Read Online Romulus Buckle & the City of the Founders (The Chronicles of the Pneumatic Zeppelin, Book One) by Richard Ellis Preston Jr. - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Richard Ellis Preston Jr.
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onto all fours. He felt heavy and unsteady. She shot a quick glance at the featureless pale sky and saw nothing. But she could feel the tangler coming. She could feel it in the skin on her back.
“Captain!” she yelled.
Buckle raised his head. Splatters of tangler blood, exposed to the wind, skittered across his face in rivers. Max realized thathe was looking at her without focusing his eyes. He mumbled something she couldn’t make out. It wasn’t time for conversation anyway. She planted both hands on the scruff of his jacket collar and dragged him back toward the breach.
She heard Kellie barking. The tangler was back.
Max released Buckle and spun, whipping out her pistol and pointing it at the sky.
She caught the tangler fluttering above her barrel sight, hurtling down on them like a meteor.
Max pulled the trigger. The blackbang pistol erupted with a dull thud, the puff of smoke instantly sucked away by the wind.
The tangler swerved and dodged her shot. It veered and vanished down the starboard side. Moments later Max heard a smattering of musket shots from below. The alerted crew was firing at the tangler. But only a lucky shot would take the elusive creature down.
Max had thirty seconds before the tangler came back again. She jammed her pistol in her holster, took hold of Buckle’s safety line, and tried to pull him, but her boots kept slipping in the loose, gooey mire; she couldn’t throw her weight into it, not with the wind brutally straight-arming her, constantly knocking her off balance, threatening to throw her over the side.
She wasn’t going to get the captain back inside this way. Not in thirty seconds, she wasn’t.
“Ivan!” Max screamed. She knew that he could not hear her down inside the Eagle deck.
Kellie howled with fury. Max pushed Buckle flat and stood over him, her eyes on the sky. She drew her sword.
Come on, Buckle, stay lucky.
A CERULEAN SLIP
T EN SECONDS LATER, M AX REALIZED something wasn’t right. With her head tilted up, the blade of her saber gleaming under her eyes, she saw that the sky above her was empty. She spun around. But she already knew she wasn’t going to make it. She glimpsed a flapping shadow coming at her with only an instant before the impact. The clever beastie had made its third attack low and level and straight at Max’s back.
An instinctive gasp of terror sucked freezing air into her lungs. Adrenaline and muscle fired, seeking to aid survival, but she didn’t even have time to raise her sword.
From the corner of her eye she saw a blackbang musket flash at the lip of the hole.
The tangler swerved and careened to the left, its huge talons, outstretched to their farthest extent, tearing the air as they sliced past. But the monstrous left wing slammed into Max, knocking her over the starboard side of the
Pneumatic Zeppelin
.
For a heartbeat Max plummeted in a whirlpool of confusion. She knew she was falling. The dreaded “Cerulean slip.” Her brain shook itself loose of the concussion. She blinked and saw the massive tan flank of the
Pneumatic Zeppelin
’s envelope rushing upward in front of her. She had one instant left to save herself or there would be nothing between her and her grave butthree thousand feet of air. She raised her saber with both hands and drove it into the blurry wall of fabric rushing past her. The blade cut the skin like paper, leaving a long rip down the side of the envelope without slowing her down.
For a moment Max thought it wasn’t going to work. What a nice fix. Not only would she fail in her attempt to save the captain, but she would cut the airship nearly in half before falling to her own doom.
In the next moment the sword handle yanked and bit in her hands, slowing down as the blade lost its cutting momentum against the stiffened fabric; it bumped through a set of heavy stitches before jerking to a stop that nearly separated her arms from her shoulder sockets. Max was dangling now, battered about in the slipstream,
“Captain!” she yelled.
Buckle raised his head. Splatters of tangler blood, exposed to the wind, skittered across his face in rivers. Max realized thathe was looking at her without focusing his eyes. He mumbled something she couldn’t make out. It wasn’t time for conversation anyway. She planted both hands on the scruff of his jacket collar and dragged him back toward the breach.
She heard Kellie barking. The tangler was back.
Max released Buckle and spun, whipping out her pistol and pointing it at the sky.
She caught the tangler fluttering above her barrel sight, hurtling down on them like a meteor.
Max pulled the trigger. The blackbang pistol erupted with a dull thud, the puff of smoke instantly sucked away by the wind.
The tangler swerved and dodged her shot. It veered and vanished down the starboard side. Moments later Max heard a smattering of musket shots from below. The alerted crew was firing at the tangler. But only a lucky shot would take the elusive creature down.
Max had thirty seconds before the tangler came back again. She jammed her pistol in her holster, took hold of Buckle’s safety line, and tried to pull him, but her boots kept slipping in the loose, gooey mire; she couldn’t throw her weight into it, not with the wind brutally straight-arming her, constantly knocking her off balance, threatening to throw her over the side.
She wasn’t going to get the captain back inside this way. Not in thirty seconds, she wasn’t.
“Ivan!” Max screamed. She knew that he could not hear her down inside the Eagle deck.
Kellie howled with fury. Max pushed Buckle flat and stood over him, her eyes on the sky. She drew her sword.
Come on, Buckle, stay lucky.
A CERULEAN SLIP
T EN SECONDS LATER, M AX REALIZED something wasn’t right. With her head tilted up, the blade of her saber gleaming under her eyes, she saw that the sky above her was empty. She spun around. But she already knew she wasn’t going to make it. She glimpsed a flapping shadow coming at her with only an instant before the impact. The clever beastie had made its third attack low and level and straight at Max’s back.
An instinctive gasp of terror sucked freezing air into her lungs. Adrenaline and muscle fired, seeking to aid survival, but she didn’t even have time to raise her sword.
From the corner of her eye she saw a blackbang musket flash at the lip of the hole.
The tangler swerved and careened to the left, its huge talons, outstretched to their farthest extent, tearing the air as they sliced past. But the monstrous left wing slammed into Max, knocking her over the starboard side of the
Pneumatic Zeppelin
.
For a heartbeat Max plummeted in a whirlpool of confusion. She knew she was falling. The dreaded “Cerulean slip.” Her brain shook itself loose of the concussion. She blinked and saw the massive tan flank of the
Pneumatic Zeppelin
’s envelope rushing upward in front of her. She had one instant left to save herself or there would be nothing between her and her grave butthree thousand feet of air. She raised her saber with both hands and drove it into the blurry wall of fabric rushing past her. The blade cut the skin like paper, leaving a long rip down the side of the envelope without slowing her down.
For a moment Max thought it wasn’t going to work. What a nice fix. Not only would she fail in her attempt to save the captain, but she would cut the airship nearly in half before falling to her own doom.
In the next moment the sword handle yanked and bit in her hands, slowing down as the blade lost its cutting momentum against the stiffened fabric; it bumped through a set of heavy stitches before jerking to a stop that nearly separated her arms from her shoulder sockets. Max was dangling now, battered about in the slipstream,
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