Excerpt: The Alta Fallen

Suddenly, the air took on a cold bite completely aside from the chill she had experienced from witnessing the terrifying sight below. A crisp wind whipped across her face, starkly contrasting the gentle caresses of the day up until that point. Thick, dark clouds bloomed from nowhere and quickly consumed nearly all of the flawlessly blue sky around her. Turning to see whether she had just missed an obvious prelude to a storm, she watched as the clouds which had so quickly sprung into life seemed to emanate from the neighboring Alta’s ship.

As she considered this, a heavy wind, much stronger than the first, took hold of her boat and pulled her sharply off course. The balloon which held the ship afloat was being buffeted back and forth, pitching and lurching almost as though a giant child had hold of it and was swinging it like a rag doll.

Tately was thrown against the railings of the staircase which led to the lower rooms of the ship. She tried to stand and was defeated again, a voracious wind tearing at the ship with all of the power it could muster.

By the time she made it to the helm where she could steer the ship, they were already too deep within the killer storm to have any chance of navigating out. Additionally, Tately was well aware that this was no ordinary storm. She had heard of Altas with more power than usually allotted to the position, but she had never realized just how much power one of these Altas might have. Producing a storm of this ferocity was an incredible feat.

Lightning crackled across the skies around her, seeming to electrify the air that whipped past. The thick ropes holding the balloon to the ship strained as a constant barrage of gusts attempted to tear the two apart.

The ship lurched suddenly, its nose beginning to tilt forward as they quickly lost altitude. They were going to crash.

With an increased rush of adrenaline, Tately leaned hard on the wheel, steering the ship to what looked to be an empty field. It would be the safest place to crash.

Rain stung at her face, drenching her and making the boards beneath her slippery and hazardous. She had to maintain control of the wheel. Attempting to remain upright in the pitching storm, she guided the ship as accurately as she could to her quickly approaching crash spot and then threw herself between a railing and mast, hoping to prevent herself from being thrown against something on impact.

Finally, with a sickening crunch, the ship crashed to earth. The noise was gut wrenching, the splintering of the hull adding to the angry booms of thunder. One of the masts lay broken over where Tately was still successfully wedged. She could hear the pounding raindrops bombarding the canvas balloon which had deflated over her.