8Chapter III
In which the trio enters a cloudbank and an unfortunate situation
The basket of the air balloon was about eight feet across each way, and was made from wooden planks and a velvety material. The furnace in the basket's center took up roughly two square feet, and extended with a series of metal piping all the way up to the interior of the giant balloon. There was a large wooden chest in one corner, which the twins used as a seat. Peter found himself drifting off, but he would be periodically awakened by the blasts of hot air from the furnace. On one such occasion, he groaned and rubbed his eyes as he sat up, and Heist knelt down beside him.
"How're you doing, Peat? Enjoying yourself?"
"Very much, actually," he replied, yawning. "It's peaceful."
A shadow passed over the man's kind face. The stubble on his chin seemed to ripple. "Yes," he said, "it is."
"How long will it be until we reach Harbormouth?"
"We'll get there when we get there."
"You can't make the balloon go faster?"
Heist laughed. "What should I do? Ask the wind?"
Peter smiled, feeling slightly foolish, but happy nonetheless. Maria leaned over and whispered something to her brother, who nodded and put his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Try to get some sleep, Peat. You should be well-rested for when we reach the city." Peter nodded, then leaned back against his small cushion again.
When he awoke, it was to the twins' hushed conversation. The light was fading, and a small lantern swung gently from a crossbar above their heads. "How long've they been following us?"
"At least three hours. That's when I noticed them, at any rate."
"They're very good, for a black balloon."
"Did you see a flag?"
"No. But I'd bet you a pound silver they're pirates."
Pirates, the word lingered in Peter's head.
"How far is it to the city?"
"Well, we passed the Red Bridge just a few minutes ago. I would guess fifty miles, at least."
"Damn. Why haven't they made a move, yet?"
"Because they're waiting for full dark, of course. The king's watchtowers can't spot a battle in a cloud bank at night. Not at more than ten leagues, at any rate."
"Damn pirates," Heist murmured, slamming his fist on the woodwork. After a period of silence, Heist sucked in a deep breath, "Any ideas?"
"Fight," Maria said. "We can take one balloon."
"I was afraid you'd say that."
"I want to help," Peter said, sitting up. He had seen Captain John Smith deal with pirates easily enough. "I'll help fight the pirates."
Maria raised an eyebrow at him, and Heist smiled a little. "It's very dangerous," he said.
"I don't care," Peter didn't believe him. He knew pirates weren't very dangerous.
"If you want, then," Heist shrugged. Maria smacked him on the back of the head and scowled. "I think you should take very good care of the artifact," he said, wincing. "Keep it safe."
So Peter took it from his breast pocket and slipped the golden egg into his shoe, between his toes and the end. It made his foot cramp, but he figured it was the safest place for the egg to reside. Heist approved, and moved to the side of the basket. He removed a brass spyglass from his jerkin and scanned the skies for the black balloon. "There," he said, pointing. It was much closer, only several hundred yards. "And there," he said, pointing in the opposite direction to a massive cluster of nimbus clouds, "is where they'll ambush us."
The pirates' balloon drifted ahead of them into the cloudbank, and within ten minutes, they had entered it as well. Gray wisps rushed past them in all directions, and visibility was almost completely destroyed. Heist turned to his sister after a few minutes. "Flash them, please?"
"Aye, sir." She laughed and went to the olden wooden chest. She flicked the latch open, lifted the lid, and began rummaging around inside. She removed a long brown tube with a dragon's head on the end. Its mouth was open in a permanent roar, and the dragon's scales were painted in a lustrous golden red. From its mouth protruded a set of four narrow tubes, set together in a square. Each was a different length, from a few inches to a foot.
"What is that?" Peter asked, wide-eyed.
"This, Peat, is a Flash Cannon."
"What's it for? Does it explode?"
"Well, yes, but it's more a sort of firework. Watch." Heist hefted another weapon from the chest. Peter immediately recognized it from his favorite television show, 'The Adventures of Captain John Smith'. It was an old flintlock pistol. "This," he said, handing John Smith's pistol to Peter, "is for you. It's the sister of mine," he said, pulling aside his cloak to reveal a similar model, but with lighter wood. "Rosewood," Heist said, tapping Peter's. "Oak," he said, with a finger on his own.
Each pistol bore a crest on its handle, a knight's helmet with angel wings. They were beautiful, perfect killing machines.
"Thank you," Peter said, gingerly stuffing the pistol into the waist of his pants.
"Don't thank me until it's saved your life. And it probably will. Now, Maria, if you please."
She nodded and hefted the flash cannon onto one shoulder, then struck a small wooden stick against her side. It flared and went out, but the tip remained red-hot. This Maria placed into a small hole in the wooden shaft, and one of the smaller tubes erupted into a shower of sparks. Several small projectiles were launched and exploded, driving away the clouds. There was nothing there. Maria rotated the tubes, turned to her left, and fired again.
The projectiles were launched further this time, and exploded to reveal the black room. Emblazoned on the side were white skull-and-crossbones. Heist grabbed the spyglass from his jerkin again and snapped it open, then placed it to his eye. "Look," he said, thrusting it at her. She glanced through it, then turned to her brother.
"A decoy," she sighed, and the clouds covered the balloon once again.
Her brother swore. "Did you see the rope?"
"Yes," she replied, pointing the flash cannon to a specific place in the sky ahead of them. She set the shortest tube to the firing position, sucked in a deep breath, and fired. There, not twenty yards away, the clouds parted. There, hovering alongside them not ten yards away, was a gigantic airship. The body was constructed of some sort of metal, and was easily as long as a naval battleship. The engines on the back had been turned off, but the multitude of giant fans both on the bottom and top seemed perfectly capable of keeping the machine aloft.
On the front, under the glassy cockpit, was a pair of turrets, both with two nozzles protruding from the dome. A smattering of similar, smaller copies smattered the bottom like barnacles. Rows of cannons poked from the sides of the airship. It was every war machine combined, and it was the polar opposite of the slender, elegant pistol tucked into Peter's belt. Standing on the deck, arms crossed, were almost a hundred pirates. Leaning on the banister, grinning, was the only man that could live up to the nightmarish qualities of the ship he captained.
His entire right arm was a gleaming mass of gears, wires, and steel plates. It was the size of a grown man's leg. The claw-like fingers were like railroad spikes, and held a rifle as tall as the man himself. He wore a midnight blue, lopsided three-corner hat. Peter could see metallic armor underneath his long cape. The captain was everything cold and heartless in the world.
"Good evening," he called, leering even more widely. "Care to come aboard?"