The three of them spread out to the full length of their safety lines, rousting the last few bats on the way up. Deryn climbed as fast as she could. With the airship twisting and turning like this, being topside didn't seem quite so brilliant anymore.
The last two aeroplanes still skulked in the distance, and Deryn wondered what they were waiting for. A few strafing hawks were in the air, but their nets looked tattered. Only one searchlight was lit - the crew trying to gather the fléchette bats into a single flock.
Up on the spine things had got worse. The forward air gun was being pulled apart by a repair team. Wounded men were everywhere, and the sniffers were in a frenzy from so much spilled hydrogen. The whale's huge harness was frayed with bullet holes.
Deryn knelt beside an injured man, whose hand clutched the leash of a hydrogen sniffer. The beastie whined at her, looking up from its master's pale face. She looked closer. The man was dead.
"CARNAGE ON THE SPINE."
Deryn felt herself start to shake, unsure whether it was the cold or the shock of battle. She'd been aboard only a month, but this was like watching her family dying, her home burning down in front of her.
Then the inevitable roar of Clanker engines built again, and all eyes turned toward the dark sky. The last two aeroplanes were coming in together, hurling themselves against the airship one more time.
Deryn wondered what the crews in those machines were thinking. They'd seen their fellow airmen fall from the sky. Surely they knew they were about to die. What madness made killing the Leviathan so important to them?
The lone searchlight swept across their path, and one of the aeroplanes shuddered in the air. The small black shapes of bats tore through its wings and the plane banked hard. An impassive part of Deryn's brain saw how the airflow around the wings had changed, how the plane would soon crumple and fall ...
She turned away as it burst into flame.
But the noise of the other growling engine still drew closer.
"Blast! She means to ram us!" Mr. Rigby cried, running ahead for a clearer view.
Someone at the front air gun swore. Its compressors had failed again, but other guns fired from farther aft. Suddenly all the searchlights flared back to life and lanced into the darkness, until the approaching plane glowed like a fireball in the sky.
Tiny black wings fluttered along the searchlight beams, and the aeroplane shuddered and shook as it plowed through the bats. But somehow it kept coming.
A hundred feet away the machine finally twisted in the air. The wings folded, and pieces fluttered in all directions. The gunner's cockpit broke off, his weapon still blazing. The propeller somehow wrenched itself from the engine, spiraling away like a mad insect.
Deryn felt a trembling under her feet, and she pulled off a glove, kneeling to place her palm on the freezing dorsal scales. A low moan shook the airbeast. Bits of the disintegrating plane were tearing into the Leviathan, rupturing the membrane. Deryn closed her eyes.
One stray spark would turn them all into a ball of fire.
She heard a cry. Mr. Rigby was staggering away down the slope of the airship's flank, clutching his stomach.
"He's hit!" Newkirk shouted.
Rigby stumbled a few steps, then fell to his knees, bouncing a little on the membrane. Newkirk was running after him, but some squick of instinct held Deryn in place.
The whole ship was tilting forward now, heading back into a steep dive. The smell of hydrogen washed over her.
Mr. Rigby was sliding down the flank - gravity had caught him. His skid turned into a roll.
Deryn took a step forward, then looked down at the rope connecting her to the others. "Barking spiders!"
If the bosun went over the side, he'd drag Newkirk with him. Then Deryn would be snatched away like a fly on the end of a frog's tongue. She looked around for something to clip herself to, but the ratlines at her feet were frayed and stretched.
"Newkirk, get back here!"
The boy paused a moment, watching Mr. Rigby slide away. Then he turned back, comprehension dawning on his face. But it was too late - the rope connecting him to Rigby was straightening fast.
Newkirk looked up at her hopelessly, his hand moving to the rigging knife at his belt.
"No!" Deryn cried.
Then she realized what she had to do.
She turned and ran the other way, hurtling down the opposite flank of the airship. Dodging crewmen and sniffers as the membrane fell away, Deryn jumped as hard as she could into the night sky... .
The snap of the rope hit her like a punch in the stomach, the safety harness cutting into her shoulders. She rolled into a ball as her body hit the flank membrane, knocking her breath away.
Deryn bounced to a halt, then found herself skidding back up the flank of the airbeast. Rigby had to have yanked Newkirk off behind him - their combined weight was dragging her back up to the spine!
She grabbed at passing ropes, finally snaring one and bringing herself to a halt. But her safety line pulled harder, the harness squeezing the breath from her lungs.
Then the rope went slack, and Deryn looked up in horror. Had it broken? Had Newkirk cut himself loose?
On the spine a squad of riggers held her line, in a tug of war with something on the other side of the ship. They were pulling Newkirk and the injured bosun back up.
Deryn breathed a sigh of relief, her eyes closing. She held tight to the ratlines, trusting nothing but her own two hands to keep her from tumbling into the dark sky. But as the ship tipped beneath her again, she looked down and realized that two hands wouldn't be enough.
They were all falling.
The Alps rose toward the ship, the tallest peaks only a few hundred feet below. A blanket of snow covered all but a few dark outcrops of stone, like jagged black teeth waiting patiently for prey.
The wounded Leviathan was crashing slowly back to earth.
TWENTY-ONE
The old castle stood on a rugged slope, moonlit snow-drifts piled against its half-ruined walls, the windows dark and gaping. Its battlements glistened with ice in the crystal-cold air, their ragged outlines blending into the rocks behind.
Alek leaned back from the viewport. "What is this place?"
"Do you remember your father's trip to Italy?" Count Volger asked. "To look for a new hunting lodge?"
"Of course I remember," Alek said. "You went with him, and I had four glorious weeks of no fencing lessons."
"A necessary sacrifice. Our real purpose was to buy this pile of old stones."
Aleksandar gazed at the castle with a critical eye - a pile of old stones was right. It looked more like a landslide than a fortress.