Faster Than Falling: The Skylighter Adventures

by Nathan Van Coops

  “We don’t need fuel. We have his air motors.”

  “Air motors?” The man leaned forward. “What’s an air motor?”

  Atlas paused in his consumption of the grouse leg. “You said you’d tell us where my ship is.”

  “Said I’d trade that for information on the sky peoples.”

  “You’ve been asking lots of questions, and I’ve been giving answers. Isn’t that worth something?”

  “Seems you were just chatting with me freely. Can’t fault me for taking what was offered. Besides, you’re getting a bit of reward right now.” He gestured toward the remains of the grouse leg in Atlas’s hands. “I’d say a bit of supper’s worth something.”

  “Can’t fault me for taking what was offered,” Atlas replied.

  Chane grinned. “Quick study. I like that. You have a bit of the trading arts in you, son. Maybe you’ve found yourself a future profession.”

  “I already have one,” Atlas replied.

  Chane nodded. “Right. I guess you did mention a certain aircraft. Suspect you’re powerful keen on getting back to it.” He tossed the bone from the grouse out the opening of the lean-to, and it disappeared into the darkness. He began carving off another piece. “So how about you and I make a trade then. You tell me what you know about this flying machine of yours. And a bit of what your granddad uses it for. Maybe tell me how he gets in so good with the sky folk. And then I promise to have these tree folk take you back to your ship at first light. I’ll even tell you the best way to get to where you’re going.”

  “You don’t even know where we’re going,” Atlas said.

  “I bet I can figure it out,” Chane replied. “Or you can tell me. Besides, there’s really only one way on through this forest. At least if you plan to take that ship with you.” He extended a hand. “Do we have ourselves a trade?”

  Atlas hesitated only a moment, then reached out and clasped the man’s hand. “But you have tell me the way out first.”

  Chane let out a laugh. “You want to know which path to take before you even have your ship back? I appreciate your enthusiasm. Since you have to wait till morning for my assistance to be of much help, I suppose it’s only fair for me to go first.” He reached into his pile of belongings and came up with a small towel that he used to wipe his hands. Once they were clean he extended a hand, pointed his index finger, then aimed at the floor. “Your way out is down.”

  “Down?”

  “Something most folk don’t know. The Sky Forest is so thick at the edges that it touches the ground. Gets plenty of sun out there. But here in the wild bits, trees get so dense you’d never find a way through. Not up top. But not much sun makes it through either. Means all the old low trees can’t compete. They died off years ago. You sink down past the forest floor, you’ll find it’s hollowed out. What’s growing in the middle of this forest is growing high. Ground might be treacherous down there, but in an airship? Well, I’d say you could scoot right through underneath.”

  “But if it’s rimmed at all the edges, how am I supposed to get back out?” Atlas asked.

  “Smart question.” Chane tapped his nose. “But there’s where things get interesting for you. You can follow the river. Trees grew up and over it in some parts, but down low you should be able to find it. Follow it south.”

  “We aren’t going south. We’re headed east.”

  “Not meaning to tell you your business, but whatever it is you’re after, you won’t be finding it in the east. Nothing gets through that way. Whoever you’re after, they either tried to smash their way through like you did and failed, or they wised up from the get-go and turned. If they didn’t go back the way you came, then they went south.”

  “What’s down that way?”

  “For an airship? Everything. Civilization. Fuel. Work. Whatever’s worth doing these days is down in Smoketown and Port Savage. Your people will head that way. Foolish not to. Smart move would have been to follow the edge of the forest south to the coast, then follow that around till you reached the bottom of the forest, but since you’re this far in anyway, you should go under. River will lead you straight to it.”

  Atlas ruminated on the idea, rearranging his thoughts around it. “South. You’re sure?”

  “Sure as the sun rises.” The man rubbed his knuckles and shifted a little closer to the fire. “Now a deal is a deal. Seems your granddaddy had quite a business going up in those mountains. Time to tell me all you can about his dealings with the sky people.”

  24

  THE RIVER

  Kipling woke damp with sweat.

  His dreams had been strange—a menagerie of terrors stalking him in his sleep. Some he wasn’t convinced were dreams at all. There had been shrieks in the night, and shouts and grunts from the Horokim. No nightbeasts had penetrated the confines of the grove, but evidence of action during the night was now littering the floor of the domed enclosure. Black and gray tufts of feathers clung to bits of moss or waved apathetically in the feeble morning breeze. There was a broken spear near one of the tree trunks. The shaft was speckled with dark stains.

  Kipling’s mouth was dry. His stomach was rumbling as well, but it was his thirst he was most intent on resolving. It was only after a few minutes of searching the vine pods near his sleeping place for any type of drinkable fluids that he realized what was different this morning.

  Atlas was gone.

  Kipling scanned the dingy grove but only saw a few of the older tree folk up in the branches and a handful of furry children scampering about the grove floor. How long had he been asleep? The lack of direct sunlight was addling his sense of time. In the patch, he nearly always rose with the sun. Here the sun was a distant and vague presence. Was it later than he thought?

  The idea suddenly occurred to him that Atlas could have left him here. Had he escaped during the night? Perhaps he’d cut his losses and gone off to try to find the airship on his own. Kipling dashed into the center of the grove and spun around. “Atlas!” He cupped his hands and tried again. “Atlas!”

  All he got was mute stares from the children.

  Before he could do anything else, a whooping shout went up from the canopy. A quartet of Horokim leapt through the boughs overhead, moving north. Kipling hesitated only a moment, then followed, keeping his eyes on the troop.

  He pried his way through some boughs at the far side of the grove, then leapt into the trees beyond, doing his best to keep up with the raucous group overhead. They led him to a diagonal shaft of light that was piercing the gloom, and as he stepped into the warm morning glow, he looked up to find another cheery sight above him. The Sun Dragon was descending the beam of sunlight, fins spread wide and gleaming with a halo of morning dew.

  The airship sank to the level of the tree folk and they whooped some more. This time no one brandished weapons. Kipling spotted the knower in the front seat while Atlas steered from the cockpit. He leaned his head over the cockpit rail and waved. Kipling lifted a hand and returned the gesture.

  “There’s our man,” the knower declared. He let his eyes rest on Kipling and smiled.

  Kipling moved back as the Sun Dragon settled into the boughs. Atlas threw out a line. “Tie that off!”

  Kipling secured the line to the trunk of an air tree and waited as Atlas and the knower climbed out of their seats. The old man was clutching his overcoat close as he stepped over the rail, then accepted a hand from Atlas as he stepped onto the bough. One of the tree people was waiting nearby with his crutch and sprang forward to deliver it when the knower glanced her way. The woman bore a strong resemblance to the little girl who had spoken to them in the grove.

  “There you have it. Safe and sound,” the knower said. “I’m true to my word, you can be sure of that.”

  Atlas shook the man’s hand and grinned, then turned to Kipling. “Chane says the airships went south and he told us how to get there. We’re going under the forest.”

  “Under?” Kipling said.

  Chane stepped past
him and found surer footing on the twisted boughs of the air tree. “You stick to the river, you’ll find your way. The people you’re looking for will be south. Mark my words.”

  “Are you going south, too?” Kipling asked.

  “Me? No. Not no more. I was headed north, up into the mountains. Heard rumor there might be more knowledge traders up there. The old relics have been scattered but I hoped there were still a few in the north.” He turned toward Atlas. “Suspect you lot must have had a knower up in your range that taught you what’s what. Someone certainly unlocked some knowledge to get you this bit of machinery. Who was your relic keeper?”

  Atlas frowned. “My teacher, Mr. Merritt, was in charge of our relic, but my aunt says the raiders took it when they came. Mr. Merritt’s dead now.”

  “Raiders?” Chane asked. “Not surprised. Someone should have gotten word up into the mountains before now. I might have gotten there in time myself if it hadn’t been for this leg. Raiders been on the move all year. Lord Savage and his Air Corps have been snatching up relics and keys anywhere they find them and killing the knowers, too. The Old World relics aren’t safe in the open anymore. Knowers with any sense are going into hiding.”

  “Why do the raiders want these relics?” Kipling asked. “Don’t they have any of their own?”

  “That’s the problem,” Chane replied. “They got most of them in the south already and they’d like to have the rest. Rumor is that Lord Savage keeps all the citizens of Smoketown under his thumb by hording all the relic keys to himself. Anybody wants to know anything useful, they have to pay him for it. The time of free trading knowledge is coming to an end. If the Port Savage raiders have their way, the relics will all get claimed and the free knowers will get snatched up or killed. Only knowledge to be had will be in the south and only for folk willing to be governed by their rules. Not safe for the likes of me down there anymore. I know too much.”

  “Why do you need these relics?” Kipling asked. “Can’t you just learn in school?”

  “Hard to find out what to learn, if you don’t know what you don’t know,” Chane replied. “Life experience is a good teacher in its own way, but a relic is a shortcut. More knowledge inside one of those than any teacher that ever lived.”

  “Do you have a relic?” Atlas asked. “Like Mr. Merritt did?”

  “Used to be I did,” Chane replied. “And I got pretty far with it, too. Learned from it for years. But in the end the ground got its way. Village I was teaching in got swallowed up one day and took the relic with it. Been wandering on my own ever since. Thought I might find more of the free relics up north, maybe get in good with someone who’d opened one. I’d go back to being an apprentice even. Get some new knowledge that way. Getting scarce now though. Who was the learner in your village?”

  “Everybody learned in my village,” Atlas said.

  “Sure, but somebody must have been the apprentice to your knower,” Chane replied. “That’s how these relics do it. They teach you by having you teach someone else. That way someone can always open the relic and carry on where the first knower left off.”

  He pulled a cord around his neck and removed an object from under his shirt. It was a metallic triangle with rounded corners and hole through the center. The edges had ridges carved into them. They reminded Kipling of the runes carved into his warhook.

  Chane dangled the pendant in front of Atlas. “You ever see this symbol before? Or something like it? Your teacher must have had one. Somebody else in your village have one? Maybe someone younger who might have been training to be a knower?”

  Atlas was staring hard at the symbol. “Nobody younger, but my grandpa has one of those. He wears it under his shirt. Isn’t metal though. It’s stone. Says it’s his lucky rock.”

  “How old is your grandfather?” Chane asked.

  “I don’t know. Old as you maybe?”

  Chane frowned. “And this Mr. Merritt, was he your grandpa’s age or older?”

  “Mr. Merritt was young. Well, younger anyway. I think he was in school with my aunt.”

  “Ah.” Chane replied. “So your grandfather had already passed the relic on. Not many do that. Most keep it till they die, but I’ve heard of exceptions.”

  Kipling was losing interest in the conversation. For one, he didn’t know much about relics. Secondly, his mouth was so dry he was having trouble thinking about anything else except getting a drink. Something about the density of the air down here was making it hard to concentrate on the words Atlas and Chane were speaking. Was Samra having this trouble, too? What must she be feeling like right now?

  “If the raiders have your grandfather, then I bet they won’t be looking to let him go,” the knower continued. “And if he didn’t pass his relic key on yet, then there won’t be any more knowledge trading going on in your parts. Your folk will have to get on best they can without Old World help. I may as well stay on here a while in that case.”

  “You’re going to live with these tree people?” Atlas asked.

  “It’s not so bad,” Chane replied. “They’re so starved for knowledge they treat me like a king. All they want to do is compete with the rest of the world. Lots of change going on outside the forest and it’s passing them by. But I don’t know how much hope they have.

  “The older folk don’t have much capacity for language, but these young ones do all right.” He flashed the sign for ‘good morning’ toward the trees and Kipling spotted the little girl from the night before now standing near her mother. The girl signed back and smiled.

  “You said the south is dangerous,” Kipling said. “Is it dangerous for Skylighters, too?”

  “Dangerous for anyone not flying a raider flag.”

  “Then how do we get there?” Kipling asked.

  “If you’re asking how to stay safe, then I don’t know what to tell you. Nothing about what you’re doing is safe and I’d be a liar to say it was. Just seems to me that you wanted to know the way to find your people. If that’s what you really want, then you head south. You want to stay safe, then I suspect you ought to turn around now while you still can.”

  Kipling looked to Atlas and found the boy staring back. He had his jacket on and was wearing his leather pilot’s gloves. He already had one foot on the lower fin of the Sun Dragon. “I need my weapon back,” Kipling said. “It’s important.”

  The knower signed to the little girl and she shook her head. He signed something else that looked like ‘Find him’ and she nodded, then disappeared into the trees. It was only a matter of a minute before the girl returned. She stepped aside for the tree man who followed carrying Kipling’s warhook. The tether was tangled and the haft was dirty, but otherwise the weapon looked all right.

  “Fancy bit of handiwork there. Looks like it has some history.” Chane crossed his arms. “How’d a half-pint like yourself come by a weapon like that?”

  Kipling ignored the question and stepped over to the tree man holding the warhook. He held out his hand. Chane nodded and the tree man let out a grunt. He then set the weapon back in Kipling’s palm.

  Chane leveled a stare at Kipling. “Now, he only did that because I told him to, and lately what I say goes around here. So you might consider this a favor . . .”

  “Thank you,” Kipling replied, looping the tether of the handle and hanging the warhook across his back.

  “ . . . a favor you might return some time in future, should the need arise,” Chane added.

  Kipling eyed the man skeptically. “What kind of favor would you want?”

  “Hard to say,” Chane replied. “The future’s a surprising place. Even I don’t know what will happen. I just know it’s useful to have allies. And it’s more useful when those allies owe you a favor.”

  “Where I come from, we just have friends,” Kipling said.

  Chane extended his crutch and shifted his weight. “I’ll stick with allies. Too many friends will get you killed.” He shuffled toward the heavier foliage. “You flyboys have a good adven
ture down south, now. If we’re all very lucky, maybe we’ll meet again.” He gave a salute with his free hand, and with that he disappeared back into the forest.

  Kipling turned back to Atlas. “I guess you must owe him a favor now, too.”

  “I don’t think I do,” Atlas replied. “He only wanted to hear about the village and the festival from me. And about the Sun Dragon of course. Oh, and he wanted to know what I knew about Skylighters.”

  “And you told him?”

  “Why not? I got us the ship back, didn’t I? You’d rather try walking to find your friend?”

  Kipling frowned, but stayed silent. He climbed back aboard the Sun Dragon. Atlas untied the tether line, then leapt aboard and slid into the cockpit as the ship drifted away from the tree.

  Kipling blinked as the Sun Dragon passed into the beam of sunlight streaming down through the canopy. Instead of cheering him, the heat only worsened the sense of unease in his stomach.

  “Do you have any water?” He shifted in his seat and lifted the lid on one of the cargo compartments.

  “In the other one,” Atlas replied. “There’s a canteen under the breathing cylinder.”

  Kipling lifted the lid on the second compartment and found the canteen—relieved to find it full. He uncorked the canteen and took a satisfying gulp. His body welcomed the water eagerly, and before he knew it, he had consumed nearly half the container. He forced himself to stop so that he could savor the rest.

  The Sun Dragon continued to sink. They were in the middle of a spiraling turn to avoid the wall of foliage ahead of them, when a familiar furry creature came flapping down from above.

  “Fledge!” Atlas put a hand out and the cliff fox nipped at it as he glided by. The animal squeaked once as it turned above them, then dipped below the level of the Sun Dragon to lead the way into the undergrowth. “I knew he’d come back,” Atlas said. “He knows we’re going the right way.”

  The airship slipped out of the beam of sunlight and sank lower, continuing its spiral down into the waiting mouth of the forest. As the light faded, Kipling tried to share his companion’s optimism.