Denver was gazing out of the window as the airship quietly journeyed through the skies. He was surprised at how rigid Oak was with his ideals. He knew that Oak had hated everything about the old ways but he ruled his own clan almost like the old Regime; obviously not to the same extent, but the similarities were there and he wondered at Oak not being able to see them. He gave a short laugh and shook his head. Oak was a prig and thought all of them to be of lesser substance than he and his clan. Denver felt amused by his short-sightedness and his all encompassing need to have control, it was something Oak thought he had, self-control, but Denver doubted it. He felt sure Oak’s time of calm was coming to an end, Oak would go up in flames and Denver wanted to see what kind of Phoenix would come out from the fire. He wanted that Phoenix to be on his side.
They had talked for a short time with Captain Rumello and Rancor, in the end little had been said except for generalities and polite gestures for comfort and travel. Captain Rumello was diplomatic, with a continuous smile, but Denver knew the boy was far from happy. His blood was boiling below the surface, his anger and hatred for Rancor bubbled through him, but outwardly he laughed and jested with him. Rancor was oblivious; his mind was intent on other things, all of which were so clumsily jumbled together that Denver couldn't read him clearly.
Oak had left to check on Blackthorn and Denver was glad for the quiet of being alone. Captain Rumello was giving Rancor a tour of the ship, he'd offered to take Oak and Denver but they had both declined, the close proximity of Rancor made both of them writhe. His character was pungently repulsive to them as they were invaded with his unwanted emotions. He had wondered how it could be called the gift, to read other people; he often thought it a curse. In a way he was glad that his reading of Rancor was sporadic, it gave him some freedom from the ugly thoughts, but it also left him unaware of what was really going on.
Looking around at his band who had become quieter and were in small groups talking and relaxing, he knew they were wondering what their fate would be. They looked over to where he sat, their faces questioning and he felt frustrated that he knew of nothing to tell them. He couldn't stop their worries through words of consolation. He couldn't tell them that things would be okay, that they would come through this alive. How could he? He had no idea how events would turn out. His stomach was revolted by the situation ahead. He didn't know why because he was just like the rest of them, unsure of what they were journeying to, but for some reason he knew their fate was going to plunge down toward hell, his senses told him this.
For now they were to have food and lodging, and would be travelling for days in the airship. To where, he wasn't told, and the question was evaded by both the Captain and Rancor. No-one was to know and the onset of doom in their thoughts did not fade any of the smiles and assurances of everyone’s comfort on the journey, made by the Captain himself. Denver didn't doubt they were safe for this leg of the journey but he wasn’t sure for the rest. His unease and Oak's unease too united them both in knowing that they weren't wrong. This was just the lull in the storm; the full force was yet to hit them.
**********
When Oak arrived at the cabin that had been allocated to Blackthorn he found it empty. The room was quite spacious and had an adjoining bathroom that it shared with the neighbouring cabin but Blackthorn wasn’t in there either. He thought it too unusual for Blackthorn to go and take a look around the airship when he could barely walk and felt a wave of panic flow through him. Someone had taken Blackthorn.
He went over in his mind the room he’d just left and everyone that had been in there. Detroit had been with the other boys being entertained and Rancor had been with the Captain, who had introduced himself with Rancor at his side. He'd felt a wave of emotions go through Rancor, all of them so distasteful that he'd recoiled, but also all of them too confusing to understand. He stood now gazing around the room, looking at the bed and the dresser both built into the wall. Adjacent to the bed was a table and benches, again fixed to the wall; they were opposite to the bathroom door which was at the far end of the room. From the doorway facing the bed Oak spun around and briskly walked down the corridor.
As he strode through the ship he could feel his anxiety growing. He went through what had occurred in the lounge, namely the emotions that had gone through Rancor. He noted that his emotions had been greed and loathing, they had also spiked to self-satisfaction. He had never taken his eyes off of Oak when this had occurred and Oak had been held by them.
What had happened in his peripheral vision? He had to remember. There was movement in the crowd of boys. One boy had moved away from them, he'd moved to the door and left the room. That boy had to have been Detroit. Rancor had arranged something with Detroit he was sure and it involved Blackthorn.
His fear for Blackthorn's safety was spiralling higher; he realized that what Rancor felt was pleasure, that a wicked job was to be performed for him. He'd also felt regret and Oak now knew that it was regret that he wouldn't see the finality of his request with his own eyes. Blackthorn was in danger and Oak might already be too late.
He ran now as he travelled through corridors. He sensed that he needed to make his way to where they had entered the airship. He had to get to the cargo bay, there was a flush of emotions from that area and he knew it involved Blackthorn.
Making sure he was stealthy in his approach to the entrance to the boarding area he took deep breaths in preparation for what was ahead.
The door was heavy and concealed the sounds behind it. He was aware of muffled voices, anger and fear, plus confusion. There were three people within, one was causing some disruption. Opening the door as surreptitiously as possible he was rewarded with no one noticing the movement. He could see that there were three people and he'd been correct in his assumption that one was Blackthorn and the other Detroit. Detroit was angrily swearing at the red headed boy Radcliffe that had helped them aboard.
Oak furtively moved around the door and found an area of large tarp covered items that he could slip between to hide and observe the scene. Blackthorn was white, holding his leg in pain and anxiety. Detroit, huge and intimidating had Blackthorn's arm tightly grasped in his large hand, whilst the small red haired boy blocked his way to the exit ramp. Detroit was insisting that it be let down.
Neither Blackthorn nor Radcliffe were any match for Detroit, brutal and determined he could easily throw them both off the ship.
“I have no order from Captain Rumello that this boy is to be thrown off to his death.” Radcliffe was saying staring at the distraught Blackthorn, who looked as if he had given up on life altogether.
“I have orders from Rancor that this Woodlander is not worth saving and is to be disposed of.” Detroit voice was deep with anger and waning patience. He would soon strike Radcliffe down and then dispose of him to the outside atmosphere as well in his annoyance.
“Nothing will be done without the Captains order,” Radcliffe continued to insist. Even though he knew his own fate could easily become one of death, he valiantly rallied on with his intent to save Blackthorn.
Through the conversation Oak had managed to get closer to the group without being seen or heard. He was now close enough that he was within six strides of Detroit but still not close enough that he could attack him undetected. All he could do was be patient for his opportunity.
He didn't need to wait long as Detroit's own patience escaped him and he dropped Blackthorn to the ground to grab hold of Radcliffe who stood next to the switch for the ramp. Throwing Radcliffe out of the way he punched the switch.
The sudden pull of air from outside was unsettling for all, as Radcliffe and Detroit staggered toward the wall, and Blackthorn's struggle to get up became more laboured. After a short period of time Detroit had steadied himself against the wall he was facing, holding on to the straps there.
Oak immediately leaped toward him, taking hold of Detroit from the back before he could turn. Radcliffe was trying to scramble toward Detroit. He was holding the side of his head and Oak realized he was injured from where he’d hit the wall. Blood was trickling through his fingers from where the hanging ties and clamps had cut and grazed him.
Detroit attempted to throw Oak off but Oaks arms were clasped tightly around him, his one arm in a choke hold on Detroit's neck that he was not going to let go of. Oak was disadvantaged by his size in comparison to the bulk of Detroit, but Detroit was no fool to what was happening, he knew it could take only seconds to choke someone to unconsciousness. With all of his body weight he spun around and threw his body back into the wall crushing Oak in the process.
The blow thundered through both their bodies and Oak felt the wind knocked out of him as he gasped for breath. The weight of the huge Citan was like being pummelled by a massive beast and although Oak was lithe and fast, this situation called for brute strength and fortitude. Although Oak had the courage, he did not have the strength. Detroit kept on bashing Oak into the wall repeatedly, again and again. His grunts becoming less and less from the lack of oxygen, causing him to react all the more for his survival and swinging his heavy legs back once more.
Oak was stubborn and held on even though he felt as if his ribs had been crushed and his spine shattered, but through the increasing pain he felt his grip slipping and franticly thought what he would do next as Detroit was no longer unable to breath. He was offered a brief release from the pain as Radcliffe came in for the attack from the front, only to run straight into an upraised knee to the chest that sent him reeling backwards, coughing and gasping.
Oak's hold on Detroit's neck had become so loose that Oak knew he would now suffer much more from Detroit. The grasping hands found the weak spot on Oak's arm and it was wrenched away with a ferocious yank. Detroit stepped ahead out of the hold, whilst Oak fell forward only just maintaining his balance from falling to the floor.
Detroit had spun around and grabbed hold of Oak's hair, whilst his other huge fist ploughed into his face, spouting blood from his nose and mouth. Oak's front teeth felt loose and the taste of blood invaded his throat in a sickening sensation. Whilst coughing, drops of blood falling to the floor Oak tried to move away, but Detroit had now grabbed his throat to choke the breath out of him.
He couldn't make any images out as his windpipe seemed to fold under Detroit's fingers but he heard the shuffle of feet and felt Detroit's grasp slacken. With his own hands he continued to struggle to pull the hands away but they yielded no more. He sensed a body upon the back of Detroit as he spun both Oak and the body upon him around.
Trying to make out what was happening Oak figured that Detroit was going to try and throw his back to the wall with the person that was on him. Forcing as much weight into his feet as he could and grabbing at the floor as he was dragged Oak did his best to present Detroit with as much difficulty as possible.
He managed to slow him down but it wasn’t enough. Detroit's body slammed the other boy into the wall and he crumpled behind him into a heap. Detroit's hold became stronger once more and again Oak found himself struggling to live.
Oak was not sure why Detroit stumbled but the action helped him to almost become free. Even though he was not completely out of Detroit’s grasp, he could breathe again and his fingers managed to get under the hands that gripped him. He was able to see what had caused Detroit's release. It was Blackthorn, although he was still on the ground he was holding Detroit's leg with both hands.
Blackthorn had lunged at him enough to almost unbalance him and his grasp on Detroit’s leg was helping to weigh him down. The image was of two children clinging to an adult, they were both of seemingly little consequence to the enormous being they held on to. Oak felt himself lifted into the air. Detroit's grip had slackened upon Oak's throat; he was no longer able to get the force to strangle him. Oak realized he was going to carry him instead and drag Blackthorn toward the open doorway and the black depths of the night.
“I don't mind giving you both a little fresh air!” Detroit laughed sardonically, looking at Oak's pale blue eyes that were now level with his own. “Can't say I'll miss either of you but have a nice time on the way down. I'm sure the view is to die for!” His bellowing laugh rumbled through his chest and out of his mouth filling the room with its evil amusement.
As they gradually approached the open door Oak desperately thought of ways to save them both. If he let go of Detroit's hands, he would perhaps get a punch into his chest but at this close proximity it would be of little effect, also it would leave Detroit open to strangle him as he had originally intended. Instead, bringing both knees up and hanging from Detroit's grip he thrust them into Detroit's gut and was rewarded with a grunt of pain and a pause in his movement. The dark eyes looking back at him were not only murderous but fuming with anger.
The distraction was good, it gave them a chance. Once more he brought his knees up and this time because Detroit was slightly bent over from the pain, he was able to wrap his legs around him. Detroit’s grasp had slackened substantially and with a huge effort Oak used his head to head butt Detroit. The pain was blinding for Oak and must have been for Detroit too because he felt him stagger and then they were both falling onto the ramp.
Pain flamed through Oak's back as he hit the ramp floor and rolled. It was immediately replaced with fear as he saw that if they both kept rolling they were going to plunge down through the depths of the evening sky.
They were sliding down the ramp as it angled down to the lake thousands of feet below. Oak didn't understand why they were jolted to a stop until he quickly clued in that it was because of Blackthorn. The agonized boy was trying to stop the two of them from plunging through the night sky to a cold watery death. His face was distorted and unrecognizable as he held on to Detroit's leg. He had managed to grasp hold of an anchoring rope that was attached to one of the walls and was grimly being pulled like an elastic band between the rope and Detroit.
However, the incline was too steep for Blackthorn to keep holding them and Oak was sure they would soon slide down if they didn't grab hold of something themselves. Blackthorn's loss of grip caused them both to slide head first downwards and Oak knew he had to take a risk. He released his hold on Detroit with his legs and searched for something to dig his heels into to slow them down. Letting go of the hands that held his throat, he let his hand slide and grabbed hold of one of the ridges on the ramp, plunging his heels behind another. It stopped their descent. He expected the hands to tighten at his throat and they did briefly but they quickly released again as Detroit not wanting to go further down the ramp made the decision to grab a ridge with his hand too.
It was an uncomfortable position for both of them. Oak laid beneath Detroit, his right arm stretched out to the side grasping a ridge. Detroit above him his right arm stretched out where it too had been able to grasp at a ridge. Oak was managing to keep his heels upon the other ridge to keep himself from moving but he could feel them slipping. They both still had one hand at Oak's throat; Detroit's grasp upon it, Oak's still clasping to release it.
At least neither of them was moving anymore but they were at a stalemate until one of them could find the advantage, or until Oak’s heels gave way and they slid into the vast space below. Oak's senses were a mess; the weight of Detroit and the pain of bruises on flesh and bone were intense as he tried to gain some course of clarity. Focusing on his breathing which was difficult with the bulk upon him, he gasped for snatches of air and avoided the wave of grey that was descending upon him. If he passed out now he would awaken to find himself crashing to earth.
His ears were attracted by a different sound; voices, many of them, approaching. He heard a hand thump upon the ramp button and thankfully felt the movement of the ramp as it started to rise upwards. Detroit had already released him and spun around to see who'd entered. Both of them jumped to the floor before the ramp was completely upright, they stumbled forward to the group before them.
With eyes still blurring in and out of consciousness, he saw Denver and Rancor to his right, in front was Captain Rumello his face red and puffed in rage. An Aviatilian was assisting Radcliffe to his feet and a Citan was picking up Blackthorn who was no longer conscious.
“How dare you do this Rancor!” the Captain bellowed. “I told you this is my ship and only I give the orders here!”
His head twirled around to look at Rancor, who merely gazed back with a slight grimace upon his sallow face. The Captain quickly turned back to Oak; he was trying to rein in his ire. He came toward Oak who was slumped over and swaying slightly. Sliding his arm under Oak's he heaved him onto his shoulder helping him walk toward Denver.
Oak knew this was a ploy for Captain Rummelo to control himself, to suppress his boiling blood and his need to continue his conversation with Rancor without hitting him. They both stopped in front of Rancor. Captain Rumello shifted Oak's weight for a moment.
“If you ever command anyone to do anything, anything at all, to one of my passengers, my crew or even the items upon my ship I will drop you all off at the nearest point of land and you will make the rest of your journey on foot.”
Rancor remained silent, his eyes glittered and he feigned a polite bow.
“You are the Captain. My apologies if I’ve offended you.” The greasy bowed head stayed down as he formed the words and when it arose the face was blank except a small curve at one side of his mouth.
Captain Rumello glared at him until Denver stepped forward and took hold of Oak. Slipping his arm under the other side of Oak he looked at the still red face of the Captain.
“Captain, allow me to take care of Oak. You have your own business of flying the ship to attend to. I’ll take him to his cabin and make sure he is safe.” The last comment was directed at Rancor, and Detroit, who, like a sneaky dog had slunk to his master's side.
“You have nothing to fear from me,” Rancor quipped, “I have plans of my own for Oak and they do not happen here on this ship.”
With these words he turned and with a quick stooped walk he left the hold, Detroit on his heels like a faithful puppy.
Captain Rumello took in a huge mouthful of air as if he hadn't taken a breath for minutes. His face was returning to its normal colour and he nodded to one of his crew.
“Take Radcliffe to his cabin and attend to him.”
He looked at Denver who’d already caught the attention of the Citan who was carrying Blackthorn.
“Take Blackthorn to his cabin and stay with him, do not leave him under any circumstances, unless Flint or I personally tell you otherwise. Take no instruction from anyone else.” Denver turned his attention to Oak. “You are lucky that when your emotions are high I sense them immediately but unfortunately, on this ship, your location was difficult to find. My apologies for the delay, Captain Rumello wanted to know why I was wandering the ship.”
Denver nodded at the Captain who gave an acknowledging nod back and let Denver take over the task of supporting Oak. Oak's throat was too damaged to reply and he merely nodded his head, accepting the strong arm that practically carried him along.
Captain Rumello followed the Citan and unconscious Blackthorn out of the hold, as Denver, being purposefully slow, turned his head to Oak.
“I believe Captain Rumello will keep us safe for the journey and Rancor and his dog will attempt nothing further. I'm not sure what plans he has in store for you, but you can be certain they'll entail nothing pleasant.” He was silent for a while and added. “Oak I wish I knew what it is we’re going to but I don't. Have more faith in me than you do because we'll both need one another in the end.”
He looked at Oak with concern and Oak knew he would trust him, he had no choice.