a coruscating beam seared through the air to the right of us and came sizzling in our direction. Gallokomas pitched downward then swooped up, arced around the deadly beam, and sped out over the sand.
I looked to the right and the left. What of the Zull flock I could see through the haze appeared thinner, with half of it now hidden among the trees and the rest distributed along the beach. I was dismayed by the many bodies littering the ground. Our casualties were high.
By equal measure, the war machines, which had threatened so much, were more than two-thirds disabled, and the progress of those that still functioned was blocked by those that didn’t. The mouth of the river—the easiest route into the forest—was completely jammed by incapacitated hulks.
“We should order the—” I began, but was cut off by one deafening report after another as spears of light pulsed past us and smashed into the forest, instantly reducing hundreds of trees to dust. Gallokomas rocketed upward, turned, and let out a cry of shock at what we saw floating motionless about two hundred feet over the sea.
It was a flying ship; a thing comprised of two immense cigar-shaped structures, set parallel to one another, both reminiscent of dirigible balloons—such as that flown by Henri Giffard in 1852—with a flat glass-covered platform spanning the distance between them. A big propeller was spinning at the front of the platform and another at its stern. Steam spouted from pipes set along the outer sides of the dirigibles and cannons poked from bulging domes, one atop each structure and one below. It was from the bottom pair that the hugely destructive light rays were shooting, cutting a broad channel through the trees and into the centre of the forest.
“Get above it, Gallokomas!” I yelled. “I want to see through the glass. I’ll wager Yissil Froon is inside that behemoth!”
My friend plummeted down until we were just a few feet above the water then sped out to sea, angling away from the monstrous aero-ship. We went unnoticed as we circled around it and began to gain height.
“Aiden Fleischer!”
“Clarissa! Do you see it?”
“I never thought to! I designed the thing when I was barely sixteen years old. Yissil Froon is aboard—I can sense his presence!”
“What’s its weakness? How do we bring it down?”
“It’s unstable. If the Zull concentrate their attack on just one of the dirigibles, they might succeed in unbalancing the whole thing. Have Gallokomas order them to use the pikestaffs dropped by the Divergent.”
Gallokomas heard this and telepathically issued the command. My friend and I had by now risen above the warship. We eased forward, approaching it cautiously from the back.
“What of the rupture, Clarissa?” I asked.
“I can’t see it. I had to put my goggles on. I’m sorry, Aiden.”
“Don’t be. Stay undercover. We’ll come for you when it’s safe.”
Gallokomas and I circled high over the glass-topped platform. I could see six Mi’aata inside, and, standing at the pointed prow, the unmistakable form of Yissil Froon, still a Yatsill.
An inky cloud of Zull came swirling through the sky toward us—a tiny attack force on its way to assault the gigantic aero-ship. Below us, the turret on top of the leftmost balloon swivelled until its cannon was directed at them.
“Warn them!” I shouted.
Energy suddenly snapped not from the weapon we were looking at but from its opposite number, which, unobserved by us, had turned and pointed in our direction. Blistering heat screamed past, scorching the side of my upper right arm. Gallokomas cried out, and before I could properly grasp what was happening, I was falling. The sky and sea and ship whirled around me. I caught a brief glimpse of my friend tumbling away, whether wounded or dead it was impossible to tell.
I hit glass, crashed through, and thumped onto a hard deck. Sharp fragments clattered and shattered around me. I struggled to retain consciousness, to draw in a clarifying breath, to comprehend what had just happened. I felt my eyes slipping up into my head. No! I couldn’t allow it! Don’t escape from the pain! Cling on to it! Use it to stay alert!
Rolling onto my side, I tried to lever myself up on an arm and failed. Glass crunched beneath me. Blood trickled across my skin. The four click-clacking feet of a Yatsill approached. I tried to speak but could only moan.
A familiar voice: “Aiden Fleischer!”
Long sharp fingers clamped around my neck and my thigh. I was heaved into the air and