The High Druid of Shannara Trilogy

Without bothering to wait for a reply, Gar began shouting at the Rover crewmen, both of whom jumped in response. Within moments, they were hoisting every scrap of sail they could manage, a clear indication that whatever was coming, Gar Hatch intended to run from it.

Cinnaminson was already descending through the hatchway, but Khyber was having none of it. “I’m staying,” she declared firmly. “I can help.”

“Go below,” Ahren Elessedil ordered her at once. “The Captain commands on this ship. If I need you, I’ll call. Stay ready. Pen, let’s find out what is happening.”

Be careful, Khyber mouthed silently to the boy as she disappeared from view.

Together, Pen and the Druid hurried over to the pilot box and climbed inside. Gar Hatch was setting the control levers, readying them for when the sails were all in place. He scowled at Pen and the Druid as if they might be responsible.

“Put on your safety lines,” he ordered. “Check both ends of yours, young Penderrin. We’ve no time for mistakes here.”

Pen held his tongue, doing as he was told, buckling himself into his harness and testing the links. Ahren Elessedil did the same.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it, making these runs,” Gar Hatch growled. He nodded toward the approaching dots. “Those are flits. Single-passenger airships, bothersome little gnats. Quick and highly maneuverable. Gnome raiders use them, and that’s who those boys likely are. They want to bring us down for whatever we’ve got aboard. They’ll do it, too, if they get close enough. I wouldn’t worry normally, but that storm took something out of the Skatelow. She’s faster than they are when she’s working right, but she’s down in her power about three-quarters and I haven’t the time to do the work necessary to bring her back up again until we reach the Lazareen.”

“We can’t outrun them?” Ahren asked.

Gar Hatch shook his head. “I don’t think so. If we get far enough ahead of them, they might lose interest. If they know the ship, they might fall off. If not …”

He shrugged. “Still, there’s other ways.”

He yelled at the crewmen to make certain they were ready, then shoved the thruster levers all the way forward. The Skatelow shuddered with the sudden input of power from the radian draws and shot ahead, lifting skyward at the same time. Hatch worked the controls with swiftness and precision, and Pen could see that he had been down that road before. Even so, the flits were getting closer, growing larger and beginning to take shape. Pen saw the Gnomes who were crouched in their tiny frames, faces wizened and burnt by wind and sun. Gloved hands worked the levers that changed the direction of the single-mast sail, a billowing square that could be partially reefed or let out to change direction and thrust. At present, all sails were wind-filled, catching the light, powering the flits ahead at full speed.

Pen could already see that the Skatelow had no chance of outrunning them. The angle of attack and her injuries from the storm didn’t allow for it. The flits would be on them in moments.

“Penderrin, lad,” Gar Hatch said almost calmly. “Do you think you know enough by now to take the helm and keep her running full out?”

The boy nodded at once. “I think so.”

“She’s yours, then,” the Rover said, stepping aside. “You look like you might have fought a battle or two in your time,” he said to Ahren. “How are you with rail slings?”

They went out of the pilot box, safety harnesses trailing after them, and worked their way across the deck to either side of the mainmast. A Rover crewman joined each of them, and in teams they began to set up the rail slings, pulling the catapults out of storage bins and setting the pivot ends into slots cut into the deck. Pen had never seen a rail sling before, but he understood their function right away. Built like heavy crossbows, they sat on swivels that could be pointed in any direction over the railings. A hand winch cranked back a sling in which sat a missile the size of a fist. When the sling was released, the missile hurtled out into the void, hopefully striking something in the process.

Hitting a moving target with one of those weapons while flying in an airship was virtually impossible, unless the target was huge, in which case no damage was likely to occur. But used against a swarm of targets, like the flits, a rail sling might have some success. Miss one flit and you still had a chance at half a dozen more.