The Ships of Air (The Fall of Ile-Rein) (46 page)

Giliead threw him a dark look but didn’t answer and neither did Cletia. Ilias didn’t want to say “nothing” aloud.

The flaps were thrown back to reveal the Gardier, all aiming the long-shafted shooting weapons at them. Ilias caught his breath, startled by the view of the vast dark shed. Only a few curse lights illuminated the great black shape of the flying whale that hung silently within. From this angle they were looking up into the cluster of jagged fins around its tail, and dust and shadows rose above the whale’s back to the vast curve of the wooden ceiling. The middle portion of the whale was mostly lost in darkness but a curse light at the far end showed its nose faced two gigantic floor-to-ceiling doors. Ropes tied the whale to loops of metal set into the ground in various places and a shadowy ramp led up to the opening in its low-slung belly.

Ilias hadn’t realized until just that moment how much he didn’t want to go anywhere in a flying whale. The first Gardier climbed into the wagon and he slammed into him, knocking him back.

I
t was full dark by the time Adram’s truck followed Disar and his men to the airship hangar, passing unchallenged through the gate in the wire fence in the wake of the other vehicles. The giant curve of the hangar loomed above them, a darker shape outlined against the night sky, and he directed his driver to stop in the wide dirt track. The other two trucks were entering through the cargo doors one of the men inside had just opened. The giant doors that allowed the airship to exit were on the far side and required two trucks to haul open. It would take Disar some time to summon a ground crew and prepare the ship for takeoff.

The driver brought the truck to a halt in the dim pool of electric light from inside the hangar. Adram collected the dispatch bag from the seat. “I’ll be staying here for a time. Report to Benin, then return to Barracks.”

It had been a long day and as Adram expected, the driver was disinclined to argue. He had been set to watch Adram for Command, but the boredom of watching a man who never did anything worth commenting on let alone reporting had worn him down over time. The driver nodded sharply and restarted the truck as soon as Adram climbed down.

Standing in the dark, Adram surveyed the area carefully. The night was already turning cool, the overcast sky masking nearly all moon-and starlight. The gate guard’s small wooden shelter was about forty feet away; there was a small electric light on a post next to it. He strolled through the cargo doors.

The airship floated above the concrete floor in silence, mostly hidden in shadow except for another arc light at the far end near the launch doors. The two trucks were parked a short distance inside, near a work bay packed with tools and maintenance equipment. Men had already climbed out of the first truck and were moving to surround the one that carried the prisoners, rifles at the ready. Disar’s expression turned incredulous as Adram casually joined him.

Disar snapped, “I told you I didn’t need your assistance.” His second, Etrim, looked away hurriedly, not wanting to witness an argument between Command and Science.

“Did you? Sorry, I thought you said otherwise.” Adram was aware he had broken character, and also aware it probably wouldn’t matter, not for any of the men now in this hangar.

Disar’s mouth set in a thin line, but Adram knew he must want to depart as soon as possible. Disar said through gritted teeth, “Observe for Benin if you wish, but do nothing.” He added with a grim smile, “We will speak of this alone later.” Disar motioned for his second to follow him and started toward a small wooden building set against the curved wall of the hangar.

Adram’s lips twisted in an ironic smile. “Promises, promises,” he said under his breath. He knew the little structure Disar was striding so purposefully toward was the wireless room. Disar would need to report in to Maton-devara Command and to summon a ground crew. He nodded to himself.
Yes, that will do nicely
. He scanned the men who were left, seeing that all were Service except for one low-ranked Command.

Adram turned back to the prisoners’ truck, where with banging, snarling in a strange language and cursing on the part of the Gardier, the natives were dragged out.

The blond man was dumped on the concrete first, two disheveled and angry guards left to flank him as the others went back for the rest. One had a bleeding wrist from a bite wound and the other the beginning of a black eye. Adram cleared his throat, stepping around to face the native. The man tossed back the mane of tangled hair and glared up at him, his blue eyes furious. Adram said in Rienish, “A distraction, if you please, when I start toward the little building on the far right. Look down if you understand me.” After a startled moment, the man dropped his head, the fall of hair shielding his expression.

“Very good.” Adram lifted a brow. One of the guards nodded grim approval, pleased that whatever Adram had said had cowed the prisoner. Suppressing a smile, Adram started to turn away, then paused to add, “The big one with the hooked nose and the sour expression on your left has the key to your chains.”

H
ead down, Ilias stared after him through the fringe of his hair, paralyzed for a moment by hope.
It could be a trick
. If that was some Gardier wizard who had somehow used a curse to make himself sound Rienish…But if the man standing next to him really had the keys, he was willing to take the chance.

Five Gardier were wrestling Giliead out of the wagon and others had gone in after Cimarus and Cletia. There was still a circle of guards around, pointing the shooting weapons.

Ilias saw his possible ally call to one of the other Gardier, motioning him to follow, and they both started toward the little wooden hut some distance away.
Right.
Ilias eyed the guard who supposedly had the keys, deciding there was just enough slack in the chain connecting his leg shackles for this to work.

Ilias twisted, hooking his ankles around the guard’s leg and yanking for all he was worth. The man flung up his arms and fell backward, his head striking the stony floor with an audible crack.

Ilias ducked a wild blow from a weapon butt, hearing Giliead’s alarmed shout. The next one caught him between the shoulder blades, knocking him flat.

One of them sat on his back while another did something to his leg shackles. Ilias wheezed and fought for air, his injured side aching. When the weight moved off he was too relieved to care what they had done and just lay there, taking deep breaths, waiting for the black haze to lift from his vision. He heard someone moving awkwardly toward him, chains clinking. “Ilias?” Giliead asked urgently from somewhere above his head.

“I’m fine,” Ilias assured him, the words coming out in a wheeze. He managed to roll over, realizing the guards had shortened the chain between his leg shackles so there was no slack at all. “Oh, that’s great.” He writhed into a half-sitting position, leaning heavily against Giliead’s side.

Cimarus and Cletia were watching them, Cimarus anxiously and Cletia with a kind of incredulous admiration. The Gardier were staring down at them, some angry, some contemptuous. Glaring up at them, Giliead said through gritted teeth, “Are you trying to make them kill you?”

“He said that one had the keys, and that he wanted a distraction.” Ilias’s nose was bleeding and he gingerly wiped it on Giliead’s shirt. “At least, I hope that’s what he said. I didn’t get all the words.”

“He, the one who speaks—” Giliead hesitated, swallowing hard, avoiding the word “Rienish” since the Gardier would recognize it. “What for?”

“I don’t—”

A
dram walked toward the wireless room, the Command junior at his side. He stopped at the doorway to the windowless wooden shack. He could hear the hum of the wireless inside, warming up. They hadn’t had a chance to send a transmission yet.
Perfect.
He opened the door, motioning the other officer in ahead of him. The man hesitated, but Adram ignored him, slipping the dispatch bag off his shoulder and opening the flap to dig through it. Annoyed at this inefficiency, the man stepped through the door.

Adram heard a sharp question from Disar, but he already had the incendiary in his hand. He pushed the detonator into place, held down the strike lever, then tossed it through the door. Adram bolted, one arm up to shield his head.

He made it ten paces before the blast knocked him down.

K
now.” The explosion rocked Ilias back and he fell against Giliead, wincing away from the sudden flare of light. He heard debris pelting the ground not far away, the frightened shouts of the Gardier. Heart pounding, he stared at the flying whale, expecting the dark expanse of the body above them to mottle with molten orange and ponderously tip over. But the whale wasn’t on fire, it was the little wooden hut against the wall.
The one the crystal wizard went into. Oh, here we go.
He struggled to sit up, savagely glad the man was dead.

Jagged sections of the wooden walls still stood but the inside was aflame and the floor around it was littered with burning fragments. Smoke boiled into the air. He exchanged a frantic look with Giliead.
This is our chance
.

Some of the Gardier had thrown themselves to the ground, others had been hit by burning wood fragments and rolled or beat at the flames. Out of the smoke the Rienish Gardier ran, shouting at the others. He spun around, pointing frantically toward the flying whale, now mostly obscured by smoke, and shouted again, desperate urgency underlying every word and gesture. The other guards bolted away, some stopping to drag the wounded to their feet. They ran past their prisoners, banging open the outer doors somewhere behind the truck.

“What’s happening?” Cimarus demanded, watching the growing fire worriedly. “Are we—Is it—”

“We’re getting out of here,” Giliead told him hurriedly. “Just stay quiet, don’t draw their attention.”

None of the Gardier seemed inclined to help their bound prisoners. Then one man stopped beside the unconscious guard, leaning down to grab his jacket, obviously meaning to haul him out. Ilias froze in horror.
If we can’t get to those keys—
Beside him Giliead whispered, “Just leave him, come on, leave him….”

The Rienish Gardier reached the man, pulling him away from the motionless guard and shoving him on, taking him by the arm and hauling him along when he hesitated.

“Go, go, go!” Ilias urged, but Giliead was already rolling to his knees, managing to hop-shuffle-crawl toward the unconscious man. Reaching him, he twisted around to use his bound hands and fumbled for the pouches at the Gardier’s belt. “Hurry, dammit,” Ilias urged him, looking from the burning hut to the silent flying whale.

“No, really?” Giliead growled, head craned over his shoulder to see. The dense smoke thickened the air and Cletia started to cough. “Got it,” Giliead said suddenly, elated and relieved. More twisting around, then he was pulling the manacles off his wrists.

Cimarus shouted in relief, but Ilias was still trying to watch the flying whale through the growing haze of smoke. He couldn’t see how close the flames were to it, or if the fire was spreading, but he could smell it and feel the wash of reflected heat. It caught him by surprise when Giliead leapt on him and flipped him over to wrestle with the locks on his leg shackles. His legs came free, then his hands, and Ilias scrambled to his feet with a yell of triumph.

In moments they had Cletia and Cimarus free. Ilias saw one of the outside doors behind the wagon stood partly open to the night. That seemed to be their only escape route. “The Gardier will still be out there,” he told Giliead, jerking his head toward the doors.

“We’ll have to chance it.” Giliead started for the other wagon. “Come on, they put our weapons in here.”

“Why isn’t the flying whale burning?” Cimarus wanted to know, peering uncertainly through the smoke as Giliead shoved back the flaps and stepped up into the covered wagon bed. “The one we had went up quick enough.”

Ilias looked back and almost got beaned in the head when Giliead tossed his sword out. He slung the baldric over his shoulder, his injured ribs stabbing him as he lifted his arms, and Giliead handed out his belt knife and the other weapons. “Maybe it’s got one of those crystals in it. Didn’t Tremaine say they could keep it from catching fire?”

“We can’t trust that.” Cletia slung her sword belt over her shoulder. “We need to get out of here.”

“We know that.” Ilias snapped. “Why don’t you—” He stopped as Giliead reappeared, ducking under the canvas. He had Tremaine’s bag and their packs over his shoulder and was carrying the crystal’s metal box. “Why do you want that thing?” he demanded as Giliead jumped down. “It betrayed us.” It sounded like a stupid thing to say about a lump of rock and glass, but it was what had happened.

“I don’t think it did,” Giliead said firmly, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “Come on.”

T
remaine brought the truck to a halt well away from the airship hangar. It had lights but she hadn’t used them, wanting to draw as little attention as possible. If the road hadn’t been free of ditches and other obstructions, she would never have made it.

In the darkness of the cab she drew her pistol, checking how many rounds were left, for once glad she had been taught to do it blindfolded.
Five. Can I do this with five?
She had left the rest of her ammunition back with their supplies. “Calit, you need to leave.” She couldn’t see the boy’s face, but he sat next to her on the bench and she could feel his eyes on her.