Dragon Airways by Brian Rathbone

the nicest thing he'd ever said to her.
    Firefighters arrived too late. Some fuel did, indeed, remain within the aircraft. When the fire reached the ejection seat charges, they blew, rupturing the fuel tank and creating a second, more powerful explosion that knocked everyone on deck from their feet.
    Not long after Casta pulled herself from the deck, Admiral Meekam approached, flanked by two commanders. "What have you got to say for yourself?" he asked, his face mottled red and white.
    "That was some landing," Casta said. "It's a shame your men were unable to properly operate a catch rope. Now look what your ship has done to my plane."
    Admiral Meekam appeared ready to gut her there and then.
    "You're going to get us both killed," Grunt growled in her ear. "I just saved your life. Don't make me regret it."
    "The only reason we're here is because of you," Admiral Meekam continued. "And for what? Some flight of fancy?"
    Casta remained silent but held the admiral's gaze.
    He did not appear impressed. "If you brought us out here for nothing," he said, a dangerous glint in his eye, "I have permission to throw you overboard."
    "And if I am right, perhaps I'll throw you overboard, Meekam," she said. It was an ill-advised response, but she tired of his mouth and attitude. "Take advantage of the time to prepare for battle, Admiral. Once I've claimed our prize, we sail for the Midlands."
    "We'd already be there by now if not for the likes of you," Admiral Meekam said.
    "It's my job to get our king what he desires, Meekam. It's your job to assist me. Be a good boy, and do your job."
    Unable to contain his rage, the admiral stormed away, waving his arms and ranting. Sailors scrambled to get out of his way. Both commanders gave her looks of extreme disapproval before following.
    "You're not very good at making friends," Grunt said.
    Casta Mett ignored him. Grabbing a pair of flags from a stunned sailor, she signaled the closest airship to pick her up. The sooner she was off the carrier Arghast, the better.
     
    * * *
     
    Emmet had found paradise—a place where magic always existed. Part of him wished to climb on Dashiq's back and bathe in the energy, but even the waves radiating away from the maelstrom were at times overwhelming, and the dragon needed her own time to heal. Being near the captain made Emmet feel safe, even if he didn't know the man's name. Perhaps it was his age that made him so calm, some wisdom found over the years, but he exuded no anxiety or fear as Riette always did. Somehow that strong confidence rubbed off on Emmet. He found himself doing things he'd never have dreamed of. Just the existence of this place was beyond anything he'd ever imagined. He never wanted to leave.
    It occurred to Emmet that the captain's silence also put him at ease. Words antagonized Emmet, never coming at the right time. Yet somehow a gesture or a glance were all the captain needed. A hand on his shoulder was somehow reassuring. A long, calloused finger pointed. Movement finally gave away the snake the captain indicated. The finger shook in warning. If Riette knew . . .
    The day before, they had harvested saltbark leaves from the near shore, but the trees were widely spaced, and the captain refused to pick more than a few leaves from each tree. It was smart, Emmet knew, but it made the search more difficult and perilous. Though he could swim on his own, the captain hoisted him up onto his shoulders. When he walked into deeper water, where the current was swift, Emmet was glad for the ride. He felt the inescapable rush pulling at them. Previously invisible rays cast off their camouflage and scurried away from the captain's footsteps. Each one made Emmet hold on tighter until a pair of fingers gently loosened his grip.
    The brush was thicker on the far side of the channel, making it easy to travel by water. So close to the confluence, though, the shallow water mixed with deeper, colder water. Farther inland, Emmet had already experienced