A World of Ash: The Territory 3 (18 page)

The fabric of the balloon rippled in the shock of the explosion as if a sudden wind had been conjured out of nowhere. The wooden frame of
Mary’s Revenge
creaked and Brick felt a gentle swaying of the cockpit. Captain Pratt had instructed Brick to maintain a tight circle above Lynnette Hermannsburg as she sat on the roof of a rundown building with a group of children and the tall, dark man she had been with before. That is what Brick had been doing as the people of the slums attacked the city and planted whatever bomb they had used to blow up the Wall.

Captain Pratt had been providing a running commentary of the battle as the people of the slums tried to breach the gate. He seemed to find it entertaining, continually pointing out how hopeless the situation was as the Holy Order rained bullets and fire down from above. The Wall had stood for hundreds of years. It would not fall to savages with rocks and clubs, he said. Every now and then the captain would look down through the floor or over the side to ensure that Lynn was still within view. Satisfied she hadn’t snuck away, he would turn his attention back to the battle and chuckle afresh at the futility of it all.

Now, though, with the boom of the explosion and the sound of showering rock still seeming to echo through the air, Captain Pratt had gone quiet. He just stared ahead at Alice as the clearing dust revealed the hole in the wall. He was in shock, as was everyone below them. The battle had come to a stop as if it had been a football match and the umpire had blown his whistle. Brick wanted to ask what this sudden shift in events meant. Had the people of the slums won? But then, what good was it if the Wall was down? Brick wasn’t sure he understood what the people of the slums had been trying to achieve. He’d thought they wanted to get inside. Now, there wasn’t any such thing as an inside.

“Ancestors’ sin …” Captain Pratt said, his voice trailing off.

“Why did they do that?” Brick asked. “Why did they blow up the Wall?” He was speaking fast and, he realized then, his heart was beating fast too, driven by his sudden panic. He was frightened. The explosion had shaken him, but the implications of Alice not having a Wall scared him more. Did that mean there was nowhere left in the world that was safe?

“They’re mad,” Captain Pratt said. “Madder than a cut snake. They’ve doomed everyone.”

In the slums below them, people slowly started moving again. A few figures began running alone or in twos or threes across the empty red ground between the slums and the rupture in the Wall. And then, as though they were the warning drips in a pipe ready to burst, the rest exploded outward and the residents of the slums charged. Those wielding weapons went first. The red-cloaked soldiers who hadn’t been thrown from the Wall during the blast began firing their rifles and cutting down as many as they could, but they couldn’t shoot them all. Even those men, women, and children who had been hiding away from the fighting joined the stampede toward the breach.

“Stop!”

The voice calling out was Lynn’s. Brick could see her through the glass floor below him as they passed overhead yet again. She was standing, screaming at the people of the slums.

“Don’t!”

But no one was listening. They ran for the city and they weren’t going to stop for anyone. Lynn began moving. She dropped down from the roof, landing heavily on the ground before she began running forward with the crowd.

“Hank!” she was yelling. “Hank, where are you?! Tell them to stop!”

“Follow her,” Captain Pratt yelled at Brick as he rushed to the side of the dirigible to watch Lynnette. “Follow her and get us down there!”

“There’s nowhere to land,” Brick said.

“Put us down over there,” Captain Pratt said, pointing to the open space between the slums and the Wall directly ahead of Lynn’s path.

“There’re too many people,” Brick said. “I can’t.”

Captain Pratt spun and drew his mechanical pistol. He pressed the end of the barrel up against Brick’s forehead. “We’re not losing her,” he said, his voice rolling around the words like a growl. “Do it!”

Brick felt hot, he felt sick, and he felt like he was going to wet himself, but he stared at the pirate.

“It’s not too late for you to stop being a pirate,” he said. “It’s not too late. What would your wife and son think of this?”

Captain Pratt stared at Brick, the pistol in his hand quivering. For a moment the barrel of the gun seemed to drop, just the tiniest bit, then he raised it back up and roared. “Land my airship!”

Brick couldn’t move. He knew he should do what Captain Pratt said but he was frozen in place. Captain Pratt let out a dog-like bark as he pulled the gun away from Brick’s forehead. He moved to the dirigible’s controls and pulled the lever that controlled the air bladders. The bladders nestled in the balloon above popped open and filled with air. The
Mary’s Revenge
nose-dived. They weren’t very high off the ground so Brick had to act quickly. He was moving before he even realized, shaken from his paralyzed state. He pulled back on the controls to lift the nose and wrestled the small airship into a steady descent, heading for the spot on which Captain Pratt had ordered him to land. There were too many people.

“Move!” Brick shouted. “Move!”

The slum-dwellers who were charging toward the Wall noticed the dirigible coming in to land and scampered aside. Brick, despite never having landed a dirigible before, knew this was not the right way to do it. You were supposed to circle around and gradually decrease your altitude until you could touch down softly on the skids. The skids, the dirigible’s landing gear, were two wooden planks attached below the body of the airship and shaped to allow the craft to slide some way over the sandy ground, but Brick knew they were coming in too fast for that.

Brick tried to pull up hard but the
Mary’s Revenge
hit the ground with a jolt. The angle at which they had come down was too sharp and the front of the skids dug into the red dirt, throwing the back of the airship upward and threatening to flip it over. Brick was thrown from his seat and slammed face first into the glass floor. He didn’t know what happened in the next few moments as he rolled onto his side. There was the groaning of strained wood and a loud crack, but the dirigible didn’t flip end over end. The balloon above kept it upright despite the rough landing. Brick’s nose ached and began to bleed from the impact with the glass, and his head hurt, but that seemed to be the worst of it. The
Mary’s Revenge
lurched to a stop. Brick looked up in time to see Captain Pratt vault over the side, out of the cockpit and onto the ground.

Lynn’s eyes had been hunting desperately for Hank. She was sure he was the only one who could stop the mad dash of the slum-dwellers toward the newly created hole in the Wall. What Hank had done was astonishing. She had no idea what kind of explosive he had used to blast through the immensely thick stone of the Wall but he had, in one instant, ripped a hole in the history of the Territory, in the very structure that had given life to the Territory back when life was being extinguished from everywhere else in the world. It was astonishing, all right, but it was also astonishingly stupid. Now there was nowhere that was safe from the horde, and that horde was only days away.

Hank Barton may have opened the way for the slum-dwellers to get inside the city, but Lynn knew they shouldn’t be just rushing toward it like this. The streets of Alice were still crawling with Holy Order and they weren’t just going to let the people of the slums march inside. If they had been willing to use weapons they’d stockpiled for the defense against the horde to burn the slum-dwellers as they attacked the Great Gate, then there was no reason they wouldn’t do the same again. The front door may have been open but the guard dog was still inside.

As Lynn considered the fate of those both inside and outside the Wall her attention was grabbed by something unexpected: the dirigible she had seen circling above crash-landed directly in her path.

Rooted to the spot, Lynn watched as the dust cleared. Then a man leaped over the side of the small ship, landing on one leg on the sunburned ground. He was dressed in a coat that had seen better days, the long side panels dirty and torn in places. His hat was black but also tinged with the red of the endless Territory desert. His beard, braided into two long tails, was also red. In one hand he wielded a pistol and in the other a wooden cane. Lynn had seen him only once that she could remember – when they’d dragged her across the deck of the pirate dirigible before locking her in the cage below decks – and yet she immediately knew who he was. This was Captain Pratt, captain of the pirate dirigible the
Blessed Mary
, the ship that had taken her hostage, the ship Squid had rescued her from, and the ship her brother had died smashing into the soil of the distant desert. How had he survived?

“What are you doing here?” she said, gripping her sword as confidently as she could.

“How are your fingers?” Captain Pratt asked.

Lynn held her hand aloft for him to see the fat bandage. She looked him up and down. Not only were his clothes a torn mess but so too was his body. He looked to have been injured in multiple ways during the crash of the
Blessed Mary
,
but not seriously enough for Lynn’s liking. “My fingers are great. How’s your … everything?”

“I’ve been in better shape, I’m not going to lie.”

“And your ship?” Lynn asked, looking toward the small airship that had landed so heavily in the red soil. “I heard there was a little accident, but I didn’t realize you’d downsized so much.”

This clearly cut the pirate deep. His face compressed into a snarl. “You took everything from me.”

“No,” Lynn said. “I didn’t. Your crew kidnapped me and then you got what was coming.”

“Your brother caused my ship to crash.”

“Did he survive?” Lynn asked. “Did Melbourne survive?”

She hadn’t really expected him to give her a straight answer but he did, and she could tell he wasn’t lying. “No, I watched him die. He was dead even before the
Blessed Mary
struck ground.”

“What do you want then?” Lynn asked, her tone cold.

“I want revenge.”

“What?” Lynn asked. “You want to kill me? What do you think that’s going to achieve?”

Captain Pratt stared at her but the scowl hadn’t lifted from his face. Then, over the captain’s shoulder Lynn saw another person, a child, emerge from the patrol dirigible, the last of Captain Pratt’s crew, she supposed, though she’d never seen anyone that young on the ship.

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Lynn said, “there are events a little more concerning than you or your revenge happening right now.”

“Not for me.”

“No,” Lynn said. “I suppose, if you’re selfish enough to be a pirate and think you can just take whatever you want from whoever you want, then you probably don’t really care about anything but yourself.”

Lynn could see the child from the airship approaching now.

“That’s not true,” the boy said. “He cares about his wife and son. They’re dead like my dad, but he still cares about them.”

Captain Pratt turned to look at the boy.

“I cared about my crew too, Brick,” Captain Pratt said. “My crew that this girl, her brother, and her little friend got killed.”

“You didn’t answer me before,” the boy called Brick said. “What would your wife and son think of you now?”

That seemed to stop the pirate short. He had been rising in stature, preparing to stalk toward Lynn and take whatever revenge he felt he was entitled to, but now he shrank a little. It seemed this boy had hit upon something buried very deep.

“Lynnette was trying to help these people,” Brick said. “The horde is only days away and she was trying to save them.”

“What good is that now?” Captain Pratt said. “There’s a hole in the Wall. There isn’t any hope now.”

“But she was still trying to save them. If your son was out here you’d keep trying to save him no matter what.”

“He’s not out here though, Brick, you know that.”

“Someone’s son is,” Brick said, and Captain Pratt didn’t answer.

As the pirate stood looking at Brick, Lynn took the opportunity to move as fast as she could and struck with the base of her sword hilt, aiming as close as she could to the pirate’s temple. Her aim, even left-handed, was true. She was not as strong with her left hand as she was with her right but her blow still caused Captain Pratt to stagger. He was already injured and a direct hit to the temple was enough to daze him. He dropped to his knees. Lynn brought the hilt of her shortsword down on his head again and he was soon on his side, unconscious.

Brick dropped to the ground beside the pirate. “You didn’t need to do that,” he said, looking up at Lynn. Then, to Lynn’s astonishment, he stood, threw his arms around her and hugged her.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” he said. “But you didn’t need to hit him. He would have let you go. I know it.”

“Ah,” Lynn stammered, patting him awkwardly on the back. “You’re welcome.”

“I think it’s us who should be thanking you,” came the voice of Knox Soilwork, and they turned to see him walking toward them. “You likely just saved Lynnette’s life.”

Knox. Lynn had all but forgotten him as she’d run off single-mindedly to find Hank. Lynn pulled away from Brick. “Yes,” she said, “thank you.”

The young boy blushed.

“Why were you even with him?” Lynn said, looking down at the unconscious body of Captain Pratt.

“He kidnapped me,” Brick said.

“Yes,” Lynn said, “these pirates seem to have a habit of doing that.”

“I was flying with old Mr. West. He is – or was – a boundary rider like my dad. We landed at a dirigible crash and when we took off again he jumped out at us.”

“And what happened to the boundary rider?” Knox asked. “Mr. West?”

Brick looked at Captain Pratt on the ground. “He killed him.”

“We’ll deal with him later,” Lynn said. “Have you got any rope in that dirigible? Maybe we can tie him up.”

Brick didn’t get a chance to answer before shouts and screams came from the direction of the Wall, and if that wasn’t enough to draw their attention there was a burst of flame, bright orange-yellow and hot enough that Lynn could feel the heat on her face from where she stood. A jet of fire was spewing forth from the hole that had been blasted in the Wall. Those slum-dwellers who had been running for the breach – at least those who hadn’t been in the path of the fire – now stopped or turned and began running away from it. Moments later a second tongue of flame shot out as though the city of Alice had become an angry dragon.

The rumble that followed the fire told Lynn exactly what was happening even before the vehicles came into view. The Holy Order were doing it again, using the weapons they had planned to use against the ghouls against the people of the slums. This time, large bio-trucks, obviously customized by the engineers that were left in the city, had been fitted with roof-mounted cannons. A complex pumping system was shuddering and spluttering on the back of each truck. A series of shining metal pipes wrapped mostly in a black fabric connected these pumps to the cannon. It seemed they were pumping whatever was used to make fire bombs directly into the cannons to create a weapon of flame.

Why were they doing this? Lynn wondered sadly. The question wasn’t only why they were using such horrific weapons against other people, but why were they bothering? The Wall was breached. They were holding on to a fight that was already over. Right now Insiders and Outsiders both needed to focus on what they were going to do when the horde got there. Lynn was suddenly sure this was the work of the High Priestess. She could almost see the whip of that old demon at the backs of the Holy Order, driving them on to destroy the slum-dwellers even at the cost of the weapons and time she could be using to try to secure the now fundamentally weakened city against the ghouls. Wherever she was she must have been happy though, because the slum-dwellers were in retreat, hurrying away from the broken Wall as quickly as they had hurried toward it. Lynn was sure they had the numbers to overwhelm the Holy Order if they really tried, but she couldn’t blame them for falling back. There was something about a weapon of fire that weakened even the strongest resolve.

The people of the slums were streaming past them now, back toward the familiar surroundings of their tight, twisting streets and corrugated-iron houses. Lynn saw Hank, who was climbing onto the roof of a building a short distance away. He was waving his hands in the air.

“Stop!” he shouted to his retreating soldiers. “We can beat them! We can get inside!”

Lynn felt a hot flare of anger inside her. She could imagine this sort of ruthlessness in that old harpy in Alice, but why was Hank acting the same way? Not only had he been willing to breach the Wall so that no one could benefit from its protection, he was also demanding that his people continue to throw themselves to their deaths. Lynn had held out hope that maybe he really could lead the slums to salvation, but it seemed that no one, anywhere, had the true interests of people at heart.

She looked to Brick. “Go and get that rope from your dirigible,” she said. The boy nodded. She turned to Knox. “Help him tie up Captain Pratt. The last thing we need is that pirate running loose.”

It was only after she’d done so that Lynn realized she had just given orders to Knox Soilwork, Chief Minister of the Central Territory, and expected him to obey. But if the old man was offended he didn’t show it. He nodded. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I’m going to talk to Hank,” she said, her voice razor sharp and determined, “and this time I’m going to make him listen.”

Lynn didn’t wait for Knox’s reply before striding off toward where Hank still stood on his perch. She anticipated the former Chief Minister trying to stop her, or telling her they should attempt to do this together, but he said nothing like that. He just said, “Be careful.”

“Turn around!” Hank was calling when Lynn reached the building on whose roof he stood. He was waving his arms. He looked wild and hysterical as he shouted like a crazy man angry at the world. “Turn around! We can take the city!”

Lynn saw the confusion in those who fled back toward the slums. This man was their leader. They trusted him. They had followed him in his plan to attack the city, and when that had failed they had carried out his plan to destroy the Wall. Now he was telling them to face down fire. They slowed. Some stopped and almost turned back. But in the end none did. Hank’s voice had taken on a tone of desperation, and he was so focused on the retreating slum-dwellers that he didn’t notice Lynn climbing up the barrels at the back of the building and clambering onto the roof.

“Hank, that’s enough,” Lynn said, trying her utmost to imitate the way Ms Apple would say something like that; not yelling, but in a tone that demanded attention.

Hank turned to glare at Lynn for the briefest of moments before returning his attention to the people fleeing the fallen Wall. “Fight, for Ancestors’ sake!”

Lynn climbed all the way onto the roof of the building, which had been tiled with a mismatch of ceramic tiles, wood, and sheets of metal. It seemed to support her weight so she moved swiftly toward Hank. “Hank,” she repeated. “You need to listen to me now.”

Again Hank looked at her, but it was almost as if he didn’t really see her. His eyes had glazed over, lost on some far distant point. “This is our chance!” he shouted at Lynn, but perhaps at himself and all the others who could hear him too. “Our only chance!”

“Chance at what?!” Lynn yelled back. “Safety? You brought the Wall down.”

“And now we take the city!”

“No. This time you’re going to listen to me.”

“Go!” Hank yelled to the people of the slums, ignoring Lynn again. “Make for the city!”

Lynn covered the remaining distance between herself and Hank, swung her arm and slapped the elderly man across the cheek. She didn’t use all her strength but it still felt completely wrong to slap an old man. Still, she had to get his attention. She had to snap him out of whatever obsessed craziness he had fallen into. That was something she knew all too well.

“Listen!” she blasted at him as he felt at his cheek, staring wide-eyed at her. “The Wall is down. The city is useless now. There’s no point sending any more people to die in the fire the engineers are blasting from those trucks. It’s time for you and the people of the slums to take on a new plan, and you’re going to listen to mine. The only thing the city really had was the Wall. Now, I’m not saying there’s any way we can replicate that, but look around you. Thousands of people live in the slums and the whole place is constructed from wood and iron. You managed to construct that ram and shield and source those explosives. Now you can organize the tearing down of the slums and the gathering of all the building materials you can salvage.”