“Engine out!” someone cried. Rendor shouted. The Avatar lurched sideways, spilling Moth across the deck.
“Port engine!”
“Shut it down!”
“Leveling out…”
Moth struggled to rise. He saw Rendor holding onto a rail. The men at the consoles threw switches and cursed. Slowly, Moth felt the giant airship righting itself, but the engine noise was different now, and he had no idea what had happened.
“Moth!” yelled Rendor. “Get hold of something!”
Moth scrambled for a nearby steam pipe. The floor had leveled, yet the Avatar kept spinning. Just as Moth pulled himself up, the giant window burst. Glass and metal showered the bridge. Wind howled through the gaping cavity. Moth wrapped his arms around the pipe, shocked to see something coming through the window. The screeching shadow fell on him in a frenzy of beating wings. Scaly, powerful arms swept him from the bridge.
Moth screamed. He felt the rush of wind, saw the blur of horrified faces. A second later he was weightless with the stars above his head. In disbelief he watched the Avatar drifting away.
“Get us down!” Donnar cried. His voice cracked over the wind. Rendor held tight to the rail, staring at the blown-open window. Around him the crew worked to steady the Avatar.
Alisaundra had vanished. Rendor searched the sky but knew they’d never catch her. His ship was going down. Somehow Alisaundra had knocked out an engine, but Rendor almost didn’t care. His blue eyes softened, sick at the fate that awaited the boy.
Just like Fiona, Moth was gone.
ALIVE
DROWNING.
First there was panic. The clutching for the sky, lungs burning, throat filled with frigid water. She remembered tumbling and the rocks beating her. The bottomless river pulling at her coat. Feet kicking, mouth screaming without sound. Bobbing up for precious gulps of air.
Dying.
How long did it take to die?
Fiona’s head lay on the rocks. Was it night? She couldn’t tell. Maybe she was blind.
She heard the water, very nearby. She had swum to the rocks. Or maybe the river had spit her out. Her cold legs were still, useless. She shivered and couldn’t stop herself. If her eyes were open, she saw nothing. But there were things she remembered, a jumble of things that didn’t belong together yet somehow held hands through her brain. She saw Moth with her mother and father, together on an airship sailing to Medona. She saw the great blackness of the Avatar chasing her. She smelled cinnamon. She was a little girl again.
Seeing herself made Fiona happy.
Pain stabbed her skull. Fiona thought about crying but couldn’t find the strength, so the little girl in her mind began to weep.
Sleep, Fiona told herself. Or just die. Whichever.
The sun shone brightly on her face. Fiona hadn’t seen it rise. Its gentle warmth baked her body.
I am a ghost now. In heaven.
Fiona didn’t move. Her mind floated as she gazed up. The sun was a yellow flower in the sky. Her fingernails scraped the sand beneath her. When her head began to throb, she knew she wasn’t dead.
Soon…
An animal might come and eat her. She might starve. Or she might just sleep forever. Fearlessly, Fiona closed her eyes. Her parents were in heaven, waiting there for her. Sunlight burst with colors on her eyelids. Her body felt like it was falling.
A shadow dropped across her face, blocking the sun. Annoyed, Fiona willed her eyes open. A hazy face hovered over her. Long, brown hair fell from the head and down its back like the mane of a lion. Its enormous, muscular body bent down on its two front legs to examine her. Fiona nearly smiled. She had seen this beast before.
“Are you Jorian?”
A hand came down to touch her forehead. It swept gently over her eyes, closing them. Immediately Fiona felt sleep tugging at her. And something else lifting her. Her body felt limp and out of her control. Fiona surrendered, drooping in the arms that carried her and drifting off to sleep.
SITTING DUCKS
JUST FOUR THIN LINES TETHERED the gigantic Avatar to the earth. Every time the wind blew, the ropes groaned and pulled at their spikes. Crews manned the guns jutting from the airship’s envelope and atop her observation deck, scanning the horizon for trouble. The thousand bits of glass had been swept from her bridge, but the gaping hole left by the shattered window remained.
Rendor watched as Bottling descended a metal ladder hanging from the airship’s superstructure. The engineer had spent nearly an hour inspecting the damaged engine. Amazingly, Alisaundra had managed to break off one of the engine’s four propeller blades, unbalancing the Avatar and forcing an emergency landing. The crew had spent the night staking the airship down and cleaning up what damage they could. While they worked, Skyhigh began searching for Fiona. The Skyknight had returned a short time ago—empty-handed.
“Well?” Rendor called.
Bottling shook his head. “Not good.” He jumped from the ladder, landing close to the Governor. “All the other blades have fractures.”
Rendor took a handkerchief from his vest and handed it to Bottling. “How big?”
“Big enough,” said Bottling as he wiped his grimy hands. “We could push it, but there’s a good chance they’ll snap off at speed.”
Commander Donnar, who’d been directing the repair efforts, overheard Bottling’s assessment. “The prop is useless that way anyway,” he said. “Three blades? We’re better off shutting it down.”
“One engine,” groaned Rendor.
“She can fly with one,” Donnar pointed out.
“Sure,” said Bottling. “Or we could walk home. Be just as quick.”
None of them smiled at the joke.
“Balance it out,” said Rendor. “Saw off the middle blade. We’ll adjust the thrust from the bridge.”
Bottling nodded as if he already knew Rendor’s decision. “Can do.” His face went into an unhappy smirk. “Speaking about the bridge…”
“I know.”
The three men moved toward the front of the Avatar, where the real damage waited. Creating such a large span of glass had taken scientific wizardry, and there was no way they could replace the glass without returning home. Although the Avatar could fly with an open bridge, it would make steering her vastly more difficult in strong winds, and high altitudes would require heavy clothing. And, of course, there was foul weather to consider.
“Ideas?” asked Rendor.
“A tarp,” said Donnar. “That’s all we can do for now.”
“We need to be able to see where we’re going,” said Rendor.
“We’ll use netting,” Bottling suggested. “Instead of just cutting holes in the tarp, we’ll sew it with squares of netting. Not too big—just enough to see through.”
“Nets,” groaned Rendor. “Thank god the weather here is warm.” He looked up at the sky, blessing the bright sun.
“All right, Bottling, get started on the prop. And form a detail to start on the tarp. I’ll start thinking about how to mount it.”
The engineer handed Rendor his now-filthy handkerchief back and went to work. When he’d gone, Rendor said softly, “Erich, let’s post some patrols around the ship. Until we’re aloft again, we’re sitting ducks.”
Donnar checked the sky. “How long before they come, do you think?”
Rendor shrugged. “A few days. Maybe less. First they’ll watch us for a while, try to figure out how strong we are.”