Must have reached some sort of jet stream, he realized.
Horus shouted, “We’re in it now, men! Hoist the sails!”
The men began cranking in unison, singing out to keep their rhythm.
Bach’uuk again pointed below, still leaning most of his body over the side. He plainly had no fear of heights.
Below, massive wings opened to either side of the ship. They looked to be made of the same rubbery substance as the balloon, strutted and supported by ribs of bone.
Jake stared in awe. The ancient Egyptians had always been skilled boatmen, turning the Nile River into a lifeline for traffic and a source of food. Apparently these displaced Egyptians had found a new river to ride: a river of wind!
The wings unfurled to their widest. Cranks were locked into place. Skymaster Horus leaned hard on his rudder, and the skyship banked in that direction, gaining speed, racing over the desert.
The second ship trailed at a safe distance. The smaller skyriders flanked the crafts to either side, no longer needing their jets of flame. The stiff wind offered plenty of thrust to keep them aloft.
Jake found himself smiling as cool wind whipped his hair. He stared out at the passing desert floor, speckled with more rocky outcroppings. He spotted a herd of massive dinosaurs lumbering alongside a thin stream, as bright as silver against the golden sands and black rocks. He also spotted patches of dense trees centered on tiny oasis pools.
As he gazed beyond the rail, he wondered if his parents were out there somewhere, as lost as he was now. If so, the desert was far from hospitable.
Off in the distance, Jake spotted bursts of fire shooting up from the ground like flaming geysers. From this distance, it looked like a forest of flames.
He could only imagine how hot it was out there.
Closer at hand, a small village appeared below, barricaded and sitting atop a pancake-flat section of stone. The settlers must have found the place safer than building on the shifting sands, where all manner of nasty creatures could burrow under them.
Then, slowly, the village disappeared behind them.
“So what do you think of our lands?” someone asked.
Jake turned to find a wizened old man, his face more leather than skin. He had curly white hair as fluffy as a cloud, and his eyes twinkled blue. He wore a simple shift with as many pockets as Jake’s vest, stuffed with all sorts of strange tools.
Maybe a mechanic of some sorts.
The circle of bronze around the man’s neck suggested that he was a slave, but the guards ignored him. In fact, the only Egyptians atop the open deck were the two guards and the skymaster. Everyone else—including the man who ran the balloon’s forges—wore collars.
“So?” the old man pressed with a wry smile. “I heard you were new here. I don’t suppose anyone has said welcome.”
“No.” Jake found a grin pulling up the corners of his lips.
“Then let me be the first.” He lifted an arm to encompass the entire desert. “Welcome to the land of Deshret, where life is hard and the only escape is death.”
Pindor groaned. “Thanks. We really needed to hear that.”
But the man had never stopped smiling, as if mocking the meaning of his words. “Name’s Politor. But my friends call me Pol. It’s up to me to see that this old girl keeps flying.”
“Then shouldn’t you be doing that,” Kady said. She had slumped close to the deck, out of the wind, and out of view of the passing landscape.
“Oh, she’ll take care of herself. Don’t you worry. And don’t you worry about them Gypts.” He thumbed over to the guards. “They really aren’t so bad.”
“But they’re keeping you as slaves!” Marika said.
He shrugged. “Don’t really mean nothing. They keep to themselves in Ka-Tor. We have our own section of the city. Just like us, they have their duties—seeing to the big picture, making sure everything runs, that everyone is fed and has clean water, keeping up defenses against the big tooths-and-claws out there—and we have our jobs. All in all, those Gypts work for us as much as we work for them.”
“So they don’t own you?” Marika asked.
Politor snorted. “They might like to think that sometimes, but of course not. We outnumber the Gypts two to one. They try to get too full of themselves, we’ll pop their balloon.” He winked toward the bag of hot air holding them up. “Plus there be laws and rules. We get on together as long as each knows his place. Have to if you want to survive out here. It’s why we learned to take to the skies. Way too dangerous to cross the lands of Deshret on foot—especially at night.”
Jake nodded, remembering the cactus creatures and the raptors. He realized that maybe this place wasn’t so different from Calypsos after all. It wasn’t so much a slave-and-master relationship with the Egyptians, but more like a class system, with a division of labor to serve the common good. Everybody had a job to do to keep things running.
A shadow seemed to fall over Politor’s face. “But you’ve come to us at a dark time, I’m afraid. With the pharaoh lost to an endless dream—and his two daughters so young—things have begun to change. The Blood of Ka grows more powerful across our lands.”
“The Blood of Ka?” Jake asked.
“Bloody fools, I call them.” He tried to laugh, but it sounded fearful. Glancing to the Egyptian guards, he lowered his voice “A dark sect has grown in the city, and they’ve been growing stronger with every passing moon. They also have the ear of Princess Nefertiti, who rules in her father’s absence. Not sure why she listens. Thought the girl was smarter than that. But now laws have begun to change. Punishments have grown harsher. The Blood Games have started up again.”
He sighed loudly and shook such dark worries away. His smile returned. “But surely things will right themselves. They always do. A rocking boat always comes to rest. And speaking of boats, I should get below and see to the wings. Don’t want them falling off, now do we?”
Kady and Pindor groaned in chorus, not happy with even the suggestion of such a mishap.
Politor took out a bronze tool that looked like a cross between a screwdriver and a wrench and flipped it in his hand, catching it expertly.
Before Politor turned away, Jake asked, “Where did you learn all of this?” He waved to the ships and to the zipping and cavorting skyriders.
“Ah, the old alchemies.” Politor scratched his head with his screwdriver thingy. “Comes from a time when the Gypts used to live in some great city called Ankh Tawy. Stories say that their alchemies were once far greater, that they could control the wind itself; but much was lost with the destruction of their great city. Only ruins are left of the place, locked deep in the Great Wind where no one can reach them.”