The Firebird Mystery by Darrell Pitt Page A

the ground. He didn’t care. All he wanted was to escape the searing cold. All he wanted was to breathe normally.
    He vowed not to look down, but he couldn’t help himself. The world lay beneath him like a tapestry. He was still so high above the planet it was reduced to colours and patterns. He forced his gaze back to the metrotower. They were racing away from it and the ugly impact caused by the airship attack.
    Ignatius Doyle and Lucy were getting smaller by the second. Jack also realised something else—the airship was descending. Swiftly.
    I’ve got to hang on , he thought. I’ve got to hold on until we land.
    He placed his face against the metal ramp of the airship. He needed air and he needed warmth. He struggled to fill his lungs, but something was wrong. The atmosphere was too thin. His head swam.
    It occurred to Jack that he was about to die. The prospect scared him, but he would never have behaved differently—Mr Doyle had been his friend, and Jack would not let him down.
    He felt terribly dizzy. Forcing himself to think of Scarlet, he promised to take her to a music hall if he ever had the chance. She was a lady, but she was different from all the other toffs. She was friendly, and kind, and… Well, just so blinkin’ beautiful .
    Dots appeared before his eyes.
    If this was the end, he decided, he would envision Scarlet’s face. Her eyes. So pretty. Green, they were. Two deep emerald pools...
    Blackness came.
    Jack woke to the feeling of water trickling down his cheeks. His hands were numb. Opening his eyes, he saw a large grey shape above him. It seemed to stretch forever. It was some sort of sailing ship.
    How did he end up in this place? And his hands… they were bright purple.
    What the—?
    Of course. It was not a sailing ship. It was an airship. Jack looked down and saw a field of wheat about a hundred feet below him. It all came back. The metrotower. The airship attack. His leap. Hanging on to the side of the balloon.
    The airship was coming in to land—and at speed, by the look of it. A hissing came from somewhere. That’s right, Mr Doyle had pierced the side with that sword. Jack had to break free from the gondola and hide before the occupants exited, otherwise the ramp would descend—right on top of him.
    He drew his left hand free. He tried gripping the chain. But his hand had lost all sensation so he wrapped the chain around his arm instead. He repeated the action with his other arm.
    As the airship dropped, he felt the blood starting to return. He tried flexing his fingers. Good. The feeling was sluggishly coming back to them. Looking back down, he saw the ground rising. Fast.
    He was sure they were about to crash until, at the last moment, the airship accelerated and shunted across the acreage. It slowed, scraping along the ground.
    Time to get off.
    He unwrapped his arms and let go of the chain. He hit the ground hard, letting out a cry of pain, but he continued to roll, just as his parents had taught him, until he came to a halt.
    A clear blue sky spread out above him. The sun, although not hot, blazed brightly. Jack wanted to curl into a foetal position and sleep for the rest of his life. But he thought again of Scarlet and rose to his knees. He peeked over the high golden grass.
    The enormous airship filled much of the field. It had made an untidy landing. The jagged hole had dealt it a mortal wound.
    That’s Mr Doyle for you , he smiled. Always thinking.
    A steamtruck screeched to a halt on a dirt road running alongside the field. Tall trees lined the property, partly obscuring the airship from the outside world. Jack knew what the enemy was about to do. They were going to transport Scarlet and Mr Harker on that vehicle.
    Staying low, he scampered across the field. He hoped no-one was looking in his direction, otherwise they might see the wheat moving. Finally he made it to the edge of the tall grass and hurried across the dirt road.
    Jack