The captain’s hands gripped what looked like the handle of a giant rudder. “Here we go!” he bellowed.

The boat suddenly lurched under him as it was hit by a hard gust. Jake’s sister let out a high-pitched squeal (or maybe it was Pindor). Jake snatched the rail tightly. Marika bumped into him. Jake let go with one hand to catch her and hold her in place.

The stiff gust grew into a gale around them. Jake hunched with Marika against it. She smiled her thanks, which made his sunburned face grow even hotter. The wind blew steady and hard.

Must have reached some sort of jet stream, he realized.

Horus shouted, “We’re in it now, men! Hoist the sails!”

The men began cranking in unison, singing out to keep their rhythm.

Bach’uuk again pointed below, still leaning most of his body over the side. He plainly had no fear of heights.

Below, massive wings opened to either side of the ship. They looked to be made of the same rubbery substance as the balloon, strutted and supported by ribs of bone.

Jake stared in awe. The ancient Egyptians had always been skilled boatmen, turning the Nile River into a lifeline for traffic and a source of food. Apparently these displaced Egyptians had found a new river to ride: a river of wind!

The wings unfurled to their widest. Cranks were locked into place. Skymaster Horus leaned hard on his rudder, and the skyship banked in that direction, gaining speed, racing over the desert.

The second ship trailed at a safe distance. The smaller skyriders flanked the crafts to either side, no longer needing their jets of flame. The stiff wind offered plenty of thrust to keep them aloft.

Jake found himself smiling as cool wind whipped his hair. He stared out at the passing desert floor, speckled with more rocky outcroppings. He spotted a herd of massive dinosaurs lumbering alongside a thin stream, as bright as silver against the golden sands and black rocks. He also spotted patches of dense trees centered on tiny oasis pools.

As he gazed beyond the rail, he wondered if his parents were out there somewhere, as lost as he was now. If so, the desert was far from hospitable.

Off in the distance, Jake spotted bursts of fire shooting up from the ground like flaming geysers. From this distance, it looked like a forest of flames.

He could only imagine how hot it was out there.

Closer at hand, a small village appeared below, barricaded and sitting atop a pancake-flat section of stone. The settlers must have found the place safer than building on the shifting sands, where all manner of nasty creatures could burrow under them.

Then, slowly, the village disappeared behind them.

“So what do you think of our lands?” someone asked.

Jake turned to find a wizened old man, his face more leather than skin. He had curly white hair as fluffy as a cloud, and his eyes twinkled blue. He wore a simple shift with as many pockets as Jake’s vest, stuffed with all sorts of strange tools.