Faster Than Falling: The Skylighter Adventures

by Nathan Van Coops

  Samra clenched her sharks tooth necklace in her hand, the edges of the teeth pressing into her palm, grounding her and giving her nervousness a distraction. There was too much to process. Did she want to stay aboard this ship? She had only thought as far as escaping, but the captain was right. How could she catch the patch on her own? What chance did one Skylighter patchling have alone in the Southfang mountain range, or even adrift in the wind? The patch was miles up by now. Suddenly, the security of the ship was an asset she couldn’t afford to lose.

  “I just have to get it to move?” She glanced out the window to the dark mass in the web and then back to the captain.

  Captain Savage crossed her arms. “You get rid of the spider, my crew can hack through the webs. Then we’ll be on our way.”

  “You’ll get me back to my patch? You promise?”

  “Sure, kid. You tell us where it’ll be and we’ll get you there. But first things first.” The captain moved to the wall and opened a hatch leading to the bow deck.

  Samra steeled herself and climbed through it.

  She could do this. All she had to do was light up again. Easy.

  Her stomach turned over as she climbed to the bow.

  The captain and the cockpit crew stayed inside but watched from the safety of the interior. Hodges, who had been left alone on the bow, glanced at the captain, then retreated, looking relieved that someone else was facing the hairy threat.

  The spider was monstrous. Samra had seen needle spiders before. Every once in a while the guardians would find one clinging to air kelp or drifting in the breeze on ribbons of webbing, but she had never seen one this large. This spider was as fat as a globe son and its eyes as big as oranges. It studied her, watching her movements across the bow.

  “Get her closer!” the captain yelled.

  At the sides of the ship, fabric wings extended and flapped, like fins on a fish, creating a bit of upward thrust in the otherwise dead air. The airship rose, ever so slowly.

  The spider was only a dozen feet away now. The front legs of the beast were spread wide and spanned the width of the hull. Samra was in range of the clawed feet. The spider gnashed its jaws twice and twitched. It repositioned its back legs on the web.

  “What are you waiting for?” the captain called from inside.

  Samra clenched her fists and concentrated, but her pale, yellow-green skin stayed dim. The fangs of the spider clacked above her head.

  “You can do it.” The voice came from the deck behind her. Samra glanced back and found half a dozen raiders watching from rigging. Sunburn was standing in the middle of the deck. He held an axe in his hands. “We’ll help.” He began walking toward her.

  Samra turned back to the spider, but before she had time to concentrate again, the spider leapt. The great hairy body launched itself toward her, the needle on its underbelly aimed straight for her. Samra screamed and ducked, rolling sideways to avoid being skewered. The needle of the spider scraped across the bow, then retracted again. The spider turned to find its target once more, climbing across the front of the ship and pivoting to face her. Now Samra had only the ravine behind her, the webbing above, and the spider clawing its way toward her. It dove at her, the jaws closing in around her.

  Samra leapt.

  The fangs snapped beneath her and she tumbled upward, turning a flip and suddenly finding herself sitting astride the spider’s head, facing the wrong direction. The skin of the creature was clammy but abrasive, covered in spiny hairs that scraped the insides of her legs.

  She shivered in disgust, but held on.

  The arachnid retreated from the bow rail, spun, and spread its fangs toward the raiders on the deck. Samra craned her neck to see what it was doing. Sunburn took a step forward and raised his axe. Samra, not knowing what else to try, grabbed big handfuls of the spiny hair at the back of the spider’s head, and pulled.

  The spider twitched and jolted, pivoting around again, then leapt for its webbing.

  Samra shrieked, but held tight, her fingers digging into the creature’s rippled skin. The spider didn’t stop. It scurried up the web, all the way to the side of the ravine and raced vertically up the rock wall. Seated the wrong direction, Samra never saw the hole in the wall coming. The spider crammed its fat body into a cavern and Samra collided with the rocks.

  She twisted in the air and grasped for a handhold as the spider’s hind legs contorted themselves into the hole beneath her. Her fingers scraped the stones but found nothing to grab and she fell to the open mouth of the hole, landing on all fours. The spider continued burrowing itself into the mountain, thudding into the walls of the tunnel and vanishing into the darkness. After a few seconds, even the sound of it disappeared.

  The ravine was quiet.

  Samra took a breath.

  She’d done it.

  She stood and stared at the abyssal lair her enemy had retreated into.

  That’s right. It’d better run.

  Despite her victory, Samra didn’t feel inclined to linger. She looked down the ravine to judge her descent and found herself fifty feet above the Restless Fury. The twin shark nacelles of the airship gleamed in the bits of dawn light finding their way down the cleft. There were more airships in the ravine—the ones she had spotted before. They were much larger now. Behind the Restless Fury, a few hundred yards farther back in the Rift, a cylindrical, single-envelope airship took up nearly the entire space between the ravine walls. The fabric of the ship’s lift envelope was solid black with a red sunburst on the nose. Beyond that, she could just make out the lower gondola of a third, slightly smaller ship. How many of these raiders were there?

  Samra eyed the gap between the two shark-shaped nacelles below her and leapt. She expelled her breath and plummeted, splitting the gap between the two envelopes, then flipping upright again as she reached the deck of the ship between them. She thudded into the boards next to Sunburn, and straightened up.

  The captain and the navigator had exited the cockpit to see what happened and were now standing on the bow deck. When Samra turned to face the front of the ship, Captain Savage’s lips split into a grin.

  “Can’t say as I like a show-off, but I guess you did the job.” She gave Samra a nod. “Sunburn will get you a berth. Eckers is dead. I suspect you can have his.” She turned her eyes on the rest of the crew. “As for the rest of you, clear those webs. I want to be out of this ravine by noon. Get to work.” She stepped past the navigator and climbed back down into the cockpit.

  Once the captain was below decks, the remaining crew gathered around Samra. Besides Sunburn, there were three men and two women. One of the women’s skin was so brown and leathery, she looked like a dried apple. Her wispy chestnut hair was streaked with gray. She grinned at Samra with a crooked smile. The other woman was young, with hair so light it bordered on white. A corset held in her curves, but beneath the tails of her shirt was all business—trousers and high boots. She wore a long knife at her waist and a smaller blade on the opposite hip. The handles were carved into the shape of wolves. “Looks like I’m not the greenie anymore,” she said. “About time we had a new fish.”

  A man with a scraggly beard ran his fingers through it as he sized Samra up. “‘Cept she ain’t a fish, is she? She’s a spider rider.” He gave her a nod. “I’m Cogburn. They call me Cogs.”

  “She showed that thing a new trick, didn’t she?” the man next to him chimed in. He was still cradling a hurt arm. Samra recognized him as the man who had suggested stabbing her the night before. His expression was slightly more congenial now. “Guess we’ve got a spot for you on the bow from now on. See how you do against the rest of the night baddies out here.”

  “She’s done enough. She’s earned her place,” Sunburn replied.

  Cogs spoke up again. “So what do we call you, spider rider?”

  She lifted her chin and puffed her chest.

  “My name’s Samra. And nobody better forget it.”

  17

  THE LEAK


  The crags of the Rift stabbed from every direction. Atlas was two miles in now, but with every bend, turning back became more tempting. Three stones the size of his head had plummeted past already, knocked loose by unseen creatures scurrying along the cliffs above.

  Atlas held tight to the controls and forced the Sun Dragon forward. Enzo needed him. There was no quitting now.

  Daylight had at least brought some reassurance. Birdsong echoed through canyons and at one point Atlas spotted a wild goat. It watched his slow progress with curiosity, then went back to plucking weeds from the near vertical cliff walls.

  As he continued on, he was swallowed by shadows again, the towering walls of the ravine blocking out all but a sliver of sky above.

  Progress was slow and the twists of the ravine were confusing. His maps had guided him this far, but he was worried he may have taken a wrong turn up a dead end. He was about to turn around when he saw the ruined web. Massive strands of webbing hung in tattered ribbons down the cliff walls. The ends were tangled in clumps, but some of the cuts were clean and deliberate.

  Someone had been here.

  The web had been destroyed by something big. Something that had wanted to get through this particular passage.

  The airships.

  Atlas grinned at his luck. He was getting closer. Maybe he was even catching up. Whoever was chasing Enzo wasn’t that far ahead. He would have to be careful, but he had the element of surprise. If the Dragon was fast enough, he would sneak past them when they weren’t paying attention. Somehow he’d find Enzo and—

  Something thudded into the side of his airship. The Dragon rocked and he corrected the controls to stay level.

  What was that?

  He craned his neck to check the tail, but didn’t see anything. Another rock?

  He wiggled the tail controls and everything still worked. He kicked the rudder fin a few times and scooted the aircraft forward, getting out of the way in case something else fell.

  The thud jerked his head forward. This time he saw the black mass bounce off the nose and cling to the air intake. It wasn’t a rock. It was a spider. A spider the size of a watermelon.

  The third thud came from the right. The oversized arachnid landed aboard the lateral fin and caused the airship to list.

  Atlas fought the controls and kicked harder on the rudder fins. Looking up, he spotted three more spiders on the rocks, eyeing his craft.

  “No!” the word burst from his lips as he frantically spun the air valves to start the pneumatic motor. “Get away!” The Dragon lurched forward, the forward fans spinning to life and sending a blast of air down the channels below the cockpit. The jet of air propelled him forward and gave his rudder more authority. He shot away from the wall as one of the spiders leapt.

  This one missed and plummeted into the ravine below.

  His problems weren’t over. The spider on the nose was now sitting astride the front of the airship and inching its way closer. A thin barb protruded from its underbelly and it flexed the weapon as it advanced. The spider on the lateral fin was stationary, but watching him as well. Atlas wrenched on the fin controls, wiggling the fins back and forth, but the creature held on.

  He’d seen plenty of spiders in his life, but none like this. The claws on the closest one were digging into the fabric of his airship.

  “Get off!” Atlas yelled, and waved a fist. The spider didn’t move. He rummaged in the hold next to his seat till he found the small harpoons. Setting the locks on the controls, he cautiously stood up and brandished the weapon. The spider canted its head and watched him.

  “Off!” Atlas swung the harpoon and connected with the spider’s hairy abdomen. It flew off to the left of the ship and disappeared into the ravine. No sooner had Atlas turned around than another spider landed in its place. He looked up and discovered that the entire rock wall he was passing under was covered with the creatures.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  He slid back into the pilot seat and unlocked the controls. Jamming the wheel forward, he forced the nose lower and pushed the thrust lever. The fans spun to full speed and he cranked hard on the pump handle, shifting water ballast forward as fast as he could.

  Thud.

  Thud.

  Thud-thud-thud.

  The creatures rained down onto his aircraft.

  He yelled as he engaged the rudder with the air motor. The rudder fin now whipped back and forth on its own, faster than he could kick it, but the spiders were still jumping aboard quicker than he could descend. They were on the wings and the tail controls now. The nose was crawling with them. One was creeping closer to the fan intake.

  “No! Stay away from that!” Atlas shrieked at the creature but it had no effect. Last thing he needed was a spider sucked into the fans. It could jam up the entire system. He pulled back the thrust lever and let the fans spin to a stop. The rudder was still oscillating, but even that was having trouble. It was bumping into creatures on both sides now.

  The airship was sinking.

  Atlas realized with horror that the spiders were too heavy. They were bringing the ship down. He spun the lateral fins all the way in with the hand crank, then slung them open again with the air actuators. The maneuver dislodged a dozen spiders into the ravine, but it wasn’t enough. They were almost in the cockpit now. He snatched up his harpoon and batted another spider off the nose. When he turned around, another was looming over him from behind, its barbed needle aimed to strike. Atlas wrenched his harpoon around to block the blow, but he never got the chance. The spider was suddenly dislodged and sent overboard by something brown and furry that careened into the fray and landed on the tail. The creature’s fangs snapped and chomped, tearing limbs from the spiders around it and crunching them furiously.

  Atlas’s heart jolted in his chest until he recognized the pointed ears and webbed black wings of the creature that had come to his rescue.

  “Fledge?” Atlas stared incredulously at the cliff fox.

  Fledge shook out its wings and bit through the remainder of the spider in its mouth. His big orb eyes were bright with excitement. He leapt off the tail and snatched another spider off the lateral fin as he dove. The cliff fox spread its wings, banked into the turn and flapped overhead again, turning and diving for the nose of the Dragon. Two more spiders fell victim to his attack. The rest grew suddenly apprehensive and watched with intensity as their companions were plucked from the ship. The exodus started on his next pass, spiders leaping from the rigging, aiming for the cliffs, but many of them falling short and plummeting to the distant rocks below.

  The Sun Dragon began to rise.

  “Yeah, Fledge! Get ’em!” Atlas cheered on the cliff fox as it plucked another spider off the tail and flung it into the ravine. He slid back into the pilot seat and made his adjustments. He reengaged the thrust fans and climbed, making for a beam of sunshine breaching the shadows ahead. As he soared upward into the sunlight, Fledge came flapping out of the shadows behind him, a thick spider leg still dangling from his jaws.

  “Good boy, Fledge!” Atlas grinned as the cliff fox alighted on the rim of the passenger cockpit. The animal was extra weight and would throw off his balance calculations, but it was a fix he could make easily enough. The sight of Enzo’s pet boosted his spirits so much, he felt like he could float the ship himself.

  Then he heard the hissing.

  It was faint, but definitely there.

  “Oh no!”

  Atlas straightened up and peered over the nose. The fabric on the front of the airship all looked taut. He spun around and checked the tail. Something was definitely wrong. He couldn’t see it, but the hissing was louder in that direction. He scanned the tail surfaces till he spotted the puncture. It was halfway back on the right side. A hole with a bit of canvas flapping in the breeze. One of the gasbags was breached.

  Atlas leaned over the rail of the cockpit. It was all jagged precipices and sharp rocks below. To make matters worse, thick, thorny vines scaled the
walls of the ravine here, adding danger to an already unfriendly landscape. There was nowhere to land. He’d have to repair the leak in the air.

  He rummaged through the storage locker for the patch kit, then opened the tail access hatch. It was a tight fit, even for him. The main lift bag was directly behind his pilot position and looked to be intact. The leak was farther aft and he’d have to squeeze back there to find it. He frowned at the tiny patch kit in his hand, but then got to work.

  He spun the ballast pump and passed more water ballast forward to make up for his movement. The nose tipped and the aircraft began to sink. He opened the dump valve and shed some of the rear water ballast. The craft rose a little but he didn’t dare jettison too much. He might need it later. Every direction he looked held threats. It was only a matter of time till he hit a ravine wall or struck the patches of thorns. The wind in the ravine was too variable to try to predict where it might blow the ship. He’d just have to work fast. He stuck the patch kit between his teeth and began to crawl, squeezing his way aft.

  The hissing was louder back here.

  While bollite gas wasn’t exactly toxic, it wasn’t breathable either. It tended to force other denser gases out of its space, and with the exception of the lumium gas in the plants it lifted, it left little room for breathable elements. The tail already had the smell of it, an oily scent, smelling vaguely of butter.

  He held his breath and squeezed through.

  The rip was two gasbags away and up at the top. He wasn’t sure if it was a barb from the spiders that did the damage or Fledge’s claws, but something had gotten through the external skin and punctured the bag. He worked the kit open in the near darkness of the tail. The only light coming in was the faint beam through the puncture of the outer skin. Luckily that shone right where he needed it. He opened the tar bottle and smeared it over a patch of fabric, then stuck the patch over the puncture. He dolloped more of the tar over top and spread it around the edges. It was a sloppy repair job, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. The bag was loose now but still had a good amount of gas left in it. He waited thirty seconds, and when the hissing didn’t return, he crawled back out of the tail, leaving fingerprints of tar the entire way.