Fire and Lightning

What In All The Seventeen Hells?

Ryn plummeted through the air.

Clouds rushed by him. His stomach was somewhere far above. Over the noise of rushing wind he was aware of Nuthea screaming.

Images of his recent past moved in rapid succession across his mind again. Mum dying. Dad dying. Roofs on fire.

Wind gusted into him all of a sudden, diverting his course.

He slammed flat onto something hard with a loud thump. His face and limbs stung from the impact. The ache in his head, temporarily forgotten in the tumble, returned with force.

This couldn't be the ground. They had stopped falling much more quickly than he had expected. Plus, he was still alive.

Ryn pushed himself up onto his elbows with effort, wincing.

Nuthea had landed nearby. Men stood around them, some brandishing swords, many gathered together at a rail at one end of the wooden platform Ryn and Nuthea had landed on. Cannons sounded, but below them now, from within this ship.

"What in all the seventeen hells was that?" yelled a voice from somewhere behind them.

One man stood a few paces away, staring wide-eyed like Ryn was an Imperial invader come to kill him. He had a shaved head, wore leathers, and a cutlass hung at his side.

"Boy 'n a girl, Cap'n!" the sailor called. "I think they just fell out of the Imperial ship!"

"Well what're you waiting for, fool?" shouted the first voice. "Tie them up and stow them below! We don't have time for this right now!"

"Y-yes, Cap'n!"

The man hesitated, but then took a step towards them, drawing his sword from the sheath that hung on his belt with a sliding of steel. The point wobbled a little as he held it out towards them.

"You two!" said the sky sailor. "With me!"

"Not again..." mumbled Ryn.

He looked sideways, wondering why Nuthea hadn't said anything yet. She lay sprawled on her front on the wooden deck. Her eyes were shut. Fear lanced through him.

The sky sailor moved towards them.

"Please!" said Ryn, scrambling up, "I think she might be hurt! She needs a healer!"

"Cap'n says you're to be stowed below, so stowed below is what you will be!"

To Ryn's own amazement, he put up his fists. "You're not taking us anywhere! She needs help!"

The ship banked harshly to one side and Ryn lost his footing, stumbled, and put his hand out to steady himself.

The sailor barely wobbled. Taking advantage of Ryn's stumble, he stepped forwards and hit him hard in the gut with the hilt of his sword.

"Oof!" Ryn doubled over as the wind was knocked out of him. The skysailor grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up, and before Ryn knew it a rope was wrapped around his arms and chest, so tight he could barely breathe.

Then he was being shoved and kicked with barks of "Get down there! Hurry up!" He staggered across the deck in bewilderment, battle cries and cannon fire sounding all around him. When he glanced back he saw the sailor with the prone form of Nuthea slung over one shoulder, her hair and hands hanging limply, swaying with his steps.

Beyond them a huge Imperial airship filled the sky, descending rapidly, fire and smoke billowing from its hull, a series of huge holes blown in its side.

He was pushed down some steps, through a door, and along a corridor before being shoved into a room not much bigger than a broom cupboard, with only a small circular hole for light.