The Floating City - Chapter 6

Hi all, here is the next chapter. It's the longest thus far, so be warned. As always, comments and advice are welcomed. Enjoy!

An Alternative Viewpoint

Roshan followed Rika and Isa down the dark corridor, trying hard to suppress the flutters of nervousness he was feeling in his belly. Roshan was beginning to wonder how deep into the building they would get, when the two women halted outside of a door identical to the six or seven others they had already passed.

“This is it,” Isa said and knocked on the door.

There was a scrabbling noise, and then a slit opened in the door, shining a warm glow out into the hallway. Two startling blue eyes appeared and a man’s voice said, “The shadow in the daylight…”

Roshan blinked at the non sequitur, but Isa made a chuffing sound. “Really, Simon?” She asked aggrievedly. “I just went through this with Syd.”

Simon’s eyes made a slight movement, as if the man had shrugged, and he said “It’s for them, not you.” His eyes flicked toward Rika and toward Roshan, who swallowed. He certainly didn’t know any passwords.

Isa gave an exaggerated sigh, but Rika cut her off. “The shadow in the daylight is lost in the night.” She completed the phrase firmly before continuing, “and Roshan here is with us. As a guest,” she stressed the word, “until his story can be told.”

Simon’s eyes moved as if in a nod, and the door clicked open. Rika and Isa entered the brightly lit room ahead of Roshan, and he caught a glimpse of a simple, homey space with a rough-hewn table and chairs before the door abruptly slammed shut. He heard Isa’s startled, indignant squawk, and then silence. “Uh, Isa, Rika?” He asked into the darkness. There was no response. “This has not been my day,” he muttered to himself, and sank down against the wall across from the doorway, his head in his hands.

************************************************************************************************************

Rika winced as the door slammed shut behind them. She wondered what Roshan was thinking, out there alone in the dark hallway. Meanwhile, Isa was already loudly protesting to Syd. Isa stood nearly a head shorter than the tall, elegant woman, but she showed no signs of intimidation as she harangued the leader of their small group. “How could you shut him out like that? We promised to protect him!”

Syd held up her hand, her dark brown eyes flashing with their own dangerous spark. Isa tried several more admonishments before lapsing into a sulky silence. “You’re late, you blew up a city block, again, you exposed us to the Stripies, and you brought back a runaway of unknown providence!” Syd listed their transgressions, counting them out on her fingers. As always, she remained calm, but Rika could tell from the way her eyes smoked that she was reaching the end of her legendary patience. Isa opened her mouth to defend herself, but Syd cut her off again. “Let us speak in here,” she gestured towards her bedroom, a small room off of the main living space, before turning and entering it. Isa stalked in behind her.

Rika rolled her eyes at Simon, who permitted himself a small smile. “Never a dull moment with them,” she said, smiling back at him.

“It is ever thus,” he said sagely in his deep, slow-rolling baritone.

Rika looked around the plain kitchen. Half chopped vegetables and a pan on the fire denoted that someone, likely Simon, had been preparing the evening meal when they arrived. She slapped a hand to her forehead. “The shopping, Dar-Alos curse it. We left it behind!”

Simon nodded. “Syd was not pleased. I am not pleased, either.”

“Sorry…” Rika felt sheepish. She looked around again, “Where’s Trentor?” She asked, missing the presence of the most gregarious member of their cell.

Simon shrugged. “Looking for you two, where else? You arrived almost a bell past when you were supposed to have returned.”

Rika sighed. “That’s almost average, these days, but I guess with the explosions and the watch rushing about…” she trailed off with a start, realizing she had forgotten Roshan, sitting alone. She ran over to the door and slid open the slit. The golden light shone out of the room and down onto the figure sitting slumped and depressed against the opposite wall. “Roshan!” She whispered.

He lifted his head, his eyes very tired. “Yes?” he asked.

“Bear with us a few moments longer,” Rika said apologetically. “Isa and Syd need to let off some steam. Hopefully you’ll be able to come in soon.”

“Alright…” Roshan’s voice quavered a bit.

He must be reaching the end of his rope, Rika thought. Who knew what else had happened to him before they’d come across him. This was not the homecoming that she and Isa had hoped for, although, being the sensible one and all, perhaps Rika should have known better.

Simon handed her two steaming earthenware mugs filled with chicory, and then pointed towards the door. “Take care of your guest,” he said.

She sniffed one of the steaming cups, wrinkling her nose at the bitter aroma, and went out to Roshan, settling down against the wall beside him. 

He accepted one of the mugs with a grateful expression on his face. “Thank you,” he said. “What is it?”

“Chicory,” Rika said apologetically.

“Fine with me.” He sipped gently and made an appreciative noise. He looked up at her expression and grinned. “I do grant, however, that it is not for everyone.”

“So you’re Thesian, then?” Rika asked, curious. “They’re the only people I know who like the bitterness, save for Simon.”

Mid-sip, Roshan made an mmm of assent before setting the mug down. “My mother was Thesian, and my father was a landholder from Alis, near the foothills of the Cnònic Iaranna.” He shrugged. “You know how it is. Oldest child to the land, second to the sky, third to the sea.”

Rika nodded. She did know how it was, being a second child herself. Hascillis and Alis had similar traditions regarding inheritance. The first-born inherited the land, the second was sent to a university, and the third joined the navy or the army, whichever was more relevant to the family interests. “So you were at Eolas?” She asked, fishing for more information. Now that they had stopped moving, Roshan seemed more inclined to talk than he had been previously.

“Yes, I… was… at Eolas. If things had gone well this past 5-day, I would have had my Maestery.” Roshan answered with a heavy sigh. “As it happened, they did not.” He spread his hands, “and here I am. Wherever here is.”

Rika made a sympathetic noise. Her own university career had had a similar abrupt ending. However, before she could say anything, Isa appeared in the doorway. “Syd wants to talk to us,” she said seriously, and her eyes flicked to Roshan. “All of us.”   

“So your… discussion with Syd went well?” Rika asked.

Isa half smiled, half grimaced. “Some talking, some yelling. Mostly her talking and me yelling, but we came to an agreement. She will hear Roshan’s story, and then we will decide what to do next.”

Rika grinned inwardly. Syd’s patience was as endless as the desert sands from whence she came, but she still clashed often against Isa’s fiery temperament. Rika thought that Isa was secretly proud of her ability to elicit a reaction from Syd, but she would never say so out loud. “It was ever thus,” she intoned, aping Simon’s harsh Crystalin accent, drawing a full smile from Isa. Rika rose to her feet and extended a hand to Roshan. “Come on,” she said. “Come meet the family.”

***********************************************************************************************************

Roshan took Rika’s hand, still confused about what was going on. Still, he was grateful for Rika’s sympathy, and for the mug of chicory. The bitter-root beverage was doing an admirable job of clearing the fog from his head, and he felt better able to manage his present circumstances.

The three of them filed back inside the room. A large man, Simon, he presumed, was holding the door for them. Roshan was surprised at his height. He must have had to bend down to peer through the door slit, and was almost a full hand taller than Roshan himself. Simon had short-cropped red hair to go with his blue eyes and maintained a serious expression on his face, although both Rika and Isa smiled up at him as they walked through the doorway.

One other person was waiting in the room, standing in the doorway leading to the rest of the suite. She was a tall, striking woman with long dark hair held back with a simple tie. While Simon was dressed in utilitarian laborer’s garb, she had on soft, fawn colored breeches and an ornately embroidered blouse – as well as an expression that could only be described as ‘stormy.’ Once Isa, Rika, and Roshan had all entered the room, the woman made a gesture and Simon carefully shut and latched the door. Roshan tried not to gulp.

She continued to survey them all without speaking for several long moments. Finally, Isa broke the silence. “So, uh, this is Roshan…”

The woman stepped forward and extended her hand. They clasped arms in the northern style, with hands on each other’s wrists. “Welcome, Roshan. I am Syd. We are honored to have you as our guest, with all the associated privileges and responsibilities” she stressed the last word, shooting a glance at Isa, “that the status entails”.

Her accent had a melodic lilt, and Roshan struggled to place it. It was similar to some of the Dakian accents he had heard, but slightly less refined. Still, he knew the people from that region set great store by the old traditions of hospitality, so he cudgeled his memory to remember the traditional response. “As your bread is mine, my sword and my word are yours,” he offered, hoping for the best.

Syd’s eyes widened a tiny bit. “You know the old courtesies?” she asked.

Roshan shrugged. “Some of them. My parents were firm believers in proper etiquette.”

“Well,” she said, seemingly gratified. “Welcome again. Isa and Rika you have met, of course,” she gestured at the pair. Rika in particular looked relieved at the friendliness. “This tall man here is Simon, weapon-master and occasional philosopher.”

Simon stepped forward, still impassive but with a friendlier cast to his mien. “I much prefer the latter to the former,” he said, taking Roshan’s wrist in a firm, calloused grip.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Roshan said, returning his grip.

“Our final companion will return shortly,” Syd interjected. “He’s busy rescuing the shopping that these two abandoned. Hopefully he will be successful, or we shall go hungry until we can next attend the market” She spared a glance for Rika and Isa, both smiling guilty smiles. “When he returns, we will eat. After, we will talk and see how we can help each other.”

They all sat around the table, and Simon provided more mugs of chicory. Grateful to have longer to calm down and regain his equilibrium, Roshan sipped his drink in silence, as Rika and Isa carried on a quiet conversation. It was another half of a bell before the final member of the group returned, bags of vegetables hanging from his shoulders. The man was short and swarthy, sporting a black beard and big, bushy eyebrows. When Simon let him in, he feigned surprise at Rika and Isa, a comical expression on his face. “Why, it’s the elusive ladies!” he exclaimed dramatically. “We thought you lost, gone forever!” He threw the back of his hand on his head and feigned a swoon. “How delightful that you are safe and sound and returned to our humble abode!”

Rika and Isa both rolled their eyes irritably, but Roshan noticed that they were smiling, too. Syd was not, but he would have sworn that he saw a crinkle at the corner of her eyes. “That’s enough, Trentor,” she said. “We have business to attend to.”

“Naturally, my lady, naturally. But food first, no?” Trentor said, as he pulled the bags from his back and began unpacking them into the cupboards above the hearth.

Syd nodded. “Yes. Simon?”

“Almost ready, sir,” Simon said crisply. While they had been waiting for Trentor, Simon had been putting the finishing touches on the evening meal, which looked and smelled like some form of hearty stew. He turned to Trentor. “Did you manage to get bread?”

“Certainly, my boon companion.” Trentor pulled several long, thin loaves out of one of the bags. Simon broke them into chunks and placed them at intervals around the rough table, before ladling out stew into bowls and passing those out as well. “Let’s eat.”

The meal passed companionably, although Roshan took no part in the banter. Mostly, it was a speedy exchange between Trentor and Rika and Isa, leavened by an occasional slow comment from Simon. Roshan had grown used to the boisterousness of the communal tables at Eolas, but this was one of the stranger meals he had taken part in. Ater-Volantis’s population was always comprised of a mix from all of Alis Dak, but this group was more diverse than most. With her sepia complexion and head-scarf, Isa was likely from the southern city of Tes, while Rika’s blondness denoted ancestors from the City of Hascillis. Simon could have been from that region, as well, but his manner spoke more to a heritage from Demard or Crystalis. Syd remained a mystery, and Trentor, however dark and hairy he might be, could have comfortably hailed from anywhere. Since the joining of Alis and Dak, increased trade and commerce had mixed the cities enough that a man of his average features could have claimed to be from any of the six grounded cities.

Whatever the case, the stew was delicious and Roshan had several helpings, not having eaten a proper meal since his defense. Finally, the table was cleared and Syd spoke at last. “We have broken bread, and now it is time for business.”

“Yes,” Isa jumped in. “Why were the Stripies after you?”

“If I tell you, will you tell me who you are and what you all are doing here, and will you help me get out of the city?” Roshan asked, still determined to find out.

Isa and Rika looked at Syd, who nodded slowly. “On my honor as a Caratid, we promise to help you as much as we are able. The other part depends on you. Be honest with us, and we shall return the favor.”

Roshan had heard stories of the honor and prickliness of the tribes that roamed the northern wastes near Dak. Deciding that he needed to trust someone, however risky it might be, he nodded and said, “Seems fair to me.”

Syd gestured toward Roshan, “then the floor is yours, Maester…”

“Orjuwani” Roshan said. “My name is Roshan Orjuwani. I am… I was a journeyman at Eolas University, studying Fòrsic theory. However…” It was a relief to unburden himself to these people, who, although strangers, had been both friendly and welcoming. He laid out the whole tale, his research, Filias’s warnings, the review board, and his subsequent flight from the watch, up until the timely rescue by Rika and Isa. The group listened quietly, although Rika, Isa, and Syd nodded knowingly in several places, and Rika and Isa especially seemed interested in the descriptions of his and Aki’s experiments. Finally, the tale came to an end, and the table sat in silence for a few moments. Then, the questions began.

Unlike the review board, there was no malice here. Rika and Isa asked foremost about his research and findings, including his theories, as well as Aki’s devices, while Simon and Trentor interrogated him about what Filias had said, the make-up of the panel, and how he had managed to get away. All four seemed impressed with his quick thinking in utilizing his spare crystals, although Roshan had felt that that particular bit of resourcefulness was more a product of desperation than a mark of cleverness. Meanwhile, Syd said nothing, her expression hardly changing. As the questions wound down, she cleared her throat again. Producing a glowing, silvery crystal from her sleeve, she shook it, and regarded it expectantly. When nothing happened, she nodded, and turned back to Roshan. “You speak truthfully.”

Roshan was hurt by her use of a truth crystal, but decided that until he knew more, he could not blame them for their untrustworthiness. However, he was gratified to see that Isa looked offended on his behalf. “Indeed,” Syd continued, “your tale is one that we are all familiar with. Rika and Isa” she gestured at the two women, who nodded, “were both forced out of university for pursing research similar to yours. The people ruling this city, this country, are jealous of their interests, and do not allow alternative ways of thinking to challenge their power and preconceptions.”

Frowning thoughtfully, Roshan considered her words. Buried in the minutia of research and the daily life at Eolas, he had spared no thought for politics beyond what filtered through the student grapevine. Perhaps, he now realized, he should have. “Am I right in supposing that you all represent such an alternative viewpoint?” He asked slowly.

Rika and Isa faces split into identical feral grins, and Syd gave a small smile of her own. “We do. We are part of a movement that opposes the corruption and malfeasance of the leaders of this country. We publish broadsheets, we hinder their oppressive policies, and we protect those threatened by the regime.”

Roshan nodded, it was a lot to take in. “So, what are you doing in Ater-Volantis?” He asked.

Rika looked to Syd for permission, and at her nod, said “surveillance, mostly. Keeping abreast of the news and doings of the capitol.” She grinned, “following the latest in Fòrsic research, too.”

“So you can see why we are excited to have found you,” Isa interjected excitedly. Syd shot her a quelling glance, but she only shrugged. “It’s true,” she said.

Syd sighed, “Isa is right, if overenthusiastic. Your knowledge and expertise would be a boon. We are due to leave the city soon, if you are willing, you may accompany us.” She held up a hand, forestalling anything Roshan might say, “we do not expect you to share our aims, merely your research. In exchange we will assist you in eluding the watch and escaping the city. What say you?”

Roshan looked at Isa and Rika’s eager faces, and then around at the other members of the group. “What do I have to lose,” he asked rhetorically, “I’m in.”

Chapter 7 can be found here.

The Floating City - Chapter 5

The Other Side

Roshan stared incredulously at the two women. “Er… what?” He asked. “The other side?”

“The other side of the war.” Isa said, already losing patience with their new companion.

“…What?” Roshan said again, becoming annoyed himself at his repetition.

“We’ll explain later,” the other girl said, patiently. “You can call me Rika. Now, we need to get out of here. The Stripies have cordoned off the entire area.” She used the pejorative for the Ater-Volantis city watch.

Roshan shook his head, slowly. He had a lot of questions bubbling in the back of his brain, not least of which were where in Alos’s name these two women had come from, and what did they want with him. As far as he knew, Alis Dak was not at war with any of its neighbors, he couldn’t even think of any nearby countries large enough to war against. Still, if he stayed with Isa and Rika, the potential for bodily harm seemed much less immediate. “Fine, but I hope you’ll answer me more thoroughly later.”

Rika nodded, a comforting tone in her voice. “When there’s time, we’ll answer anything you want to know.” Isa said nothing, just turned and made her way toward the entrance to the alley. Rika made a face. “Her heart’s in the right place, she’s just a trifle… well, you’ll see.”

Roshan said nothing, but he did bob his head in acknowledgement. Isa was back a moment later. “The Stripies are advancing from all sides,” she said to Rika in a soft, hurried tone. “Too many for us to comfortably fend off, almost a full company.”

“You think you can fight off thirty of the Watch?!” Roshan interjected in amazement.

Rika gave him a look and said, “She does. I don’t.” She flicked her eyes over to Isa, and then to the roof. “Up and over?”

Isa shook her head. “I’ve got a better idea,” she said, and began to run her baton through her hands, her fingers pressing an intricate pattern on the crystals embedded along its length.

Roshan knew an activation sequence when he saw one, and evidently Rika did too, as she turned to Isa and whisper-shouted “No, stop!” She tried to protest further, but it was too late.

Isa finished whatever pattern she was working on, and the baton began to hum with Fòrsa. A malignant silvery-red light laced with blue poured out of the activated crystals and into the narrow alley, giving the whole scene an odd purple sheen. Before Rika could utter another word, Isa swung the baton with all her might at the wall, and the world exploded into fire.

*************************************************************************************************************

Her ears ringing, Rika seethed inwardly she and Isa supported Roshan’s body out of the wreckage of the alley, while members of the watch ran in. He had one arm slung over each of their shoulders and while his legs hadn’t quite stopped working, he had been stunned by the blast and was mostly unresponsive. A blessing in disguise, Rika thought, as the shroud of water that Isa had wrapped them in hid only their images, and not any noises they might make. That was certainly the only reason she wasn’t tearing a strip off her friend right now. Rika was lucky that she recognized the glow of Isa’s all-purpose escape method, and therefore avoided the worst of the explosion. Roshan hadn’t been so lucky, and half of his long, black hair was decidedly crisp.

As soon as they were far enough away from the alley that Rika judged that they would not be overheard by the many watchmen fighting the towering inferno that Isa had left behind, she turned to her friend and snarled, “What was that! You could have gotten us all captured, or killed!”

Isa shrugged nonchalantly, difficult to do with Roshan’s arm weighing heavily across her back. “We escaped, no one knew we were there. Besides, with the flames, they’ll probably think Roshan here is dead, and we will all get away clean.” Her tone was reasonable, but Rika swore she could hear smugness deep within it. “I’d say that that was a victory, all in all.”

Rika had to admit, although not to Isa, that there was a certain genius in the simplicity. Isa’s get-out-of-trouble rune was a veritable glyphic alphabet, comprising a multitude of different crystals and modifications. It caused some sort of fiery distraction, and then wrapped Isa and anyone else she wanted in mists of concealment, allowing her to escape while anyone pursuing her was forced to deal with whatever had just exploded. “You could have warned me” Rika said, feeling a bit petulant. “Besides, Syd will be mad that we just announced our presence for anyone who cares to look.”

Isa shrugged again, supremely unconcerned. “We’ll be gone in seven days, and it’ll be easier without the Stripies checking the exits for Roshan. If they think he’s dead, they’ll stop looking, and it’ll make the next five-day and our leave-taking much easier. Not to mention,” She gave Roshan’s limp arm an explanatory wiggle, “we have ourselves a potentially priceless information source here.”

“We don’t even know why they were chasing him!” Rika said, exasperated. “Maybe he just called the Prime of the council a fat tub of lard.”

“Then Syd will want to meet him to shake his hand.” Isa responded calmly. “But if that’s not the case, then he could be anything. He could even have the potential to be another field agent, like you and me!”

Roshan let out a soft groan, and Rika gave him a sideways glance. “Him?” She said, incredulous, “I doubt it.”

“We were green too, once. As the Don says” Isa’s voice took on a recitation-like quality, “Judge someone not on their beginnings, but on their ends.”

Rika rolled her eyes. All members of the resistance were fond of repeating, and occasionally vulgarly modifying, their leader’s many sayings. It formed a vast network of inside jokes that made infiltration by outside forces difficult, even if she did find it annoying, especially when Isa used them to win an argument. “Do you ever get tired of being right?

Isa smiled beatifically. “Not so far,” she said.

*************************************************************************************************************

It took Roshan another third of a bell until he had regained enough of his senses to be able to wonder what had happened. First he was conscious of trudging in a haze alongside two, brown colored forms, before they gradually resolved before his eyes into the two women he vaguely recalled knocking him unconscious. “What… happened? Where am I?”

The blonde one… Rika, he recalled dimly, turned at the sound of his voice. “Oh, glad to see you back with us, Roshan.” She said, warmly, “I’m sorry for Isa’s… enthusiasm, but it was necessary for our escape. Apparently.” She glared at the other woman.

Isa turned her head towards Roshan and grinned. “The important thing is that you’re safe, now. We’ll get you out of the city, and to wherever you want, unless you want to sign on….” She trailed off.

Roshan shook his head to clear the fog pervading it, and was dismayed by the wave of throbbing pain that went through it. “Sign on for what?” He asked, “who are you people?”

“Your head hit the ground pretty hard,” Rika said by way of answering. “I wouldn’t shake it about too much.”

“You may have knocked me senseless, but not enough that I would think that an answer to my question.” Roshan said with a smile.

Isa smiled back, her expression lighting up her face. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t you? We’ll explain everything in a bit, I promise. We just have to get to a safe place first.”

Roshan looked around. They were in a warehouse district on the lip of one of Ater-Volantis’s outer rings. Around them, large wood and stone buildings cast broad shadows in the setting sun, and the cobbled streets were mostly deserted. Orange lights flickered in a few of the buildings, but everything was quiet and still, the noise of the living city muted by distance. Taken all together, it had a decidedly eerie feel, made worse by the fact that this was not a part of the city he had often visited, if at all. “What, out here?” He asked, confused.

Both women nodded, but it was Isa who spoke. “Merchants who are using the city as transport often station men out here with their goods, or stay themselves. Several of the warehouses are set up with living quarters.”

“So… you’re merchants?” Roshan knew that many traders, especially those dealing in heavier goods, preferred the security of the city’s warehouses to travel overland. Trade on the ground could be chancy, as roads, outside of the main highways, had a tendency towards mud even in the best of weather. The city took one turning of the gold moon, Alos, to travel between cities and as it traveled in a set pattern between the six major cities of Alis Dak, merchants who caught it on the right leg could even make the trip faster than an overland journey. Still, it seemed unlikely to him that mere merchants would rescue a fugitive from the city watch using sophisticated Fòrsic equipment.

“Of a sort,” Isa said, seeming to revel in being mysterious. Roshan wanted to press for more concrete answers, but he did not think it was likely that he would be successful. He also had a sneaking suspicion that if he asked too many questions, as friendly as the two woman had appeared to be, they would have no problem knocking him unconscious again and carrying him the rest of the way.

Instead, he merely said “I see,” although of course he did not, and let the subject be dropped. The trio continued down the increasingly shadowed street in silence for several more minutes, before Isa asked, “So… why were you being chased?”

Sensing a chance for payback, Roshan said only, “It’s a long story.”

The two woman waited expectantly for several moments before Isa prompted him: “And…?”

Roshan smiled broadly, “and when you tell me your story, I’ll tell you mine.”

Isa looked petulant for several moments, but Rika gave a short chuckle. “Seems fair,” she said. “We can wait. We’re almost there.”

They reached the end of the street, which opened up into a large, dark square, completely surrounded by tall warehouses. Rika pointed to a stone building on the left with an ornate blue door and said, “We’re here!” As she said it, the Fòrsic street lamps clicked on, bathing the whole area with a soft, orange glow.

“Excellent timing,” Isa said.

“Thank you.”

Roshan looked from one to the other, confused. “Never mind,” Isa said, looking at him, and then she turned and marched up to the door, Rika and Roshan trailing behind her. Isa rapped on the door with her baton in a complicated sequence of knocks.

Roshan flinched, ever so slightly, at the first rap, but then settled down and waited expectantly for Isa to finish. “So… is this a pass signal or something?” He asked Rika.

She shrugged. “We have a sign and countersign system for our quarters. Isa just likes knocking dramatically on the main door.” There was a pause after Isa finished knocking, and then the door slid open on soundless hinges. The three of them had started up the stone steps when Rika put her hand on Roshan’s arm. “Let us do the talking at first,” she instructed. “Your story will come later.”

“Is it dangerous?” Roshan asked apprehensively.

“Not to you, probably,”

“Well, that’s comforting.”

Rika smiled at his sarcastic tone. “It’s just that our purpose here was for surveillance only. We were told not to actually do anything.”

“Oh, so…”

She nodded as he trailed off. “Right, you’re a complication. Mostly, though, they’ll be angry at Isa for charging off, and me for not stopping her.”     

Roshan thought for a second. “Who are you people?” he asked again.

From the darkened hallway beyond the entranceway, Roshan heard the muffled sound of Isa’s voice, followed by another in a harsh soprano. There was pause, and then Isa appeared again in the light of the plaza lamps, “Hurry up, they’re waiting. Syd does not look happy,” she said.

“And whose fault is that?” Rika rejoined rhetorically. She patted Roshan on the shoulder and smiled, “Come on,” she said, “You’re about to find out.”

Chapter 6 can be found here.

The Floating City - Chapter 3

Hi everyone. Once again, sorry for the delay. The last week has been crazy, but things should start evening out post-time-wise as we move through the holiday season and I figure out more about the best way to do things. Anyway, on to Chapter 3! Enjoy!

The Frantic Flight

At the sound of the echoing footsteps, Roshan froze in momentary indecision. Like most of the University buildings, the library was a square, stone structure, five stories tall, surrounding a large central courtyard.  While there was only the one stairwell to the roof, if Roshan could get to the ground floor there would be plenty of opportunities to slip away. He was running out of time.

Thinking carefully, Roshan took stock of his options. He did not want to be taken in. He remembered only too well Filias’s warnings about researchers disappearing. However, fleeing would mean leaving behind his home for half his lifetime. All of his things, his books, his notes, his clothes, were in his now guarded room -- leaving him with a half empty wineskin, the clothes he had chosen to wear that morning, and his university robe, its voluminous pockets filled with the miscellaneous minutia of academia, and distinctive enough to make it useless outside of university grounds.

Roshan rummaged through these pockets desperately, searching for something, anything that could help. He fingers touched a pair of hard objects, and he pulled them out with a triumphant grin. He would have shouted, but the footsteps were rapidly approaching and he couldn’t risk making any more noise. The two objects were rough, unfinished crystals about the size of clementine and without any Fòrsic carvings. Finished crytals were smoothed, with the runes acid etched for the most efficient transference of Fòrsic energies, but these coarse ones and his penknife would have to do. Working quickly, Roshan scratched a few simple runes and started down the stairs.

He needed to get back to his room, despite Aki’s warning. If he was to leave the University forever, he would need some of his possessions, mostly notes and spare crystals, whether his room was guarded or not. Despite treading lightly, he managed to reach the fifth floor in short order. He opened the door as quietly as he could into a dim, dusty, book-lined corridor with widely spaced Fòrsic lamps illuminating it with a dim, orange light. As he shut the door as quietly and quickly as possible, he could see the guards rounding the corner of the third floor. He turned and dashed down the corridor, his robe flapping behind him.

Heading for one of the secondary stairwells, Roshan pulled up short when he saw the door creaking open. It was a pair of the city watch, dressed in the their traditional [E1] red and yellow striped tunics. They caught site of Roshan, and pointed. “Hey, you, stop!”

Instead of stopping, Roshan whirled and sprinted into the maze of corridors on the fifth floor, where the stacks, full of old and forgotten tomes, were kept. Despite the sneezes he sometimes experienced, Roshan had spent a lot of his time with his head buried in a scroll, and the layout was an old, familiar friend.

Wheezing, cursing his sedentary lifestyle, Roshan took several hard turns at full speed, skittering on the wooden floorboards at every corner. A panicked glance behind him showed the guards keeping pace, and he knew he couldn’t outrun them forever. More footsteps ahead of him indicated that the guards from the main stairwell had reached the floor, and were spreading out in search of him. Time was running out.

Without pausing to slow down, Roshan took another hard right and slammed through an unlocked door. He shut it hard, pulling down an adjacent shelf to block its opening. Hoping this would buy enough time, he ran forward into another crossroad of corridors. Muttering under his breath, he took one of the newly carved Fòrsic crystals into his hand and, with the other, cut a gash in his palm with his pen knife. Rolling the crystal around until it was covered in his blood, he held it out with his dripping hand until it began to glow with a silver light tinged in red. He placed the glowing crystal on the floor and headed down the hallway across from him. Behind him, the glow intensified until the crystal exploded outwards, projecting decent, in his opinion, simulacra of him sprinting away down each of the corridors. Hopefully, that would confuse pursuit, even though he’d lacked the time it would take to instill any permanence in the copies.

Roshan slowed to let the simulacrum in his corridor rush by him, and then turned toward a door in the wall. He opened it onto a small, dimly lit room with barren, empty shelves, and, as he had hoped, an old dumbwaiter in the wall across from him. Cursing his lanky frame, he threw himself into the box, folding up as much as possible. With a squeal of rusted hinges, the dumbwaiter began descending downward, the walls scraping Roshan’s skin raw as he passed.  

The box, meant for ferrying books, wasn’t designed for humans, and picked up speed alarmingly fast as his mass overworked the counterweight. He stuck out his legs to slow the descent, his soft-soled boots skittering down the smooth stone of the shaft. Despite his inability to gain a purchase, Roshan managed to slow himself, so that the impact with the bottom of the shaft was merely jarring, rather than injurious. He unfolded himself painfully into a room on the bottom level of the library, a cloud of stone dust following him out.

Roshan stood up slowly and felt every one of his vertebrae give a satisfying pop. He looked at the brown robed acolyte, now covered in white dust, who was staring at him in astonishment. “Some days…” Roshan said, and gave a shrug. Roshan hurried from the room and out into the library proper before the acolyte could say anything, leaving him standing in shocked silence. The three main floors of the library were a beautifully windowed space, looking out onto the central courtyard. Sunlight streamed through the window, as acolytes, blue robed journeyman, and other university members hurried to and fro, studying at the various desks and reading books from the copious shelves overlooking the balconies of the upper stories. No one commented on his dust coat. He’d been a student here, and he hadn’t thought that anyone would. Everyone remained focused on their own studies, unlikely to react to anything that didn’t directly involve the topics at hand. However, the watch running through the building might certainly peak some interest, so he hurried across the library and out through one of the side doors before anything else could happen.

************************************************************************************************************* 

Eolas University’s campus was, like the rest of Ater-Volantis’s neighborhoods, set in a series of concentric rings. The biggest ring was around the edge of the city, the rest gradually shrinking in diameter as they moved up the hill towards the Palaces of the Council and the Prime. Normally, Roshan enjoyed the panoramic views the University’s high position allowed, but today all he cared was that the smaller ring gave him less of a distance to scurry along its circumference.

He didn’t run, instead hurrying as fast as possible along the grey-cobbled walkways of the University. The campus was in a riot of color and growth, as the various trees and flowerbeds flourished in the warm summer sun. He loved to stroll sedately along the paths, admiring the sights and smells, but now he merely walked as fast as possible, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder with every step and ignoring the other students he passed. He hoped he didn’t meet anyone he knew, although he suspected that if gossip about his standing had spread, they would be avoiding his eyes. 

Despite his accelerated pace, it was almost a quarter of a bell before he reached the journeymen’s dormitory, set in a wide and squat stone tower on the south end of the University campus. Roshan hesitated as he approached, finally deciding to leave the path before he came into sight of the dormitory’s doors. Hiding behind a tree and peeking out at the entrance, he congratulated himself on his forethought, as there were indeed another two guards stationed outside of the archway. Moving carefully, he made his way through the shrubbery until he was back on a different pathway. Several yards down, there was a small stone outbuilding containing a service entrance to the University’s underground tunnel system. Because of the city’s height, snows and winter weather were brutal, and it behooved the university to find an alternative way for their students and faculty to get around. During the summer, however, the tunnels were unused and empty -- just what he was looking for.

The door to the tunnels was unlocked. Roshan waited until the path was clear of passersby before slipping down into the darkness. Like the fifth floor of the library, the tunnels were illuminated by diffuse orange-yellow light of Fòrsic lamps. The service tunnel was much narrower and more cramped than the public tunnels, and he was glad when he reached the main passageway. Moving cautiously but quickly, he soon reached the entrance to his building, and was delighted to find it unguarded. Blessing his soft-soled boots for their muffled steps, Roshan made his way up the stairs as quietly as possible, until he reached the door to his third-floor corridor.

Cracking the door open, he peered down the hall. His room was at the far end, around the curve of the building, but he could see the arm of one of the guardsmen stationed there. Roshan crept down the hallway until he was just a few doors away. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the second of the now-etched Fòrsic crystals. One of the trickiest bits of working with Fòrsa was how to stipulate when the crystal would begin to draw power. There were all kinds of extra glyphs and symbols one could add to the runes to denote when the effect should take place, but Roshan hadn’t had time for anything fancy. Instead, he’d partially carved the runic sequence that brought sleep. Now, in view of his room, he took out his penknife and completed the remaining lines before tossing the crystal around the corner. There was a shout of surprise, and then the corner filled with silvery light. There was a pause of several seconds, followed by the sound of two bodies slumping to the ground.

Roshan waited anxiously, counting down the seconds until the glow faded away. As soon as it began to diminish, he brought out his room key and dashed down the corridor. As the light hit his eyes, a feeling of overwhelming drowsiness stole over him, but the fading nature of the spell allowed him to shake it off. He went to unlock the door but found it open, the hinges smashed. Peering inside he gave a shocked gasp.

The room itself had been ransacked. Furniture, paper, and ruined experiments lay everywhere, strewn haphazardly across the small space. Roshan stood in furious silence for several moments, tears of rage trembling in the corner of his eyes as he surveyed the damage. This was years of his life just lain to waste, although he supposed it didn’t matter since he was leaving anyways.  Looking around, he couldn’t see if anything was missing, though most of his experiments and spare crystals had been smashed. Picking through the wreckage, he turned up a small rucksack, which he quickly filled with spare clothes, and any remaining whole crystals that he could find. Ditching his robe and most of the junk in its pockets, he instead swirled a brown, staid looking cloak around his shoulders. Cracking the door again, Roshan peered out into the corridor. The guards were still asleep. Although the light from the crystal had faded, it was still intact, surprising for such a small, unfinished crystal. He pocketed it, before turning and making his way back into the tunnels, leaving the University, and his shattered life, behind.

Chapter 4 can be found here.

The Floating City - Chapter 2

Sorry for the delay, travel and some personal stuff left me scrambling to get this posted, and I apologize in advance for any typos. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

The Review Board

Roshan sat on the roof of the University’s library, looking out over the flying city of Ater-Volante and thinking. The last three days had not gone according to plan, and this was his favorite spot for introspection. From the University’s position near the apex of the city, he could gaze down over domes and slender minarets of the wealthier districts. From there, he looked over to the less ostentatious buildings and warehouses close to the city’s rounded edge, and then out to the patchwork fields of Alis Dak a thousand fathoms below. Although even in summer the wind was biting this high up, the midday sun and heated grey stones of the rook warmed him, and he felt quite comfortable – at least, physically.

The bad news had started with his meeting with the University review board about his research findings. Before his discussion with Filias, Roshan had anticipated being awarded a Maestery and maybe even a position at the University for his ground-breaking research. Now… he leaned his head back against the warm stones and shut his eyes, feeling a pounding headache coming on.

He had discussed Filias’s warnings with Aki, in a sound and rune proofed corner of their lab where he was sure they wouldn’t be overheard. Aki had listened patiently, hearing him out, and then asked “But you want to go forward, yes?”

“I do, yes… but this research belongs to both of us. We have to decide together.”

Aki nodded, once. “Let’s do it,” she had said firmly, and that had been that.

Her friendship and the knowledge that he was not alone had buoyed him for the rest of the day, but any hope he had had faded when they stepped in front of the review board the next morning.

It had started out simply enough. Every prospective Maester went before the board, and Maester’s countless times, to defend their findings or to ask for funds for further research. Forewarned by Filias, Roshan had approached their own meeting with trepidation. Usually final defenses like his and Aki’s were held in lecture halls, before the board and their peers in order to grill them before their impending ascension to Maestery. Ominously, for this review, the board had called for a closed session. They met in a stuffy, richly appointed room in the heart of the University’s north tower, one that Roshan had never seen before. Most of the circular room was lushly carpeted, but, in the center where petitioners stood (or the accused, he thought morbidly), the floor was marble inlaid in gold with the Eolas crest. The effect was intimidating, and the light from the Fòrsic-powered lamps kept catching on the gold and irritating the corner of his eyes. The board’s table was arrayed in a semi-circle surrounding Roshan, standing in the petitioners’ marble circle, and he couldn’t help but notice that the board seemed to be made up of the oldest, fussiest members of the University. The only member of the five-person panel that he knew personally was his old logic professor, and where she had been ancient and crusty ten years ago, here she looked positively youthful.

For almost a full bell, Roshan and Aki had stood and explained their experiment. As per their prior agreement, Aki focused solely on the technical elements of their research, leaving the theory and, Roshan hoped, the potential ire solely for him. This hadn’t stopped them from each giving an impassioned summary of their ideas, from the underlying hypothesis of Fòrsic and crystal decay, to Aki’s design and construction of the crystal testing apparatus, to their findings, and, finally, to the implications of those findings for Eolas, for Alis-Dak, and for, Roshan supposed, their whole world. The fact of the matter was simple. If the strength of the Fòrsa was declining, then they needed to figure out why, and fix the problem, immediately. The longer they waited, the more difficult it would become to implement a solution, and the more dangerous Fòrsic constructs, such as the floating city of Ater-Volante, would become.

The review board had listened in a silence that grew stonier and stonier as the hour had worn on. The blank-faced expressions on the old men and women of the board had revealed little, but Roshan had felt the pressure building in the room. When they finished their presentation, the board stayed quiet, the tension stretching out for several agonizing moments. Finally, the dam broke and the questions, and accusations, came thick and fast.

“Why did you start with the assumption of Fòrsic decay, do you want this city to fall?”

“How did you ascertain the crystal decay rate? It’s never been modeled empirically.”

 “How can the decay you posit be so dangerous? The rate is tiny!”

“Why pursue this research at all, why not more accepted fields? Do you bear a grudge against our society?”

Roshan and Aki had answered as best they could, but the board didn’t seem particularly interested in their explanations, although they passed by most of Aki’s testimony without incident. Finally, the chair, an elderly man who was fat, bald, and would look like someone’s kindly uncle except for his intimidating beard and his deep-set, predatory eyes, spoke. “Enough.” He said in a deep, resonate baritone. “We have heard your defense, and we will withdraw to deliberate. You will hear from us within a five-day.”

And that had been that. The board had filed from the room, leaving Roshan and Aki standing awkward and alone save for a crushing feeling of failure.

Neither of them had much to say to the other after that. Aki had gone off to get drunk with her fellow engineering students, while Roshan had gone back to his room, his head hung low. There were other Fòrsic Theory students that might have sympathized with him, but he’d wanted to speak to precisely zero of them. He’d been tempted to join Aki, but he had felt the pressure and the desire to be alone with his thoughts.

For the rest of the day, those thoughts tended to be miserable ones. He’d gone over every line of the review board meeting, wracking his brains for something that he could have done differently, something he could have said that would have convinced them that they was right, that this research was important. He’d felt like doing the same thing today, but the morning dawned bright and clear and warm, so he grabbed a couple rolls from the dining hall and made his way to the roof. He had a wineskin with his bread and cheese, and he supposed he would spend the rest of the day there, and maybe tomorrow, until he had developed some sort of idea, some plan, about what to do next.

Roshan had finished his bread and cheese, and was most of the way through the wineskin, when a whirring sound woke him from his reverie. He looked all around, searching for the noise, when, buzzing and clacking, a strange contraption rose up from beyond the edge of the roof and flew towards him. Roshan frowned, and rose to his feet warily. The contraption had a bird’s narrow body with wings of whirling metal reminiscent of a hummingbird, and he could see a Fòrsic crystal nestled within the body’s wire housing. His eyebrows went up, Aki had talked about the potential of clockwork creatures run with Fòrsa, about how they would be more efficient then pure crystal constructs, but he’d never seen one in person before.

The construct darted towards him. Roshan raised his arms instinctively, but it merely circled him, whirring, before landing gently on the roof on a pair of extended metal struts. The head of the construct twisted up from the body, revealing a cavity stuffed with a small role of parchment. Curious, Roshan bent down and tugged it out. Once he held it in his hand, the bird-thing gave a metallic chirping noise, its head twisted back down, and its wings began to move. They whirred in place for a moment, and then the construct rose slowly into the air and darted off the roof, disappearing back down from whence it came.

Roshan watched it go, and then unfurled the note in his hand. His fingers shook as he recognized Aki’s scrawling script.

“R,

That was a hover-bird; engineers use them as emergency messengers. I knew you would ask, and I’ll tell you about it later. But now, you have to run. The Prime’s guards came looking for you -- Your friend F tipped me off. They’re staking out your room, searching the grounds. You can’t go back. Leave the grounds and hide somewhere in the city until next set-down. Destroy this note. I will try to contact you when I can. Until then, good luck, and stay safe, my friend.

-A”

Heart pounding, Roshan crumbled the note, ripping it into pieces and letting them float off in the omnipresent breeze. He hurried to the door to the roof. Pulling it open, he froze. From the bottom of the stairwell came the discordant sound of iron-shod boots, marching steadily upwards.

Chapter 3 can be found here.