Masters of the Sky

Chapter 8 The Sinkers

A little town, Gearbarrow, was an unexpected marvel. It was built on high flat hilltops which, to Celia's surprise, still peeked above the water. The place was surrounded by high walls of dams keeping the raging sea away from little rocky streets and huddled little houses. A few machines were whirling and hissing with steam while pumping excess water from the roads back to the sea. The town stood firmly on solid ground, but it would not last much longer, considering the high waves sloshing mercilessly over the dams.

Celia stood in the crow's nest, watching through her spyglass as the black dots of following ships were getting bigger. She cursed and collapsed the telescope putting it back in the belt's pocket. She leaned over the railing to look down.

The crew was running around, moving the supplies from the dock and carrying them to the ship's hold. But they were going far too slow, even with a couple of heavy lifters like Zed and Uriah.

"Move it!" Celia shouted. "We have less than an hour before we'll be in the range of those pursuing ships!"

"Move it! Move it!" Sir Prancer flew over the working crew's heads, screaming his lungs out.

Celia frowned. Even with sending the parrot ahead with the message about what supplies they needed, it was still taking too long. She wanted to supply enough food and coal to take them further over the mountain before they needed to stop again. But even though they gained distance over their pursuers, the ships still didn't give up their hunt. That meant they would have to pack up what they could and make a run for it. Again.

She sighed and looked up at the metal-reinforced balloons floating slightly above her. At least Percy was in top-notch condition. So far, they didn't have any problem with the ship itself. She was flying like a dream, just as Celia knew she would. Hopefully, Percy was strong enough to face whatever awaited them around Thundering Massive.

When Celia looked to the west, she could already see enormous dark shapes framing the horizon, like silent guards keeping the new world away from her. Even the sky, which was currently clear and without any clouds, seemed darker over there, as if the region had its own weather patterns.

Celia pursed her lips and picked up her spyglass again to check on the Chief's lackeys. The ships weren't much closer, but another movement caught her attention. She spotted three smaller shapes that were approaching at a much faster pace.

"Rust and starvation!" she cursed. Celia exchanged her spyglass for her hook gun. She didn't have time for a slow climb down the rope ladder, so she fired the weapon to anchor herself and jumped over the railing. Flying was over her favourite thing. Even if such a dire and dangerous situation, she still enjoyed her little glide down the mast. The thrill of air rushing at her, the knowledge that she had to release the rope at just the right moment to land where she wanted. The hook gun was her most cherished possession right after Percy herself.

She didn't even lose a stride when her leather boots touched the deck, and the hook whizzed back to the gun. "We need to leave. Now!"

The crew froze mid-motion, halted by her sudden command.

"What do you mean now?" Abner called from the dock below the ship. "We haven't even loaded half of what we paid for!"

Celia leaned over the railing, and Abner motioned on piles of coal and crates lining the dock, his face a mask of utter disbelief. If there was one thing thieves hate the most after actually paying for what they need, it was wasting money. But there were some instances where money was not the most critical factor, and it was one of them.

"Chief sent Sinkers. They will be here in a couple of minutes."

Abner cursed, and the people around him winced at the foul language. "All right, we are done here then."