Ghost Ship

“Asa! Sky patrol!”

Asa’s heart jumped. She leapt to her feet and glanced up the muddy slope at her younger brother, Rollo, who waved madly and pointed at the sky.

“I’m coming!” she yelled, pocketing in her damp skirt the colored stones she had been collecting. She sped away from the mud, up the slope, and onto the grass. A gull swooped overhead, and the heavy saltsmell
of the sea stuck to her clothes. Breathless, she grabbed Rollo’s hand and kept running.

“Up there!” he said, and now Asa could see it on the horizon. A black shape against the pale morning sky: one of Emperor Flood’s fleet of balloons. They patrolled the skies, looking for traitors, searching out supporters of the deposed royal family. Especially the two remaining children of the royal family: Asa and Rollo.

They hurried up the hill, the grass scratchy under their bare feet.

“It’s coming too fast,” Asa said. “We’ll never make it back to Two Hills Keep.”

“The cave, then,” Rollo said.

The cave
. How she hated it. It smelled like fish and seaweed, and reminded her of the night Emperor Flood’s evil magic had swollen the sea, sinking her parents’ kingdom, the Star Lands. That awful night, she and Rollo had hidden in the cave for hours. When they emerged, their parents—King Sigurd and the Star Queen—were dead, along with their baby sister, Una. The cave had once been their favorite place to play, high up in a cliff overlooking the Great Sea, hidden under the branches of a huge sea willow. Now the water lapped at its entrance, and the branches of the sea willow soaked their drooping tips at high tide.

Asa didn’t want to go back to the cave. But the black shape loomed closer. She could hear the hiss of the balloon approaching.

“All right,” she said, squeezing Rollo’s hand. “The cave.”

They changed direction, scrambling across the slope and down, and the sea willow came into view, its long silvery branches catching the early-morning light.

“Hurry,” she said, pushing Rollo ahead. He scurried farther down the slope, over rocks and loose ground. Asa’s blood pounded. She risked a look back. The black half-moon of the balloon’s top was rising behind the slope. She slid on the loose ground, caught herself on a rock. A hot pain. The jagged edge of the rock had split open her palm. She clutched it with her other hand and blood oozed between her fingers. Nursing the injury against her chest, she found her way to the cave.

“Asa, you’re bleeding,” Rollo said as she landed next to him.

She tore a strip off the bottom of her skirt and wrapped her palm in it. Wincing, she tied the knot with her teeth. But this was no time for tears or complaining. “Hush, now,” she said, catching her breath. “Quiet and still.”

For a few long moments, all she could hear was their ragged breathing, the pull of the sea, the distant cries of gulls. But then, the familiar hiss as the balloon filled with hot air.

Sssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
.

The sound of giant, evil lungs drawing sickly breath.

Asa and Rollo pressed themselves against the back wall of the cave. Asa’s heartbeat was loud in her ears.

Sssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
.

It was coming closer. She drew up her feet so her knees were right against her chest. Rollo pressed his face into her side and his fair hair fell forward. She slid her arm around him, her eyes wide and watching the entrance.

A black shape descended behind the twisted branches of the sea willow. It was the bottom edge of the spy-seat: the square basket that hung from the balloon. She knew that Flood’s spies would be sitting in the spy-seat, with their compasses and brass telescopes and gleaming knives. The balloon only had to descend another two feet and the spies would be staring straight into the cave. She pushed herself against the cave wall, but couldn’t shrink back any farther. Her heart thundered in her ears. “Please, please,” she whispered, over and over, silently. Rollo pressed himself against her harder, his hot little hand clutching her injured palm. Sweat made the wound sting.