Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

ahead.
    Annika peered across the distance. “The capsule’s gone!”
    “It dropped into the borehole just before the first blast!” David called back.
    And must be still in there, plugging the hole. No steam rose beneath the tower yet. Annika’s heart galloped in her chest. “What happens if it doesn’t launch?”
    “Then he roasts—Good God and da Vinci!”
    A burst of steam erupted beneath the tower. The capsule streaked upward, moonlight glinting against steel and leaving a wisp of steam from its tail.
    And was gone. So fast.
    Her mouth dropped open, and she met David’s astonished gaze. From the other balloon came Paolo’s whoops and shouts, Källa’s wild laughter.
    Unbelievable. It had worked.
    Annika leaned forward, searching the sky. Except for the moon and stars, only darkness. “Can you still see him?”
    But David wasn’t looking up. He was looking farther south, past the tower, where a column of smoke had begun pouring from the ice, lit from below by a beautiful orange light. The volcano, erupting.
    Lorenzo had woken the witch.
    “Källa!” David shouted to her sister. “Stay out of that ash! Go north, into the wind, then around to Vik!”
    Alarm tightening her face, Källa nodded. Below them, the rumbling beneath the ice grew louder. Thunderous crack s split the air. Pedaling as hard as she could, Annika threw the rudder full over. Terror slicked her back in cold sweat.
    David shouted again as they turned north. “Use your masks!”
    Källa nodded again, reached for the engine lever. Annika saw her sister hesitate, glancing first at Olaf, then over at their balloon.
    Stupid. “Full steam!” Annika yelled at her. “Don’t wait for us! We’ll be behind you!”
    She stole another look at the eruption before they headed full north. The column of ash and smoke had already thickened, a dark cloud building over it like the cap of a mushroom. The orange glow seemed to be spreading, lighting the billowing steam that rolled ahead in its wake.
    They just had to outrace that.
    She faced forward again, legs pumping. How quickly could they fly? They didn’t seem to be moving much faster than a troll, but when she glanced behind again, they were almost a mile from the camp. Not slow—but the ash cloud had already doubled in size.
    A few minutes later, pale flakes began falling around them like snow.
    “Your mask!” David called over the whir of the propellers, the rumbling and cracking below.
    She pushed down her scarf, buckled the straps behind her head, pulled on her hat again. The mask covered her from forehead to below her chin. The sound of her breathing seemed loud in her ears. A metallic odor tinged every breath, left the same taste on her tongue. Ash fell faster. She could barely see Källa far ahead of them, the glacier below.
    A shock of white light suddenly lit the dark. Lightning. David gripped her hand. She couldn’t see his face, only the dark glass and round, protruding filters of his mask.
    “Can you see Källa?” she shouted.
    He shook his head.
    Sudden pressure shoved her deeper into her seat, as if the balloon had been thrown forward. A boom! followed, like a dozencracks of thunder. David twisted around to look—and pedaled faster.
    Fire streaked by to the left, falling in a steep arc. A burning rock, Annika realized. She waited, waited, panting in her mask and her chest aching, certain that the next would crash into them and ignite the hydrogen, sending them spinning to the ground in a fiery explosion—but there were no more rocks. She glanced back, saw more streaks closer to the plume of ash and steam, but none coming nearer to their balloon. Ahead, she could see the shadowed edge of the glacier, the ridge of mountains beyond. The ash wasn’t so heavy now.
    “Källa?”
    David pointed northwest, higher into the air. Annika glanced over at the glacier below. Their balloon had lost altitude. She pushed down the flaps. No tension. Her heart sinking, she looked back at the assembly. The shaft had broken, the end sheared clean away, the sharp edge burnt black. The altitude flaps were gone.
    “David?”
    He glanced back. She couldn’t see his expression behind his mask. “Can you fix it?”
    What did she have? She didn’t need the shaft; a rope could lift and lower the flaps. But there was nothing sturdy enough to replace those, except for the rudder—and if she used that, they couldn’t pilot the balloon.
    Her throat tight, she shook her head.
    David looked