D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

Siry and the Jakills kept surprising me. They were a bunch of rebellious kids with no respect for authority and had no problem stealing a ship. But they weren’t a bunch of thrill seekers out for a joyride. They really wanted to learn the truth about their world. They felt so strongly about it that they were willing to become exiled outlaws. Now they were throwing their dreams away to protect their village. At best, they’d stop the Flighters but lose the ship and return to Rayne to be arrested. At worst, well, I didn’t want to think about that. Either way, their dreams of exploring the rest of Ibara were about to end. There wasn’t even a debate. Everybody was As I watched these young sailors expertly guide their ship toward suicide, I realized something important. Whatever happened with this sea battle, whatever became of the Jakills, it was this kind of spirit and curiosity that would guide Ibara through its turning point and into the future. I can’t find the words to describe the respect and admiration I had for this small band of curious kids. It wasn’t until that moment that I knew for certain I had made the right decision. I was glad to be with the Jakills.

The sails added speed. The distance between our yellow ship and the war ship closed quickly. It helped that the Flighters didn’t pick up any speed. As we got closer to their ship, I heard the loud chugging of its engines. From the throaty, belching, misfiring sound of things, the engine of that warship was just as decrepit as its hull. If they were able to pour on the speed and get away from us, they would have. I tried to guesstimate when our paths would cross, and figured we’d collide just before it reached the opening to the bay. The only way they could stop us would be to shoot us out of the water.

Which is exactly what they tried to do. Boom!

A shot screamed toward us, and sailed so close I felt a breeze as it whistled by. They weren’t trying to scare us anymore. We were now a target.

“Speed, my friends,” Siry ordered. “Trim!”

Several Jakills sprang to work, pulling on lines, trimming the sails. These guys really knew how to sail. I was nothing more than an interested passenger.

Boom! Another shot. This one nicked one of the horizontal cross bars off the forward mast, splintering the end. They were getting close. It was good that they only had one cannon.

It took time to reload. I figured they’d get off two more shots before we hit them. Of course once we got that close, the second of those two shots would be point blank. Our only hope was that we’d stay afloat long enough to batter them before sinking.

Boom! Another shot tore toward us. This one hit. Square in the bow. The boat shuddered. Were we going down? I ran forward to peer over the bow and survey the damage. The missile had hit us directly on the strong front beam, causing a nasty-looking indent. It was total luck. A foot to either side and it would have torn through the wooden hull. We weren’t going to sink. Yet.

We pounded through the waves, getting closer to the ship. We were near enough that I could see the expressions on the faces of the Flighters. They didn’t even seem anxious. It didn’t matter that a ship twice their size was bearing down, ready to ram them. They went about their business, expressionless. For two of them, that business was to reload the cannon and line up for another shot that would put us at the bottom of the ocean. They worked quickly, carrying what looked like a heavy, silver rocket toward the steel cannon. This wasn’t an old-fashioned, front-loading cannon shooting heavy black cannonballs. No, this was a modern weapon.

Siry spun the wheel, putting us onto a final collision course with the marauding ship. It was a race. Would we hit their ship first, or would they fire and sink us? The answer would come in the next several seconds. I ran back and positioned myself near the rear mast. I don’t know why I did that. Maybe because it felt solid. Or maybe I wanted something to hide behind if I saw a silver rocket shooting toward my head. We were seconds away from impact. The Flighters scurried around their cannon, desperately shot. It was going to be close. I put my arm around the mast and hugged it. The Flighters finished loading and swung the weapon toward us. We were going to lose the race. The only question left was if our momentum would keep us moving fast enough to damage their ship, or would we be stopped in the water?

“Hang on to something!” Siry warned.

His voice was drowned out by an odd sound. A mechanical sound. It was nothing like I had heard from either of these ships. It was totally alien. Siry was just as confused as I was. The loud sound carried across the water, like some infernal engine was powering to life. The mysterious sound saved us from being shot to bits because the Flighters were surprised as well. They stopped their work to look around in wonder. What was it?

Twig was the first to spot it.

“There!” she shouted, pointing off the starboard bow toward the opening that led into the bay. The water between the two points of land was boiling. White water churned a swirling vortex directly between the two fingers of land. A moment later, something rose up from below. I swear, my first thought was that it was a two-headed sea serpent. I know, that might not be the first thing to jump to most people’s minds, but after all I’d been through since I left home, nothing seemed impossible. The creature slowly rose out of the water. Its silver, wet skin reflected the morning light. Everyone stood mesmerized, both Flighters and Jakills. And me.

It was indeed a two-headed beast, but not of the sea-serpent variety. What I saw was impossible, but real. In that moment I realized we were in a very bad place.

“Turn away!” I shouted at Siry. “Now!”

“What?” he shouted back, confused.

“Get us out of here!” I screamed.

He didn’t move. We bore down on the Flighter ship, seconds from collision. The Flighters didn’t have time to fire their cannon. They were no longer our biggest threat. I jumped next to Siry and screamed in his face, “Get away from their ship now!”

Siry was flustered. He didn’t know what to do. There wasn’t time to explain. I shoved him away, grabbed the wheel and spun it hard to the left. The nose of our ship turned, painfully slowly, to port and away from a collision with the Flighter ship.

“What are you doing?” Siry yelled, and jumped back, fighting me for control of the wheel. I had no choice. I nailed him in the gut with my fist. Siry doubled over, gasping for air. I kept the ship’s wheel turned hard to port. We missed the Flighter’s ship by only a few feet. As we glided past, it felt like we were close enough to smell them. The grungy Flighters didn’t know which way to turn. They were torn between avoiding a collision with us and gaping at the strange, two-headed silver beast that loomed up, blocking their way into the channel that led to Rayne.

Loque ran up to me, frantic. “What are you doing?” he shouted. “We had them!”

Siry’s eyes bore into me. “What have you done?”

There was no way they could understand. I was the only one who knew we had to get out of harm’s way, so I went for it. Was I right? The answer would come soon enough.

We cleared the Flighters’ ship and cruised away as the military boat continued on toward the channel. There was a loud metallic click as the two-headed silver monster finished its ascent. The “heads” of the silver beast were long tubes, wider to the rear and tapered to a narrow, hollow point. Both “heads” turned together. With the metallic sound of turning gears, the hollow tubes lined themselves up on the Flighter’s ship.

I was right.

“What kind of beasts are those?” rat boy asked in wonder. “They aren’t beasts,” I declared.