Kingdoms at war, p.14
Kingdoms at War, page 14
After another block, their group had to descend, but the captain paused and looked back. Smoke wafted from the roof of the curio shop, more than the canister they’d thrown could have accounted for.
Regret darkened her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. She jerked her head for Tezi and Sasko to follow, and they skimmed down the side of the building and ran off into the city. Hopefully, there would be time to get out of the city. Tezi worried that if a mage had tracked them to the curio shop, he could track them back to the docks and the rest of the company.
11
“Mother!” Jak forgot that he was too old for hugs and hugged her when she descended into the cell again. “Are you all right?”
“For now.” She hugged him back. “But the ship may be about to be—”
Something jolted the vessel, tilting the deck and sending them tumbling against the wall.
“—attacked,” she finished grimly.
“By who?”
“Another mageship. I only saw it in the distance. I don’t know which king sent it. We should be back over Uthari’s dominion by now. You wouldn’t think anyone would dare attack his ship in his kingdom.”
Jak closed his eyes and envisioned a map of the Forked Sea, with the continent of Bakura and its Dragon Perch Islands to the east and his homeland of Agorval to the west. King Uthari claimed most of Agorval for his kingdom—including Jak’s home city of Sprungtown on the other side of the Sawtooth Mountains—but the boundaries extended well out over the sea. Assuming the mageships flew as fast as Jak believed they did, they should be most of the way across the water and into Uthari’s territory by now.
“Well, the Dragon Perch Islands are in Zaruk’s kingdom,” Jak said. “He might have found out we located the artifact. And want it back.”
Another jolt rocked the ship. Jak put out a hand, thinking to steady his mother, but she’d already sat cross-legged on the deck and pulled out a tin he didn’t recognize and a bar of something. In the shadows, he couldn’t tell what. He hoped it was food since the guards hadn’t deigned to deliver anything but a jug of water to their cell.
“Are you making snacks? Because my stomach has been growling. Our captors are rudely inadequate when it comes to prisoner care.”
“I agree, but it might be a while. We’re getting out of here.”
“Oh? What are you making? A bomb?”
“Nothing so exciting. And this may not be the best time to try to employ this, but…” Mother looked up at the grate, with the guard’s boots still in sight, and lowered her voice. “I’m hoping this attack proves tumultuous and all hands are called upon to help defend the ship.”
Jak didn’t hear anything like an alarm gong, but distant clangs sounded, followed by shouted orders. He couldn’t tell if Malek, Tonovan, or some underling was giving them. Thuds reverberated from above—soldiers running down the corridor. The boots above their grate disappeared from sight.
“See if you can make a lasso or some kind of loop on a string,” Mother said as she mixed ingredients in the shadows.
String? Where was he supposed to find string? And what did she have in mind? For that matter, what was she making? The air smelled of soap and crushed flower petals, not exactly odors that he associated with explosives.
“How long of a string?” Jak bent over and poked his bootlaces, mentally guessing at their length.
“Several feet. We’ll need to be able to hook it over that lever on the wall… while hanging from the grate.”
“You’re more athletic than I realized.”
“I’m hoping you’re the athletic one.”
“When you said we, I thought we’d be magically spider-walking up the wall together.”
“I’ll try, but I may not be strong enough. Tighten the laces on your boots.”
“Uh.” He’d been about to make her lasso out of his laces, but it sounded like he would need them for climbing up the wall—somehow. “Right.”
He carefully set aside his hat and the drawing tools in his pockets, then tugged his shirt over his head. Though the rocking deck made it a challenge, he tore the shirt into even strips to tie together. There weren’t explosions and cannonballs, as there would have been in a sea battle among terrene humans, but something was striking the ship.
If this flying boat took enough damage, would it crash? Jak had no idea how high they were, but he was positive they would die if they plummeted down from their elevation, whether they hit land or water.
“You’ve made a lasso?” Mother asked after a few minutes.
“A rope with a loop on the end.” Jak held up the strips of fabric he’d tied together to make a good ten feet of rope, maybe more. He hoped it would be strong enough for what they needed. He couldn’t imagine it supporting his weight if they tried to climb up it, nor would there be any way to hook it over the grate. “A lasso would have been ambitious to make out of my shirt.”
“Tie something in the middle of the loop that can act as weight.”
“You act as if I have a supply cabinet in the corner over here.”
“I know you’ve got a compass and caliper in your pockets.”
“You want me to hurl my map-making tools against the wall?”
“To facilitate our escape from torture and death? Yes, I do.”
“I’m already half-naked,” he grumbled but complied, telling himself the caliper was sturdy and that he could get it back if this worked. “I hope there are at least cute girls up there who’ll admire me running around shirtless.”
“The cute girls are busy,” Mother said, her voice without humor.
That made him wonder what had happened when she’d been questioned.
“Give me your hands and boots,” his mother said before he could decide if he wanted to ask. “I’ve made a compound that will stick you to the wall. Also the rope and the grate. Be careful.
“You made glue?” Jak rubbed his fingers together. “You made really strong glue?”
“Hopefully. I’ve only made molds with yargo before, but I cut back on the amount of water I put in, and it feels quite sticky.”
“Supporting-our-body-weight sticky?” He jammed his tools back into his trouser pockets and put his hat back on.
“The natives of Gora Gorak use yargo glue to help them climb coconut trees.”
“The pygmies of Gora Gorak? Aren’t they all four feet tall and eighty pounds?”
“Some are five feet tall and ninety pounds.”
“That’s a huge difference.”
“It’s good that we haven’t eaten for a while. Hands and boots, please.”
“Isn’t it a bad idea to make a dangerous climb when you’re famished?”
“We can do it,” she said with grim determination.
Jak hoped he was athletic enough—acrobatic enough—to pull this off. He looped his rope around his shoulders a few times as she slathered her glue on the bottoms of his boots. After that, she smeared cold, moist, and extremely sticky and gritty stuff over his palms and fingertips.
“I’ll go first to test it, since I’m lighter.” As she took a step, a ripping sound came from the deck.
Jak didn’t understand it until he stood up and tried to move. His boot stuck, and it took effort to pull it free. Mother started up the wall like a spider.
“It’s working for me.” She paused a few feet up. “How about you?”
“Uh.” More soft rips came from his boots as he moved to the wall, then planted as much of the sole as he could on it and still climb effectively. The first time he pulled his hand free, he grunted in pain. It was strong glue. And fast-acting. “There’s not going to be any skin left on my fingertips by the time we get up there.”
“Use your palms more if you can.”
“Are they less in need of skin?”
“You don’t need them for drawing.”
“Thoughtful, Mother. Thanks.”
“Just try to move quickly, so it forms only a partial bond. It’s a strong adhesive.”
“No kidding.” It still ripped the skin off his fingertips, but he found he could climb quickly with the stuff on his boots supporting his weight, and he soon passed his mother.
Near the top, the gluey substance started to wear off—he’d left a lot of it on the wall along with his skin—but he managed to lunge up and grip the grate with his left hand. Mother’s advice not to do that rang in his mind, but until he managed to throw the loop and pull the lever, it wouldn’t matter.
He wiped his right hand on his trousers, almost tearing the cloth, then on the metal grate, rubbing off as much of the substance as he could, then maneuvered the rope off his shoulders. The ship shook, and he would have lost his grip if not for the glue. Fortunately, their guard hadn’t returned to see any of this.
Jak pulled himself up until his chin was to the grate, hooked his elbow over one of the bars, and tried to figure out how he was going to throw his loop up and hook the lever. It protruded from the wall only three feet above the deck, but this was one of the most awkward positions he’d been in in his life.
His first attempt to throw the crude rope was a failure since it stuck to his hand and barely went anywhere. “I don’t suppose you made something to dissolve this stuff,” he muttered, one boot still stuck to the wall and the other dangling free.
“The lubricant might help.”
“Let’s try it.” Jak hadn’t expected a response and didn’t want to know why she had that, but he lowered his hand.
Whether it helped was debatable, but by hooking both elbows over bars, he managed to maneuver better. With his next throw, the caliper clanked against the wall near the lever.
“Hope they’re too busy with their battle now to hear that,” he muttered and tried again.
By the fifth throw, his arms were going numb from holding his body weight up by his elbows, but his loop hooked the lever.
“There we go,” he breathed, then almost let go when a shout came from the entrance to their corridor.
He froze, envisioning punishment for being caught trying to escape. A uniformed man ran past, but he didn’t glance down the corridor.
Jak licked his lips and pulled on the rope.
“Wait,” his mother whispered. “The grate will slide into the deck. Come set yourself back on the wall before you pull.”
“That will make it harder to pull. I’ve got to fully tug the lever down before the loop falls off.” Jak maneuvered his arms off the bars anyway. He didn’t know if the grate would whip sideways into the deck hard enough to injure him, but he needed his arms for drawing, so he wouldn’t risk it.
Since he’d wiped off some of the glue, he slipped several times before managing to plant himself next to his mother on the wall. More than once, she reached out to press him against it to make sure he didn’t fall, but that only made her slip.
He tugged on the loop carefully, and the lever inched downward. As it went from pointing upward to downward, the caliper inched toward the end, threatening to slip off. Jak gave a hard jerk. It slid off, but the lever thunked into place at the same time, triggering the grate.
Alarmingly loud clanks sounded as the metal bars slid into the deck. Jak yanked his rope through, not wanting it to get cut in half, but the caliper caught. He snatched it just before it would have hit the side and either broken or jammed the grate.
The motion dislodged one of his boots, and his foot skidded down the wall. Again, his mother grabbed him. She must have had her feet and other hand firmly affixed this time, for she didn’t slide down.
“You go up first,” she whispered.
Jak lunged up and caught the lip of the opening with both hands. He poked his head out, making sure no soldiers were peering down the corridor, then swung his legs up and rolled onto the solid deck. More skin ripped off as his hands pulled away, and the raw pain had him silently cursing Malek and all the mages on the ship.
Yellow and orange lights flashed beyond the corridor. Was there fighting going on inside the hold? If so, how would they slip past?
Another jolt shook the deck. A startled gasp came from his mother. Jak scrambled back to the edge, worried she’d fallen.
But she was still planted on the wall with the tenacity of a tarantula.
“Give me your hand.” Jak lowered his own, blotches of blood oozing from his palms.
She clasped it, and he pulled her up. Once they crouched in the corridor, they separated their hands with the painful ripping of skin.
“I’m not going to be able to recommend your new product to my cartography club,” Jak whispered, shaking his raw palms.
“I’ll work on refining it in the future.” His mother tried ineffectively to wipe the glue off her own hands, then flipped the lever with her knuckles, so the grate closed.
It was unlikely that would keep the mages from realizing they had escaped, but it wouldn’t be obvious from a glance. Mother ran down the corridor, peering through other closed grates as she searched for Darv. Jak coiled his rope and followed her, a cool breeze licking at the bare skin of his chest.
His full pockets clanked as he moved. His mother clinked almost as much. If stealth was required at any point in this escape, they would both be in trouble.
But the shouts were farther away now, coming from outside on the mageship’s main deck, so he hoped the crew was busy.
“Are there lifeboats?” he whispered.
“Yes.” His mother stopped at the last grate in the corridor and peered in. “Up on the main deck.”
“Up on the main deck where all the fighting is going on?”
“Likely so. Darv?” she called down.
“Jadora?” came his weak reply.
“Yes. Are you all right?” She pushed the lever, and his grate slid open, the clanks again making Jak wince at their noise. All it would take was one of those soldiers running past to hear that.
“I would be better up there than down here,” Darv called up. “Or even more ideal, off this flying ship and down on solid land. Perhaps back at the university in my little house.”
“We’d all like that.” Mother waved for Jak to lower his rope.
“I don’t know if it’ll be long enough.” He was positive it wouldn’t reach all the way to the bottom, twenty feet below, but if Darv could reach up six or seven feet, and Jak could lower it a couple of feet, maybe…
“We’ll add more ripped clothing to it if we have to.” Mother glanced around, probably hoping the mages had left a coil of rope handily hanging next to the cells.
But if they could lower and lift prisoners with magic, why bother? Jak didn’t see anything useful.
“Try to reach this, Professor,” he called down, dropping to his stomach so he could lower it further. “There’s a caliper on the end.”
He said that by way of warning, so Darv wouldn’t clunk his head on it, but he received a dry response. “Is that recommended mountaineering equipment these days?”
“Yeah, it’s the new trend.”
“I can’t reach it.”
Jak scooted closer to the edge, lowering his arm even farther. His mother sank down on his legs, adding her weight so he wouldn’t fall in.
“How about now?” Jak almost suggested that Mother toss some of her glue down, but he doubted the old professor was strong enough to pull himself up a wall.
“It’s hard to see in the shadows. Hang on.” Darv patted around.
Jak lay the rope against the wall so it would be easier to find, but the ship jolted again. For the first time, a blast came from somewhere under them, striking the bottom of the hull. An ominous snap emanated through the deck under his bare chest.
“Ouch.” Darv grunted. “Found it.”
Darv put his weight on the rope, and Jak grimaced at the pull on his shoulder. He hoped he and his mother could lift the professor. Darv was slender and light for a man, but Jak’s position made it awkward. He squirmed backward, his mother helping him by grabbing his belt and applying a counterweight. They shifted and grunted while they found their feet and got into a better position. At least the leftover tacky glue on their hands helped them keep a grip on the rope.
Grunts and protests came from Darv as they hefted him slowly up, his body thudding against the wall. Jak kept glancing back, half-expecting to find Malek standing there with his arms folded over his chest.
Another blast struck the ship from below, and a second later, something hammered it from above. Jak’s stomach lurched as the deck dropped several inches under their feet, momentarily susceptible to gravity and physics.
“I think they’re too busy to worry about us right now,” his mother whispered. “There must be two ships out there. At least.”
“You realize that if we manage to get to a lifeboat and use it,” Jak said, “we’ll be a target for their enemies, right?”
“Yes. We’ll hide out, hope they defeat their enemies, then try to slip away while they’re licking their wounds and before they think to check on us.” Mother grimaced as one of the shredded pieces of shirt tore and Darv slipped back down a few inches.
A startled gasp came from his cell.
“Sorry, Darv.” Jak winced, afraid he would break a few bones—or worse—if he fell back to the bottom. When he’d been building his rope, he hadn’t considered pulling someone up with it. He should have. They couldn’t leave Darv here while they escaped.
“This rope is feeble and of poor quality,” Darv said, his voice near the top. Just a little farther, and they would have him.
“That’s because it’s made from my clothes.”
Darv’s knuckles came into view, white as they gripped the rope for dear life. “Perhaps you should purchase a higher quality wardrobe.”
“You’ll have to take that up with my mother. I’m still an impoverished student.”
“Did I not once see you selling caricatures of the faculty in the square for coin?”
Jak nodded for his mother to help Darv up while he kept the rope taut. “Yes, but the pay was poor, and I didn’t find the work satisfying.”
“I saw the bulbous-nosed substantial-foreheaded version of the dean that you did. That wasn’t satisfying?”
With Mother’s help, Darv grabbed the lip and pulled himself up.
