Leena was glad that firearms were so scarce in Paragaea, or their resistance might have proven futile. As it was, between her pistol and Hieronymus's, they were able to pick off three of the pterosaurs and their riders in the first two passes. But Leena's marksmanship had never been anything but journeyman at best, and Hieronymus had only limited ammunition for his Mauser, so by the time the Raiders began their boarding run, their best hope lay in fist, and club, and blade.
The Sky Raiders drew near the Rukh, just beyond the reach of the crew's poleaxes, matching the airship's speed. The pillion riders unfastened themselves from the saddle harness, drew a cutlass in one hand and a war-axe in the other, and with a bloodcurdling whoop leapt across the open air, crashing headfirst into the serried defenders on the platform of the open-air deck.
Balam met the boarders with tooth and claw, Hieronymus with a fierce grin and his cavalry saber in hand. Leena tried to draw a bead on one with her Makarov, but in the melee her shot went wide, and she came near to shooting one of the defending crewmen in the back, the shot instead ricocheting off the deckplates, sent zinging up and into the fabric of the envelope. With great reluctance, she holstered her pistol, and drew the short sword tucked in her belt, better suited for close quarters.
Leena watched as one of the crewmen went over the side, pitched head over heels by a Raider. That same Raider was an instant later brained by a heavy club, his teeth crunching together with a sickening crack, his eyes rolling up sightless in his skull as he fell insensate to the deck. Another Raider surged into the breach, and was caught up in the arms of the outlaw prince of the Sinaa, Balam, whose claws drew red rills of blood across the Raider's chest as the jaguar man threw the Raider overboard. Hieronymus's saber flashed in his hand, and Leena took up position at his back, handling the short blade as best she could, covering his rear while he mowed through the attackers.
The crew and the three companions made a valiant show of defending the ship from the boarders, but in the end, the Raiders' numbers were simply too great. Wave after wave of pterosaurs and riders came at the airship, another and another and another, until the defenders were near buried under attackers. In the end, the odds were simply too overwhelming, and the defenders had no choice but to lay down their arms and surrender.
The Raiders howled in celebration. The ship was theirs.
The Raiders left a prize crew onboard as the pterosaurs wheeled off back to the west. A dozen men were enough to hold the ship, with the defenders left dead, injured, or merely disarmed. They were under the command of an old Raider with a long scar running along the left side of his face from forehead to chin, his nose broken and bent out of true. On his orders, the ship was steered off course towards the western Rim Mountains, and the secret hideaway of the Raiders. The surviving passengers would no doubt be sold off into slavery, the ship's cargo parceled out and fenced, and the Rukh itself broken down into constituent elements and sold at the best price, the metal components not least of which.
Hieronymus, Balam, and Leena bided their time. They were gathered in a mass along with the rest of the passengers and the surviving crew in the observation lounge, under the watchful eye of three Raiders armed with swords and crossbows loaded and primed. The Bent Nose leader of the Raiders and the rest of the prize crew were busy steering the ship, or rummaging through the cargo holds and cabins looking for plunder.
Leaning in close, the three companions whispered together in English, a language no one else onboard shared.
“We can take these three,” Balam purred low. “They are cautious, but we have speed and strength on our side.”
“And what of the nine more beyond the passageway?” Hieronymus asked quietly. “They've taken our arms away, and we're left with only our bare hands to defend ourselves.”
“Not all of our hands are quite so bare,” Balam answered, popping one of his claws out and grinning mercilessly.
“I think we have other things to worry about,” Leena said, glancing over nervously at the three guards.
“Yes, you're right, of course,” Hieronymus said apologetically. “Our first priority must be to secure the safety of Jophar Vorin.”
“Well,” Leena said, nodding slowly, “that's certainly correct, and something we should definitely look after, but that's not what I was thinking of.”
Balam and Hieronymus looked at her, their expressions confused.
“During the attack, I fired a shot that went wide, and punched a hole in the envelope.”
“Do the Raiders know?” Balam asked.
“No,” Leena answered. “I don't think anyone else has noticed. It will be some time before the ship is affected, but sooner or later we will begin to lose altitude, and if that should come on quickly enough, we could all be in for a shorter trip than we had intended.”
Hieronymus glanced behind them, to the wide reinforced-glass windows of the observation lounge, the purple mountains in the distant west and the hint of patchwork farmlands far below them.
“I hate flying,” he said, closing his eyes tightly against the view.
They continued to the west, the Raiders in the flight deck of the control gondola laying on speed, the hum of the engine nacelles rising to a piercing wail as the screws turned faster and faster.
In their whispered conference, hidden from the guards' attentions by the terrified masses of huddled businessmen, missionaries, and artisans, the three companions worked out their most likely plan for success. They would wait until the ship neared the Raiders' hideaway, just before reaching the foothills of the western Rim Mountains. By that point, the Rukh should have dropped low enough that they could descend safely to the ground below. They would overpower the prize crew, and drop lines off the side of the gondola to lower themselves, Vorin, and whatever other passengers had the nerve down to the ground. They could lose the Raiders in the thick forests of Altrusia, which spread out like a carpet all along the eastern slope of the Rim Mountains, and make a clear getaway.
Their plan hinged on the slim hope that the prize crew would become overconfident as they drew near their journey's end, with their home clearly in view. Hieronymus had been in similar situations on sailing vessels during the Napoleonic War, though, and he assured the other two that he was convinced of success. They had only to bide their time, and all would work out to their best advantage.
Still, timing would be crucial, and there was the constant threat that the Rukh's envelope would lose pressure too quickly, and send them crashing to earth. If they made their move too soon, the chances of the Raiders repelling their insurrection was far, far greater; if they waited until too late, though, the airship might reach the Raiders' base before the companions could effect their escape, and they'd have the amassed might of the Raiders against them. They'd be sold into slavery, or tortured for sport, or worse.
The three companions huddled together, their watchful eyes on their captors, their thoughts on the actions before them.
The forest of towering conifers spread beneath them, as far as the eye could see to the north, east, and south, while to the west the snow-capped peaks of the Rim Mountains grew ever larger. They had just hours to go before it would be time to make their move, and the three companions were tensed and ready.
The sound of the fat man wailing from the passageway signaled the end of all their plans.
Bent Nose, the leader of the Raiders, came into the observation lounge dragging Jophar Vorin by the scruff of the neck, a half-dozen Raiders crowding the passageway behind him.
“Damn,” Hieronymus breathed, his hands tightening to fists.
Leena had almost risen to her feet when Balam laid a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“Not now, little sister,” the jaguar man whispered, holding a finger up before his black lips. “Bide awhile.”
Bent Nose threw Vorin to the deckplates, the heavyset Laxarian businessman still clutching the leather case chained to his wrist. The Raider commander then turned his scarred face to the assembled prisoners,
and began to spit a steady stream of invective. His words, strained through the skein of his mountain accent, were impossible for Leena to follow.
“What is he saying?” Leena whispered to Hieronymus.
The passengers and crew looked to one another nervously as Bent Nose raged on.
“They found Vorin in the ballonet, while they were looking for hidden treasures,” Hieronymus explained. “With the case chained to his wrist, the Raiders suspect him of being some kind of intelligencer for the Hegemon of Laxaria. They are going to cut off his wrist if he doesn't unlock the case for them. They are calling for his coconspirators to present themselves.”
None of the prisoners spoke, but one by one their gazes began to turn towards the three companions, crouched together against the far windows.
“I don't like this,” Balam rumbled.
Bent Nose left off ranting, and followed the gaze of the dozen or so passengers and crew who had looked at the three companions they'd all seen with the man trembling on the deckplates.
“Be ready,” Hieronymus said in a harsh whisper.
“Ready for what?” Leena began to ask, but then it was too late, and her answer was before her.
Before Bent Nose could signal to the Raiders behind him in the passageway to come forward and take the three companions in hand, Hieronymus leapt to his feet and, with a wild cry, rushed at the Raider commander with his arms flung wide. Balam was just steps behind, his claws unsheathed, an unsettling roar bellowing from between his vicious jaws.
Leena didn't hesitate, but jumped up and followed after, running low with her arms held in a ready stance, her military training coming back to her like high water just beginning to seep over a low dam.
While Hieronymus grappled hand to hand with Bent Nose, and Balam took on the Raiders still crowded back in the passageway, Leena turned her attentions to the three guards who had stood watch over them these last hours. They had been standing on their feet without rest or respite for much of the day, and their energy must have started to flag as time wore on.
Leena plowed into the first of the guards, knocking his crossbow unfired from his hands and sending him stumbling back into the nearest of the other two. The guards went down in a confusion of arms and legs, while Leena managed to keep her feet below her, though her head rung with the impact.
The third guard, to her good fortune, did not carry a crossbow but only a short club. Precisely the thing her military instructors had trained her to defend against. At the time, she'd harbored bitter thoughts about the uselessness of such training, sure that no one would ever attack her with a two-foot length of wood. As the guard swung the club down at her overhand, Leena reacted instinctively, and silently asked forgiveness of every drill instructor she'd cursed in her thoughts. She sidestepped, grabbed the guard's elbow, and then pinioned his arm against his side. Then, sliding her leg out and shifting the guard's weight forward, she succeeded in flipping him head first over her hip, sending him crashing into the unforgiving deckplates.
By the time she looked up, Hieronymus had knocked Bent Nose unconscious, and Balam was entertaining himself with the Raiders who remained standing in the corner of the observation lounge.
“Quickly,” Leena shouted. “It won't take long before the rest of them come to investigate.”
Hieronymus nodded a quick reply, and then bolted towards the passageway. Balam held off the rest of the Raiders, who tried to surge out of the observation lounge, while Hieronymus went aft and retrieved their arms from the closet where Bent Nose had stowed them earlier, along with their packs from their quarters and a length of stout line. His Mauser tucked into his belt, and his cavalry saber in hand, Hieronymus stood a little straighter. Leena was forced to admit that, with her short sword in one hand and her Makarov in the other, she too felt that she stood a little taller.
With Vorin supported on Leena's arm, Balam in the lead, and Hieronymus bringing up the rear, the company made their way through the forward passageway, their packs slung on their backs. They encountered two more Raiders along the way. The first went down under Balam's claws, the second with one of Leena's bullets in his chest.
At length, they reached the open-air deck. Hieronymus unslung the coil of line from his shoulder, and went to work securing one end to the heavy, wrought-iron railing of the platform.
Balam kept his eyes on the steps leading down from the passageway, while Vorin stood gripping the leather case tightly in his arms. Leena walked to the railing and looked down. The ground was much closer than it should have been, the tops of the trees only bare meters below the gondolas.
“Chto?” Leena muttered, and then looked up to the envelope overhead.
The entry point of her errant shot had widened from a single puncture to a long fissure that ran at least a meter long. The surface of the Rukh's envelope looked shrunken and withered, like the skin of an old prune. The ship was losing pressure far faster than she'd anticipated.
“Bozhe moj,” Leena swore. She wheeled to face the other three. “We must hurry!”
Hieronymus nodded a silent reply, and tested the heft of the line.
“We are ready,” he shouted back. “Vorin! You are first!”
The Laxarian businessman hung back, hesitant, standing on his tiptoes to peer over the platform's edge.
“Now, damn your eyes, or we'll leave you to their tender mercies!” Hieronymus snapped, his expression hard.
The businessman took a heavy breath, and then crossed the platform to Hieronymus's side. Leena stepped forward, and together she and Hieronymus helped Vorin to swing one leg over the railing.
“Lower yourself with care and speed,” Leena said. “You may end up bruised and scraped, but at least you'll keep both your hands.”
Vorin glanced from Leena to Hieronymus, confused. It was only then that the two realized he'd not understood a word of the English they'd spoken.
Leena pointed down towards the ground, and said the only word of Sakrian that came to mind. “Uksalke.”
Safe.
Vorin nodded, reluctantly, and swung his other leg over the railing. He crested the railing, his hands fastened tight on the stout rope. Vorin paused, glancing with terrified eyes at the treetops whistling by just beneath him, and back up at Leena and the others waiting to follow. A Raider with a crossbow appeared at the top of the steps from the passageway, and before Balam could react the bowstring snapped and the bolt had thudded into Vorin's shoulder.
Vorin opened his eyes wide, his mouth a perfect circle of shock, and then he fell over backwards into open space as his hands lost their strength, like a tall tree felled by a lumberjack, and was gone.
With a roar, Balam took hold of the Raider before he was able to reload his crossbow. Carrying him overhead, the jaguar man crossed the platform to the railing, and then unceremoniously threw the Raider overboard, his screams torn away by the high winds.
“Bastard,” Hieronymus spat.
More Raiders appeared at the top of the steps, and from the direction of the Rim Mountains Leena could see an advance party of pterosaur-riding Sky Raiders come out to escort them in.
“I think we should be going,” Balam said, laying his clawed hands on the railing and looking over.
“You first, you great pillock,” Hieronymus said darkly. “So far as we're concerned, I think our journey is completed, successfully or no. Let's away before the bill comes due.”
Balam snarled, and then vaulted over the railing, catching the rope only after dropping nearly a meter in midair. He slid down, the rope held loosely between his hands and feet, and soon disappeared beyond the green foliage below.
“Now you, little sister,” Hieronymus said, moving between Leena and the Raiders advancing from the passageway.
Leena wanted to object, but a quick glance at the Raiders approaching on pterosaur-back was enough to convince her the odds were not in their favor. Tucking her short sword in her belt, and securing the Makarov in its holster, she slipped over the railing and began
to descend hand over hand towards the forest below. The tree-tops rose up to meet her faster than she was climbing down. The airship had only seconds before it crashed into the trees.
The branches and trunks lashed at her, raising welts and cuts on her face and arms, stinging her eyes, filling her mouth with pine needles. She felt the line tug away hard in her hands, and she lost her grip, falling down three or more meters to the ground. She landed with a sickening thud that drove all the air from her lungs and left her dazed and unable to move on a bed of fine fallen needles, the sunlight filtering green through the canopy of trees above.
From overhead came a horrific sound, of metal screeching against metal, of trunks and branches snapping like dry bones, and Leena knew the Rukh was no more. But what had become of her two companions?
Through the sort of small miracle that seemed strangely common on Paragaea, neither Balam nor Leena was seriously injured in their descent, and they were able to locate one another with relative ease. They searched the surrounding area for Hieronymus, but by nearly nightfall they'd not yet found sign of him. Above the treetops, the pterosaurs of the Sky Raiders wheeled and turned, intent on revenge.
Leena and Balam were nearly set to break off their search, giving up their companion for lost, when a shadow split from the darkness surrounding them, and Hieronymus Bonaventure stood before them again.
“Don't you two have anything better to do than stand around in the dark?” Hieronymus said, walking past them and continuing towards the east. His clothes were torn to tatters, caked with dirt and stained green.
Leena and Balam glanced at one another, and then hurried to follow after him.
“We failed in our commission,” Hieronymus said, without a word of explanation. “Vorin hired us to protect him, and his body now lies scattered some miles away in this forest, possibly lost forever.”
Paragaea Page 9
