Devon Monk - Tin Swift

The light wasn’t coming from a low angle. It was coming from somewhere up high. The roof? Cedar leaned out a bit and looked up.

The entire night sky seemed to be filled with the bullet shape of an airship. Her fans were working to keep her steady, her nose up into the wind that gusted down from the hills surrounding the town. Lanterns held to what appeared to be mirrors were the source of the light.

And then a rope ladder dropped down, just a few paces from the door.

“Ho there, strangers!” a man’s voice called out. “This is the airship Swift . If you want a way out of that tussle, grab hold.”

Cedar glanced at the Madders.

“Go on!” Alun yelled. “Get Rose medical attention. We’ll find you!”

Running was not an option, not with Rose so wounded. No horses, no wagon. They might be jumping out of the griddle into the fire pit, but it was the only way out.

Cedar ducked back into the building. Mae was already helping Rose walk to the door.

“I’ll take her,” Cedar said, putting his arm around Rose. She leaned against him, weak and heavy, but still standing on her own. “Climb the ladder, Mae. We’ll be out of this soon.”

Mae glanced outside, and her mouth set in a determined line. She jogged for the ladder, which was now being held by a lean redheaded man standing on the ground. He had a pile of scarves around his neck and breathing gear hanging by one strap at his shoulder.

He steadied the ladder as best he could and Mae started climbing.

“I’m sorry for this, Miss Small,” Cedar said. “But I’m going to have to carry you.”

“My hero,” she whispered with a weak smile.

Cedar picked her up and made fast for the ladder. When the man holding the ladder caught sight of the two of them, he hollered up to the ship. By the time Cedar had reached the ladder a slinglike net had been lowered and the redheaded man held it ready.

“Put her here,” the man said. “We’ll pull her up.”

Cedar set Rose as gently as he could into the sling. She was already groggy from the run he’d taken, and breathing hard.

The man stuck his fingers to his teeth and whistled. Then he gave the rope a tug and the sling cranked upward.

“Up!” The man nodded at the ladder.

Cedar grabbed hold of the ropes and climbed. He glanced above him. Mae was nowhere to be seen, already having stepped into the ship.

“The others?” the man called up.

“Go!” Alun yelled. “Get on out of here!”

Cedar was a half dozen rungs up the ladder, and the man below started up, giving out another whistle.

The ship rose and the rope ladder shifted and swung, nearly clipping the edge of the building. It was dizzying, confusing. The night filled with a roar of fans above him, the yell and cry of the undead below, mixed with the hot stink of gunpowder and the Madders’ wild laughter. He thought one of the brothers, maybe Bryn, was singing.

In a night too black, in a town too alive for itself, beneath a ship that was built to ride the skies, not cherry-pick the earth, Cedar climbed.

Halfway up the ladder he suddenly remembered. Wil. He had left Wil behind.

His heart fisted like a lead weight and panic froze him in place.

“Problem?” the man below yelled.

“My brother’s down there,” Cedar said.

“Which one?” He looked over his shoulder to peer down through the darkness at the Madders.

“Not them,” Cedar said.

“Up.” The man pointed at the ship. “Up.”

He couldn’t go down unless he kicked the man in the face, and even then he wouldn’t be able to dismount the ladder without killing himself from this height, since all the while he’d been climbing, the ship had been climbing too. Cedar hauled himself up the ladder.

He’d make them land. He’d make them turn around. He wouldn’t lose Wil after just barely finding him again.

Cedar topped the ladder and strong hands grabbed hold of each arm, pulling him the rest of the way into the ship, leaving him kneeling on solid wood.

“Welcome to the Swift ,” a man said. Yellow-haired, windburned, he looked to be in his twenties and built like he wouldn’t break a sweat wrestling a wild bull to the ground. “I’m Captain Hink. Whom do I have the pleasure of rescuing today?”

Captain Hink watched the man take in his surroundings with one quick glance. He figured him for a hunter of some sort—a man with one eye always set toward survival. Figured he knew they were glim harvesters just from the way his gaze lingered over their breathing gear.

The man also took note of, but didn’t seem to worry about, the rest of the crew: Guffin and Ansell up front flying, and Molly helping the two women, one of whom was injured and being settled into a hammock.

Then the man’s eyes slipped back to him. There was something wild in that gaze. Something that made Hink want to have his gun in his hand.

Captain Hink did his own sizing up. Figured he could take him in a fair fight, though he likely wouldn’t be walking away afterward.

“My name’s Cedar Hunt,” he said. “My brother’s been left below.”

“One of those madmen?” Hink asked. Wasn’t every day he saw three men take on a town full of people gone crazy. He’d only once before seen a town rise up so. They’d been bedeviled by the Strange, and there wasn’t a one of them who survived the rising of the next day’s sun.

“No. A wolf.”

Hink pursed his lips and nodded. “A wolf.”

It wasn’t quite a question. But it was most certainly an observation as to Mr. Cedar Hunt’s mental capacities.

“Yes.” Not a glimpse of a smile, not a spark of madness. Nothing but sober hard truth in his voice. “A wolf.”

Captain Hink tucked his wide hands into his belt. “Don’t know that we have fuel enough to stop for him, I’m afraid,” he said. “But if he’s a wolf, as you say, I’m sure he’ll find his way through the countryside without much trouble.”

“That won’t do,” Cedar said. “I won’t leave one of mine behind. You’ll turn this bird around, or I will.”

He didn’t reach for his gun. Neither did the captain. But they got themselves into staring and taking the measure of the other man.

Cedar Hunt did not look like a man that took naturally to laughter. No, he looked like a hard man, driven, with too much sorrow lining his face. He came aboard this ship with two women whom he seemed intent on helping out of a tight situation.

There might be honorable intentions in his actions toward the women, but Captain Hink didn’t think Mr. Hunt would cry a tear over spilling another man’s blood.

He was the sort of man Hink respected. And usually employed.

“You’re serious,” Captain Hink said.

“Always.”

Molly was done getting the injured woman settled and stood right up close to the captain and Mr. Hunt, taking a good hard look at Cedar. Hink appreciated her take on a person’s mettle. He hadn’t thought it much possible, but she was even more jaded than he as a judge of people.

“It’s a pity I can’t help you with your brother—,” Captain Hink began.

“What’s that ring you’re wearing?” Molly asked.

Cedar frowned and lifted his hand, looking down at his finger as if he’d forgotten anything was on it. “Gift from a friend,” he said.

“Your friend have a name?” Molly asked.

“Gregor. Robert Gregor.”

“And where’d you run into this Robert Gregor?” she asked.

“Molly,” Captain Hink said, “I don’t see as it makes any nevermind.”

“Hallelujah, Oregon,” Cedar said. “Blacksmith there.”

Molly turned to her captain. “We let him look for his brother.”

“Like hell we do.”