The Road to Death

56

As the dragon spun away from Phoenix, Burch bared his teeth in a wide, toothy grin. Somewhere behind him on the bridge of Keeper’s Claw, the changeling cheered as they watched the winged beast tumble down through the sky.

“That won’t be it,” Burch called back. “Let’s take the fight to him!”

The shifter slapped another shockbolt into his crossbow. It was the last of the ones Duro had given him, and he knew he had to make it count. He raced up the ladder to the airship’s bridge and stood next to the changeling, who had her hands wrapped around the ship’s wheel. She’d shoved aside the body of the bosun, who still hung from the bridge’s console by a set of manacles.

“Nice hit,” Te’oma said, no trace of a grudge in her admiration.

“Two nice hits,” Burch said, checking the crossbow over again to make sure it was in top working order. “With magic, exploding bolts, and it’s still alive.”

“What does that tell you?” the changeling asked.

Burch stared at her for a moment. He didn’t want to trust her, but he’d put himself in a situation where he had no choice.

“That we’re in real trouble.”

He strode to the back of the bridge and gazed down over the gunwale. He listened hard as he did, hoping he wouldn’t hear the changeling’s footsteps coming toward him. He knew it would take only a little shove to push him out into the open air. Unless he could sprout wings, he’d be dead for sure.

“There he is,” Burch said, pointing down below and behind them. “Six o’ clock low.”

“Six o’ what?”

Burch scowled at the changeling. “Ever seen a clock?”

“Of course,” Te’oma said. “What does that have to do—?”

“Six is behind us,” Burch said, pointing aft. “Noon is ahead. High is above. Low is below.”

The changeling nodded. “You’ve spent a lot of time on an airship before.”

Burch shook his head. “Many pints drinking with pilots.”

He glanced back over the aft rail. The dragon had arrested its fall and was beating its wings once more.

“It’s heading straight for Phoenix,” Burch said, pointing off to the starboard. “It’ll come up through three o’clock and keep right for them.”

“What should I do?” Te’oma asked. She gripped the airship’s wheel so tight that her knuckles seemed whiter than ever, almost the same shade as her eyes.

“Get in its way,” Burch said. “If I get a chance, I’ll do the rest.”

Te’oma nodded and the ship swung starboard and downward on a rough course to intercept the oncoming dragon.

From Burch’s point of view, the trouble was that the dragon was now below the ship. He couldn’t see down there—the ship was in the way—and he couldn’t attack something he couldn’t see. This meant he had to wait for the dragon to rise above the ship and give him a clear angle. From which direction the creature would pop up, though, was anyone’s guess.

Burch expected Nithkorrh to swing around the hull of Keeper’s Claw and head straight for Phoenix. Instead, something large and unseen smashed into the hull and sent him flying from the bridge, to land in a heap on the deck.

Burch glanced back and saw that Te’oma had managed to keep her feet, but only because of her death-grip on the wheel. Something hit the bottom of the ship again, and this time she screamed.

“It’s going to tear us apart!”

Burch didn’t see how the changeling was wrong. The dragon had the right idea. If they couldn’t see it from above, then it was safe below. It could rip the airship to splinters, and they couldn’t do a damned thing to stop it.

The shifter ran over to the gunwale, grabbed an end of the rope ladder, and tossed it overboard. If he could just get into position, he might be able to get a clear look at the beast and knock it from the sky.

Then he realized that “if” was way too big. To pull it off, he’d have to get off a clean release while bouncing along like a minnow on the end of a fishing pole. The image reminded him he’d be the bait in that scenario. He wondered if the dragon would be able to resist it, and if it didn’t, where would that leave him?

A splintering sound below told him he’d better come up with a good idea soon. He charged up to the bridge, shouting to Te’oma, “Take us down! Down, as fast as you can!”

A moment later, Keeper’s Claw plunged toward the rocky slopes of the mountain below. The dragon bellowed in surprise and then distress.

“He’s trapped beneath the ship,” Burch said. “Keep going, and we’ll smash him into the rocks.”

“Are you insane?” Te’oma yelled. “That’ll kill us too.”

“What’s your point?”

The changeling goggled at the shifter with her wide, white eyes. “I don’t want to die!” she said.

Burch raised his bushy eyebrows. “He keeps tearing at the ship, we’re dead anyhow. This way, we kill him too.”

Te’oma glared at the shifter for a moment then reached out to hold his hand. “All right,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

The airship plummeted toward the ground, the dragon screeching in protest now. The ship’s ring of fire tried to drown it out with a crackling roar of its own. If the ship was destroyed, the elemental inside the ring would be free, Burch knew, and it seemed happy to do everything it could—within its orders—to help make that happen.

A terrible tearing sound came from beneath the ship, and Burch saw the dragon break free, flapping away off the port side.

“Pull up,” he told Te’oma. “He got away.”

The ship kept falling. “Pull up, I said.”

Sweat beaded on the changeling’s snowy brow. “I can’t!” she said. “The ship’s not responding.”

Burch cursed. “The dragon must have damaged the lower restraining arc. The wheel’s useless.”

“What are we going to do?”

Burch peered down at the ground hurtling up toward them.

“Die a messy way.”