Infernal Devices - KW Jeter [108]
As I watched, Sir Charles listened to the news of my having been sighted and shot at, brought to him by one of his men come running from the end of the line closest to the sea. He quickly gave out his orders, dispatching the line of beaters around the base of the hill at the top of which I knelt.
Few avenues of escape were left to me. Directly facing me were the guns of the Godly Army, working their way across the valley; I was cut off as well to my left by the shoreline, on the sands of which I would be an easy target for my pursuers. The beaters would soon have me encircled, trapped on top of the hill, if I did not hasten away. I scrambled over the ridge and through the brush on the other side.
I was soon halted by the edge of a sheer cliff-face dropping down to a river below. No handholds were visible by which to climb down; the rocks churning the rushing water to lace: assured death if any foolhardy leap were to be attempted. Behind me, I could already hear the rude accents of the native men as they shouted to one another. Crouching low to avoid detection as long as possible, I ran along the cliff's edge, hoping to gain the bottom of the hill's slope before the beaters completed their movement around its base.
Too late; as soon as I reached a point where I could see the cliffside crumbling into a loose scree of rocks into the river's bank, the far edge of the line of beaters reached the water, cutting me off from that final angle as well. Worse, I had been spotted. One of the men shouted and pointed, alerting the others. Hurling various imprecations and threats at me, they began scrambling up the hillside, their hands digging into the heather for leverage. I turned and, caution abandoned, ran back towards the hill's crest.
Gasping for breath, I mounted the hill with no more thought of strategy in my head than has a winded fox turned on every side by the baying hounds. The shout went up from the other side; Sir Charles and the rest of the Godly Army had spotted me. They mounted towards me, sure enough of their prey to wait until they had a clear shot.
Spinning about on my heel, I could see the barring jaws of nature, the sea and the cliff, on two sides; the men intent on blood forming the rest of the box. I watched in dread anticipation, frozen to the spot, as the line of men ascending from the valley halted halfway up the slope. The rifles rose to the shoulders of the Godly Army, their stern faces sighting over the barrels.
A roaring, beating noise came suddenly from above my head. For a moment, I thought my racing pulse had burst through the limits of my temples. Then I heard cries – not of triumph and excitement as before, but of astonishment and fear – and saw the hunters raising their round-eyed gaze from me to the skies. Amazingly, from the heavens, someone shouted my name.
I looked up as a great shadow swept over me. Something like a bird, but many times – larger, shot past, its ragged-edged wings beating against the air. It swooped low through the valley, flattening the men on the hillside as they scurried for cover into the heather. As it tilted and swung back in my direction, I could see the figures upon the thing: a man, a woman, and a barking dog.
Scape stood upright, holding the lines controlling the machine's gyrations in his hands in the manner of a Roman charioteer; his face, I saw as the beating wings bore him close again, was lit with a wild excitement. Kneeling beside him, Miss McThane held on to the thin struts, her head tilted back, laughing as the rush of wind sent her unbound hair streaming behind. A cord secured Abel from falling; his barking seemed to hold more enthusiasm than fear.
The flying machine came low enough over my head that I felt the force of its wings keeping it aloft. Drops