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Rush, is the bread ready yet?”
Rush glanced at the loaf within a metal cylinder on the hearth. “Almost. Another few minutes.”
His mother nodded and continued kneading dough. “Once it’s finished, take down the basil and start crushing it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Rush crouched and watched the bread.
It was a few hours after he had returned from the captain’s house. He had done his normal chores upon his arrival, but instead of being released to torment the town like usual, his mother kept him and Olive in the kitchen to help with baking. But Rush didn’t mind—surrounded by food, his imagination came alive.
That day, he had a new idea. One that would secure his seat on the airship outside town. He just had to wait for his mother to leave…
He blinked and tore himself from the plot. The bread had finished baking minutes ago and darkened around the edges. He reached with gloved hands and plucked it from beside the flame, setting it on the wooden counter with other finished goods.
Rush scooted a stool across the floor and stood atop it on his tip-toes. A bowl, overflowing with basil, hung from a rafter. He reached to unhook the ropes.
A knock rattled the door.
His mother looked up. “Rush, can you get that?”
He jumped down and walked to the door, swinging it open. A beamish woman stood outside with a wicker basket of eggs in her hands. “Good evening, Rush. Is your mother here?”
“I’ll get her.” Rush’s heart lurched; this was his chance. Mother and Mrs. Adams often stood outside and shared the latest town gossip for ages. He turned to call Mother, but she had already set aside the stubborn dough and wiped her hands on her apron. “Rush, can you please finish with the bread for the crew?” He nodded. She strolled to the door with a smile, and the two women slipped outside, exchanging pleasantries.
Rush again mounted the stool, retrieving the basil and dropping it on a counter. But he wouldn’t be crushing it yet. As Olive tossed another log into the fire, Rush shot through the house to the back door.
Olive watched him. “Where are you going?” He waved her off and eased the door open, sneaking around to where he had stuffed Valerian root in the eaves. He had to be quick about this.
After running back inside, Rush dropped the herb into a mortar, clenched the pestle, and pounded the plant. Olive looked over his shoulder as he worked. “Is this like the time you added too much cinnamon to all our food? What could you possibly need Valerian root for…” She paused. “Oh.”
The click of stone on stone punctuated the silence.
“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”
Rush’s eyes darted to the front door. The lively murmurs of his mother’s conversation still seeped inside. “Maybe. What do you think I’m doing?”
“You wouldn’t dare give this to those men. You might get arrested.”
“They can’t arrest me if I’m already on their ship.”
Though Rush’s eyes stayed on his labors, he sensed Olive’s frown in the tense air. He turned and looked her in the eyes.
“I have to do it. He killed Lewis, Olive. He needs justice.”
She shook her head. “Who knows what those soldiers might do to you once they discover what you did. And besides that, you’ll get yourself killed going after that evil man.”
Rush stared at the ground. “I’d rather be dead than alive and alone.”
“You’re not alone. You still have your parents. And me. And God is with you.”
She didn’t understand. Even losing the right side of his body couldn’t compare to losing Lewis. He couldn’t just move on. But the words to explain escaped him. He clenched his teeth, spun around, and hammered the root.
Olive slide beside him and tentatively draped her arm around his shoulders.
He tensed. Click, click, the pestle struck the mortar.
“You’re going after revenge, not justice. This isn’t right, and you know it.”
He smashed the pestle on the wooden counter and spun around. His eyes blazed. “How can you tell me what’s not right?”
She stumbled back and gaped. “Rush…”
Rush ran a hand through his messy hair. “I’m sorry. I…”
Olive limped forward, as if his words had hurt her physically as well. “He was my friend too. You’re not the only one hurting. And I know he was closer to you, but right is right, no matter how deep the pain.”
He shook his head and faced the counter. She sighed, lingering behind him. “I won’t stop you. But at least take my Bible with you and read it. It’ll do you good.”
Rush paused.
“Promise me?”
“I will. I’ll read it.”
She sighed again. “Thank you.”
They worked in silence after that, Rush finishing with the Valerian roots and adding it to the loaves they were to bring the crew of the Embark. The rest of the day passed in a melancholy blur as they concluded baking and stored the food. Rush’s mother delivered a few loaves of bread to the airship crew, who accepted them gratefully.
Dark things filled Rush’s dreams that night.
Rush’s eyes snapped open. The light of a full moon filtered between his curtains, casting only a thin line on the stone floor. He strained his senses for any sign of life, but the only things awake were the chirping insects outside.
Easing the covers off, he dropped to the ground; his eyes caught on the empty bed across from him.
Lewis’ old bed.
He clenched his jaw and looked away. Even if he succeeded, it wouldn’t bring Lewis back.
But it would make things right.
Picking up his bag, packed the evening before, he slinked into the common room. A candle sat on the windowsill, ready to light the fireplace in the morning. It competed with the moonlight to cast the most ominous shadows across the walls and floor. Rush shuddered, easing the door open with a creak and stepping outside.
The shimmering moon hung among a curtain of black. Thousands of stars watched his every move as he lurked through the town, sticking to shadows and alleys.
On the other side of Hast, the Embark still floated above a field. A sparse few lanterns scattered yellow light across her deck and sides, but no one stood watch. Rush smiled at the missing guards. He’d have to use his new bread recipe more often.
He reached the edge of town and crouched in the shadows of a house. The ship loomed over him like a monstrous beast, waiting for him to enter her maw. His shoulders dropped and he stared. It was bigger up close.
Two rope ladders dangled on either side. He glanced across the open field—he would have nowhere to hide once he emerged from his cover. Tensing his legs, he watched the moon slip behind a cloud. Light faded from the land.
Rush shot across the dirt, feet flying over miniature hills and valleys where crops once were. Though it only took a few seconds, his run felt like a crawl. He gripped the ladder and climbed. The rope rubbed against his hands and creaked with every step.
After another eternity, he stretched for the next rung but found the deck instead. Rush heaved himself over the railing and stood, heart racing, on the upper deck. The massive balloon overhead blocked the stars and seemed to leave a gaping hole in the sky. The flag snapped, the wing-like rudders rustled, and the wind whispered in his ears. Triumph flowed through him. It worked! He grinned and sauntered forward, searching for a way below deck.
The half-hearted light of one lantern illuminated a man leaning against the railing.
Rush’s heart lept into his stomach, and he froze. The man’s eyes were open, though they rolled around like he was insane. He looked down and clutched his head. The Valerian root had done its work. It wouldn’t harm the men, but they would be drowsy and sluggish for hours.
Holding his breath, Rush stepped toward the mast at the ship’s center. A ladder on one side ran up to the balloon’s interior, and on the other side, another ran into the ship’s innards. A metal hatch stood open atop the descending ladder. He threw a last glimpse at the sleeping guard before lowering into the Embark.
After leaving the single crewman’s sight, he allowed himself to breathe again. But what the lanterns below deck revealed made him stop.
He had just entered the crew’s quarters.
Bunks lined the bulkheads, ten on each side, and sleeping forms filled almost all of them. Almost all? Rush remained motionless, only his eyes browsing the room, checking for the missing crew. He saw only shadows.
Glancing down the ladder, his breath quickened. Could not all of them have eaten the root? He didn’t feel like finding out. He stepped from the ladder to the wooden floor and weighed his options.
Only a few feet behind him, the crew’s quarters turned into the bridge, an arch embellished with silver swirls marking the division. Hiding there wouldn’t do at all. Neither would staying under the crew’s noses. One more room was on the other side of the quarters.
Past the bunks.
Filled with people.
He steeled his mind and inched along.
Rush imaged himself in a lion’s den as the sleeping crewmen passed on either side. With each step, he expected an angry face to pop out of bed, waking the entire crew and dragging him off to some grisly fate. Somehow, he reached the end without making a sound.
Another arch—though less ornate—led to a small room crammed with four stalls. The smell alone told him where he was. He breathed through his mouth instead, but that helped little. He’d have to deal with it if he wanted to hitch a ride.
He went to the door farthest from the crew, pushing it open, and crouched beside the toilet. For a few minutes, his heart pounded, and he listened in vain for any sounds of activity. Rush’s mind eventually drifted away.
Memories played before his eyes in a loop. He relived his last sparring match with Lewis, even smiling as he recalled their brotherly banter. Tears threatened his eyes, and for the first time since the raid, he let them flow. Rush saw lazy summer afternoons when he played with Lewis and Olive in Fort Hast. Sometimes they held their fort against unending hordes of enemies, and other times it turned into an airship as they joined an Arcian exploration fleet. Countless images flashed through his mind, and as he sat there in the heads, he felt them all.
Never again, he thought, would he live times like this. Everything had come crashing down because of one man.
Now, he would shatter Ward’s life.
Rush’s eyes grew heavy as the moon sank, and he surrendered to sleep, leaning against the stall wall. He didn’t wake again until far into the next morning.
“Hey! How long have you been in there, soldier? Get back to your post!”
Rush jolted awake, and a wave of disorientation swept over him. A steam engine chugged somewhere below. Calls and shouts echoed between crewmen, and the entire ship hummed with activity.
The memory of the previous night sent a thrill through him. They were off! He only hoped they were far enough from Hast that they couldn’t turn around.
The door of his stall shook, and the voice that had woken him roared over the clamor. “You have five seconds! Come out of your own will or face a worse flogging!”
Flogging? Reality slapped Rush in the face. What if they punished him for sneaking on board? He really didn’t want to be flogged.
The door cracked and flew open, slamming against the wall. The biggest man he had ever seen stood in the doorway.
His head nearly scraped the ceiling, and his volantry uniform made a feeble attempt to hide his bulging muscles. Many battles scarred his face and hands. As his eyes landed on Rush, they turned from anger to shock. He faltered and lowered the boot he had used to kick down the door.
Rush shrank back and pressed himself against the stall wall.
The hulking man’s shock dissipated, leaving behind a scowl. “Who are you, and how did you get on this ship?”
Rush opened his mouth, but no sound came out. No story seemed suitable in the face of this giant.
Calloused hands seized the front of his shirt. The man yanked him to his feet until Rush was mere inches from his face. The boy choked on breath that smelled of too much salt. Who did the cooking on this ship? “I’m the quartermaster around here, and I’ll have my due respect. Now answer me—why in all the earth is a child like you hiding in the heads of His Majesty’s airship?”
The quartermaster’s outcry garnered a small audience as other crewmen poked their heads into the room.
“I was…um…”
He sniffed indignantly. “Perhaps the captain can get a word out of you.” Hauling Rush through the ship, he scattered the crew with threatening gestures, and they all scuttled off to their tasks. Rush’s tongue was in knots and his brain blanked on a single thing to say.
He finally thought of one thing.
This was a bad idea.
The quartermaster all but threw Rush up the ladder. “Climb.” He had little choice but to do so. As Rush scrambled up the ladder, his feet slipped, and he hung by only his arms. He kicked and fought for purchase, finally regaining his footing and hoisting himself onto the top deck. Thaddeus ascended behind him. Once they were both on deck, his hand locked onto Rush’s upper arm.
The man’s iron grip threatened to pull Rush’s arm off as he dragged the boy across the upper deck. Rush glanced past his captor and his mouth dropped open.
They were flying.
Of course, he already knew airships flew. That was nothing unusual. But the top of the bell tower was the highest he had ever been—now, he could reach and grasp a fistful of clouds. Wind tickled his face. His head swam as he considered how high they were, and he stumbled. The quartermaster jerked him forward. Rush tripped, but the clamp around his arm held him upright.
Several soldiers loitered on deck, passing the time. Two sparred with cutlasses while others cheered them on; some sat with disassembled muskets, polishing them with rags; a few leaned on the railing and looked into the distance. All paused their activities to watch as Rush passed.
They stopped before a room perched on the rear of the ship. Stairs led up both sides to a platform on the roof, and a door sat in the middle. The man knocked and stepped back.
Rush flexed the fingers of his tingling left arm. If he wasn’t released soon, it might fall off.
The door swung open. Captain Vance Hale stood with his hand on the knob. He frowned and rubbed his close-cut beard. “Thaddeus, what is this boy doing on my ship?”
“That’s what I’m wondering too, Cap’n. He won’t talk.”
The captain’s frown deepened, and he watched Rush, who shrunk behind Thaddeus. “You’re the boy who was, shall we say…scouting Captain Bramwell’s house. I should have expected this.” He stared at the floor with eyebrows scrunched together before turning his attention to Thaddeus. “What shall we do with him?”
“We can’t return him now. We’d delay the voyage.”
Vance nodded. “We need all the time we can get.”
Rush fidgeted and bit his tongue. Would they flog him before the entire ship? Throw him overboard?
The captain mumbled, narrating some internal debate, before gazing at Rush. “Since you desire to be on board so sincerely, I will grant your wish. You are an honorary member of the crew.”
Rush blinked. A grin tugged at his lips.
“We will put you to work, though. You can’t expect to eat our food and laze about. Thaddeus, I suppose you have work for him?”
“I will see that he stays busy.” Rush thought the quartermaster said that with too much excitement.
Vance continued, “Once our scouting expedition ends, we will return you home. Your parents will doubtless be worried for your safety. Did you tell them of your decision to leave?”
Rush shook his head.
“As I suspected. In that case, you will remain with us for the two weeks of our voyage until we can arrange transportation for return. Quartermaster, if you would, show him his duties. I must return to my work.”
Thaddeus saluted with his free arm. “Yes, sir.”
Vance closed the door, and the quartermaster lugged Rush away. Though his arm pulsed with pain and his heart fluttered with nervousness, he couldn’t suppress a grin.
He was going to the Pinnacles.
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