Devon Monk - Tin Swift

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.