Valley of Fires: A Conquered Earth Novel (The Conquered Earth Series) by J. Barton Mitchell Page B

men moved instantly, one of them pulling a large red flag from his pack, another ran to the flagpole and began lowering the Wind Rift ’s banner. It was the same flag all Landships flew, blue with a black symbol in the center, a rod with two circles at the top, one incomplete. In all her time chasing Landships, Ravan had never learned what the flag meant, and she had no desire to learn now; it had to come down. Quick.
    “Wait one damn second!” Olive took a step forward. Her crew stirred as they watched, some in anger, some in fear.
    “You want your ship burned to the ground or not?” Ravan asked, holding the Captain’s gaze. The rumbling in the air deepened and grew. “It’s really just that simple.”
    Olive stared at Ravan in frustration … then nodded. Her crew hung their heads, moved back to their positions tensely. This hurt them, Ravan knew, but sometimes there was nothing to do but take your licks.
    Her men finished with the Wind Trader flag, took it off, then threaded the red one onto the cables and hoisted it into the air. When it caught the wind at the top it unfurled in a flash of crimson: a white, eight-pointed star in the middle. The Menagerie star.
    The rumbling became a furious roar as shapes burst out of the dust cloud with the sound of growling engines. Dune buggies, a dozen of them, all armed with guns on the back frames, trained on the huge Landship. Above, three gyrocopters screamed over and banked hard as they surveyed the vessel.
    Ravan grabbed the Wind Trader flag from one of her men. As the buggies reached them, surrounding the ship and circling it like sharks, she let the wind catch it in her hands, holding it out for them to see.
    The drivers of those buggies knew what it meant. They raised their fists in elation. Ravan could hear their cries of victory even from the deck, and she smiled, holding the giant flag for them to see, letting the feeling of victory flow through her like a drug.
    It was a hunting group. The Menagerie had found them.
    “Keep your course, Captain,” Ravan said, watching the gyrocopters roar back over ahead and the dune buggies on the desert floor flank the ship on either side. “We just got ourselves an escort.”
    Olive didn’t say anything back, just started issuing orders, keeping her men moving, but the air of tension was as thick as it had ever been. It was very real now, for the crew of the Wind Rift. Their ship was captured by a mortal enemy, it was all but over.
    Ravan turned back around and when she did, her smile faded. Holt leaned against one of the masts, hands casually in his pockets, the wind blowing through his unkempt hair as the ship sailed south under the Menagerie flag. He was staring off nowhere in particular, dispassionate and uncaring.
    The sight chilled her more than his words earlier. He should be more nervous than anyone on this ship about where they were heading, but it didn’t seem to even register. And, still, he hadn’t once looked at her.
    Some of her men clapped her on the back, congratulating her and themselves. The shouts from the dune buggies below continued. The gyrocopters tipped their small wings back and forth in acknowledgement. She had done everything she had set out to do: a journey from Faust all the way to the Strange Lands, where no Menagerie had ever been, to bring back an impossible quarry, and she had done it. All of it.
    But, right then … it felt empty.

 
    8. HOMECOMINGS
    OLIVE STARED OUT OVER THE BOW of the Wind Rift with more dread than she had ever felt. She could hear the rumbling growls following them, the dirty, harsh sounds of gas and combustion, so different from the focused air swooshing above. One was the sound of life. The other of death.
    She peered over the deck at the dune buggies, leaving trails of dust behind them. About a quarter mile away, a rabbit leapt from one sand-baked stone to another, stirred by all the noise. The Menagerie saw it, the guns on their buggies exploded to life, spraying