Ryn plummeted through the air.

Clouds rushed by him. His stomach was somewhere far above. Over the noise of rushing wind he was aware of Nuthea screaming.

Images of his recent past moved in rapid succession across his mind again. Mum dying. Dad dying. Roofs on fire.

Wind gusted into him all of a sudden, diverting his course.

He slammed flat onto something hard with a loud thump. His face and limbs stung from the impact. The ache in his head, temporarily forgotten in the tumble, returned with force.

This couldn’t be the ground. They had stopped falling much more quickly than he had expected. Plus, he was still alive.

Ryn pushed himself up onto his elbows with effort, wincing.

Nuthea had landed nearby. Men stood around them, some brandishing swords, many gathered together at a rail at one end of the wooden platform Ryn and Nuthea had landed on. Cannons sounded, but below them now, from within this ship.

“What in all the seventeen hells was that?” yelled a voice from somewhere behind them.

One man stood a few paces away, staring wide-eyed like Ryn was an Imperial invader come to kill him. He had a shaved head, wore leathers, and a cutlass hung at his side.

“Boy ’n a girl, Cap’n!” the sailor called. “I think they just fell out of the Imperial ship!”

“Well what’re you waiting for, fool?” shouted the first voice. “Tie them up and stow them below! We don’t have time for this right now!”

“Y-yes, Cap’n!”

The man hesitated, but then took a step towards them, drawing his sword from the sheath that hung on his belt with a sliding of steel. The point wobbled a little as he held it out towards them.

“You two!” said the sky sailor. “With me!”

“Not again…” mumbled Ryn.

He looked sideways, wondering why Nuthea hadn’t said anything yet. She lay sprawled on her front on the wooden deck. Her eyes were shut. Fear lanced through him.

The sky sailor moved towards them.

“Please!” said Ryn, scrambling up, “I think she might be hurt! She needs a healer!”

“Cap’n says you’re to be stowed below, so stowed below is what you will be!”

To Ryn’s own amazement, he put up his fists. “You’re not taking us anywhere! She needs help!”

The ship banked harshly to one side and Ryn lost his footing, stumbled, and put his hand out to steady himself.

The sailor barely wobbled. Taking advantage of Ryn’s stumble, he stepped forwards and hit him hard in the gut with the hilt of his sword.

“Oof!” Ryn doubled over as the wind was knocked out of him. The skysailor grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up, and before Ryn knew it a rope was wrapped around his arms and chest, so tight he could barely breathe.

Then he was being shoved and kicked with barks of “Get down there! Hurry up!” He staggered across the deck in bewilderment, battle cries and cannon fire sounding all around him. When he glanced back he saw the sailor with the prone form of Nuthea slung over one shoulder, her hair and hands hanging limply, swaying with his steps.

Beyond them a huge Imperial airship filled the sky, descending rapidly, fire and smoke billowing from its hull, a series of huge holes blown in its side.

He was pushed down some steps, through a door, and along a corridor before being shoved into a room not much bigger than a broom cupboard, with only a small circular hole for light.

“Stay in here!” the skysailor said.

He kicked Ryn’s legs from underneath him, making him land on his backside with a groan.

More pain. The fight went out of him. This was too much. This was the second time he had been taken captive in as many days. And his family… his home…

He felt something being propped up against his back. Nuthea. Another cord of rope joined the first that encircled him. The sailor tied her to him so that they sat back-to-back.

Ryn tried one last time. “Please… I think she needs to see a healer...”

“Shut up,” spat the sailor. “We’re in the middle of an assault. You’ll stay in here till we’re finished. The Cap’n will deal with you after.”

He slammed the door.

“Nuthea?” Ryn said at once. “Nuthea, can you hear me?”

Nothing.

He craned his neck round to try to look at her. He couldn’t see much, but the silhouette of her head was lolled forward.

He turned back round to ease the strain on his neck. “Nuthea, wake up!”

Nothing.

He hoped to Enwit she wasn’t dead. Actually, he didn’t hope it to anyone. What use had Enwit been to him these last two days, after his seventeen years of devotion and obedience?

The girl felt warm against his bound arms and back. Ryn tried to slow his rapid breathing and concentrate on the feeling of her pressed against him to work out if she was still alive.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Yes—it was very gentle, but if he focused and tried to shut out the noise of battle, he could feel the slow rise and fall of her body.

That’s a relief. Although… why do I care whether this girl lives or dies? All she’s done so far is lecture me.

But she was still a human being. And there had been something in the patronising and the lecturing… a sort of antagonistic kindness, which Ryn had found strangely endearing.

“And you are very beautiful.”

Ryn sat listening to the sounds around him and thinking, and willing Nuthea to wake up.

The ship continued to bank this way and that, shuddering and vibrating from time to time. Outside the room, he could hear men shouting, cannons firing, the occasional snap of wood. His head throbbed. And his arms. And his legs. And his stomach. His throat was dry. He hadn’t had a drink in a long time. At least he didn’t need to pee. That was a mercy. How long that would last he didn’t know. The ropes were tight on his arms—it felt like they were cutting into his skin. He was hungry. He could barely think straight.

I need to get out of here somehow. I need to get out of here and get my head together and work out what I’m going to do now that…

His mother. His father. The houses of his hometown. Dead, murdered, destroyed.

“Mmmmurggghh...?” said Nuthea.

“Oh, you’re awake!” He felt her stir and lift her head behind him. “I’m glad you’re still alive!”

“Barely,” grumbled Nuthea. “Tell me…”

“Yes?”

“Tell me again about how very beautiful I am.”

Oh poodoo. “You heard that?”

Nuthea laughed softly. “Where are we?” she asked after another quiet moan of discomfort.

“On an airship,” Ryn said quickly, keen to change the subject. “A different airship. We landed on it somehow. I think they’re—”

A loud cheer from outside interrupted him. The cannon-fire ceased. The cheering did not.

“I think they’re fighting the Imperials,” Ryn said. “In fact, I think they may have just won…”

Beneath the cheering the sound of the ship’s engine grew deeper. Ryn’s stomach lurched again. The ship was descending.

“Listen,” Nuthea said. “When they interrogate us, just follow my lead.”

“Your lead?”

“Just let me do the talking.”

“Er, alright then…” Ryn supposed he hadn’t done a very good job of negotiations while she had been unconscious.

Eventually they felt a jolt go through the ship, and the sound of the engine stopped along with the sensation of movement.

The sky sailor who had shoved them into the room reappeared.

“Right, you two.” His eyes were bright and he seemed unable to stop himself from smiling. “Cap’n wants to talk to you now.”

He wrenched them to their feet, before pushing them, stumbling and tripping, back up on deck, where he plonked them down on their backsides.

The ship had landed in a grassy plain. In the distance, Ryn thought he glimpsed the wreckage of the Imperial airship lying crashed on the ground, on fire, smoke pluming from it.

They must all be dead. Nobody could have survived a crash like that. Including that officer who killed my mother.

What must have been the whole crew stood round them in a semicircle, regarding them. They largely wore brown leather jackets and baggy beige trousers with black boots. Some had goggles on their heads. Most had sheathed cutlasses at their sides. Ryn spotted one or two blunderbusses. Some were fat, some thin, some tall, some short. Some had shaved heads, some thick beards and braids. All were men. All looked at them with a leering curiosity.

In the middle of them stood a young man with a leather patch strapped over one eye, brown hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing a deep brown, long leather jacket with a ridiculously high collar. His unexposed eye glinted mischievously as he grinned with one side of his mouth, baring stained teeth. One of his teeth was gold.

When he spoke, Ryn recognised the voice of the young man as belonging to the ‘Cap’n’ from earlier.

“Who are you?” said the man, not bothering with any formalities. “You don’t look like Morekemian soldiers. Why were you on an Imperial ship?”

“We’re not telling you anything,” said Nuthea. “You’re just a filthy skypirate!”

The captain’s boots resounded over the deck. Out of the corner of his eye Ryn could see him crouch in front of Nuthea.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, haven't’ you?”

Nuthea spat.

Ryn heard the sound of leather against skin and felt Nuthea’s head turn abruptly to one side behind him.

To her credit, she barely moaned.

“She’s a feisty one, ain’t she, lads? That’ll make it even more fun to break her!”

A deep, lecherous jeer went up from the crew.

“Leave her alone!” Ryn found himself yelling. “She hasn’t done anything to you!”

The pirate captain turned on Ryn. “Let’s see if you’re any more obliging, pup. Well? Who are you?”

Ryn didn’t see any point in lying about himself. If Nuthea wanted to keep her identity to herself, that was her business. “I’m nobody,” he said, more bitterly than he meant to. “A no one. I’m the only son of a landowning family in the town of Cleasor. You have no reason to hurt me—or her.”

“Well, Nobody of Cleasor, if you’re so unimportant, why did the Empire have you on one of their airships, hey? Answer me that!”

“The Empire burned down my village. They killed everyone I know. They only spared me and took me captive because—ow!”

Even though they were tied back-to-back, somehow Nuthea had been able to elbow him in the ribs. “Don’t!” she hissed.

“‘Don’t what?” said the captain. He drew one of the twin swords that hung on either side of his belt, producing a long, slightly curved blade. He grinned wickedly, then moved the point of it slowly in front of Ryn’s nose, making him flinch. Then he stepped around him and crouched down next to Nuthea, whose body suddenly went very stiff and still against Ryn’s back.

“Tell me why or I slit the lady’s throat.”

“Don’t tell him, Ryn!” Nuthea cried out. “He’s bluffing! He won’t do it! He could get far more money by ransoming me!”

Ryn thought that was a damned reckless thing to say. He didn’t think he could take the chance. He had already seen that the captain wasn’t afraid of causing pain.

“I have fire powers!” Ryn blurted out. “I got them all of a sudden when the Empire attacked my village. I think that’s why they captured me. Nuthea thinks it’s something to do with these magical Jewels. They captured her because she has lightning powers. Don’t you try anything with her or me, or I’ll burn you! I’ve done it before, and I can do it again!”

“By the One…” Nuthea said behind Ryn with a sigh.

“You should be grateful,” Ryn couldn’t help himself whisper back, twisting his head to look behind him. “I may have just saved your life.”

He looked up at the assembled crew.

A pause.

They burst out laughing. They threw their heads back and guffawed, held their bellies while they shook, and slapped each other on their backs. Some of them wiped tears of mirth from their eyes.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough, lads,” said the captain. He stepped back round to Ryn’s side and held up a hand for silence, that devilish grin still stuck on his face, though Ryn wondered if he saw it crack just for a moment.

Eventually the laughter petered out.

“Fire and lightning powers?” said the captain, mockery lacing every syllable. “Magical jewels? Do you expect me to swallow this, runt? If you’re going to play games with me I will toy with you in turn!”

He bent down and moved his sword towards Ryn again, making him wince, but instead of skewering him he reached past him and cut the cords tying Ryn and Nuthea together.

“On your feet! Nobody mocks Captain Sagar Edbini, Scourge of the Dokanese Skies! If you have fire powers then show us, boy!”

Ryn stood up and rubbed the sides of his arms where the rope had bound him. He didn’t know why this guy was calling him ‘boy’ when he didn’t look that old himself. He must be in about his early twenties.

“Er, well,” said Ryn, “the thing is, it’s all quite new to me and I haven’t been able to summon the flames again since the incident at my village. I can’t produce them on demand. But I do really have them, honestly. Also, I wouldn’t really want to hurt you, or any of your crew, unless I had to in self-defence.”

The pirates laughed again, Captain Sagar too.

A bolt of bright white lightning shot out from behind Ryn with and lanced into the rail of the ship with a flash and a crack. It left a charred, black mark where it hit, a thin ribbon of smoke rising from it.

The pirates stopped laughing.