A lone White made a final, desperate attack as the waters rose to within a hundred feet of the roof. The three sun-crystals had slipped beneath the tide by now, their light dimmed but not extinguished, though they flickered continually. It made for a somewhat nightmarish spectacle as the White streaked towards them, skimming the water and spouting flame like a demon glimpsed in the chaos of a lightning storm. The flames swept over the gondola’s windows without apparent effect before the White crashed into the exterior, its claws leaving deep scars on the glass, which failed to break despite the fury of its assault. It continued to batter the gondola with claw, tail and flame as the waters rose ever higher. Finally, as the top of the aerostat met the roof and water began to lap at the lower edge of the windows, it collapsed in exhaustion, gasping out a final unheard shriek before slipping into the depths.
“This thing ain’t likely to leak is it?” Clay asked Kriz as the water crept higher over the glass.
“I’ve sealed the air-intakes,” she replied, eyes focused on the dials. “Hopefully we won’t be submerged long enough for it to matter.”
She waited until the water had completely covered the windows before pulling a lever on the side of the panel. A loud hissing sound came from above and the aerostat immediately began to sink, the view beyond the window transformed into a murky fog, thick with floating debris. Kriz started the engines and used the central lever to guide them towards a distant column of dense bubbles.
“We need to wait for the flow to stop,” she said.
“A craft that can fly and move below the waves,” Clay said, shaking his head as he peered at the flickering blue-grey haze outside. “Your people really were something.”
Kriz slowed the craft as they neared the column, waiting until the bubbles thinned then disappeared completely. “Hold on to something,” she said before taking a deep breath and reaching for the steering lever. She restarted the engines and retracted the steering lever to tilt the aerostat on its back at a sharp angle. Clay saw a dark, jagged shape slide into view above: the hole left by the shaft’s collapse. It grew larger as Kriz fed more power to the engines, taking them into the newly made portal.
The darkness closed in swiftly, leaving them in pitched darkness but for the faint glow of the small crystal above the panel. Clay began to worry that the passage might be closed, choked with fallen rubble, but then saw a small glimmer of light far above. It swelled as they rose higher, Clay’s relief swelling with it, then fading as the aerostat slowed to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” he asked Kriz, who was busy pushing her palm hard against the engine levers.
“The engines weren’t designed for this,” she said, sighing in frustration as her free hand moved to another, smaller lever at the base of the panel.
“What’s that?” Clay asked, seeing how her hand trembled.
“Rear main valve,” she said, still hesitating. “I can vent all the remaining helium at once, it might provide enough thrust to get us to the surface.”
“Might?”
The moist helplessness in her eyes told him all he needed to know about their chances. “Can’t stay here, that’s for sure,” he said, hauling himself forward. Reaching out he closed his hand over hers, placing it on the lever. “And I got no intention of going back.”
She gave a tight smile and nodded. “You better strap in,” she said, waiting until he had manoeuvred himself back into his seat and buckled on the straps.
“Best hold on tight back there!” he called to Loriabeth, glancing back to make sure she had secured herself and Sigoral. The lieutenant appeared to have fallen into a fever, either through shock or the lingering pain and sat slumped in his seat, the meagre light glistening on his burns. Clay watched Loriabeth fasten her own straps before turning back to Kriz. “Ready when you are.”
She took a firm grip on the steering lever then flipped the valve lever with a quick flick of her wrist. The effect was immediate, Clay finding himself pushed back into his seat by the force of the acceleration. The dark confines of the passage blurred as the aerostat sped through it, Kriz somehow managing to keep the craft on track as it veered about. Then they were out, the light that had been a distant glimmer broadening into a shimmering plane of blue.
The aerostat continued its rapid ascent, the blue shimmer filling the forward window then disappearing in an explosion of white as they broke the surface. Clay found himself floating in his straps as the aerostat reached the top of its arc, then felt a bone-jarring thump as it slammed back down onto the water. The force of the impact jerked Kriz off her feet, Clay reaching out to grab her arm as she tumbled towards the rear of the gondola.
The gondola bobbed on the surface for a second then slowly keeled over onto its port side. Water lapped at the starboard windows but for the moment the craft showed no sign of sinking and Clay found himself gaping at the clear blue sky above.
“That’s a welcome sight alright,” he whispered.
“Something’s out there.”
Clay twisted in his seat, finding that Loriabeth had unbuckled herself and was crouched atop one of the starboard windows, peering at the murk below. He heard it then, a faint high-pitched moaning from outside. It wasn’t one he had heard before but the pitch of it was dreadfully familiar.
“Blue,” he said. “We gotta get out. Now.”
Kriz slipped free of his grip and clambered towards the panel whilst Clay undid his straps and went to help Loriabeth with Sigoral. They carried him to the front of the gondola where Kriz waited at the hatch.
“You might want to brace yourselves,” she said before taking hold of the lever on the locking mechanism. The hatch tore itself free of her hand as soon as she turned the lever, Clay wincing in discomfort as all the air inside the gondola seemed to rush out at once, birthing an aching whistle in his ears. When it cleared he looked up to see Kriz clambering outside. He went next, climbing onto the outer hull then crouched and reaching back inside to grab hold of Sigoral’s arms. Some animation seemed to be returning to the Corvantine’s features and he grunted out a few short phrases in garbled Varsal as Clay and Kriz hauled him clear and set him down.
“Didn’t truly think I’d ever see it again,” Loriabeth said, poking her head through the hatch, eyes raised to the pale blue sky above.
Clay’s grin of agreement died at the sight of something cutting through the becalmed waters. It was a good distance off but still recognisable, and growing larger by the second. Hilemore was right, Clay decided as the huge spine of Last Look Jack drew closer. We didn’t kill the bastard after all.
“The bomb-thrower,” Clay said to Loriabeth, who promptly ducked back inside, returning a few seconds later with the chunky brass-and-steel weapon.