Emilie & the Hollow World - By Martha Wells Page 0,5

only halfway down when someone stepped out of a hatch on the lower deck.

Emilie froze. It was a man in a greatcoat that was far too heavy for the cool night. He stepped to the railing, stretched to look down, then turned away from Emilie and started away down the deck. She just had time to take a breath in relief when a bluecoat slammed out of the hatch just behind him and swung a cudgel.

“Look out!” Emilie shouted in reflex. The man whipped around and ducked, lightning quick, and the cudgel missed completely. Before the bluecoat could recover, the man seized the cudgel, wrenched it away with a quick twist, and delivered two stunning blows to the bluecoat's chest and head.

Another bluecoat stepped out of the hatch, and Emilie surged forward. She had no idea what she was going to do, just that she had to do something. Then she tripped over a water bucket abandoned at the bottom of the stairs, seized it, and flung it at the bluecoat.

The bluecoat cursed and ducked, giving the man time to whirl around and hit him with the cudgel too. As the bluecoat collapsed, the man caught sight of Emilie and froze for an instant, staring at her. He was standing under a lamp, and the light fell on his face. Emilie yelled in pure shocked reflex.

He wasn't human. The matte black fur, the glitter of reptilian scales, were only an impression, but she clearly saw the gold split-pupil eyes and the pointed teeth.

Another hatch opened further down the deck and half a dozen bluecoats spilled out, brawling with just as many black-liveried sailors. They spread across the deck, shouting and fighting.

Emilie turned to run, but the deck heaved suddenly, rolled under her feet, and knocked her flat. Emilie struggled to her knees, trying to stand. It had to be the engines, an explosion in the boilers. The deck shook again and kept shaking, as if something huge had grabbed the ship's hull from below. The dock lights started to recede, as the ship moved out of the slip and into the harbor. Gunshots sounded nearby, and Emilie looked up to see two sailors with rifles stood on the deck above, aiming down at the bluecoats.

The strange man - creature - man shouted at her, “Stay down!”

That sounded like very good advice, despite the source. Emilie scrambled under the stairs and huddled back against the wall.

The deck shuddered continuously, the water churning below. She heard splashes, saw two bluecoats tumble over the rail. They were losing the fight, or fleeing the potential explosion, or both. The gunshots stopped and the ship's horn blew frantically. You have to get off this ship before it gets any further from shore, Emilie told herself, her heart pounding in her ears.

She crawled forward and peered around the stairway. Several sailors and bluecoats still struggled at the far end of the deck. She saw the strange not-human man toss another bluecoat overboard, then a door crashed open somewhere on the deck above. She looked up to see Lord Engal stood at the rail above her. He shouted, “Get off; jump, you bastards, if you don't want to go with us!” He fired a pistol into the air, emphasizing the order.

That seemed to convince the few remaining bluecoats that retreat was a good idea. Three went over the rail. Two others paused to drag a fallen comrade upright and toss him over, then they jumped after him.

The roar of the engines reached a deafening pitch, and Emilie had to follow them, before the ship broke apart. She pushed to her feet, staggered as the deck rolled violently, then flung herself at the rail.

“No!” someone shouted, and grabbed the back of her jacket, jerking her to a halt. “Too late!”

Barely three steps in front of her a glimmering gold wall sprang up along the rail and arched to form a dome over the ship. “What's that?” Emilie demanded. She looked up, realized it was the not-human man who had grabbed her. She tried to pull away, and he let her go.

He looked toward Lord Engal, who was still on the deck above them, and seemed to be studying the gold barrier with an air of great satisfaction. The man said, “The way home.”

“Whose home?” Emilie tried to ask, but the roar of the engines blotted out the words. The deck shook and water rushed up all around them, the brown churning water of the harbor, kept out by