Air Pirate

Part I

1

A nd that , my friends, is why you never trust a thief.

Darien North smiled at his former comrades, gave a small wave, and jumped from the side of the airship. He imagined their gasps of surprise as the two thugs peered over the railing into the expanse of clouds below.

Idiots. Darien laughed, even as he clung to the ropes stretched across the ship’s underbelly.

This wasn’t the plan. Not exactly, anyway. He had always meant to steal the heirloom for himself in the end. But it would have been better to make his escape after they’d passed the dreaded Woodsmen’s territory. Unfortunately, the men had discovered his relocation of the booty earlier than they were supposed to.

Bad luck, he thought, his stomach turning as he chanced a peek at the savage green abyss below. Flying over cities and fields was no biggie. But the sea of trees beneath him, and the unknown dangers they concealed, were a whole different story.

He was halfway across the bottom of the airship when he heard the crack and whoosh of a cannonball. A moment later, he felt the ship rock to its starboard side as one of the brothers steered away from the impact at the last moment.

Empyrean Guard, Darien heard shouting and scurrying on the floors above him. Then he spotted it—the life balloon.

Bingo, Darien said through clenched teeth.

It didn’t look very sturdy, but as another cannonball grazed the ship’s side, Darien knew it was his only option. With aching hands, he shimmied along the rope until he reached the end. There were still a few feet between him and his escape when he heard something: a deep whirring sound growing closer. A gust of wind blew away a bit of cloud, revealing the Empyrean Guard ship not far behind them. It was easily twice the size of theirs, and much newer looking. And it had multiple blue and white striped balloons keeping it afloat, which made it much harder to shoot down.

Damn it. A flame shot past him. Darien yanked his legs up to his chest, just managing to avoid it. If they were shooting fire, it was only a matter of time until—

We been hit, one of the thugs called to the other.

Of course we have. Darien jumped for the life balloon. He almost missed, but there was loose netting at the bottom and he managed to dig his fingers in at the last moment. He looked up to find a hole torn in the bottom of the basket. For the Brothers Incompetent, as he liked to call them, safety was not a big concern.

Get to the life balloon. C’mon, get moving, the brighter one ordered. The shuffle of heavy feet was loud across the ship’s deck.

Oh no you don’t. Darien grabbed the bottom of the basket with his free hand and forced his body through the splintery hole. It wasn’t quite Darien-sized, but after some pulling and pushing, he was sprawled out on the floor of the dirty basket. He took hold of the musty, multi-colored wad of fabric and checked for holes, hoping to the gods he would remember how to work the ancient thing. The balloon had to be at least partially inflated before he could light the burner. He remembered that much. But there was nothing in the basket to force in air. He shook his head and wondered, for the umpteenth time, why he’d agreed to do business with these amateurs in the first place. Darien dared a peek over the side of the basket and whispered a made-up prayer. He was going to have to drop.

Oy, it’s the little thief. He’s come back to life, the younger one cried to his sibling.

What are you— The older brother peered over the back of the ship and spotted Darien in his life balloon. Not you. Get outta there.

Sorry, fellas. No can do. Darien stood at the edge of the basket, knee bent, his foot resting on the small box of out of date emergency supplies. He was the picture of casual.

One of the brothers grabbed for the ropes that bound the life balloon basket to the ship.

Ah ah ahh. Darien waggled a finger while he pulled a knife from his belt. He made an exaggerated gesture toward the rope.

Okay, maybe we can make a deal, the big guy offered, giant drops of sweat rolling from his forehead while he stared frantically at the approaching Empyrean Guard ship.

You know… Darien started, stroking his chin and pretending to mull it over. I don’t think so. And with that, he swung his knife at the ropes, a satisfied smirk already spread across his face.

Except, the ropes didn’t break. He barely put a notch in the thick coils.

Damn. That was supposed to look really cool, he grumbled as he hacked at the rest of the ropes. Next time he would need to pack a bigger knife.

Look, you wanna keep the heirloom for yourself? It’s yours. Just take us with you, one brother pleaded.

Panicked, the smaller one slid over the back of the ship, preparing to jump down into the life balloon. Darien dropped his knife and pulled a revolver out of his vest. Both brothers froze.

This is just sad, boys. Captains are supposed to sink with their ships, aren’t they? Where’s your loyalty? Your honor?

And what would you know about any of those things? asked the older one.

They’re gonna shoot us down, whined the younger one, legs dangling.

They won’t shoot you down. Darien rolled his eyes. I’ve been through this dozens of times. The Guard is gonna board your ship and charge you with—

He was cut off by another cannonball and a volley of flaming projectiles aimed directly at the mast. The impact pitched him forward and Darien dropped the gun as he grabbed for the side of the basket.

They’re gonna shoot you down, Darien said. He picked up the knife again and put all his muscle into the task of severing the rope, his black locks sticking to his sweaty forehead as he hacked away.

He heard the brothers cry out again and looked up in time to see the mast burst into flames. The ship groaned as it deflated, its starboard side angling downward.

Darien aimed cold, blue eyes at his former comrades. He had to get out of there. Gods knew he couldn’t afford another brush with the Guard. They’d lock him away for good this time. And yet—

Help us, the younger brother called just before another cannonball hit the ship mid-deck. It was followed by the moan of snapping wooden planks as the airship cracked in two.

Aw nuts. Darien was almost through the ropes when pity overtook him. He was a thief, sure. But he wasn’t a murderer.

Before he could think better of it, he put down the gun, belted the knife, and leaned over the side of the life balloon, his arm outstretched

All right junior. Make a jump for it and I’ll grab you, he said.

The younger of the Brothers Incompetent took one last look up at his brother and then let go of the ropes. But just at that moment, one of the Empyrean Guard’s cannonballs crashed into the back of the ship, only inches from the life balloon. Darien looked up to see the older brother blown away, along with half the deck.

No, Darien breathed with true regret. The younger brother had jumped just before the impact, but the hit had obliterated the ropes that bound the life balloon to the ship, pitching it starboard.

Darien threw himself against the opposite side and reached for the man. For one moment their fingers brushed against each other, and Darien struggled for purchase. But they slipped through and he stared down in horror, his hand reaching helplessly, even as the life balloon plummeted.

Pure instinct made Darien scramble back to the center of the basket and throw the balloon’s envelope over the side. The whoosh of air was enough to inflate the fabric above him, and he hurried to light the flame as he descended. Darien turned one valve and heard the gas fill the air around him. He breathed a silent prayer before struggling with the archaic lighting device. One click. Two clicks. He couldn’t get so much as a spark. Darien muttered more than a few choice words before scraping the metal rod against the flint one more time.

For a split second, it seemed like nothing would happen. Then he dropped to the floor as the air around him transformed into a ball of fire and filled the balloon above. Darien was worried the whole thing would simply burn up, and him with it. But to his surprise it didn’t. As the basket slowed its descent and steadied, he peered over the edge just in time to see the brothers’ airship fall past, broken and flaming, to the ground.

Darien had dropped below cloud cover, and the air around him had heated up considerably. He shrugged off his wool-lined leather jacket and brushed his hair out of his eyes so he could get a better look at the scene around him. To the west he could just make out the line of fields leading to the Town outskirts. His stomach clenched as he looked below, to the tips of trees as far to the east as he could see.

He’d always believed that the stories about the Woodsmen were just myths. Stupid tales told to threaten kids, and to keep even the toughest adults in line, lest they think of leaving the Town and the so-called protection of the Empyrean Guard. But now that he was faced with it, Darien found he was more afraid than he’d expected.

He was still grappling with the idea of flying over the trees, when another flaming bullet pierced the fabric just above his head.

This is not happening. Darien picked up his jacket and beat at the flame. Another volley of bullets flew past the balloon. One grazed his shoulder, tearing his sleeve and blazing a red imprint against his skin. He clutched at his arm.

Attention. To the criminal in the rescue balloon: put your hands up and wait to be boarded, an amplified voice boomed across the distance.

Now they wanna board? Darien asked aloud, surveying the small basket. His disdain for the Guard, already considerable, increased. He’d seen what they’d done to the airship, and knew he was foolish to think he’d have better luck than his former partners. But he also knew that he absolutely, no matter what, did not want to be taken in by the Empyrean Guard. Not again.

So he raised his hands, appearing to comply, before reaching for the fuel valve and abruptly shutting it off. He dropped down immediately, gaining momentary cover under the Guard’s ship before turning the valve back on and rushing to re-light it. Darien was just thinking he might pull this off after all, when the ship pitched hard to its starboard side, aiming a row of cannons as it did.

Oh-oh boy. Darien tried his trick again, aiming to sink below the ship and across to its other side. But the Empyrean Guard was too quick for him and his life balloon took a direct hit, throwing him off course and plummeting down into the trees below.

2

U g . Wha? Darien moaned as his eyelids struggled to open. He managed to crack one but immediately squeezed it shut when he saw two big eyes staring back at him, only inches away. He felt weight against his chest and stomach and wondered if he’d broken anything important.

When he’d steeled his mind a little more, Darien opened both eyes to see two wide brown ones gazing down at him. As soon as he saw them, the irises contracted, and they moved away with a sudden gasp. He struggled to blink away his foggy vision as his hands rose to his chest, seeking to investigate the strange weight resting there. What they found was warm and firm. He shook his head to clear the haze and saw that the eyes had moved in closer again. And they weren’t just eyes; they were connected to a face, and surrounded by thick, brown waves of hair.

The girl reached out a tentative hand toward his face. Acting on instinct, Darien grabbed her wrist and pulled it up behind his head while bucking his hips and rolling to reverse their positions.

A surprised cry escaped her lips as their positions reversed, but she continued to look up at him with more curiosity than fear.

Who…what are you doing? he asked.

The girl didn’t answer. Instead she reached up her free hand and grazed a thumb across his brow, staring into his eyes the whole time. Her touch was gentle enough, but the whole situation made him uncomfortable. Darien released his grip on her wrist and sat back on his heels.

You know, you’d be kinda pretty if you weren’t…well, whatever you are. He spoke to fill the silence as the girl continued looking up at him. Except he didn’t know how much of him she actually saw; she was concentrating so hard on his eyes. It was disconcerting.

Okay, well. Good talk. He raked a hand through his straggly hair, which just flopped back into his face. Now, how the hell do I get out of here?

Just then, he thought he heard voices beneath them. Darien jumped to his feet and peered over the basket, then had to lean back immediately, as the vertigo threatened to overwhelm him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he understood that he’d crash landed in the forest. But it wasn’t until he looked down that he realized his basket was wedged in an old tree, several stories off the ground.

Darien knelt on the floor of the basket for a moment, bracing himself for a second look. The height still made him a little woozy, but he was able to take in more of their surroundings. They were bordered by an endless sea of trees on every side. He was trying to figure out a way down from there, knowing the life balloon was as good as kaput, when something long and narrow shot past his head.

He ducked back behind the side of the basket again, and heard the girl rustle behind him.

Hey, get down. Somebody’s firing at us, he said. But the girl didn’t listen. She walked over to his side, her leg brushing his shoulder in order to avoid the hole in the basket, which was currently full of leaves and branches.

What are you doing? Watch out, he tried again, tugging at the leg of her pants.

Again she made no response, even as more spears and arrows whizzed by the basket. Instead she stood at the edge, looked down and waved her hands up above her head one time. Then she glanced back at Darien, who still had no clue what was going on, and lowered herself into the hole in the bottom of the basket.

Wait, where are you going?

She waved a hand at him to follow. As if it were that easy.

Yeah, um. No. There’s no way to climb down from here. We need to make a rope or something. Maybe we can use the balloon fabric. He surveyed the basket again, assessing their supplies. That’s when he noticed the emergency box, cracked open and on its side, spilling its contents into the corner of the basket.

Darien looked up, confident in his ability to get them out of this mess, when he noticed the girl was missing. He whirled from side to side, making sure she hadn’t hidden somewhere in the sparse basket. Then he poked his head into the hole in the floor and spotted her climbing, impossibly far down the tree.

What the— he wondered as he pulled his head out of the hole, shaking it slightly. The day was not turning out how he’d expected. He furrowed his brows together, simultaneously plotting how he could put together a makeshift rope long enough to climb down to the ground and make sure the girl got there all right, while also wondering what the hell made that his problem.

He didn’t have to ponder for long. He heard a slight rustling and then a couple thuds against the side of the basket. When he leaned over to investigate, a tall, bearded man reached up and clubbed him over the head.

3

I say we skin him alive. Leave him out on a post near the border. Maybe then they’ll think twice about sending another assassin. Darien could just make out the words through his pounding head. They sounded far away and fuzzy, and yet still managed to spike fear into the pit of his stomach.

I already told you, Herol. He’s not an assassin. Not a very good one, anyway. Somehow Darien was less than comforted by the assessment.

Yes, but then what is he doing here? a third, female voice chimed in.

I don’t know. But did you see his eyes? the second man said.

Elderic, what are you saying? she asked.

Blue, like the sky, he whispered. Darien heard the woman gasp. Do you know how long it’s been since someone like that has been in the forest?

But his hair, she protested.

I know. But maybe—

Just then, a fresh wave of nausea washed over Darien, and he couldn’t help but to let out a baleful moan as his stomach heaved and he rolled over onto his side.

He’s waking up, the first voice said, and he heard several pairs of feet shuffle over to where he lay. Darien tried to rise, but found he couldn’t separate his hands or feet.

Like I told you, Darien continued in a bored voice as he stood, bound to the trunk of a very large tree. I’m not here for any stupid artifact or whatever. I was on my way home, you know, to the Town, when my balloon crashed. I must have passed out on impact, because all I remember is waking up in that tree.

One of the council members took an angry step forward, not liking the tone Darien took when he mentioned the tree. But the old man from earlier, the one so concerned with Darien’s eye color, put an arm out to stop him.

I believe your story, son. Most of it anyway, the one they called Elderic assured him, his gray eyes glittering with faint amusement.

I’m not your son, Darien spat, his cavalier attitude disappearing instantly as cold hostility took over.

No, I suppose not. But the question remains: what do we do with you?

Darien let out a huff and turned his face to the side, stubborn and unwilling to beg for his life. People were awful and it was no use sacrificing his dignity to beg favors from those who would never deliver on them.

I say we string him up, cried a familiar voice. It was the same man who had wanted to skin him alive only an hour earlier. To Darien’s horror, this suggestion was met with shouts of approval from the group of Woodsmen who had gathered to gawk at him.

Even as they cheered for his imminent demise, Darien had to admit that these woods people weren’t as horrible and scary looking as everyone in the Town made them out to be. Of course, the more official-looking ones carried spears or bows, and he could see several small knives concealed in their boots and jackets. But there were also well-groomed looking women, holding ruddy-cheeked babies to their chests as they looked on in concerned concentration. And bright-eyed, silver-haired elderly people gazing over at him with what appeared to be sympathy. Darien knew he couldn’t actually trust any of these people. He wasn’t an idiot. But still, they didn’t look nearly as savage as his teachers’ stories had led him to believe.

No Herol, Elderic said, I don’t think that will be necessary.

The more hot-headed section of the crowd balked at Elderic’s suggestion, and half of the officials started to pound their spears into the ground. Despite his refusal to act scared, Darien swallowed a painful lump in his throat and stared down at his feet. Just as the cheers and pounding of the crowd reached its climax, it was abruptly cut off, and Darien felt a slight breeze sweep past him, and then a hand reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing his head up to face the council.

Before you do away with him, a clear female voice addressed the crowd. Darien looked up and was surprised to see the girl who had found him in the basket earlier. You might want to look under his brow. What if this boy is the Fallen One?

Darien resented being called a boy. He was seventeen years old, which was considered well into manhood amongst the Townsmen. But he had to admit that her comment elicited surprised murmurs from the Woodsmen and, at least temporarily, quelled the demand for his blood.

Bah. Couldn’t be. The hair’s not right. And besides, everyone knows the Townies are fulla tricks and secrets. Could be some form of sorcery, Herol argued. Darien liked him less the more he spoke.

Could be, the girl agreed. But what if it’s not? Is that really a chance we want to take?

The crowd seemed to grow, as people literally crawled out of the woodwork to gape at the prisoner. Most of them conferred with each other in hushed tones, while others stared at him openly. Darien wondered what the big deal was. The old man had mentioned something about his eye color. And this girl had seemed mesmerized by his eyes when they first…well, not met exactly. He stared up at the girl again, noting that her big brown eyes had specks of green in them. Then he took a harder look at the other woods people. He found every shade of brown, a few green, even Elderic’s gray. There was almost every variation of iris amongst the crowd. And then he realized not a single person had eyes his color.

He scanned again to confirm, and sure enough, he was the only one. But why was that a big deal? What did his eyes have to do with anything?

I agree with Kayla, an old woman spoke up. Darien recognized her voice from his concussional haze.

As do I, Elderic said. There is no need to hasten the death of one so young. He raised an eyebrow at Darien and then turned his back, making a slight twirling gesture with his hand as he walked away.

Within seconds, several of their soldiers were upon him. As they aimed large daggers, Darien assumed that meant his end. Instead, they cut loose his bindings. And when he collapsed, still fuzzy-headed and surely dehydrated, a burly giant of a man hooked his forearm underneath Darien’s armpits and dragged him off.

Still facing the direction of his tree, and his almost demise, Darien caught another glimpse of the girl named Kayla as he was carried backward. She gazed on for a moment, then turned on her heels and disappeared into the underbrush.

4

Staring down from the rescue balloon’s basket had made Darien nervous, but the next stop on his forest tour was much, much worse. The guard dragged him over to the foot of a spiral ramp and set him on his feet.

Think you can handle the climb? the guard asked.

Yeah, sure. I’m fine, Darien answered as he dusted off his pant legs and straightened his shirts. Only then did he look up and see what had to be the tallest tree that ever lived. It was the height of several houses, with a base as wide as an airship. And winding up the great tree was a spiral ramp of dizzying steepness.

Ug, he groaned and pitched a little to his left.

To the lift then, the guard number said with a sigh as he caught Darien’s arm in his own and helped him over to a small wooden basket on the side of the ramp. On shaky legs, Darien crawled into the tiny square and sat down on the narrow plank serving as a crude bench. The guard followed him in, an obvious look of distain on his face.

Oy, Marnu. Pull us up, eh? he called.

Yes sir, agreed a small, sinewy man who limped over to a crude wooden wheel and began to crank. At first, the basket didn’t move. Then the guard shot an impatient look at Marnu, and he threw his whole weight into it, lifting the basket up into the air.