by James Maxey
Her prescience paid off, as a gray-skinned cloud giant rose from the storm below with a quiver full of glowing javelins strapped to his back. He hurled one at the closest knight, who was thrown from his saddle as a bolt of lightning cut his horse from beneath him. The giant drew a second bolt, but before he could strike, Steadfast Plowman, whom she recognized from his coat of arms, broke free from the pack of knights and charged with blinding speed toward the giant, his lance set to strike. Sorrow winced as Steadfast drove his weapon into the giant’s eye. The giant toppled, ripping the lance from Steadfast’s grasp, disarming him just as three other giants climbed atop the clouds, javelins at the ready.
Half the knights peeled off to engage in combat while the core of knights surrounding Slate closed even tighter as together they plunged into the clouds. Thunder rumbled as lighting crackled across the sky. Sorrow aimed toward the area of greatest intensity, the lightning rod held before her. Its glow flared as it sucked power from the charged air. Sorrow’s wings were quickly soaked by the torrential rain within the cloud, and the winds spun her about like a chicken caught in a tornado. Suddenly her momentum came to a bone-jarring halt as a giant hand wrapped around her, squeezing her torso until she felt ribs snap. A pair of enormous fingers approached her head, looking ready to pinch it from her shoulders.
Her body was already ruined. She opened the dark door inside her, letting the entropic force flow. Flesh sloughed from the giant’s hand, leaving only fingers of bone, which loosened their grasp.
Sorrow fell, sucking in wet air, shivering as mixed rain and snow froze on her exposed skin. She managed to spread her wings just as she tumbled out of the clouds. She was mere yards from a snow-covered slope, and it was more luck than skill that allowed her to swerve out of the path of the largest boulder before she slammed into it.
She flapped her wings with all her might, shaking free the ice that coated her, and flew on beneath the rumbling storm. She craned her neck from side to side but couldn’t see Slate or the knights anywhere. Had they met their ends inside the cloud? Somehow, she doubted it.
She hurtled down the mountainside at speeds she’d never dared before. The wind froze her arms as she held them before her, turning her skin gray. Or were her limbs turning dark for other reasons?
At last she broke free from the worst of the rain. Before her, she could see the port, and her eyes scanned the rim of the bay looking for the Circus. Her heart sank when she found towers of flame rising from that very area. But as she drew closer, she saw that the Circus was half a mile out in the bay, all sails set, smashing through the waves.
The flames were coming from the slave market. The whole of the complex was ablaze. A bucket brigade had been formed, but its efforts were too late. The pitch-soaked pilings that supported the dock were the source of the most energetic flames. The firefighters threw down their buckets and ran as the docks groaned, tilting and twisting beneath the weight of the structures upon them. Within seconds, the last half of the dock collapsed, sending great whirlwinds of embers roaring into the sky.
Sorrow flew around the columns of sparks, gritting her teeth as the winds tossed her side to side. Closing on the Circus was slow going until she caught the gusts that Gale had summoned to drive to boat to full speed. She rode the wind toward the deck, tilting her legs down to land on the aft-castle.
Gale, Sage, and Rigger were at the wheel, along with Brand. Most of the other Romers and Bigsby were occupied with what looked to be a hundred pygmies, helping them steady themselves as they descended the stairs to below deck. Mako was the only one not visible.
“Get ready for full speed!” Gale called out as she held he hands above her head, fingers spread wide.
“This isn’t full speed?” Sorrow struggled to stay on her feet on the pitching deck.
“Sage saw you coming. I slowed down so you could catch us.”
Brand turned pale as he looked at her. “What happened?” he asked, studying her face.
She touched the crusted stitches over her empty eye. “I feel like I should have a witty reply, but I don’t.”
“This has something to do with our conversation?” Sage asked.
“Something, yes.”
“Oh. I didn’t even notice the eye,” said Brand. “I was talking about the scales.”
Sorrow let her talons fall to her cheeks. She found her skin was now covered with smooth, hard beads.
“These things happen,” she said. She glanced toward the pygmies. “And apparently, a lot of other stuff has happened as well. How did your business meetings go?”
Brand steadied himself against the rail as the wind lashing the ship grew even stronger. He shouted, “One of dad’s associates was a slave-trader named Price. I spoke to him for about five minutes before I realized that the only favor I wanted from the sleazy bastard was to watch him suffer and die. But he was thrilled enough to meet me that he gave me a tour of the slave warehouses. From one of the windows, I could see the Circus. After that, one thing led to another.”
“Where’s Mako?” Sorrow asked.
“I’m right here,” Mako said as he pulled himself up over the railing, dripping wet. He tossed an auger to the deck, and whipped his head to fling his long, slick hair out of his face. “While Jetsam and Ma got the fire going, I was making certain any ships that might pursue us had holes in their hull.”
“What about cloudships?” Sorrow asked.
Gale said, “I’ll take Levi at his word that if he’d been commander during the thick of the pirate wars, he would have taken actions to tilt the battles in our favor.”
Sorrow looked up. The sky directly above them had patches of blue.
Amid this blue, a trio of horseman could be seen in silhouette, galloping toward the Circus.
“They’re attacking from above!” Jetsam shouted.
“It’s Slate!” Sage called out. “Ma, calm the deck so the horses can land!”
Gale lowered her arms.
“Another delay,” grumbled Rigger. “Am I the only one in a hurry to get onto the high sea before Tempest intervenes?”
“Tempest isn’t going to pay attention to a few missing slaves,” Mako said. He had his eyes fixed on Sorrow. She turned away, feeling awkward. His feelings had been so hurt when she’d spurned his advances. But after her conversation with Gale the other night, she wasn’t going to betray the woman’s trust by engaging in loveless sex with her son.
“What will it matter if we’re on the high seas?” asked Brand. “There are storms at sea as well.”
“True,” said Gale. “But that’s also the domain of Abyss. We could ask for his protection.”
Slate and the trio of knights reached the deck. The horse’s hooves clomped loudly on the wood as they tried to steady themselves.
“Windswept!” Poppy shouted as she ran toward the steeds. “I’ve never gotten to touch a real horse!”
“Stay back,” said the knight on Slate’s right, who wore a green tunic over his armor. “Our steeds are exhausted and nervous after what we’ve been through.” He dismounted, stroking his horse’s neck. “I wouldn’t want you risking injury.”
“I’ve always dreamed of riding a horse!” said Poppy.
“The experience isn’t as pleasant as you might think,” Slate said as he dismounted, standing on rubbery legs. He had the One True Book clasped beneath his left arm. It looked a bit waterlogged.
“I can teach you to ride sometime,” said Bigsby. “I’m an excellent equestrian.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Um,” said Brand, “that was the princess who was jousting as a toddler, not you.”
“I know,” Bigsby said. “But I learned to ride while I was with the circus. I was so good I could stand on horseback and juggle knives as I rode around the tent.”
“Wasn’t the owner of your carnival killed with a thrown knife?” Brand asked.
“And I made my escape on horseback,” said Bigsby. “There’s probably a lesson to be learned there.�
� He glanced back at the now distant city, toward the smoke rising to mix with the churning storm front. “Having been an unwilling employee, it does my heart good to see a place like that burn. I only hope Price didn’t make it out alive.”
“He didn’t,” said Jetsam, as he guided the last of the pygmies to the stairs.
The pale green pygmy looked forlorn and frightened until Bigsby clicked, clucked, and whistled something to him. The pygmy smiled gently as he went below deck.
“What did you say?” asked Jetsam.
“The smallest men walk away from the longest falls,” said Bigsby. “It’s an aphorism forest pygmies use to cheer themselves when faced with hard times.”
By now the knight to Slate’s right, who wore a tunic of gold embroidered with a large red lion, had dismounted. He said, “I thought the cloud giants had the best of us. I can’t understand why they suddenly retreated when we were so outnumbered.”
“Indeed,” said a thundering voice that rolled across the bay. “It’s quite the mystery. I look forward to learning who issued such a command once I’m finished retrieving my property.”
The thunderhead above the burning docks writhed as a whirlwind spun out to form a long, serpentine neck. Sheets of clouds spread across the sky, shaping themselves into wings. Shadows fell across the Circus as Gale raised her hands to summon winds. The sails caught air with a loud SNAP and smashed into the rising waves as Tempest emerged from the clouds, a massive gray dragon far larger than their ship. The great beast easily outpaced the Circus, looping around before it with the grace of a creature that had dwelled for centuries in the sky.
Tempest’s mouth was full of lightning as he said, “You’ve stolen something from me. I would like it back.”
“We’ll never give you the slaves!” Brand said, leaping onto the bowsprit and shaking his fist at the sky-monster. Before waiting for the dragon’s reply, Brand glanced back at Gale and grinned. “Any of this turning you on?”
Gale smiled. “I’d answer, but I don’t want my children to blush.”
“Oh, Ma,” said Sage.
“The slaves are of no concern,” rumbled Tempest. “You’ve stolen the One True Book. Its presence in my kingdom brings me a great deal of power.”
“You’ve no right to this sacred tome!” the green knight shouted, drawing his sword. Sorrow was puzzled as a woman’s voice suddenly filled the air, singing a rousing battle-hymn. “My singing sword and I shall defend this holy book to our dying—”
There was a flash. A mound of molten slag burned into the black circle on the deck where the knight had stood as flecks of green fabric drifted through the air. The singing sword landed on the deck, still calling out its battle-hymn, until it was drowned out by the wave of thunder that washed across the lurching ship. Sorrow was thrown to the deck. The impact knocked the lightning rod from her hands. It rolled across the planks, bouncing as it went, until she was certain it would fall into the sea. As luck would have it, Bigsby fell in front of the rod and caught it, though Sorrow couldn’t tell if he’d leapt to make this catch, or merely lost his footing on the pitching deck.
Tempest whirled around the boat once more, giving everyone time to study the burnt spot that had once been a man. His voice again thundered through the rigging. “Place the book upon the spot I’ve marked, turn away, and I shall spare you.”
Gale shouted, “Hold steady for the mouth of the bay!”
“Have we thought about giving him the damn book?” Rigger asked. “What’s it to us?”
“If he wants the book badly enough to chase us, he can’t capsize the ship without losing it! If we turn the book over, we’ve nothing to shield us!”
“You’ve nothing to shield you now,” Tempest said, as he turned his gaze toward Gale and opened his jaws wide. Sorrow could see straight down his gullet as the lightning arced toward them.
CHAPTER TWENTY
FLESH AND BONE
BIGSBY MADE IT to his feet a few yards in front of Gale just as lighting erupted from Tempest’s jaws. The lighting rod flared as thunder cracked so loud it rattled Sorrow’s teeth. In the aftermath, no one was harmed.
Tempest’s eyes narrowed as he glared at the dwarf. He flapped his wings forward and the waves rose in towering whitecaps, crashing across the deck. Sorrow was swept from her feet by the wall of water. As she was washed over the rail, ropes snaked through the surf to wrap around her arms and legs. She jerked to a halt, yelping in pain as her stitches tore, and wound up choking on a mouthful of brine.
As Rigger dragged her back aboard, she saw Slate was gone. Had he been washed overboard, or had he gone below to place the One True Book in a safer location? Two of the horses skittered in the air a yard above the pitching deck. The third horse charged toward Tempest with the red-lion knight in the saddle. A tight shaft of brilliant ruby light beamed from the tip of his lance and left a path of burnt scales across Tempest’s face. The dragon roared, punctuating his pain by spitting lightning. Knight and horse fell toward the water, trailing smoke.
“I gave you a fair chance to surrender the tome!” Tempest cried. “You shall pay the ultimate price for your defiance!” Lightning arced from his jaws once more, targeting the front of the boat, well clear of Bigsby’s rod. The top half of the foremast toppled into the crashing waves, the sails in flame.
Tempest circled the ship, whipping his tail, leaving waterspouts in his wake. Hail pelted Sorrow like shot from a sling. She was too rattled by the assault to think clearly. She could feel the dark energy building in the center of her being, but didn’t dare attempt to release it while she was so muddled.
A chunk of hail the size of a fist slammed into her forehead, knocking her flat. She blinked stars from her eyes as she stared up at the churning clouds. Without warning, the clouds tore in twain and a giant man dropped from them. It was Levi, grown to half a mile in length, splashing into the bay with a wave that threatened to turn the Circus on its side. Levi wrapped his arms around Tempest’s neck, dragging the massive reptile down into the sea.
Instantly, the waterspouts collapsed upon themselves. Sorrow grabbed the railing and struggled back to her feet as the wind lessened and the hail stopped pounding her. Tempest was apparently as susceptible to distraction as any other living thing.
“Go!” Levi shouted as the backwash swirled the Circus past his thighs. “I can’t hold him for long!”
“You can’t hold me at all!” cried Tempest as an enormous claw closed around Levi’s throat. With a rapid slash, he slit Levi’s jugular.
“Levi!” Gale cried as her son fell toward the Circus, clutching his windpipe.
Levi’s eyes were unfocused, but with his last flicker of thought he lurched to the side to avoid crushing the ship. Blood sprayed across the Circus as he fell, speckling the sails with crimson as his enormous body splashed into the water. The Circus rose atop a wave that lifted the ship to the clouds.
At last the wave broke, dropping the ship into the brine red with blood. Sorrow held her breath as the ship plunged beneath the surface. She couldn’t see a thing for half a minute, until the Circus popped above the bloodied water like a cork.
“That son of a bitch!” Rigger cried, turning the wheel hard. Every rope on deck rose, until the ship resembled an inverted jellyfish, its tendrils probing for a meal of dragon.
“What are you doing?” Brand shouted.
“I’m going to drown that bastard!” Rigger answered. “The waves are the domain of Abyss! Tempest will be weakened if he doesn’t make it back to the sky!”
Rigger’s hope of revenge came to a rapid end as Tempest swam away from the Circus, his body whipping through the water. When he finally spread his wings, they caught the wind and lifted him from the whitecaps. Tempest flew nearly a mile away from the ship before turning. His mouth glowed as he opened his jaws once more. There was a loud crack, but again his lightning failed to rake the deck. Instead, Sorrow saw the arc stop a few hundred feet before the dragon’s gaping mouth. She narrowed her eyes
, squinting through the squall, cursing her half-blindness.
She spotted the thin columns of light cast by a knight’s horseshoes. Only it wasn’t a knight in the saddle. It was Bigsby, lashing the steed forward, holding the glowing lightning rod above the long, flowing locks of his bright blonde wig.
“Is he committing suicide?” Sorrow shouted.
“When the hell did he get the wig?” Brand asked.
Rigger fought the wheel as the ship slid down a mountain of water. “He said he was going to shove the rod down the dragon’s throat! If he can rob the beast of his lightning, we stand a chance!”
The dragon assisted Bigsby in his mission by thrusting his neck forward and snapping his jaws shut, swallowing the horse in a single gulp.
“Now!” Cinnamon shouted.
Sorrow turned in time to see Poppy balanced on her sister’s shoulders. The girl jumped off and Cinnamon shot into the air, tracing a perfect arc toward the dragon’s nose.
“No!” Gale cried as she watched her daughter fly.
“Yes,” Sage shouted from beside Poppy. “I helped them aim! She’s going to hit her target!”
“It was Cinnamon’s idea,” Poppy said, defensively. “She’s going to make the dragon so sick he can’t fight!”
“Have you both lost your minds?” Gale cried.
Sage knelt and ran her fingers along the deck. It looked as if the planks were awash with wine. “I’ve never seen things more clearly.” She turned and ran for the hold just as Slate emerged from below deck, Witchbreaker in hand.
Sorrow had no time to follow what was happening on the ship. Instead, she watched Cinnamon land dead center of Tempest’s snout. The dragon’s eyes grew wide. His jaws snapped open as his tongue shot from his mouth as if it was trying to escape. Bigsby tumbled out of the dragon’s mouth, plummeting toward the sea, leaving his wig fluttering in mid-air. He looked to still be alive to judge from his flailing limbs, but he was falling from a quarter mile up. His odds of surviving the impact weren’t favorable.
