Atlas leveled the ship temporarily when they heard the sound of the river, but they had to sink still lower to find the way onward. In these deepest depths of the forest, the air trees had long ago given up on finding the light. The boughs were twisted and leafless, thin fingers stretching vainly upward from the black. Even the air seemed lifeless.
Only the sound of the water drew them on. Kipling lit up the bow of the ship as best he could in the dim hollow, and Atlas let the Sun Dragon sink till they were nearly touching the flowing current, carefully navigating the tunnel of ancient roots formed by the striving war of plant-life above them.
Kipling watched the needle of the mariner’s compass bob and waver on the instrument panel then finally settle in one place. South. Beyond the cockpit, hardly anything could be made out in the murk. He realized that he’d never in all his life been this long without a true horizon. He tried not to let himself worry about that problem. According to the compass, they were headed the right direction. That would have to be enough.
Kipling unslung the warhook from behind his back and rested it on his lap. The swishing of the tail fin and the working of the air motor kept him alert. If ever there was a place for danger, this looked like it. He had to be ready. He gripped the handle of the weapon tightly.
Atlas lit one of the lanterns and hung it from the side of the cockpit.
The path through the undergrowth ahead was a speckled labyrinth of deteriorating roots and petrified limbs.
The view was bleak, but this was no time to turn back.
Somewhere ahead, Samra was a captive. And somewhere ahead, Kipling would find her.
25
PORT SAVAGE
Sunburn was reading her book.
Samra had only rolled over in her hammock to try to get more comfortable, but as she did, she’d opened her eyes and found the fire-haired first mate perched in a hammock on the opposite side of the cabin, thumbing through the leaf-paper journal.
Samra must have held her breath for too long because when she exhaled, it came out loudly. Sunburn looked up and caught her watching him.
He kept his thumb between the pages as he spoke. “I didn’t know you told stories, Little Weed.”
There was nothing in his tone that was apologetic for being caught looking through her things. His intrusion might not even have been recent, as it appeared he had already flipped through most of the book.
“That was a gift,” Samra said. “It’s personal.”
“We don’t get books on board anymore,” Sunburn commented, almost as if he hadn’t heard her. “But I like them. When the inspectors come aboard in port, you should hide this.”
“Why would I need to hide it?”
“Because of the law. No writing allowed in Port Savage anymore. Except for conducting public business or if you belong to one of the high families.”
Samra tried to process this. Reading books had never been a favorite hobby. She much preferred making up her own stories, but even so, she couldn’t imagine the patch making a law to ban writing.
“Sounds like a stupid rule if you ask me.”
The big man nodded thoughtfully. “I think so, too.” He closed the journal gently and put it back with her other belongings. “Ready for breakfast?”
Samra cocked her head. “Breakfast?”
Sunburn led the way into the galley and held the door open for her. “Most of the crew was up early and ate what they could before shift, but nobody knew what it is that you sky people eat. We took our best guess and grabbed what we could.” He gestured to the galley table that was now loaded with a variety of skyfruits and vegetables. Samra spotted cloud grass and bell clover and a good amount of chopped skyweed fronds. It all appeared to be unwashed and there were a fair number of plants included in the pile that she was pretty sure were poisonous, but having not eaten in a full day, she wasn’t about to complain.
“Thanks. Looks delicious.” Samra proceeded to the table and picked up a handful of tangleberries.
Sunburn beamed and bowed his way out of the doorway. “Glad we did okay. I’ll see you up top.”
The Restless Fury was clearing the coastline at the western edge of the Sky Forest when Samra climbed above the deck. The ship had caught a strong tailwind out of the northwest and was sailing over the rocky cliffs that barricaded the landscape from the brunt of the sea’s assault.
High overhead, the forest edge strained for altitude but couldn’t withstand the eastward thrust of the sea winds.
The sight of the sea raging against the rocks thrilled Samra, but as morning stretched on and there was still no sign of the forest ending, she began to worry about the patch. The farther south the ship traveled, the farther away the patch became. It would be beyond the forest to the east by now, perhaps traversing the Oralay Ridge. Were her parents somewhere up there searching the sky for her? Had they even been looking? Had they sent someone out searching for her? A guardian perhaps?
“Not a bad view, eh?” Samra turned to find Sunburn leaning against an engine strut behind her. His tempestuous red hair was mostly pulled back behind his head, but much of it was still flailing in the breeze, giving the impression of an inferno as much as a man. “I’ve seen these cliffs on a dozen trips, but it always feels like the first time.”
“You’ve crossed the forest before?”
“In different parts. This is the northernmost end of the airway. If you look, you can see the guides.” He pointed ahead to a spot on the cliffs where a rocky outcropping had been made even taller with piles of stone. A ragged red flag protruded from the top. “From there, we can follow the signals all the way to Port Savage.”
Samra studied the signal tower, then turned back to Sunburn. “Are you happy to be going home?”
Sunburn smiled. “I’m already home.” He spread his arms to the breeze. “Out here is where I live.” He looked down at Samra. “A port is safer. But it hems you in. You can’t fly in a port. And no one there is as free as we are.”
Samra ran a hand along one of the stabilizing ropes, letting the rough bristles tickle her palm. “I don’t think flying is what makes you free. We fly all the time in the patch, but people still tell you what to do.”
“The captain tells me what to do here, too,” Sunburn replied. “But rigging this ship is what I want to do anyway, so I’m still free.”
The sliding door on the front cockpit opened and Landy, the pilot, stuck her head up above the deck. “Hey, Plant Girl! Captain says you’re supposed to be my relief today. You want to learn this, or what?” She waved Samra over.
Samra let herself smile.
“You see?” Sunburn said. “Still free.”
Samra climbed down into the cockpit and found the captain seated in the central chair. She was in all black today. Her jacket was slung over the back of her chair but the whip was once again curled at her waist. Despite the severe outfit, her greeting was pleasant. “Samra. Time for more training. Landy here is going to go over the rest of the controls. You’ll be flying us down the airway.”
“Me?” Samra balked at the sight of the cliffs looming closer out the window.
Landy guided her toward the pilot’s seat. “Someone has to teach you how to fly this thing without tumbling the whole crew out of their hammocks at night.”
“Oops,” Samra said.
Behind Landy’s back, the captain smirked.
“Remind me again why this is a good idea?” the navigator asked. He eyed Samra skeptically, then pulled a chart of the airway out of his basket and unrolled it on his desk. The navigator was a thin man with graying temples, though his lean, youthful face offset the gray and left him looking somewhat ageless. If he said he was anywhere from thirty to sixty, Samra would believe him.
“Samra is going to be the key to us making nice with the sky peoples,” Captain Savage said. “And when we do that, you’ll all be getting raises.” Samra could feel the captain’s eyes on her as she got situated. “And I think she’s going to like it a whole lot
better coming home to her people as a prestigious skyship pilot than as an accidental stowaway.”
Samra let the image run through her head—her piloting the Restless Fury up to the globe patch. She could almost see the look of shock on Khloe Mintz’s face. She definitely liked it.
“So we’re prestigious now?” Landy joked. The pilot was in the loose-fitting shirt and rugged pants Samra had seen her in before, but today she had her hair tied up in a bandana, revealing even more piercings through her ears. The shining silver jewelry was adorned with turquoise stones that matched the stud in her nose. It looked painful, but Samra thought the beauty of it might make it worth it.
“Your life is certainly a lot more glamorous than when we were working on my father’s ships,” Captain Savage said. “Not that Eric wouldn’t enjoy seeing us all back under my father’s command.” She rubbed a hand slowly over the armrest of her chair. “One more good load of those big pods. Then we’ll all be free and clear.”
Samra carefully pulled on the control wheel the way the captain had shown her the night before and felt a surge of delight as the ship rose. The way the airship climbed made it feel like her stomach was dropping. She liked it.
“Follow that channel,” Landy said, pointing a finger along the cut that carved through the cliffs. “If this tailwind stays steady, we’ll make good time.”
Samra made the turn toward the cut and let the wind push her through. Before long the ship was rushing over the cliffs and into the gorges on the far side.
Landy hovered nearby initially, making suggestions and showing Samra tricks to keep the ship properly trimmed, but after a while, she gave Samra longer and longer sessions alone at the controls and even left the cockpit entirely. Samra fretted about being at the helm of the powerful ship, but she felt her trepidation fade as each passing moment failed to bring any catastrophe. After each successful maneuver, her hope rose that perhaps she really could be a skyship pilot.
The captain also seemed at ease with Samra in the pilot’s seat. Other than a few clarifications of commands, Samra had been able to follow her orders and get the ship through the pass without trouble. Before long they had outdistanced the other ships and were making great time. It helped that the Restless Fury was vastly more nimble and able to corner efficiently in the turns. They climbed the mountainside along a route Eric and the rest of the fleet would be hard-pressed to follow.
Samra was just at the point of feeling confident enough to relax, when she rounded the corner of a high promontory and found herself facing a sheer wall of rock. She wrenched the power levers back to idle and balked as the wind shoved the ship onward anyway.
“Um, Captain?” Samra turned toward the central chair. Captain Savage was smirking.
Landy chose that moment to breeze back into the cockpit. “All right, move over Greenie, time to let the real pilot back in the seat.”
Samra hopped out of the chair and retreated behind it. Landy slid into her spot and began working the controls. She shifted the power levers over to the side a fraction of an inch, then pulled them back farther. Overhead, the engines roared to life again but now thrusted air forward out the fans.
Landy reversed the tail control inputs and the ship rose. She pulled the dump lever and dropped water ballast from the nose and the ship pitched upward sharply. Samra finally saw what she was aiming for.
Another hundred feet up, the rock wall revealed a circular cavern opening. Rimmed with stalactites and stalagmites, it had the appearance of a gaping mouthful of fangs and wasn’t at all welcoming. But Landy wasted no time. She elevated the ship to the proper altitude, centering it with the opening, and plunged ahead. The engine noise echoed off the cavern walls and reverberated through the cockpit.
Samra glanced back through the narrow windows that looked up to the deck and saw that the rest of the crew was dangling in the rigging, watching the ship’s progress. The obstacles in the cavern were not only stalagmites and rocks. It had Grounder architecture, too. Carefully constructed stone walls and an elaborate latticework of wood beams held up sections of the cavern that seemed especially fragile. Samra spotted a few dirty-looking Grounders shoring up a particularly hazardous section of wall with protective wire netting.
“You look like you’ve never seen a cave before,” the navigator said. Samra turned to find him watching her.
“I haven’t. Not from the inside. I’ve never been underground before.”
Despite the apparent dangers of the route, Landy calmly steered the ship into a hard right turn and emerged into a secondary set of caverns. At the far end, a wide beam of sunlight lit the floor. Samra found herself creeping closer to the windows to get a better view. As Landy steered the ship into the light, Samra got her first glimpse of what was on the other side of the tunnel.
It was a floating city. Or nearly. The high rock walls of the valley created a protective cove, and at its center, hovering in mid air, was a cluster of airships and kelp globes. If it wasn’t for the riot of colors and fluttering flags aboard the airships, she’d have said the cluster resembled the globe patch. There was no mother here. No single unifying ship even, but the overall effect was the same. The air was alive and heavily populated.
As the Restless Fury exited the caverns and entered the mountain valley, Samra pressed her face to the glass to take it all in.
Stone stairways and walkways were carved in zigzagging patterns up the rocky walls. The rugged pathways intersected dangling rope bridges that swung out over the canyons to meet the ships that were moored in the air around narrow spires of rock.
These rocky mooring towers varied in height, creating tiered layers of ships. Some of the ships looked like they hadn’t moved for decades and were bedecked with vines and ivy that had crept along the rope bridges to find them. Other ships were clean and bright, efficient machines of commerce glistening in the afternoon sun. There were hulking behemoths with dozens of decks, and also tiny single-envelope skiffs flitting about the port, moving from berth to berth.
“I never knew there were so many of you,” Samra said.
“The teeming masses of humanity,” the navigator muttered. “Ready to drain us dry.”
“Buck up, Wade,” the captain said, rising from her chair. “We won’t be in port long. Nobody will have time to rob you at cards this trip.” She raised an arm toward the far side of the valley. “Borgram’s transport ship is next to the hopper today. Should make offloading and getting paid that much quicker. If we provision overnight, we could be back on our way in the morning.”
Landy steered the Restless Fury toward the ship the captain had indicated. They passed near another cavern opening, this one facing south. The mouth of the cavern was worn to a V at the bottom and an inconsistent flow of sand was cascading out and falling hundreds of feet into a seemingly bottomless chasm. Samra tried to make out how far down it went, but the sandfall had bored its way deep into the crust. An airship was perched above the chasm dangling a brightly colored line. Sections of the line had small matching spheres attached to them. A squadron of smaller ships was clustered around the central ship, their decks teeming with observers.
As Samra tried to divine the purpose of the rope, three figures leapt from the ship and tumbled downward, freefalling into the chasm and disappearing into the darkness. “Whoa,” Samra exclaimed.
“What?” Captain Savage asked.
“Those people. They just jumped. Were they Skylighters? How can they do that?”
“Jumpers? Oh, you mean the rope fall. It’s a sport. They do it for money.”
“Someone pays them to die?” Samra asked. “Why would they want that?”
“They don’t die,” Landy explained. “At least not usually. They have arresting hooks to grab the rope once they get far enough down. And they have drag chutes. The one who falls the farthest before grabbing on wins.”
Samra looked for any sign of the jumpers as they passed over the chasm. If they had successfully hooked the rope, it was a long way down. Th
e ship moved on and the scene passed behind them. There were other fascinating things to look at too. There were Grounders eating at hovering restaurants. People idled away the time on swings, and some were riding up and down the valley in elevators. Attached to one rock wall, there was a long tube where children were lining up to go sliding down. They erupted from the bottom of the slide into a pool of water. The children were all laughing and splashing one another. Samra found herself wishing she could try it.
Landy was lining them up with a set of floating docks instead.
“Wade, tell the crew we’re headed straight for the hopper,” Captain Savage said. “If they’ve got any contraband, they’d better hide it quick.”
The navigator rose from his desk and shuffled aft. “Aye, cap’n.”
Samra watched him go. “Um, what about me?”
“What about you?” Captain Savage replied.
“What if I have contraband?”
“Just having you on board is probably contraband, now that I think about it,” the captain replied. “But yes. If you’ve got something the inspectors shouldn’t see, you’d better get it out of sight. I’ll think of a way to explain the rest of you.”
Samra nodded and followed the navigator through the hatch.
In the cabin, the rest of the crew were stowing their belongings. Samra found her paper journal and looked for somewhere to hide it. She watched Cogs take a packet of green crystals from his trunk and fit them inside one of the speaking tubes that extended from the cockpit. Warehime was bundling her handful of recipe cards into a secret compartment in the bottom of the overhead lamp. It seemed the Restless Fury had plenty of nooks and crannies built into her construction, but Samra didn’t know where to find one.
She tugged at Wade’s shirtsleeve. “Um, do you know where I could hide this?” She held up the journal.
“A book?” The man squinted at it and frowned. “What are you trying to do, get us sent to the mines?”
Faster Than Falling: The Skylighter Adventures Page 23
