Ryn fell through the air, one hand still clutching Nuthea’s.

They tumbled and span. White cloud and blue air rushed around them. Weightless, his stomach was somewhere far above him. The sensation might have been pleasurable were it not for the immediate prospect of collision with the ground below.

Images of his recent past moved in rapid succession across his mind again. Mum dying. Dad dying. Roofs on fire. Somewhere over the noise of the rushing air he was aware of Nuthea screaming.

The wind seemed to gust all of a sudden.

And then their fall was broken.

Ryn slammed flat onto something hard with a loud thump. His face and limbs stang immediately from the impact, prickled with aftershock.

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

Wood, he saw next to his cheek.

He had lost hold of Nuthea’s hand. Where is she?

Ryn pushed himself up onto his elbows with effort.

Men stood around them, some brandishing swords, many of them 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.

They had landed on the deck of another airship.

“What in the seven hells was that?” yelled a voice from somewhere behind them. Ryn only barely heard it over the noise of wind and cannonfire, but the voice was irate.

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, baggy trousers, a cutlass sheathed at his side.

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

“Well, what are you waiting for, you fool?” shouted the first voice, matching incredulity with fury. “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. He held it out towards them. The point wobbled a little.

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

“Not again…” mumbled Ryn, as much to himself as anyone else.

He looked to his side, 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 Ryn.

The skysailor moved towards them purposefully.

“Please!” said Ryn, scrambling up, “I think she might be hurt! She needs a healer!” He had to shout over the noise.

The skysailor set his jaw. “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 punched Ryn hard in the gut with the hilt of his sword.

“Oof!” Ryn doubled over as the wind knocked out of him. Pain in his stomach joined the pain in his head and the pain in his everywhere else. The skysailor grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up, and before he knew it Ryn felt a rope being wrapped around his arms and chest, tightening, so tight he could barely breathe.

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

Beyond them, a huge Imperial airship filled the sky, descending rapidly, fire and smoke billowing out from its hull and blimp, a series of huge holes blown in its side. The ship they had just been on before.

Then he was shoved down some steps and through a door at their bottom and along a corridor with more angry barks, through another door into a cramped 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, forcing him to land on his backside with a groan.

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 hometown…

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…” he murmured. “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 that.”

He slammed the door shut, leaving Ryn in darkness with only himself for conscious company.

“Nuthea?” he 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 he could see that the silhouette of her head was lolled forward.

He turned back round to ease the strain on his neck. “Nuthea, wake up!” he said to the black wall in front of him.

Nothing.

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

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.

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

That’s a relief. Although...why do I care whether this girl lives or dies? he thought all of a sudden. All she’s done to me so far is lecture me.

But she had talked to him all the same. And she was still a human being. And there had been something in the patronising and the lecturing… a sort of antagonistic kindness, of which Ryn realised he had grown weirdly fond...

“And you are very beautiful…” he said aloud.

Ryn sat like that for a long time, just listening to the sounds around him and thinking, and willing for Nuthea to wake up.

The ship continued to bank this way and that, to shudder and vibrate from time to time, but being tied up and sat down as he was none of this threw Ryn around any more. Outside the room, muffled to varying degrees, he could still hear men shouting, cannons firing, and the occasional crunch of wood.

His head still throbbed with so much pain. 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. His mind was aching fog.

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, aflame, destroyed.

“Mmmmurggghh...?” said Nuthea.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Ryn said. 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.

“We’re on an airship,” Ryn said quickly, keen to change the subject. “A different airship. We landed on it somehow. I think they’re...pirates. I think they’re the ones who were attacking the Imperials. They shoved us in here while the battle finishes, but I think they’re winning.”

As if to confirm this, they heard a loud many-voiced cheer go up from outside. The cannonfire ceased. The cheering did not.

They listened out, and beneath the cheering, the sound of the ship’s engine grew deeper. Ryn’s stomach lurched again. The ship was descending.

Nuthea spoke. “Listen, when they interrogate us, just follow my lead.”

“Your lead? Er, alright then...”

Eventually, they felt a jolt go through the ship, and the sound of the engine stopped. They had landed.

Eventually, the sailor who had shoved them in here reappeared.

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