As the cloudwall drew near, the other skycraft closed in. Cole kept his bow ready. The Vulture was probably within range now, as were two of the lifeboats. But many of the legionnaires had bows. If everyone started shooting, Cole doubted whether he and his friends would survive.
Mira stood up. “Back away from us!” she shouted. “Leave us alone or we’ll enter the cloudwall!”
A man on the Vulture raised his voice to answer. He had gray hair and a prominent nose. “We would rather take you alive, child, but we can’t help it if you destroy yourself. Do what you must.”
“Take us in,” Mira muttered. “Hurry.”
“You sure?” Jace whispered back. “Even if they kill the rest of us, you might still live.”
“I’m not so sure,” Mira said. “I’ll take my chances with the cloudwall. Don’t let them get too close. Go for it.”
Fingers tight on his bow, Cole glanced over at the cloudwall. It was less than a minute away. The closer they got to the foggy barrier, the clearer it became that the wall wasn’t perfectly flat—some indistinct mistiness on the surface caught the glow of the sunset. Did that mean there might be a hazy space before the true cloudwall began, a place where they could hide?
“Don’t be fools!” the man from the Vulture cried. “You don’t want to suffer a horrible death in that darkness. Mira, if you come to me, I will spare the three slaves who aided you.”
“I don’t believe you,” Mira yelled back.
“I am Commander Rainier, highest-ranked officer of the legion,” the man replied loudly. “It is well within my power to make this deal. I swear by my office and by my good name, before all witnesses present, that your three companions will be returned to their master unharmed if you end this folly and turn yourself in.”
Arms hugging her chest, Mira glanced down at the others.
“Don’t give in for me,” Jace said, still guiding the lifeboat at full speed toward the cloudwall.
“Me either,” Cole said, unsure whether he fully meant it.
“Up to you,” Twitch said.
Mira scrunched her eyebrows and stared down. “I’m willing to chance it, but it’s not fair to force you three into this.”
“He’s pulling your strings,” Jace said. “Don’t let him use us against you. If you give up because of me, I swear I’ll jump. Plus, he could be lying. Who knows? Maybe we’ll survive the cloudwall. Forget about us. Do what you want to do.”
“No thanks!” Mira called.
“Stop them!” Commander Rainier roared. “Stop them at all costs!”
Grappling hooks came flying through the air, three from the Vulture, one from a lifeboat. One grapnel missed. Jace kicked another that would have landed in the stern, knocking it away. Two fell inside the lifeboat and pulled tight against the side, instantly slowing them and causing them to turn.
Dropping his bow and drawing his Jumping Sword, Cole severed one of the lines attached to the grapnel. Mira cut the other one.
All the vessels converged at top speed. More grappling hooks came flying. Cole batted one out of the air with his sword. Twitch nimbly caught another and tossed it aside. A few fell short. When one caught hold of the lifeboat again, Mira promptly slashed the line.
“Fools!” Commander Rainier shouted.
Glancing over his shoulder, Cole saw the murky surface of the cloudwall perhaps five seconds away. Was this how he would die? Would it hurt? Would he even know he had been killed? He had to hope that they could duck out of sight and lurk at the edge of the cloudbank until nightfall.
Cole looked back at the Vulture, where Commander Rainier had a hand extended toward them, face distorted with panic and anger. He realized that with his Jumping Sword, the Vulture was comfortably within range. What if he took his chances with the legionnaires? No, that wouldn’t end well. Having lost Mira, they would make an example of him.
Mira and Twitch pulled Cole down. Only then did he realize that the others were no longer standing. They were bracing themselves. Sheathing his sword, he followed their example.
“Hold on!” Jace yelled. “Here we go!”
The prow of the Fair-Weather Friend nosed into the mist. Everything became hazy. Cole could hardly see Mira beside him. A moment later, damp darkness completely enveloped them. Looking back, Cole could no longer see outside the cloudwall. He couldn’t even see his own hands.
“Turn!” Twitch urged in the darkness. “Slow down! We mustn’t go in too far.”
“I’m trying,” Jace replied, voice strained. “It won’t respond.”
Their speed was increasing. Damp air whistled by them. The lifeboat lurched and shuddered.
“Hang on!” Mira said.
Gripping the side of the lifeboat, Cole stayed low and wedged himself into the most secure position he could manage. The wind became a moist gale, roaring in his ears. The lifeboat rattled, jerked, and jolted. He was on a nightmare bobsled ride without a track or a finish line.
What if he fell? Would he tumble through damp darkness until he starved? Would his fate be any different if he held on?
The lifeboat whooshed onward. It didn’t feel like they were turning much. Cole only saw black. His clothes and hair became soaked by the mist. He thought he heard Jace shouting, but the words were lost in the gale. The Fair-Weather Friend quaked and groaned.
And then the cloudy darkness lifted, though the lifeboat did not slow down.
Eyes squinted against the damp wind, Cole glimpsed a distant castle in the twilight, surrounded by wide grounds with walls and fences, fountains and statues, lawns and trees.
His eyes registered the encouraging sight in a flash before the nose of the lifeboat dipped down toward a swirling funnel that yawned larger than a football stadium. It was like beholding the inside of a tornado—the howling suction whirled down, down, down into infinite darkness. Wispy streams of vapor from the rear of the cloudwall flowed into the chaotic funnel, along with the Fair-Weather Friend.
Jace was on his feet, wrenching at the controls. “It won’t budge!” he yelled in frustration, face flushed with effort.
Rocketing faster than ever, the lifeboat reached the rim of the funnel and began circling down into the enormous mouth. Looking around frantically, Cole saw no escape. They were already too low to view the castle. With each revolution, the lifeboat sank deeper into the funnel. Despite the immense size of their circular path, they streaked fast enough to feel the mighty g-forces of the constant turn.
Mira stood up. “Back away from us!” she shouted. “Leave us alone or we’ll enter the cloudwall!”
A man on the Vulture raised his voice to answer. He had gray hair and a prominent nose. “We would rather take you alive, child, but we can’t help it if you destroy yourself. Do what you must.”
“Take us in,” Mira muttered. “Hurry.”
“You sure?” Jace whispered back. “Even if they kill the rest of us, you might still live.”
“I’m not so sure,” Mira said. “I’ll take my chances with the cloudwall. Don’t let them get too close. Go for it.”
Fingers tight on his bow, Cole glanced over at the cloudwall. It was less than a minute away. The closer they got to the foggy barrier, the clearer it became that the wall wasn’t perfectly flat—some indistinct mistiness on the surface caught the glow of the sunset. Did that mean there might be a hazy space before the true cloudwall began, a place where they could hide?
“Don’t be fools!” the man from the Vulture cried. “You don’t want to suffer a horrible death in that darkness. Mira, if you come to me, I will spare the three slaves who aided you.”
“I don’t believe you,” Mira yelled back.
“I am Commander Rainier, highest-ranked officer of the legion,” the man replied loudly. “It is well within my power to make this deal. I swear by my office and by my good name, before all witnesses present, that your three companions will be returned to their master unharmed if you end this folly and turn yourself in.”
Arms hugging her chest, Mira glanced down at the others.
“Don’t give in for me,” Jace said, still guiding the lifeboat at full speed toward the cloudwall.
“Me either,” Cole said, unsure whether he fully meant it.
“Up to you,” Twitch said.
Mira scrunched her eyebrows and stared down. “I’m willing to chance it, but it’s not fair to force you three into this.”
“He’s pulling your strings,” Jace said. “Don’t let him use us against you. If you give up because of me, I swear I’ll jump. Plus, he could be lying. Who knows? Maybe we’ll survive the cloudwall. Forget about us. Do what you want to do.”
“No thanks!” Mira called.
“Stop them!” Commander Rainier roared. “Stop them at all costs!”
Grappling hooks came flying through the air, three from the Vulture, one from a lifeboat. One grapnel missed. Jace kicked another that would have landed in the stern, knocking it away. Two fell inside the lifeboat and pulled tight against the side, instantly slowing them and causing them to turn.
Dropping his bow and drawing his Jumping Sword, Cole severed one of the lines attached to the grapnel. Mira cut the other one.
All the vessels converged at top speed. More grappling hooks came flying. Cole batted one out of the air with his sword. Twitch nimbly caught another and tossed it aside. A few fell short. When one caught hold of the lifeboat again, Mira promptly slashed the line.
“Fools!” Commander Rainier shouted.
Glancing over his shoulder, Cole saw the murky surface of the cloudwall perhaps five seconds away. Was this how he would die? Would it hurt? Would he even know he had been killed? He had to hope that they could duck out of sight and lurk at the edge of the cloudbank until nightfall.
Cole looked back at the Vulture, where Commander Rainier had a hand extended toward them, face distorted with panic and anger. He realized that with his Jumping Sword, the Vulture was comfortably within range. What if he took his chances with the legionnaires? No, that wouldn’t end well. Having lost Mira, they would make an example of him.
Mira and Twitch pulled Cole down. Only then did he realize that the others were no longer standing. They were bracing themselves. Sheathing his sword, he followed their example.
“Hold on!” Jace yelled. “Here we go!”
The prow of the Fair-Weather Friend nosed into the mist. Everything became hazy. Cole could hardly see Mira beside him. A moment later, damp darkness completely enveloped them. Looking back, Cole could no longer see outside the cloudwall. He couldn’t even see his own hands.
“Turn!” Twitch urged in the darkness. “Slow down! We mustn’t go in too far.”
“I’m trying,” Jace replied, voice strained. “It won’t respond.”
Their speed was increasing. Damp air whistled by them. The lifeboat lurched and shuddered.
“Hang on!” Mira said.
Gripping the side of the lifeboat, Cole stayed low and wedged himself into the most secure position he could manage. The wind became a moist gale, roaring in his ears. The lifeboat rattled, jerked, and jolted. He was on a nightmare bobsled ride without a track or a finish line.
What if he fell? Would he tumble through damp darkness until he starved? Would his fate be any different if he held on?
The lifeboat whooshed onward. It didn’t feel like they were turning much. Cole only saw black. His clothes and hair became soaked by the mist. He thought he heard Jace shouting, but the words were lost in the gale. The Fair-Weather Friend quaked and groaned.
And then the cloudy darkness lifted, though the lifeboat did not slow down.
Eyes squinted against the damp wind, Cole glimpsed a distant castle in the twilight, surrounded by wide grounds with walls and fences, fountains and statues, lawns and trees.
His eyes registered the encouraging sight in a flash before the nose of the lifeboat dipped down toward a swirling funnel that yawned larger than a football stadium. It was like beholding the inside of a tornado—the howling suction whirled down, down, down into infinite darkness. Wispy streams of vapor from the rear of the cloudwall flowed into the chaotic funnel, along with the Fair-Weather Friend.
Jace was on his feet, wrenching at the controls. “It won’t budge!” he yelled in frustration, face flushed with effort.
Rocketing faster than ever, the lifeboat reached the rim of the funnel and began circling down into the enormous mouth. Looking around frantically, Cole saw no escape. They were already too low to view the castle. With each revolution, the lifeboat sank deeper into the funnel. Despite the immense size of their circular path, they streaked fast enough to feel the mighty g-forces of the constant turn.
