swathe of canopy sagged. I reached the trees moments later, and I could hear the sounds of brushing leaves and cracking branches.
“Marcus!” I cried, feeling a disconcerting wave of déjà vu. This time, there was no ocean of water. Instead, Marcus was lost in an ocean of trees above me. Perhaps the impact had badly damaged or killed him. I imagined half a dozen deaths for him—dashing his head, or strangling in the harness, or snapping his neck. I dodged through the trees, eyes trained upward, following the movement of the canopy.
It was not hard to find Marcus this time, not with him dangling from the treetops like a tangled marionette. He was suspended limply in the harness, head and limbs hanging lifelessly. I came to an abrupt stop and stood, frozen, staring at him as the blood drained from my face.
There was a crack of wood, and Marcus stirred. The squeezing pressure on my heart eased away, and I cried his name hoarsely. He looked at me with goggled eyes. When he tried to flex his arms, there was a movement to either side of him. The wings, which had broken his fall and now held him in the trees, shifted in response to the movement of his gloves.
“No! Stay still!” I yelled, bursting into a run. If the wings moved enough, they might slip right out of the trees, and he would fall twenty feet to the ground, surrounded by thirty or more pounds of metal and wood as it crumpled against the forest floor. I came to a stop below him and we stared at each other, my jaw slack and his body limp.
He would need to get out of that harness, but he could not unbuckle it himself unless he managed to first get out of the wing-control gloves. Even if he did, and even if he managed to unharness himself, he still had a long drop beneath him.
There was a branch near him, a thick sturdy one that seemed separate from those that held him up. If only I could climb out onto it, I might be able to help him out of the harness and break his fall. Climbing trees had been one of the few physical activities I had engaged in as a boy. I had raided more than one bird’s nest in my early days. “Hold on!”
Though the tree had few low-lying branches, its bark was thick and gnarled, full of good handholds. I climbed two feet onto a protrusion at the base of the tree, and from there I leaped onto the first branch above me. My hands caught and held, but feebly. Hanging by my fingertips, I swung my clockwork arm back and then hooked it over the limb. The branch had the girth of a child and easily supported my weight as I pulled myself onto it. I could see Marcus from where I squatted—closer, but not close enough.
The next branch was closer, easier to jump onto. Adrenaline charged my movements. This one gave under me just a little, but I braved its tapering, swaying length to reach Marcus. Reaching the end, I straddled the branch and hooked my legs underneath it. I could see the flash of the wings’ metal through the leaves.
“Steady.” I leaning forward, and my stomach clenched as the branch bent downward. I took a deep breath. Again, I murmured, “Steady.” I don’t know if it was for his sake or mine. Carefully, I reached out, my leg muscles trembling to keep me still. I took his hand and guided it slowly out of the glove. As his wrist bent to allow the release of his fingers, the right wing, which was lodged into the branches not far from me, tilted. However, it did not give.
Marcus flexed his free hand and relaxed into the harness. “Thank you,” he said, then freed his left hand. My mouth parched and every muscle was taut as I watched him. “There’s a ship. I think they saw me.”
His words struck me like a splash of cold water. A ship?
Marcus fumbled nervously at the straps of his harness. After unbuckling the first, he stopped and looked at me. “I don’t suppose we have a plan to get me down?”
His question jarred me back to the present. “You unbuckle, and I hold onto you,” I said. I placed my hard metal
“Marcus!” I cried, feeling a disconcerting wave of déjà vu. This time, there was no ocean of water. Instead, Marcus was lost in an ocean of trees above me. Perhaps the impact had badly damaged or killed him. I imagined half a dozen deaths for him—dashing his head, or strangling in the harness, or snapping his neck. I dodged through the trees, eyes trained upward, following the movement of the canopy.
It was not hard to find Marcus this time, not with him dangling from the treetops like a tangled marionette. He was suspended limply in the harness, head and limbs hanging lifelessly. I came to an abrupt stop and stood, frozen, staring at him as the blood drained from my face.
There was a crack of wood, and Marcus stirred. The squeezing pressure on my heart eased away, and I cried his name hoarsely. He looked at me with goggled eyes. When he tried to flex his arms, there was a movement to either side of him. The wings, which had broken his fall and now held him in the trees, shifted in response to the movement of his gloves.
“No! Stay still!” I yelled, bursting into a run. If the wings moved enough, they might slip right out of the trees, and he would fall twenty feet to the ground, surrounded by thirty or more pounds of metal and wood as it crumpled against the forest floor. I came to a stop below him and we stared at each other, my jaw slack and his body limp.
He would need to get out of that harness, but he could not unbuckle it himself unless he managed to first get out of the wing-control gloves. Even if he did, and even if he managed to unharness himself, he still had a long drop beneath him.
There was a branch near him, a thick sturdy one that seemed separate from those that held him up. If only I could climb out onto it, I might be able to help him out of the harness and break his fall. Climbing trees had been one of the few physical activities I had engaged in as a boy. I had raided more than one bird’s nest in my early days. “Hold on!”
Though the tree had few low-lying branches, its bark was thick and gnarled, full of good handholds. I climbed two feet onto a protrusion at the base of the tree, and from there I leaped onto the first branch above me. My hands caught and held, but feebly. Hanging by my fingertips, I swung my clockwork arm back and then hooked it over the limb. The branch had the girth of a child and easily supported my weight as I pulled myself onto it. I could see Marcus from where I squatted—closer, but not close enough.
The next branch was closer, easier to jump onto. Adrenaline charged my movements. This one gave under me just a little, but I braved its tapering, swaying length to reach Marcus. Reaching the end, I straddled the branch and hooked my legs underneath it. I could see the flash of the wings’ metal through the leaves.
“Steady.” I leaning forward, and my stomach clenched as the branch bent downward. I took a deep breath. Again, I murmured, “Steady.” I don’t know if it was for his sake or mine. Carefully, I reached out, my leg muscles trembling to keep me still. I took his hand and guided it slowly out of the glove. As his wrist bent to allow the release of his fingers, the right wing, which was lodged into the branches not far from me, tilted. However, it did not give.
Marcus flexed his free hand and relaxed into the harness. “Thank you,” he said, then freed his left hand. My mouth parched and every muscle was taut as I watched him. “There’s a ship. I think they saw me.”
His words struck me like a splash of cold water. A ship?
Marcus fumbled nervously at the straps of his harness. After unbuckling the first, he stopped and looked at me. “I don’t suppose we have a plan to get me down?”
His question jarred me back to the present. “You unbuckle, and I hold onto you,” I said. I placed my hard metal
Similar Books
