Tin Swift (36 page)

The roar of the fans turning against the wind and the huff of steam clearing the flues drowned her soft words.

C
aptain Hink scanned the sky, his gun in his hand. Everyone was spread out among the boulders outside the opening to the tunnel, weapons drawn, waiting for the
Swift
.

But all he could hear was the engine from another vessel, bigger, heavier. A vessel he did not know.

He cussed and kept a sky eye. If he didn’t hear the
Swift
soon, then they’d all take cover back in the tunnel and hope the other ship didn’t get a hard read on that flare.

And while they were at it they could hope Old Jack hadn’t happened to see the flare light up the eastern sky, and wasn’t willing to send his boys around to do some more shooting.

They were trapped. He was wounded. And unless they wanted to run through the mountain range on the turn of winter with no provisions other than a few blankets and lanterns, there wasn’t anything else they could do but wait for the
Swift
.

There was the chance the ship wasn’t headed toward them, but was coincidentally stopping off at Old Jack’s to resupply. Hink had never met a coincidence he was willing to bet his life on.

The engine grew louder, but the peaks threw the sound around and broke it up so bad that for all he could tell, there were two or three ships out there.

“Two engines,” Cedar said from where he stood with the wolf not too far off from Hink.

Hink tipped his head. “Either you’re full of wishing, Mr. Hunt, or you have damn sharp ears.”

“I gave up wishing years ago,” Cedar said. “Is it the
Swift
?”

Hink took a breath and held it, straining to hear the familiar fans of his vessel. She’d be coming in fast, or at least he hoped to hell she was coming in fast for them.

Every time he thought he had a bead on it, the wind changed and snatched away the rumble of the fans, and all he heard instead was Theobald sneeze, or the brush around them rustle and scratch.

Cedar Hunt had said he heard two engines.

There. Yes. Hink could make out the pulses of two different ships.

One wasn’t the
Swift
.

But he would bet his bottom dollar the other was.

“Two ships,” he said, loud enough the others could hear. “One’s the
Swift
. I’d say she’s coming from the…south?” He glanced at Cedar.

Cedar nodded.

“She’ll land if we have time. If not, if that other ship decides to take a swat at us, or worse, tries to shoot us dead, then we might want to do a running board. Ever done that?”

Miss Dupuis shook her head. “Explain. And we’ll follow.”

“If she lowers ropes, you can catch them and hold on, they’ll winch you up. If it’s a ladder, get on and climb. If it’s the nets, hold still and let them bring you up. And no matter what it is that you’re holding on to, for glim’s sake, hold tight. The winds can knock the skin right off you.

“If there ain’t any time to pull us up, they’ll fly us out of range of the other ship, then take us aboard. It’ll be cold, and breathing might not be a lot of fun, but you’ll survive if you don’t let go.”

“Isn’t there anything else we can do?” Theobald asked.

“Sure,” Hink said. “If you get fired on by a ship that isn’t made of tin, shoot back.”

The wait was nerve-racking. The rattle of fans grew closer and closer until it was all that filled the air. Hink thought the
Swift
’s engines sounded louder, stronger than the other ship’s.

She might be closer. Seldom was a fine pilot in his own right. He knew how to skim the sky. Maybe he’d slip in before that other vessel.

But as the ships neared, Hink began to wonder if he’d have to set off another flare. He waited, hoping the
Swift
was closer than the other ship, hoping she’d got a good read on where they were tucked in.

He knew from experience it was difficult at best to wave down an airship. If they wanted feet off the ground, he’d have to shoot another light to guide them in.

Hink stood, aimed straight up. Mr. Hunt looked over at him, and whispered something to Wil, who was crouched tight by his side, and looking…different somehow. It was like the wolf was suddenly tired, all the steam out of him, without enough strength to even lift his head.

Hink hoped he wasn’t injured.

“Make fast for her,” Hink said. He squeezed the trigger and sent another wild orange and pink flare into the sky, blooming like a flower against the muddy sky.

“On the ready!” he called out.

He’d been right. The ships hadn’t caught tight to their location.

But now a ship homed into view. Twice as big as the
Swift
and painted red on her belly, the vessel was all one piece with an attached gondola, like the
Swift
, nets and lashes attached to her, but no trawling arms. She lifted up over the peak to the north, then nosed down toward them, tail in the air, like a kid bobbing for apples.

Nosing down revealed all the guns and cannons strapped to her. She wasn’t just coming in to Old Jack’s to resupply. She had seen their flare and was coming for them.

Crouched beside rocks, they weren’t under enough cover to resist an aerial attack. And those guns had a hell of a lot more range than their
firearms. As soon as the ship leveled out and swung broadside, they’d be easy pickings.

Then they’d be dead.

“Do you know her?” Miss Dupuis asked.

“Not yet,” Hink said. “Turn, you bitch,” he whispered to the ship. “Let’s see your true colors.”

The ship swung to the side and her shadow drew a net of darkness across the valley, rolling over scrub and stone.

“The
Devil’s Nine
,” Hink said, a mix of dread and hatred rising hot through his veins. She’d gotten her name for how many cannons she carried. “That’s Alabaster Saint’s ship,” he yelled to the others.

The ship was still too high to shoot, but it wouldn’t be long before those cannons opened up.

They were about to be blasted into little bits.

If they had been spotted. There was a chance, not much of one but some, that the men aboard the ship couldn’t see them huddled in the shadows of the stones with the failing light of day.

Hink’s heart beat hard and even. Time to make choices.

Run while they were still out of firing range? Or stay still and hope they searched the next valley?

“Steady,” Cedar said, thinking along the same lines as him. “The ship is full of Strange. We bolt and they’ll chase us through that tunnel and tear us to shreds. We can’t outrun them.”

“I can’t,” Hink agreed. “You and your brother could.”

Cedar looked over his shoulder at him, his eyes the color of burnt copper. “We stay together.”

“Hold,” Hink said to the sound of shifting rocks behind him.

“Captain,” Miss Dupuis said, angling a spyglass to the sky, “there’s another ship.”

Hink craned his neck to see sky around the
Devil’s Nine
and squinted against the clouds.

Another ship. Coming in high and fast, sweet and slick as a silver needle glowing bronze as she sang through the clouds.

“The
Swift
!” he yelled.

She was coming in too damn fast.

At first he thought Guffin was at the wheel, overshooting the valley. But then the
Swift
tucked wing and turned, pulling around so hard you could hear the sails pop. She powered up above and behind Alabaster’s ship. That was one of Seldom’s moves.

The
Swift
dropped dozens of Old Jack’s glass jug firebombs that they’d smuggled along with the coal they’d loaded when they first landed.

Half the bombs hit the ship and started her on fire. The other half hit the ground and also ignited flames.

Hink let out a belly laugh. There wasn’t a situation in the world Seldom couldn’t cure with an explosion and burning something to the ground.

And it was always a delight to see.

The wet brush caught quick from the oil and flame, and sent off a horrible amount of smoke that worked as a screen to keep them hid from the
Devil’s Nine
.

But getting them out of this wallow relied on whether Seldom had had a fix on him and his companions before mucking up the visibility.

Gunshots rang out. Cannons. Nine in hot succession, hard enough to make his molars ache.

The
Devil’s Nine
was aiming to blast the
Swift
out of the sky.

But the
Swift
was already on the fly. The cannon shots rocketed through empty air as the
Swift
gunned it west, much faster than the other ship. She dove hard, and headed straight for Hink.

The
Swift
was running at speed, her trawling lines and nets lowering for them to catch, her nose aimed straight toward the mountain behind them.

“She won’t pull up in time!” Hink yelled, getting on his feet. “Run for her, or she’ll miss the lift! Run!”

He didn’t have to yell twice. Miss Dupuis, Theobald, and Wright were already running straight into the flame and smoke toward the ship, weapons holstered but not out of reach. Cedar was pounding dirt for the ship too.

And so was Hink. The heat from flames licked at his clothes and the smoke skinned the inside of his lungs. Every step sent a sharp flash of pain through his leg, but he kept on. The net dipped down, as low as the trawling arm could reach.

The
Swift
’s fans roared, flattening the smoke into heated whips.

Miss Dupuis jumped for the netting, caught and started climbing. Miss Wright leaped after her, found good footing and started up. Mr. Theobald was only seconds behind them.

Cedar bent down. Hink lost sight of him for a second in the smoke. When he came into view again, he had Wil across his shoulders. The wolf seemed to be unconscious. Had he been hit?

Cedar reached up, leaped too high for a man with over a hundred pounds of animal on his shoulder. And then he paused and held one hand down for Hink.

Hink jumped for it. Grabbed rope with left hand and both boots, right hand gripped by Cedar Hunt, who didn’t even grunt from the impact, even though he was still supporting the wolf, and holding on to the net with only one hand.

“You clear?” Cedar yelled.

“I got it!” Hink yelled. Cedar let go of Hink’s hand.

The trawling arms were lifting, which meant the nets were billowing out beneath them, and the speed of the wind at this angle holding them all tight to the ropes.

Hink didn’t try climbing. Once the nets reached horizontal, he knew he could mostly crawl his way in.

Bullets cracked through the smoke and fire, and another set of
cannon blasts broke the mountain into echoes. Hink held on, waiting for the nets to go horizontal, smoke digging tears out of his eyes.

Then the
Swift
shook like a wet dog. She’d been hit. Hink could feel the pain of it in his chest as clearly as if he had been shot. So clearly that he looked down at his shirt to make sure he hadn’t taken a bullet.

He was whole, but the
Swift
was not. The
Devil’s Nine
must have doused the fire Seldom had started in her. And now her cannons were about to blast the
Swift
into brittle bits.

A voice yelled out over the noise of fans and winds. “Cage!” the voice boomed. Not one of his crew, and not coming from the
Swift
. No, that voice was coming from somewhere below them.

Hink looked down.

He hadn’t expected an angel. He didn’t get one. Nope, all he got was a demon.

The
Devil’s Nine
hovered beneath them, every damn gun, cannon, and harpoon on that ship aimed their way.

“Marshal Cage. Come aboard, or we’ll fire.”

They wanted him.

They didn’t want his ship. They didn’t want his crew or Cedar Hunt and his brother. They didn’t want Rose. And if they gunned the
Swift
out of the sky they’d all die.

He had to buy them time. He had to buy Rose a chance at seeing the skies again with her own wings.

“Take care of her,” he whispered to the
Swift
.

“Marshal Cage!” the amplified voice from below yelled out again. “Surrender!”

Hink didn’t intend to surrender. Not his ship. Not his crew and passengers. Not Rose.

He twisted his head and looked down at the
Devil’s Nine
. He’d hit her nets if he dropped now.

“Captain!” Cedar yelled.

Hink looked up at him. “Get them the hell out of here!”

Then he pushed off of the net and spread wide so he could catch at the
Devil’s
ropes and rigging.

He hit her envelope with all the grace of a drunk knocked sprawling to a barroom floor. Instinct curled his hands, arms, legs around anything he could catch hold to.

A long, sickening slide made him wish he’d taken up a god to pray to, and then he stopped, the ropes pulling taut.

He was still on the
Devil’s Nine
, though he’d slid down the envelope so that he was dangling by both arms off the side. No graceful way out of this. He figured he had about a minute and a half before the captain tipped the
Nine
and he spilled brains all over the hills.

Of all the places he’d thought he would breathe his last, it certainly wasn’t on these damn rocks or on somebody else’s damn ship.

Hot, sharp pain cut through his arm, bad enough that he was sure the bone had broken.

But the
Swift
shot into the sky, barely clearing the mountain range, pulling up with a beautiful scream. He couldn’t make out anyone on board, but he was glad they’d had the sense in their skulls to get his ship out of danger while they had the chance.

The ropes tugged. And four men came scrambling over the netting like spiders over webs. Fast. On hands and feet. Hungry for the kill.

Death or capture? Hink held on. So long as there was a chance of breathing left to him, he intended to take it.

The men caught up to him at once. One of them pressed a cloth over his face, while the two others caught his arms. The last one punched a fist in his bleeding leg.