Bandits

Chapter 3: Daedalus

The name sent shivers down Gideon's spine. His mouth was dry, and he felt dizzy. Gerard let out a laugh, apparently taking great pleasure in the distress written on Gideon's face.

"No use in getting yourself worked up over it, lad," Gerard said lightheartedly. "We're already three hundred leagues off of Lentus. Nothing around us now but the open air of the Petra Field. And even if there was something, you're not getting far with your ankle like that." Gerard stood, adjusting his belt.

Gideon's mind spun. He felt like he'd just been run over by an ox cart. How could this be happening? Only yesterday life had been normal, now nothing made sense. Yesterday? Gideon realized he had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. Long enough that some of the "crew" thought he was dead, apparently.

"Besides, boy," Gerard interrupted Gideon's thoughts. "We practically saved you."

Gideon felt a sudden, fierce anger well up inside him. "Saved me?" Gideon pushed himself up onto his elbows and spat the words. "You burned down my home and kidnapped me! How dare you claim to–"

In a flash Gerard towered over him, all traces of amusement utterly void from his face. His fists were clenched at his side and the veins in his neck bulged. "You watch your tone with me, boy," he spoke calmly and coolly, the words holding a deadly edge. "You might think I look like a right gentleman but make no mistake, lad, I could end your little farm-brat life with a flick of me knife and not lose a wink of sleep."

Gerard sat back down, the fire draining from his eyes. He stared coldly at Gideon, taking in the look of pure and primal fear on his young face. After a moment or two, Gerard's expression softened.

"I'm sorry, lad," Gerard's words felt sincere but stern. "But this is a dangerous place. You're in a new world now, and if you don't learn to keep your mouth shut and show some respect you won't last a week."

Gideon felt shaky words climbing in his throat. "I'm, I'm sorry. I just, it's just I'm so lost. I don't know at all what's going on, and I'm scared." Tears stung behind Gideon's eyes and he felt his shoulders begin to shake. He was terrified, and completely alone. All Gideon wanted to do was close his eyes and wake up in uncle Thomas' farmhouse. He squeezed his eyes shut for what felt like minutes. Then he opened them. He was still in the wooden room, the light still seeped through the wooden grate, and Gerard still sat in front of him, his dark eyes watching. All that had changed was that now Gideon's hope had faded. This was real. He was a prisoner.

"Get up, boy," Gerard said, standing. His words held no edge, but Gideon could tell it was not a request. "It's time to take you topside. Daedalus wants to talk with ya."

With that, Gerard stood, replacing the barrel to its former spot along the wall. He turned and walked toward the door on the far side. He opened the door, hesitating for a moment at the threshold, calling back to Gideon.

"Come, boy. Captain's not got all day. Busted ankle or not, it's time to get a move on," Gerard walked through the door. Gideon struggled painfully to his feet, then followed.

The belowdecks of the skyship were unremarkable. Gideon limped through storerooms and other sleeping quarters, some occupied by large men snoring soundly or gambling on makeshift tables. Gideon followed Gerard past what must've been a kitchen. Although the stench emanating from the room almost made him gag, Gideon was so hungry he could've eaten a rat. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than one of the furry rodents scurried across his path. Suddenly his appetite dwindled a bit.