Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius - Kevin J Anderson [113]
“We must hope the wind keeps up,” Nemo said, “and that the slavers follow until that village can rally its defenses.”
Below, the horsemen howled in a language Nemo could not understand -- but their intent was clear enough. In the lead, the tallest slave raider whipped his chestnut horse and thundered into the hills. Gradually, the travelers increased their lead, but as the wind carried the sinking balloon toward the mountains, Nemo realized the Victoria would never maintain sufficient altitude to cross the range. He hoped the raiders gave up before the balloon slammed into the mountainside. Yet the furious black-robed men showed no intention of slackening their chase.
“It appears we have gotten into trouble again,” Caroline said, drawing a deep breath. “At least this time I have no regrets. We saved many people in that village.”
“Indeed. Now we merely need to save ourselves, eh?” Fergusson reloaded both of his rifles. “I believe we’re up to the task.”
They sank lower and lower until the treetops were barely twenty feet beneath the basket. Nemo searched for any way to lighten their load. He threw out the last of their food and the remaining water container, as well as the heavy grappling hook. The bullet holes opened into wider gashes, and the Victoria began a more rapid descent as the mountains climbed beneath them.
His thick brows drawn together, Fergusson looked long and hard at his scientific logbooks, which he dared not sacrifice; neither would he give up his rifles. Finally, he opted to throw four pounds of bullets over the side: a symbolic gesture, gaining them only a few minutes of flight, at most.
The winds gusted against the foothills, slowing the balloon’s progress. The Victoria drifted in a circular motion that would snag them in a tangle of trees.
As the slave raiders galloped after them, thrashing their mounts, the balloon’s slackening pace allowed the horsemen to close the distance. From behind, two more gunshots rang out, and within moments the black-robed men would be upon the Victoria.
“We have no choice,” Nemo said, looking up at the balloon, which sagged in its net. “We’ve got to get over these mountains.” He picked up a rifle, loaded it and handed it to Caroline, then took the other for himself. “Doctor, please tie your journals securely inside your shirt. We’ll be required to hang on tight.”
“What are we doing? You’ve got an idea, eh? I can tell.”
“I hope we’re close to the river and the colony in Sierra Leone, Doctor,” Nemo said. “We are going to cut away the car and hang onto the ring and netting for the rest of this journey.”
While Fergusson gaped at him, Caroline climbed onto the edge of the basket and up into the webbing. One of the locust-chewed strands snapped under her weight, but she grabbed with the other hand and climbed higher. Nemo hoped the tattered ropes would hold long enough for them to get over the mountains and away from the vicious riders.
Fergusson secured his logbooks and followed Caroline up into the netting. Nemo placed a long knife between his teeth, remembering how he had climbed ratlines on the Coralie, and crawled up from the basket.
Holding firmly, he sawed at one of the sturdy ropes until it came apart. The basket lurched and dropped. The Victoria continued to descend. Nemo worked his way around the balloon ring and cut the second of the four ropes, imagining that he was cutting the throat of one of those evil slavers.
Behind them, the raiders drew closer. The horses seemed to realize the closeness of their prey and put on an extra burst of speed. One of the black-robed men shot at the balloon, and Nemo saw another bullet hole open in the silken sack. As if to spite the travelers, the winds slowed again, bringing them to a near-standstill