sure, captain. I heard they have engines that process the clouds directly to make steam. They don’t have to carry tons of water, so they’re fast and small.”
“That also means they don’t have a lot of room for supplies, then, or large crews.”
“No, sir. Last time I was at port—” He paused.
Rucca smiled. “You mean before you docked at Cloud Nine, and I took over the ship.”
“Aye, sir,” the sailor said, looking down. “Before that.”
“Well go on,” Rucca said. There must have been some kind of threat in Rucca’s voice that he didn’t know was there because the young sailor shied away from him. Did he expect his wheelchair-bound captain to beat him?
“Well, I heard folks talkin. I heard em say that skimmers were only gonna be good for two things: pirating and policing. Whatever that means.”
Rucca narrowed his eyes. “It means that those skimmers need a base. They either have to have an armada nearby,” he said, “or a skyport.”
The sailor nodded. “That’s all I heard, captain. That’s all I know.” He returned Rucca’s spyglass.
Taking the scope, Rucca asked, “What is your name, boy?”
“Carlton, sir. Most folks call me Carl.”
“Thank you for your help, Carl. I will remember t
his.”
The young man smiled and went back to work. Rucca continued to stare out at the skimmer, moving ever closer to his ship.
***
The entire airship rocked with the impact. Rucca was just about thrown from his chair, and once he righted himself, he wheeled toward the starboard bow. The skimmer he had been watching was still a good distance away, and rather than communicating with them in any civilized manner, the small ship had opened fire.
No further volleys came, however, so Rucca took the attack to be a warning shot. Probably an exploding shell shot beneath the ship to jar everyone as much as possible. Not a bad tactic, actually. The skimmer then kept its distance and flew parallel to the Primrose Doubloon’s course.
“All hands on deck!” Rucca shouted over the noise. “Everyone up here now!”
Moments later, the entire crew stood on the deck behind him. The explosion brought the crew together like it was the world’s most dangerous team-building exercise. Gully made his way to Rucca’s side and handed him a small device. It had a very tiny screen on its face, an antennae coming from its top, and it had a knob on the side and a button underneath that. “What is this, Gully?”
“Dunno,” Gully said. “It beeped right after the ship stopped rockin, and started talkin at me. I thought you’d want it.”
Rucca studied the device and pressed the button. “Is this the skimmer? To whom am I speaking?”
The device crackled and the screen lit up. He saw a scraggly woman’s face framed by dreadlocked hair. She might have been attractive once upon a time. She spoke with a thick accent that Rucca wasn’t familiar with. “You’re in m’air, pirate. I suggest y’leave.”
Pressing the button again, Rucca said, “Your air?” He took a deep breath and exhaled dramatically. “What do you mean by that?”
“Angel’s Landing has claim to all the cloud-water in this sector, pirate. That shot before, it was a warning. Don’t make m’fire at y’again. Won’t miss y’on purpose next time.”
“I am no pirate,” Rucca said into the screen.
“Are y’not?” the scraggly woman asked. “Looks t’me like y’ship is stole. Primrose Doubloon shows up in m’data as being pirated from Cloud Nine weeks ago. Angel’s Landing don’t take real kind to pirates, y’know?”
