Third Daughter (The Dharian Affairs, Book One) (36 page)

It flew back and smacked hard against the wall, carried by the wind that buffeted Aniri’s face as soon as she stepped over the threshold. The edge of the ship was near, a bare wooden railing waist high. It was the only thing standing between her and thousands of feet of empty air. Near the door, a rope ladder was lashed to a cleat on the railing. It was just like the one Aniri had climbed at the airharbor.

Priya lingered at the threshold, giving the railing a wide-eyed look.

“Priya!” Aniri shouted to be heard over the wind. “Do you still have that key? Will it work on this door?”

Priya gingerly stepped onto the wooden deck and wrestled the wind for the door, bringing it around to bang shut again. The key was on a ring, which she pressed into the keyhole. The whirring just carried over the sound of air whipping around them.

“Stay here!” Aniri said.

Priya flattened herself against the wall of the ship. Aniri grabbed hold of the rope ladder, took a deep breath and a final glance at her handmaiden, then climbed up on the railing.

One wrong placement of a foot, and she might get a chance to fall to her death after all. She tried not to look down. Once she had both hands on the rope ladder and both feet on the railing, she felt more secure.

The gasbag of the skyship billowed above her. She couldn’t see the top, but the ladder hugged the balloon all the way out of sight. Downwind, clouds of thick gray smoke stacked on top of one another like great pillows, burgeoning up into the skies. She didn’t know how close they were to the capital, but she didn’t want that fire anywhere near it.

She climbed hand over hand, her saber banging against her leg, her cloak flapping like a winged beast strapped to her back. She should have discarded it before the climb. Scaling the ladder seemed a much longer trek this time, now that she was climbing the skin of the gasbag itself. The wind surged against her in uneven gusts, and the blue fabric of the gasbag smacked underneath her handhold, as if the sky itself were fighting to dislodge her.

She finally saw the tips of the butterfly wings overhead. They focused inward in a perfectly spaced formation; tiny flashes escaped at the corners where the reflective surfaces weren’t completely focused on the burning glass. She slid the goggles down with one hand, the other tight on the rope. The goggles turned the brilliant sunshine dark, but she would be quickly blinded without them.

She reached the top and climbed onto the platform, hunching into the wind. It wasn’t strong enough to blow her off, but it was uneven, gusty, and there wasn’t much to hold on to for steadying. She pushed through the wind to the butterfly itself and drew her sword.

The wooden linkages that supported the big brass plates were only a few inches thick, but they were solid. Her repeated strikes with the saber only reminded her that her hands were still healing. The miniscule cuts she made were going to accomplish nothing. She tried kicking at the linkage, venting all her frustration into every boot pounding, but the wood held steady against her onslaught. Then the platform beneath her heaved, and she fell to the wooden deck, grasping for a handhold between the planks in case the ship decided to simply toss her off for daring to assault it.

What had Karan said? That it wouldn’t take much change in the alignment to stop it? She carefully climbed to her feet. The linkages were wooden beams connected by metal pins and a gear at the base. The control mechanisms must be below, inside the ship. Aniri stabbed her saber into the base gear and tried to leverage movement with that. She pushed to the limits of her blade without breaking it. The gear didn’t budge.

If she couldn’t move the wings out of alignment, maybe she could do something to the crystal. She carefully peered between the wings, afraid that looking directly at the burning glass might be too much, but very little light came from the crystal. Tiny pinpoints inside winked at her, but it seemed all the light channeled down into the fiery inferno below. Waves of heat pulsed from the plates, then were swept away by the wind.

Scuffling sounded behind her.

She turned, saber in hand, in time to see Garesh pull himself to his full height at the top of the rope ladder.

She was tempted to charge him, saber first, maybe push him off, but she would go right over with him. Garesh drew his sword and stalked toward her. His goggles masked his face, but she didn’t have to see it to know what he intended. The platform was barely five feet wide next to the butterfly, not much room for a saber fight, and a painful death on either side: plummeting to her death or falling into the burning plates of the butterfly.

She retreated to where the platform opened up—still only about twenty feet square.

Garesh charged her. Aniri parried and lunged back to strike at his chest, but he had already danced out of her reach. She edged toward him—maybe she could force him off the platform—but he slashed and cut his way forward again, pushing her back. She had to glance at the platform behind her to gauge the distance to the edge. His sword caught her cloak, and the wind snarled it, giving her a split-second to cut up with her blade. She barely missed his angular face with the tip.

He stumbled back.

The ship swayed under them, nearly sending both to their knees. Aniri widened her stance for balance. “Forget to bring your blunderbuss, Garesh?”

He steadied himself on the platform. “I don’t need a gun to kill a royal.” Which Aniri took to mean he had lost it in his battle with Karan. Or maybe realized it would be foolish to bring a gun on top of a gasbag.

She tried not to think of Karan. Or Ash or Janak. But while she and Garesh circled each other, the ship was flying closer to her home, bringing an inferno with it. That thought caused her to involuntarily glance toward the bow of the ship. Clearly visible in the distance was a familiar square perimeter with faint red coloring and a tall building in the center.

The palace. Her home.

Garesh seized on her distraction, and she barely dodged his blade as it thrust past her ear. She shoved into him, knocking him backward, then brought her sword around in a slashing arc, but he blocked. She tried to whip over the top of his handguard, at least draw some blood with the tip, but the blade whispered past his cheek, and he managed to slip out of reach again.

This time he shuffled back, looking shaken.

Aniri was desperate for some end to this that would actually stop the ship. It was just as likely, if not more so, that Garesh would kill her than the other way around. Meanwhile, the burning glass was still decimating the landscape of her homeland. Even if she defeated him, how would she disable the butterfly? All she had was her sword, her cloak, and…
her sword
.

It was heavily jeweled and the finest steel Samirian smiths could forge. Perhaps it would hold up to the heat within the butterfly and block the light that was finely focused on the burning glass. Karan said even a small amount might make a difference and reduce the flaming torch beneath them.

But without her weapon, Garesh would kill her in a heartbeat.

Aniri didn’t hesitate. She dashed down the side of the butterfly, seeking the platform at the far side. Garesh would surely pursue her, but moving would give her a second’s time to make a good throw. She rounded the corner, coming out on the far side. Edging as close to the wings as the heat would allow, she gripped the blade of her father’s sword and gently lofted it into the center of the butterfly, hoping her aim would be true. It clanked against the crystal, jumped up onto one of the wings—which made her heart stop in her chest—and then rattled its way back down to the center. The jeweled hilt came to rest directly on top of the burning glass.

As Garesh pounded around the side of the platform, the hilt of her father’s sword popped and sizzled, quickly melting and smoking and oozing all over the giant crystal. Garesh stared open-mouthed at the smoke now pluming up from the center of the butterfly. Aniri held her breath: it had to be working. She couldn’t believe any light, no matter how powerful, could cut through that grayish mass. The wind tossed the smoke, clearing it a little.

Garesh roared in anger and slashed his blade at her neck.

Aniri ducked and fell backward. She scrambled on her bandaged hands and boots as he lunged for her, driving his blade straight down toward her heart. At the last instant, she rolled to the side, and Garesh’s blade embedded itself in the wooden plank. He yanked it out and came after her again, sword raised. A deafening bang sounded off the side of the ship, and the platform rocked, sending Garesh back on his heels and causing his blade to miss her. She leapt to her feet and ran for the ladder. A wisp of gray smoke drifted up over the gasbag from somewhere below the ship.

She froze. Was the ship on fire?

Then she saw a small flotilla of paper lanterns peppering the sky all around the ship, white dots against the brown and gray landscape. As she watched, another one, too far to impact the ship, exploded into a puff of ash and smoke.

Her mother had somehow known; somehow seen them coming.
Of course.
Janak would have messaged ahead to warn her.

Aniri turned back to Garesh. “You’ve lost.”

He was gaping at the flotilla as well.

“Your burning weapon is broken, Garesh, and my mother will bring down your skyship. Surrender now, and no more lives need be lost.”

“We can easily steer around your mother’s toy balloon bombs,” Garesh said with a sneer. “And yours is the only life that will be lost in the process.”

He lunged. She dodged, but his sword sliced the tip off her cloak. She backed to the edge of the platform, tugging off her cloak as she went. She held it stretched between her hands. Maybe she could ward him off long enough to reach the ladder.

A blade being drawn swished behind her.

Garesh’s gaze flitted over her shoulder, and Aniri whirled to see if one of Garesh’s men had braved the climb to the top—

“Ash!” she cried. Blood marred his cheek and goggles covered his eyes, but she would recognize his face anywhere. He quickly heaved up onto the platform and stepped around her, his sword pointed at Garesh with her at his back.

“Priya said you might need some assistance.” Ash kept his gaze locked on Garesh, but his words were obviously meant for her.

“I’ve disabled the burning glass,” she said quickly. They didn’t need to fight Garesh; they needed to get off the gasbag in one piece and signal her mother to stop launching paper lanterns. And she didn’t want Ash to get hurt… or
more
hurt.

“Get below, Aniri,” Ash said, still not looking at her.

“But the weapon is—”

Ash lunged for Garesh, who easily dodged and countered with a slash that sliced through the prince’s overcoat but missed his body. They clashed swords again in a rapid-fire parry and attack. Neither gained or lost ground on the platform, but Garesh had a maniacal look on his face that made Aniri’s blood run cold. He had nothing to lose at this point, and Aniri could see the mad desire to kill the last of the Malik royal house in his eyes.

Garesh feinted to one side, and Ash slashed at him, seeming overbalanced for a moment. Then another paper lantern exploded off the side of the skyship, just close enough to buffet the ship. Ash stumbled and Garesh dashed past him, slashing at him as he went, but thankfully missing. Ash growled and lunged backward, trying to reach him, but Garesh slipped between the tip of Ash’s sword and the wings of the butterfly.

Garesh rushed straight at Aniri. She dropped to the platform, grasping hold of the edge, afraid he would try to simply push her off.

A familiar voice called from behind her. “Step aside, your majesty!” It was Janak, somehow alive, clinging with one hand to the top of the rope ladder. His other arm hung limp at his side, and his voice was strained, the words breathy with pain. Aniri scrambled away from the edge on hands and knees. Garesh’s rush took him to the edge of the platform. Janak swung up onto it, and his legs swiped Garesh’s out from under him. Garesh’s sword hand flailed back. He hacked forward again, aiming for Janak’s neck, but before he could land the blade, Janak wrenched Garesh closer. His swing overreached and clunked into the edge of the platform. Janak twisted his body, pulling Garesh on top of him, and the two of them rolled off the platform in one quick motion.

Aniri’s heart seized in her chest. “No!” She lunged toward the edge, half-crawling on her knees. She and Ash arrived at the same time, him teetering on the toes of his boots to peer over. Janak hung from the ladder, one hand grasping it, but his legs dangling free. Garesh had grasped Janak’s tinker clothes in one hand, his legs and sword-hand twisting in the wind as he stared at the thousands of feet of air below him. He tossed his sword aside, and it slowly tumbled out of sight. Then he grabbed at Janak’s clothes.

Janak’s dead-weight arm was no use, and his other arm was all that kept them both from plummeting after the sword. As Garesh climbed him like a human ladder, Janak twisted his legs around. Aniri thought he would try to kick Garesh free, but instead, Janak gave a guttural sound and let go of the ladder.

Aniri gasped. Janak pivoted head-down, Garesh falling with him, but then they both yanked to a stop. Janak had twisted his leg into the rope ladder, holding on by friction and the hook of his foot. It was a wonder he wasn’t pulled straight out of his boot. His hand now free, Janak pounded Garesh’s face. After a terrifying moment when Aniri was sure Janak would slip free of the ship, he landed a blow to Garesh’s throat that made him reflexively let go of Janak and grab for it. Garesh fell silently away from the ship, tumbling like the sword, end over end, a scream fixed on his face but no sound coming from it.

Aniri was transfixed by his rapidly disappearing form for only a second, then she hastened to climb down the ladder after Janak.

“Hold on!” she rasped through the tightness in her throat, looking down between her boots. By the time she had worked down the dozen steps to him, Janak had righted himself. He held fast to the rope with his good hand, his legs holding him up from the rope rungs below. Aniri hovered above him on the ladder.