Devon Monk - Tin Swift

“Any luck?” Cedar asked.

The wolf couldn’t speak, or so Hink supposed. But somehow, Cedar seemed to understand what the animal was trying to say.

“Branches off up here,” Cedar said. “Be careful.”

Hink was starting to really feel the leg wound. Each step was a little harder than the last. He knew he couldn’t walk these tunnels all night. He’d need a rest soon.

They took the left branch of the tunnel where Wil waited patiently for them. Then there was more walking. Some uphill, some down, and enough turns and branches that Hink was very glad Theobald was keeping close track of their meandering.

Just when Hink was about to tell Mr. Hunt his leg was going to completely give out on him, a gush of cool air washed into the tunnel.

Wil was some ways down that tunnel, whining softly.

There wasn’t any light up ahead, but the breeze had to come from some kind of opening to the outside.

“We’re facing east,” Theobald said.

“East sounds good to me.” Hink was going through his memories of flying over Old Jack’s mountain.

Not a lot of ships traveled here, and Old Jack had the guns to keep it that way. Still, he’d drifted the Swift silent on no engines over Jack’s on a full moon once.

“If we’re any sort of lucky,” Hink said between the brief moments of putting weight on his bad leg, “we’ll be somewhere near a clearing. Plenty of valleys between most of these peaks.”

“And then what?” Theobald asked.

“I’ll signal for the Swift to come get us,” Hink said. “If she’s anywhere within twenty miles and the sky is clear, she’ll be able to spot us.”

“You have a signaling device on you, Captain Hink?” Miss Dupuis asked.

“All airship crewmen carry one. Or should.” He grunted up the uneven floor. “They’ll be looking for it.”

And then the light from outside, even though it must be late evening, carved a blindingly white hole in the tunnel ahead and just slightly above where they stood.

It hurt to look at it, and Hink covered his eyes until he could bear the sight. Pretty soon he lowered his fingers and looked at the pile of stones that appeared to be the only way to climb out.

The tunnel opened wider here. Big enough you could drive two Conestogas and their teams of oxen side by side through it if you had the mind to.

Cedar stood at the bottom of the rock pile, his hands on his hips, his face tipped up, the wolf pacing silently behind him. He was thinking a route up those rocks.

“I’ll climb it first,” Cedar said. “Then I’ll help anyone up who might need it.”

Hink looked around and found himself a rock of suitable size for sitting. “Sounds like a plan to me.” He pulled the flask out of his jacket and took down the last swallow of bourbon. It didn’t do much to ease his pain, but it cleared the dust out of his mouth.

Cedar clambered up the stones, reached the top in short order, then threw his shadow across the bright as he looked out to see where they’d ended up.

Didn’t take him much time. Not nearly enough for Hink to catch his breath. But he’d rather be breathless and out in the open sky than stuck down this bunghole.

Cedar retraced his route down the rocks and brushed off his hands as he walked over to where they were waiting.

“It’s a clearing. A valley,” Cedar said. “Sky’s clouded, but no rain. I didn’t hear anything in the air, but I didn’t wait very long.”

“The Swift will be silent,” Hink said. “Either anchored and watching, or set to drift and watching. Don’t worry. She’s out there.”

Hink stood and cleared the groan out of the back of his throat. “Go on up ahead of me. The leg’s going to slow me a bit on the climb.”

The others headed to the rockfall. Wil was already halfway up the stone tumble and Theobald was shortly behind him, helping Miss Dupuis and Miss Wright along the rough spots.

Hink put off climbing until they were nearly at the top, then limped over to the stones. This was not going to be any kind of pleasant.

He sighed and took the first step up. He hated caves, hated being on the ground, hated worse being underground. For just this sort of reason. Give a man the sky, and he could soar in the heavens. Stick him in a hole and all he did was crawl over rocks.

He cussed and sweated his way through the climb, and when Mr. Hunt offered him a hand about a third of the way from the top, he did not let pride get in his way of accepting.

Finally at the top of the pile, the cave opening slanted up a bit. He’d need to hike that, shoot the flare, and keep an ear out for the Swift . He took a breath, steeling himself for the rest of the walk.

Cedar came up on one side and put his shoulder under his arm.

“Getting pretty tired of you picking me for your dance partner,” Hink said.

“Don’t get shot next time.”

“Next time?” Hink said. “I don’t believe Old Jack will ever let us cross his dirt again.”

“No great loss,” Cedar said. “A man who can call a ship full of Strange is a worrisome thing.”

“You sure that’s what those men had been afflicted with? Strange?”

“They stink of it,” Cedar said. “They stink of the only…man I know who could have done that sort of work.”

“He got a name?”

“Mr. Shunt. Strange walking in flesh. Nightmare. Haven’t found a way he stays dead yet.”

“Like the men out there with too many holes in them getting back up?”

“I doubt they’ll stitch back together now,” Cedar said. “Can’t say the same for Mr. Shunt.”

“You have caught the attention of an odd sort of creature, Mr. Hunt,” Hink said. “I’ve seen a few in my days, but none so dead set on killing a man.” They stopped a ways out from the opening to the tunnel, and Cedar let him go. “This should do.”

Not quite dusk yet, and the clouds were taking on a clay-colored darkness. The wind was unsettled, blowing up over brush, going dead, then rushing down over the tips of the peak. It wasn’t raining or snowing, but the heat of the day was gutted and gone.

Both men scanned the sky and listened.

Hink thought he heard an engine, but it didn’t sound like the Swift . Could be any number of ships out this way looking to land at Jack’s for supplies.

Could be Old Jack had signaled in more than just Mullins and his crew. Could be a fleet of ships, a fleet of Alabaster’s ships hovering in dusk’s arch.

“You hear that?” Hink asked.

“One engine?” Cedar said.

“It’s not the Swift .”

Cedar nodded, his gaze still on the sky.

“Flare’s going to let everyone in the sky know right where we are,” Hink said.

“Going to be night soon,” Cedar noted.

Not approving or disapproving. This was Hink’s call.

“It’s worth the risk,” Hink said. “Jack knows these hills. He knows where we got sealed in, and he’ll know where we’re bound to pop out. Could be aiming his guns on us right now.”

“Then stop talking and fire the flare, Captain,” Cedar said. “Your ship is carrying people I’ve made promises to. Promises I intend to keep.”

Hink couldn’t help but smile. Cedar didn’t seem the smallest bit concerned that they might be inviting another firefight down on their heads. “You are a reckless and fearless man, Mr. Hunt,” he said. “It’s a wonder you’re still alive.”

Cedar drew his gun and pulled his goggles over his eyes. “No wonder to it,” Cedar said. “Just skill.”

The captain laughed. “Miss Dupuis, Mr. Theobald, Miss Wright, be prepared to run if the Swift comes over. But don’t go jumping like a fish on a hook at any rope that lowers. We might have unfriendly vessels looking for us. Are we of an understanding?”