Retribution Falls - Chris Wooding [116]
“But you figured it out?”
“Matched the position of the bigger mountains with my other charts.”
“Good work, Jez.”
“Thank you, Cap’n.”
“Now tell me where we’re going.”
“You’re not gonna like it.”
“I rarely do.”
“I assume you’ve heard of Rook’s Boneyard?”
“Oh, for shit’s sake,” he sighed, and then slumped down onto his back again, his eyes closed. He’d expected bad news, just not quite that bad.
Jez patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll be in my quarters when you’re ready,” she said. Then he heard her get up and walk back to the Ketty Jay.
Everybody who flew over the south end of the Hookhollows knew Rook’s Boneyard. They all knew to avoid it if they possibly could. Aircraft that went into that small, restlessly volcanic area were rarely seen again. Those that ventured into the mists spoke of seeing their companions mysteriously explode. Pilots went mad and flew into mountainsides. Survivors talked of ghosts, terrible spirits that clawed at their craft. It was a cursed place, named after the first man to brave it and survive.
Why don’t I just lie down and die here? thought Frey. It’ll save time.
Time. Time was something they didn’t have. There was no telling how long it would take Trinica to replenish her crew and familiarize the newcomers with the complexities of the Delirium Trigger. A day? A week? Frey had no idea. It really depended on whether there was anyone vital among the men Jez had machine-gunned on the gantry.
But he knew one thing. As soon as she was up and running, Trinica would be after them with redoubled fury. Without her strange compass and her charts, she wouldn’t be able to get to the hideout, but she knew that Frey would be heading that way. She might be able to get word to her allies somehow. He wanted to be in and out before she had a chance to act.
He got to his feet and swayed as his head went light. It took a few moments for everything to stabilize again. He wasn’t, he reflected, in good shape for facing certain death anytime soon.
“Alright,” he told himself unconvincingly. “Let’s do this.” And he stumbled off to rouse the crew.
Chapter Twenty-seven
A PERILOUS DESCENT—THE PUZZLE OF THE COMPASS—FREY SEES GHOSTS
he Ketty Jay hung in the white wastes of the Hookhollows, a speck against the colossal stone slopes. There were no other craft to be seen or heard. Below them, there was only the bleak emptiness of the mist. It cloaked the lower reaches, shrouding canyons and defiles, hiding the feet of the mountains. Down there, in Rook’s Boneyard, the mist never cleared.
High above them were jagged, ice-tipped peaks. Higher still was a forbidding ceiling of drifting ash clouds, passing to the east, shedding a thin curtain of flakes as they went. A poisonous miasma, seeping from volcanic cracks and vents along the southern reaches of the mountain range. It was carried on the prevailing winds to settle onto the Blackendraft, the great ash flats, where it choked all life beneath it.
Frey sat in the pilot’s seat, staring down. Wondering whether it was worth it. Wondering whether they should just turn tail and run. Could he really get them out of this mess? This ragged collection of vagrants, pitted against some of the most powerful people in the land? In the end, did they even have a chance? What lay in that secret hideout that was so important it was worth all this?
Their victory against Trinica had buoyed him briefly, but the prospect of flying blind into Rook’s Boneyard had reawakened all the old doubts. Crake’s words rolled around in his head.
As a group, we’re rather easy to identify. Apart, they’ll probably never catch us. They’ll get only Frey.
Was it fair to risk them all, just to clear his own name? What if he sent them their separate ways, re-crewed, and headed for New Vardia? He might make it there, across the seas,