Free Lincoln's Wizard by Tracy Hickman, Dan Willis Page A

mission. Not only did he not know them, they didn’t know each other.
    Braxton was no West Pointer, but he figured that for something this risky it would be better to have men that knew and trusted each other. It didn’t seem right.
    “You sure all the gear is stowed in the lifeboat?” Braxton asked for the seventh time.
    “Yep,” replied Sergeant Young, his Alabama native guide. Young was a grizzled man in his thirties with the bearing and manners of a mule teamster. “Just like you ordered.”
    They hadn’t been Braxton’s orders. Once the airships had passed the Rebel lines, Sherman had ordered Braxton to have all the team’s gear moved to one of the Jefferson’s many lifeboats. If there was any sign of trouble, Braxton was to take his men and the lifeboat and make landfall.
    Lifeboats were small, much smaller even than the launch, and lacked any means of propulsion. All they could do was drift with the wind and land by means of a valve that slowly let the hydrogen out of their gasbag.
    Braxton wasn’t looking forward to that trip.
    He went back to his bench and sat back down, but before he could pick up his coffee, a steam whistle sounded, long and shrill. It was followed almost immediately by the sounds of shouting and running feet.
    “Is that gunfire?” Davis asked as a syncopated popping noise filled the mess hall.
    “Gatling guns,” Braxton said. “Everyone up!”
    Motley or not, his men understood an order when they heard one and leapt to their feet.
    “Move to the lifeboat,” Braxton ordered. “I’m going to find out what’s going on. Do not cast off without me.”
    “Yes, sir!”
    “Unless you have to,” he added.
    “You heard the man,” Sergeant Young barked with a grin. “Get your sorry hides to the lifeboat, and no deserting.”
    Braxton ignored this, making his way forward to the pilot house.
    O O O
    “Where did he go?” Sherman was yelling at the lookouts.
    “Port side aft,” the lookout yelled back.
    “How many?”
    “Just the one, I think,” the lookout responded.
    “Captain Wright,” Sherman barked as Braxton stepped off the iron staircase. “I thought I told you to leave if there was trouble.”
    “Just making sure this was trouble,” Braxton said.
    “A dragon rider found us,” Sherman said. “I don’t know if he was lucky or if we’ve got a spy on board. You’d better go before reinforcements arrive.”
    Braxton didn’t have to be told twice; he saluted and turned back to the stairs.
    “Good luck, Captain,” Sherman called after him.
    O O O
    Braxton ran back along the narrow passage. When he reached the catwalk, a sudden burst of light tore through the dark sky. He looked up in time to see a line of fire cut into the side of an airship above them. Mortars from the airship’s tops exploded in the air like fireworks and Braxton saw the long, pale form of the dragon as it passed the burning vessel. Its white body gleamed like silver in the ruddy light, with a dark patch on its shoulders where the neck joined the body; that would be the rider’s saddle.
    As Braxton watched, the fire burned through the canvas covering of the airship and it seemed to suddenly sag. Then the fire reached the hydrogen and the bag popped, sending a gout of fire shooting into the sky. Even at this distance, Braxton felt the heat on his face. Flames engulfed the ship in seconds and it folded in the middle as it sank down toward the ground far below.
    Braxton gasped. He knew the airship had launches and lifeboats in case it caught fire, but the attack had happened so fast. The men on the top platform had nowhere to go as the fire raced up from the bottom to consume them where they stood.
    He clasped the railing as his head reeled and his stomach threatened to return the coffee.
    Mortars fired from the gun platforms on the Jefferson, exploding in the air above him. Braxton saw the dragon veer away, spitting burning liquid in an arc that went wide of the airship. Heat from the incendiary