Leviathan

getting down from those engine pods.”

“But why?”

Volger knelt by the map case. “Klopp needed some translating.”

“No!” Alek groaned. “Why did you do this?”

“Bring along a vast fortune in gold? I should think that would be self-evident.” Volger unlocked the case with a flick of the key, then opened it.

The gold bars shone dully, a dozen of them—more than two hundred kilograms. Volger lifted a bar with both hands, grunting as he hurled it through the window. They both leaned forward, watching it flash in the sunlight as it fell.

“Well, that’s seventy thousand kroner gone,” Volger said.

Alek bent and lifted one, the muscles in his hands screaming as he heaved it up and out. “You almost got us all killed! Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Volger grunted, lifting another bar. “For trying to save what little of your inheritance you haven’t already thrown away?”

“This is an airship, Volger. Every gram makes a difference!” Alek pulled another bar from the case. “And you bring gold bullion aboard?”

“I didn’t think the Darwinists would cut it so close.” Volger grunted again, another gold bar spinning away. “And just imagine how pleased you’d have been if I’d been right.”

Alek groaned. Working alongside the Leviathan’s crew, he had absorbed the airmen’s mania about weight. But Volger thought in terms of heavy cannon and armored walkers.

Alek pushed another bar through the window—only six left.

“But we may as well finish the job,” Volger said. “Throw it all out, like the walker and the castle and ten years’ worth of supplies!”

“So that’s what this is about?” Alek said, lifting another bar. “That I’ve thrown away all your hard work? Don’t you realize we’ve gained something more important?”

“What could be more important than your birthright?”

“Allies.” Alek pushed the gold bar out the window. As it fell, he thought he felt the deck leveling beneath him. Maybe this was working.

“Allies?” Volger snorted, then lifted another bar and flung it out. “So your new friends are worth throwing away everything your father left you?”

“Not everything,” Alek said. “All my life you and my father prepared me for this war. Thanks to that, I don’t have to hide from it. Come on, there are only four left. The two of us can lift them all at once.”

“Still too heavy.” Volger shook his head. “Your father was an idealist and a romantic, and it cost him dearly. I always hoped you’d inherited a bit of your mother’s pragmatism.”

Alek looked down at the case.

Only four gold bars… . He wondered what a boy like Dylan would say to such a fortune. Maybe it wasn’t entirely mad, what Volger had done.

“Well,” he said, “perhaps we could save one.”

Volger smiled as he knelt, pulling one of the bars out and sliding it back under the bed. “There may be hope for you after all, Alek. Shall we?”

Alek knelt across from him, and together they heaved the case up, Volger’s face turning red with the effort. Alek felt his own muscles throbbing in his arms.

Finally the case was resting on the windowsill. Alek took a step back, then threw himself against the case as hard as he could.

The last three bars spilled out as they fell toward the snow, spinning wildly and glittering with sunlight. Alek felt Volger’s grip on his shoulder, as if the man thought he would go tumbling after them. The airship pitched up beneath Alek’s feet, rolling to starboard as the weight of his father’s gold fell away.

“But I truly didn’t think it would matter, not on a ship this huge,” Volger said quietly. “I never meant to endanger you.”

“JETTISONING THE LAST INGOTS.”

“I know that,” Alek sighed. “Everything you’ve done has been to protect me. But I’ve chosen a different path now—one less safe. Either you recognize that or we part ways when this ship lands.”

Count Volger took a deep, slow breath, then bowed. “I remain at your service, Your Serene Highness.”

Alek rolled his eyes, and started to say more. But a light flickered outside, and they both leaned out the window again.

Flares were arcing up from the ground. The Leviathan had reached the first German scouts. Their mortars were firing, sending bright cinders aloft. Alek breathed in the sharp, familiar scent of phosphorous, and the rumble of nearby cannon reached his ears.

“I just hope we weren’t too late.”

THIRTY-NINE

“Off your bums, beasties!” Deryn shouted, sending another cluster of bats fluttering into the air.

Mr. Rigby had sent the middies forward to lighten the bow. Something heavy was holding the airship’s nose down. Either that or the forward hydrogen cells were leaking like mad. But the sniffers hadn’t found the slightest rip.

From up here Deryn could see the whole valley, and the view was barking dire. The Clanker walking machine had come to a halt a few miles away. Its scouts stretched in a line across the glacier, waiting for the airship to fly into their guns.

Suddenly the membrane reared beneath Deryn’s feet. The nose had tipped up a bit.

“Did you feel that?” Newkirk yelled from across the bow.

“Aye, something’s working,” she called back. “Keep rousting the beasties!”

Deryn unclipped her safety line and ran toward another cluster of bats, shouting and waving her arms. They turned to stare at her skeptically before scampering—they hadn’t been fed their flechettes yet.

And they wouldn’t be anytime soon. When the ballast alert had sounded, Mr. Rigby had tossed two whole bags of spikes over the side. If the zeppelins caught up, the Leviathan would be defenseless, her flocks stuffed with plenty of food—but no metal—and now scattered to the winds.

At least the borrowed Clanker engines were working, so far. They were noisy and smelly, and threw out enough sparks to give Deryn the mortal shivers, but blisters could they push the ship along!

The old motivator engines had only nudged the airbeast in the right direction, like a plowman flicking a donkey’s ears. But now that was upside down: The cilia were acting like a rudder, setting the course while the Clanker engines propelled the ship.

Deryn hadn’t realized the whale could be such a clever-boots, adapting to the new engines so quickly. And she’d never seen an airship move this fast. The pursuing zeppelins—some of them small, nippy interceptors— were already falling behind.

But the German land machines still waited dead ahead.

The ship bucked again, and Deryn lost her footing, skidding down the slope. Her foot caught in a ratline, jerking her to a nasty halt.

“Safety first, Mr. Sharp!” Newkirk called, snapping the shoulder straps of his harness like suspenders.

“Pretty smug, for a bum-rag,” Deryn muttered, snapping her clip back onto a ratline. She gave the bats another halfhearted shout, but the ship didn’t seem to need it anymore. The airbeast’s nose was pulling up in starts, another jolt skyward coming every ten seconds or so.