the darkness with a metallic roar.
Drave’s reactions saved him. The armour of the Century Knights was legendarily light and strong, made using secret techniques in the Archduke’s own forges, and it slowed him not at all as he flung himself aside to avoid Bess’s crushing punch. He hit the ground in a roll and came up with both revolvers blazing. Bess flinched and recoiled as the bullets ricocheted from her armour and punched through her leather skin, but the assault did nothing more than enrage her. She bellowed and swept another punch at Drave, who jumped backwards to avoid it.
As soon as the Knight was distracted, the crew scattered. Frey dived for the guns, came up with Malvery’s shotgun in his hands and squeezed the trigger. As he did so, he realised he’d forgotten to prime it first. He hoped the doctor had been careless enough to keep a round in the chamber.
He had. Drave saw the danger, raised his pistol, and was a split second from firing when Frey hit him full in the chest. The impact blasted him off his feet. He landed hard on the cargo ramp and rolled helplessly down it and off the end.
Silo lunged across the hold and raised the lever to close the cargo ramp. Bess started to run down it, chasing the fallen Knight, but Crake shouted after her. She stopped, somewhat reluctantly, and settled for guarding the closing gap. Drave was already trying to pick himself up off the ground. He was groggy but otherwise unharmed, saved by his chestplate.
Frey had bolted for the stairs that led up to the main passageway before the cargo ramp had even closed. He sprinted into the cockpit, past Jez, who was just opening the door to her quarters.
‘Was that gunfire?’ she asked.
He leaped into his chair and punched in the ignition code, then boosted the aerium engines to full. The Ketty Jay gave a dolorous groan as its tanks filled and began to haul the craft skyward. He could hear gunfire outside over the sound of the prothane thrusters: Drave shooting uselessly at the hull. The dark aircraft that shared the landing pad sank from view as they lifted into the night sky.
‘Cap’n?’ Jez enquired, from the doorway of the cockpit. ‘Are we in trouble?’
‘Yes, Jez,’ he said. ‘We’re in trouble.’
Then he hit the thrusters and the Ketty Jay thundered, tearing away across the docks and racing out to sea.
Ten
It was a still day. Light flakes of snow drifted from a sky laden with grey cloud. The silence was immense.
Jez stood on the edge of the small landing pad, wrapped up in pelts, holding a cup of cocoa between her furred mittens. She’d bought her new arctic attire soon after arriving. Her meagre possessions had been left behind in her room at the lodging-house in Scarwater. Truth be told, despite the temperature, she didn’t need to wear anything at all. The cold didn’t seem to affect her nowadays. But it was essential to keep up appearances: her safety depended on it. Anyone in their right mind would kill her if they knew what she was.
The landing pad was set on a raised plateau above a great, icy expanse. On the horizon, a range of ghostly mountains lay, blued by distance. A herd of snow-hogs were trekking across the plain.
Yortland. A frozen, hard and cruel place, but the only place on the continent of North Pandraca where the Coalition Navy held no sway, and Coalition laws didn’t apply. The only place left for the crew of the Ketty Jay to run to.
She took a sip of her cocoa.
I could stay here, she thought. I could walk out into that wilderness and never be seen again.
Behind her sat the Ketty Jay and her outflyers. Snow had settled on the Ketty Jay’s back and wings, several inches deep. Nearby, an
