The Wind Merchant by Ryan Dunlap

another one I should be aware of?” the man inquired, genuinely interested. He flicked three switches to engage the engines. The sudden noise caused Ras to jump.
    “Uh, no,” Ras said, fumbling to secure his restraint and readying himself to be shoved back into his seat. “It’s just said to be a ghost ship.”
    “That’s very…interesting to hear. Brace yourself.” He pulled a lever and a steering wheel telescoped from the dashboard to meet his hands. He tilted the controls back and pressed a button on the console. With an explosive hiss, the ship shot directly upward.
    Having prepared for a launch forward, Ras nearly slipped out of his seat but for his restraint. He didn’t recall seeing any rotors atop the ship, and as the vessel reached its apex and began to drop, he realized it didn’t have any.
    The man pulled back a lever and the ship rocketed forward, slamming Ras back into his seat. The back of his head smacked into the high padded back of the bench. He guessed it was an intentional feature.
    “And so your employer is Hal Napier…the Fourth?” Ras asked, trying to be casual as he watched Verdant zip beneath them at a rate he found both exhilarating and terrifying.
    “No.”
    “Fifth?”
    “No,” he said more sharply this time. “And may I suggest you refrain from that line of questioning when you meet him. If you would like something for your throat I can prepare a tonic once we’ve reached our cruising altitude.”
    “That…that would be nice,” Ras said. “Thank you.”
    Through the wide, curved windshield, Ras could see the grand vista of clouds, including dozens of airships racing toward them. Ras recognized them as standard merchantmen moving at a much quicker pace than usual.
    The man pulled the ship into a climb to avoid colliding with any of the merchant vessels, giving him perspective on what caused the wind merchants to flee.
    Bravo Company.
    Their flagship, The Dauntless , was an old dreadnaught from The Clockwork War, body corroded black and rigid balloon painted red with a crude rendering of crossed axes and a grinning skull. The ship itself was nearly a mile long, and bristling with guns.
    A score of smaller airships and biplanes with the same logo emblazoned across their hulls accompanied The Dauntless , idly chasing and firing their weapons at the slower wind merchant vessels as they neared the floating city.
    “How is Hal going to save Verdant from India Bravo?” Ras asked.
    “He has his ways,” the man casually said. “But Verdant is too valuable to her to sink.”
    “How are you going to save us from India Bravo?”
    The man hefted back on the controls, gaining altitude until the fleet below became tiny specks.
    Ras’ ears popped as he looked out the window, then recoiled back. He had never been up this high, and wondered if a cannonball could even reach them. “How?”
    “I pulled back on the controls. I thought you of all people would be familiar with flight mechanics,” the man said before leveling off after a minute of hard climbing. He unfastened his restraints and stood, nearly grazing his white hair against the ceiling. “Tonic?” He reached into a small box and pulled out a glass bottle with a screw-on cap. The label was in an unfamiliar language.
    Ras turned his attention from the window to his bandaged hand as the man pressed the bottle into his mitt. The idea of actually meeting the man his father had told bedtime stories about boggled his mind. He wasn’t certain what he was going to see or if this Hal was an impostor, but it occurred to Ras that whoever this was it might be the same person that his father had claimed to have received a mission from, if Old Harley had heard his rumors right.
    There was little to nothing he could do for Verdant right now, aside from helping out in the Engine for damage control. A twinge of guilt gnawed at him, but he forced it to the back of his mind by telling himself he would do more good by meeting with Hal. He