Ilse Witch

“Brace!” he yelled down, jamming the controls forward to feed power to the crystals.

Black Moclips collided with the second Elf ship about halfway up its mainmast. The mast snapped as if caught in a high wind and toppled to the deck, bringing down sails and radian draws alike. Bereft of more than a third of his ship’s power, her Captain was forced to hood his crystals and take her down. Alt Mer held Black Moclips away, watching as both Elf vessels began to descend, rolling and slewing as they fought to stay upright, crews scrambling madly to reposition the draws. All around them, Free-born ships were descending, giving up the hunt. Four Federation ships were down, burning on the plains. Two of those still airborne were damaged, one badly. Alt Mer glanced earthward at the crippled Free-born ships and gave the order to withdraw.

Suddenly the Federation Commander was shouting in his ear, his pinched face red and sweating. He had freed himself from his safety line and dragged himself across the decking. One hand gripped the railing of the pilot box and the other gestured furiously. “What do you think you’re doing, Captain?”

Alt Mer had no idea what he was talking about and didn’t care for his tone of voice. “Heading home, Commander. Put your safety line back on.”

“You’re letting them get away!” the other snapped, ignoring him. “You’re letting them escape!”

Alt Mer glanced over the side of Black Moclips at the Free-born vessels. He shrugged. “Forget about them. They won’t fly again for a while.”

“But when they do, they’ll be back in the skies, hunting our airships! I’m ordering you to destroy them, Captain!”

The Rover shook his head. “You don’t give the orders aboard this vessel, Commander. Get back in place.”

The Federation Commander seized his jacket. “I’m a superior officer, Captain Alt Mer, and I’m giving you a direct order!”

Redden Alt Mer had put up with enough. “Hawk!” he yelled. His Second Officer was beside him in a heartbeat. “Help the Commander back into his safety harness, please. Make sure it’s securely fastened. Commander, we’ll discuss it later.”

Furl Hawken removed the almost incoherent officer from the pilot box, muscled him over to the aft railing, and snapped him back into his harness, pulling out the release pin in the process. He passed by Alt Mer on his way forward with a wink, tossing the Captain the pin. “Wish Little Red were here to see this,” he whispered with a grin.

Well and good to say so now, the Rover thought darkly, his hands steady on the ship’s controls, but it would be a different story when they landed. This wasn’t something the Commander was likely to overlook, and he doubted that a board of inquiry would back a mercenary against a regular. Even the appearance of insubordination was enough to have you brought up on charges in this army. The right or wrong of it wouldn’t matter, nor even the fact that on board any airship, like any sailing ship, the Captain’s was the final word. The Federation would back its own, and he would be reduced in rank or dismissed from service.

His green eyes scanned the horizon, west to where the mountains rose against the blue of the sky. The one good thing about being a flyer was that you could always be somewhere else by nightfall.

He thought momentarily of taking Black Moclips and heading out, not even bothering to go back. But she wasn’t his ship, and he wasn’t a thief—not just then, anyway—and he couldn’t leave Little Red behind. It was best to go back, pack up, and be out of there by dark.

Before he knew it, he was smelling the Blue Divide and remembering the colors of spring in March Brume.

He brought the ship down carefully, letting the ground crew haul her in and secure her, then walked back to free the Commander and his aide. Neither of them said a word or even looked at him. As soon as they were unhooked, they bolted from the ship as if scalded. Alt Mer let them go, turning his attention to checking the damage to Black Moclips, making certain steps would be taken to complete the necessary repairs. Already he was thinking of her as someone else’s ship. Already, he was saying good-bye.

As it turned out, he was a little too slow doing so. He was just coming down off the rope ladder onto the airfield when the Commander reappeared with a squad of Federation regulars.

“Captain Alt Mer, you are under arrest for disobeying a superior officer while engaged in battle. A hanging offense, I think. Let’s see who’s in charge now, shall we?” He attempted a menacing smile, but it failed, and he flushed angrily. “Take him away!”

Furl Hawken and his crew started off the ship, weapons already in hand, but Redden Alt Mer motioned for them to stay where they were. Slipping free his weapons, he deliberately wal1ked past the Commander and handed them to the grizzled squad leader, a man with whom he had shared more than a few glasses of ale and knew well enough to call by his first name.