* * *

  Roskvir burst into the Tanngnjostr’s port-bow docking bay, and saw that even the meager stealth of an unmanifest sjael would no longer aid him.

  Across the expansive cargo-loading platform, squadrons of marines poured in from the bay’s connected barracks. The first squad to spot him raised their carbines, but then hesitated, perhaps confused by the sight of a young girl at his side.

  But the strangeness of the sight was all that stayed their hands. No rank-and-file marine aboard the Tanngnjostr actually knew of the princess’ importance to the shogun. The next squads took no such pause.

  Roskvir skid to a halt mid-sprint. In a single movement, he pivoted to place himself wholly in front of Aurelia, then deflected what he could of the coming volley with a sweep of his glaive. Sparing extra attention to the area at his waist and below, two bullets slipped through his upper guard, one of them impacting his shoulder.

  The pain registered, but didn’t slow him in the slightest. Jari had left him with his mastery over that, at least. Before any of the marines across the bay had chambered another round, Roskvir was already again dashing to the airship berths.

  The swift docked in the first berth was connected to the platform by its unfolded gangway, but crew were still disembarking. The vessel docked in the next seemed to be refueling, and unmanned.

  Beneath that second swift, Roskvir stopped to deflect another volley, then swung around as he sensed an incoming attack of sjael from behind. With a downward thrust he cut apart the columnar yellow-fire projectile sent his way, resembling a missile from an ancient siege engine. The two halves shattered like glass into smaller bolts cast in every direction, and he tried to deflect those as well, but Aurelia yelped in pain.

  Before the first drop of blood even dripped from her wound, Roskvir smothered their assailant in a jet of flame. There was a distant choked cry, and the enemy sjael extinguished, like a candle put out between his fingers.

  Gathering Aurelia into his arms, he leapt upward with a powerful wingbeat, sparing an instant of concentration mid-air to assess her injuries. One of the bolts had torn along her side much worse than a mere graze. To her smaller body, even those smaller projectiles were like great javelins, but the bleeding did not seem too profuse, and she bore the pain well.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  He could half-remember swearing once to never risk bringing her near such violence. That had seemed imperative at the time, for reasons at that moment clarified.

  But as he remembered the way the boy had weakened, then stilled atop the altar of stone — he knew then such risks were preferable to allowing her to remain aboard the Tanngnjostr even one day longer. Even as still he couldn’t remember how or why the girl’s safety had come to be so important to him, he knew it could be no other way.

  Landing on the deck of the unmanned swift, he released Aurelia from his embrace into the pilot’s shelter. Reaching down over the railing, more of his fire melted some of the hinges off the bay doors beneath, before carbine fire forced him back from the edge. But that would have to do. He could feel himself weakening, between the heavy expenditure of his sjaelbrand, and the blood wetting his arm.

  “Keep your head down,” he called to Aurelia. “And hold on!”

  Under a sustained final burst of his flames, the steel chains keeping the swift suspended in its berth stretched, then finally melted enough to fail.

  The airship dropped.

  Roskvir threw himself into the pilot’s shelter as the swift’s hull crashed downward through the bay doors. The remaining hinges gave at once, and they plummeted into the sky beneath the Tanngnjostr in freefall.

  Against their acceleration, Roskvir fought his way to the controls. He pulled back on the lever to ascend, crowding the envelope, and they began to slow in their descent, but remained still in a steep dive. When he ignited the boilers, the fuel gauge indicated a minimum reserve, and at once he threw the throttle to maximum.

  Nearby thunder roared. The swift rocked as its half-inflated envelope was clipped by cannonfire.

  A gunship had already launched in pursuit, Roskvir saw, as still he wrestled with the helm. Worse, the Tanngnjostr’s flak batteries were swiveling toward them, as the distant ring of the klaxon signaled an unauthorized launch. The twin barrels of one such battery were already staring them down.

  The cannon flashed, painting the night. Shells burst on either side, igniting fires in their vessel's shredded envelope, which was by then more a tattered flag fluttering in the wind than anything that could hold lifting-gas.

  Their dive quickly worsened. Roskvir fought in vain to keep aerodynamics working in their favor, and thus keep them aloft just a little longer. If only he could even them out into a more-level crash-landing…

  But they were already too low to the ground. The forest was growing closer, fast.

  “Come to me!” he shouted to Aurelia, where she was pressed against the back of the pilot’s shelter.

  Abandoning the useless controls, he gathered her into his arms and resprouted his crimson wings, even as he knew he was too weakened to weather their airspeed under his own power of flight. His only hope was to—

  No, it was already too late, he saw.

  As the trees below came up on them, he shielded her with his arms and wings as best he could, and braced.