Stealthy creaks came from above the cabins – people creeping across the roof framing, hunting Yggur. She couldn’t do anything for him. Their first priority was to recapture the thapter, no matter who or what had to be sacrificed to get it. Irisis hadn’t been able to see that before, but it was clear to her now.
She tiptoed to the rail and saw a world in chaos. A long way behind, smoke trailed up from the canvas-draped towers of Fiz Gorgo. To her left the ghostly outlines of three air-dreadnoughts, locked together by their airbag cables, spiralled slowly around each other. As she watched, the cabin of the lowest craft rolled onto its side, spilling people over the rails. A few clung desperately to the ropes but a sudden lurch of the doomed craft shook them free.
She dismissed everything from her mind but what she had to do. The thapter hung below the keel of Ghorr’s air-dreadnought in its slings of nets, and the canvas no longer covered the hatch, which suggested that Nish had made it inside.
‘Are you ready, Malien?’
Malien lurched along the rail, her knees wobbling. ‘I can’t get down by myself.’
‘I’ll do what I can. But once we’re inside, how do we disable the guards?’
‘I don’t know,’ Malien said limply.
Irisis had never seen her so listless. ‘Do you know how many there were?’
‘Two, maybe three.’
‘Can you fly the thapter?’
‘In the direst extremity, I can draw on a deeper strength for a minute or two.’
‘You might have to, to take care of the soldiers.’
‘If I do, I’ll collapse before I can fly the thapter.’
Irisis hadn’t realised Malien was in such bad shape. ‘Can you climb down the rope?’
‘Not in ten lifetimes,’ Malien said.
Irisis thought for a moment, then rigged up a line to the nearest stanchion, ran a couple of turns around it and tied the other end carefully around Malien’s waist. ‘This is the best I can do. Can you manage?’
Malien had gone white. ‘You’d better be quick.’
Irisis helped her over the side, holding the rope taut. Malien leaned out, her feet on one of the ribs of the keel. ‘Ready?’
Malien nodded stiffly.
Taking a firm grip on the rope, Irisis checked that the thapter was below them. It was swinging gently in its nets. ‘All right. Step off.’
Malien pushed off with both feet and the rope jerked as her weight came on it and slipped around the stanchion. She was heavier than she looked. Bracing herself, Irisis allowed the rope to run and Malien dropped sharply. One arm shot into the air but she regained control and it fell to her side. Irisis couldn’t see her face – Malien was looking down.
A scuffle broke out behind Irisis. She glanced over her shoulder. Flangers, his back to the rail, was fighting two of Ghorr’s guards. The line jerked again and Irisis turned away. She had to rely on Flangers to hold them off long enough to get Malien down. And herself.
A brilliant flash lit up the rigging, followed by a hollow, echoing boom – an air-dreadnought exploding not far away. The airbags wobbled back and forth and the vessel followed more sluggishly, its cables creaking and groaning. The heavy thapter barely moved and, consequently, appeared to stand out from the vessel at right-angles before swinging back.
Malien went whirling around on her rope. Another explosion sent the airbags dancing the other way. The ropes thrummed, pulling so tight that Irisis felt sure the craft was going to tear apart. Malien’s head came up and her mouth was wide open – she thought she was going to fall.
Irisis gauged the swing of the vessel relative to the thapter, paying out Malien’s rope as fast as she dared. Malien was going to pass over the top of the thapter before swinging far out the other way. The vessel began to move again. There were only seconds to act.
Irisis recalculated the trajectories and, just before Malien’s swing passed over the hatch, let go the rope. For one ghastly moment she thought she’d got it wrong and dropped Malien to her death. The thapter moved precisely as she’d thought it would and Malien landed hard on the top of the thapter, next to the hatch.
Her knees collapsed but Malien caught the handle of the hatch with one hand while she looped a bight of her line around it with the other. She raised her hand to Irisis, lifted the hatch and slipped through.
A youth fell past, his mouth open in a silent scream, so close that Irisis could see the spots on his chin. One second he was there; the next, gone to oblivion. She looked up instinctively. A length of smouldering rope came by, spinning end over end. It had just missed the gasbag above her. Should another burning fragment land on a gasbag, exploding floater-gas would blow the craft apart.
Pieces of wood rained down, shreds of canvas and other unidentifiable debris that had once been a majestic air-dreadnought. It began to snow, though the flakes were black as soot. A little whirlwind spun through the air, split into two, rejoined and disappeared.
Shadows moved up in the rigging; beams flashed and flickered. Yggur must still be alive, though how long could he last under such an attack? He’d been exhausted before they began it. Flangers had disappeared. He’d probably been killed and heaved over the side while her back had been turned.
The thapter’s hatch had fallen closed so she couldn’t tell what was going on inside. Better get down to Malien’s aid. Irisis had one foot over the rail when the outline of another air-dreadnought appeared, straight ahead. It was hanging in the air in their path, buffeted by the breeze but not moving. Why not? Its dangling cable appeared to have tangled in one of the forest trees and the crew were struggling to cut it free.
Ghorr’s air-dreadnought was drifting straight towards it. Why didn’t the pilot turn or climb? If she didn’t act soon they were going to collide. Irisis ran down to the stern, where she discovered the pilot’s chair empty. A woman in a pilot’s uniform lay unconscious against the wall – she must have been knocked down in the fighting.
Irisis raced through her options. If she didn’t go to Yggur’s aid he was probably going to die, though if Malien was in trouble Yggur would expect Irisis to help her first. But at the rate the air-dreadnought was drifting, it would crash into the other craft before she could reach the thapter.
There was no help for it. She’d have to try and take the controller, though Irisis wasn’t sure she even knew how it worked.
FOURTEEN
Before he’d realised what was happening, Nish had been grabbed and held fast. A second guard took his weapons, bound his hands, and pushed him down through the lower hatch of the thapter. He bounced off the metal ladder and landed hard on his backside on the floor below.
Stifling a groan, Nish looked up. The lower hatch remained open, suggesting that they expected to be dropping other people through it. Ghorr must have assumed that Yggur would try to recover the thapter. Perhaps he’d hung around Fiz Gorgo to lure the escaped prisoners back.
He rolled over, looking around. The egg-shaped interior was empty and the guards would have removed anything that could be used as a weapon. However, they didn’t know the machine the way Nish did. During his time in the service of Minis the Aachim, and since then with Yggur, Nish had spent many weeks learning about the workings of constructs and thapters, honing his artificer’s skills on them. He could have taken this machine apart blindfolded, so surely he could create some opportunity to escape.
Nish levered himself to his feet, which was awkward with his hands bound. He eased out one of the drawers, careful not to make a noise. It was empty. The thapter rolled like a ship in huge seas. He hung onto the handle until the motion eased, then opened one drawer after another. All had been emptied. The cupboards and other storage spaces were likewise bare. The guards had been thorough.