Masters of the Sky

Chapter 25 Weakling

Celia sat in the crow's nest, huddled in a small space with a book on her knees. She tried hard to focus as her eyes scanned well-known passages, but her mind kept drifting away. With a heavy sigh, she closed the book and looked up. Instead of the sky, a metal ceiling hung above, trapping her and Percy in a too-small space. Again. Even though no chains kept them grounded, invisible straps prevented them from flying towards long-awaited freedom.

Wharf was quiet now as the last shift of the day finished hours ago. Celia enjoyed the silence because she needed a breather after the previous few intense days. She could see the whole place from her spot because the balloons were not installed back yet, safely tucked on the dry dock side, waiting to be inflated when the ship was ready for departure. Celia stroke the wooden edge of the nest with affection.

"Soon, dear Percy. Soon we'll get you back to the skies, and we can leave this wretched world behind us."

A loud squawk pierced the silence, and with a flurry of blue and red feathers, Sir Prancer dropped to the edge of the crow's nest.

„Hey, Boss!" The bird bobbed up and down, looking at Celia with black, beady eyes.

"What do you have for me, Sir Prancer?" she asked and raised her hand to a little leg, where a folded piece of paper was tucked.

The parrot jumped back out of her reach. "Crackers first! Note later!"

"Rude!"

"Crackers! Crackers!" The bird shuffled on his feet impatiently.

"I swear you eat more than the whole crew together," Celia grumbled but fished out the last emergency biscuit from her pocket. "Here, you mean bird. Now out with the message!"

Sir Prancer grabbed the crackers in his beak and outstretched his leg towards Celia. When she got the note, he spread his wings and jumped into the air. "Bye, Boss!" he squawked, the crackers already long gone and forgotten.

There were just five words scribbled with messy handwriting on the paper.

Come down. I have rum.

Celia scoffed and got to her knees to pop her head out over the rim of the crow's nest. As expected, Theo stood below on the deck and waved at her, showing off a glass bottle full of golden liquid.

"You could have just called me, you know!" she shouted and got to her feet.

Theo just shook his head and motioned at her to get down.

She rolled her eyes, tucked the book safely under her elbow and grabbed her hook gun. With a mastery born from practising the same movement thousands of times, she anchored herself and jumped, swinging gracefully down to the deck. The rush of air made her heart beat faster and messed up her brown hair, pulling the strands loose from her braid.

"You just can't help but show off every single time, can you?" Theo asked with a smirk.

"You lured me down with a rum," Celia said drily, wrenched the bottle from his hand, uncrooked it, and took a long swing. The golden liquid burned her throat, but a warmth spreading through her insides made it worth it. "What do you want, Theo?"

"Why are you in such a foul mood? The rest of the crew is off for a pub crawl to celebrate Chief's death. Why are you not with them?"

"Celebration. As if there is anything to celebrate." Celia laughed bitterly.

Theo cocked his head and then looked around. With his metal enhancers clinking at the wooden deck, he grabbed an empty crate and put it in front of Celia. "Sit." Then he picked one for himself and positioned it next to her, dropping onto it heavily. "Now talk to me, Cee. Chief's is finally gone. I thought you'd be happy."