The Floating City - Chapter 12

The Crystal Caverns

“Can you see anything?” Isa whispered up impatiently.

Rika made a hand waving gesture downward, but otherwise kept her attention on the pocket telescope pressed to her eye. She was near the top of a tall fir tree, one of many covering the mountains surrounding the mines of Crystalis. They were observing one of the side entrances to the Crystalis mines, a massive system of tunnels beneath the mountain range cradling the city, the Cnoic Leathana. The entrance to the mine was a partially concealed archway on the slope opposite Rika’s perch. It was mostly covered in snow, but the sentries had, in a fit of boredom, built icy ramparts around it. According to the information provided by the Don (and Simon, who was from Crystalis), the guards’ shift change happened every four bells. Rika had therefore been up in a tree for much of that time, waiting and watching. And shivering. In spite of the warming crystals sewn into her clothes, it was deadly cold in the mountains. At times like this she liked to think of Roshan, snug and happy in the Resistance’s mountain village where they had left him last summer. At least one of them was warm.

The guards outside the entrance looked as bored and as miserable as she felt. No one came up into these mountains, especially not in winter. Crystalis’s upper class focused on academic pursuits, but punishing mining shifts kept the lower classes from having much leisure time. When they did, they preferred sedentary pursuits to being out in the mountains. From what Rika could had heard from Simon, the guards at this side entrance (essentially a glorified ventilation tunnel) were a courtesy more than for any security reason. Rika hoped that the city’s watch would come to regret that mistake.

Movement on the slope told her that the moment had arrived. Three more guards, clad in the navy blue and brass-gold of Crystalis had appeared out of the tunnels and were in the process of relieving the current sentries. The new guards walked on individual, circular paths around the entrance, following the tracks in the snow trampled by their predecessors, while the departing group stayed and chatted at the entrance to the tunnel. Rika couldn’t hear them, but she saw one pass a flask around, while another packed leaf into a pipe and happily lit it. They loitered until the three new guards returned from their patrols, before the three Rika had been observing all afternoon departed and their replacements took up their former positions. Rika checked her Fòrsic pocket-clock and nodded to herself; the clock showed that four bells had passed. Making sure that the rope was tied securely around her waist, she carefully rappelled down, moving in short bursts and keeping the massive trunk between her and any watchful eyes. Descending was much easier than climbing up had been, but Rika was still out of breath and covered in sticky sap when she reached the ground. Isa was waiting for her, practically bouncing back and forth, her impatience unmistakable even under her heavy winter cloak. “Well?” she demanded.

“Four bells on the dot,” she replied, tapping the face of the pocket-clock. The Fòrsic crystal in the clock was programmed to slowly fill the circle of the clock face with a color. This took a bell for each color, and the clock shifted slowly through the color wheel throughout the day, displaying warm colors when it was light out, and cool colors at night. “Our information appears to be correct. If so, we won’t have to wait much longer.”

Isa rubbed her mitten-clad hands together in anticipation. “Excellent,” she said. “I was getting tired of waiting and freezing. Another few days, and I would have trekked up to the entrance myself, at least to warm up and find some new partners for cards, if nothing else.” Rika gave Isa her best Syd look, and Isa smiled back. “Joking, just joking,” Isa assured her, and Rika laughed.

“Come on,” she said, “let’s get back before you do something crazy.”

The camp was in a thicket, about a hundred paces back from Rika’s observation post. She was sure it was impossible to see from the opposite slope, but Syd had insisted on no fires during the day, and only carefully banked ones at night. Cold as that made them, Rika had agreed. Security at this entrance might be light, but the whole complex was usually under heavy guard. It would be nearly impossible for them to escape, if discovered. As was her habit since the summer, Rika kept a careful eye on Isa. However, the dark-haired engineer was just as bouncy as ever, and evinced none of her earlier signs of weakness.       

Isa pursed her lips and whistled a trilling call with three distinct rills, and Rika heard Trentor repeat it back twice. The group alerted to their approach, the two women pushed through the remaining brush and out into the small clearing. Trentor looked up as they approached. “And here are my two dyrads now,” he announced, smiling. “What do the tree spirits have to say?”

Rika rolled her eyes, and Isa made a rude noise. “How was sitting on your ass all day?” She shot back.

“I was warm inside a bedroll, and it was delightful. Thank you ever so much for asking.” Trentor replied smugly.

Rika looked around. “Syd and Simon aren’t back yet?” she asked with a twinge of worry. The two had planned to stock up on supplies, but the camp wasn’t that far from the city, even through the snow, and they should have been back by now.

Trentor fluttered his hand in seeming unconcern. “Our fearless leader and her boon companion are sure to return shortly,” he said, and then continued on in a more serious tone. “Simon said they would be back later than planned when they left, something about picking up the mail.”

Isa nodded, and went to perform her arm strengthening exercises. Rika had more questions, but she was not sure that Trentor would be able to answer them. She would just have to wait until Syd and Simon returned, but she’d been worrying more, lately. Across Alis-Dak, regime patrols were stepping up, and it was getting harder to catch people by surprise. The resistance had thrived in the shadows for a long time, distributing their message and hitting open targets, but never anything too valuable. Rika knew that they were emphatically not ready for open conflict. She hoped the Don had a plan for what was happening, but he had not said anything when they had been at headquarters. Isa hadn’t noticed the increased tension, Rika was sure, but Syd had been more distant than usual lately, and often held whispered conversations with Simon late into the night. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she chose to change the subject. “We were right,” she said, “Shift change is right on schedule.”

Trentor stretched his arms out, “that’s nice to hear,” he yawned. “That means the rest of our information is, too.”

“Let’s hope. We’re moving in tomorrow?”

“So Syd has said,” he responded, nodding.  

“I can’t wait to see what it’s like inside,” Isa added eagerly from across the clearing. Trentor and Syd had been to Crystalis before, but of the group, only Simon had actually been into the Fòrsic mines, during a brief stint as a miner. The whole mining system, despite holding the crucial position of supplying nearly all Fòrsic crystals used in Alis-Dak, was shrouded in mystery.  Secrets like that grated on Isa.

“Me too, my friend, me too,” Trentor said. “I hope it’s warm in there.”

They continued to discuss what was in the mine’s for a time, as Trentor made dinner and she and Isa started to check their Fòrsic equipment.  Almost a full bell later, Rika heard the bird call that denoted Syd and Simon’s approach. Trentor whistled the countersign, and the two pushed through the brush and into the clearing. Rika was relieved to see that they looked unharmed.

“How was the market, oh stoic ones?” Trentor inquired as they dismantled their sacks of goods and distributed the contents throughout the rest of the group’s saddlebags. 

Syd said nothing, but Simon looked at him, shrugging. Trentor waited a few more beats, and then grinned. “Well played, reticent as always, I see,” he said.

Ignoring him, Syd looked at Rika and Isa. “Did you verify our information?”

Rika nodded her assent, and Syd reached into her bag and produced a small, plain looking scroll on newly pulped paper, spooled around a wooden rod. She tossed it to Rika, who caught it deftly. “What’s this?” She asked, confused.

“What we are here for,” Syd replied, turning back to her task. “You and Isa will memorize it, and then destroy the scroll.”

“We picked it up this morning,” Simon added helpfully. “The Don sent it in a package of blank scrolls, which we sold for as a cover and for some extra money.”

“Huh,” Isa said, curious. She collapsed the staff she had been inspecting and came over to sit beside Rika as she unfurled the scroll. The inside appeared as simple as the outside. It depicted one detailed picture with notations, over a short, written letter.

Rika peered closely at the letter and recognized the signature at the bottom with delight. “What do you know?” She exclaimed, “It’s from Roshan!” They hadn’t heard from the young scholar since they had left him behind at Resistance headquarters nearly half a year ago. Last Rika had seen him, he’d been happily ensconced in the resistance library, talking excitedly about new avenues of Fòrsic research. As she had departed, his interest had appeared split between the thousands of new volumes and Eithne, the attractive librarian in charge of them. Although she and the others missed his company and Fòrsic expertise, complaining about his new life of leisure compared to their ongoing hardships had become something of a running joke.

“Really?” Isa asked. She snatched the scroll from Rika.

“Is he writing to compare the softness of his pillows to ours?” Trentor asked helpfully.

“Hush,” Isa chided, and began to read the letter to the group.

“Dear Isa and Rika (And Syd, Simon, and Trentor)…”

“Hey!” Trentor interjected, “Why am the afterthought?”

Isa shushed him, and he subsided, grumbling under his breath. She read on:

“I hope this missive finds you well. The winter here has been eye-opening -- so much snow! Fortunately, there was a spate of good weather so that we could get a package out through the passes. The Don claims he would have been able to deliver this message regardless, but I digress. I apologize for not sending this with you when the Don first dispatched you towards Crystalis, but I admit I wasn’t quite sure what you would be looking for. Now I am sure.

The drawing above, done by the estimable Eithne…”  

“Heh” Rika smirked before apologizing as Isa shot her a glare.

“The drawing above, done by the estimable Eithne, is of the utmost importance. It is of the Foinse-stone.  I believe I may have discovered a potential solution to the problem of dissipating Fòrsic energies, but it will require this stone. The Foinse-stone is thought to be unique, but the vein it came from spawned a twin. While the Foinse is in a museum on Ater-Volantis, the twin is still held within the mine. I know that retrieving it will be dangerous, and know I would not ask this of you if there were any other way. Good luck, and go with Alos.

R

P.S. To explain why it is needed is far too complicated for the written word, thus you have a reason to return home so that I may further elaborate on my theories to you.”

“Condescending git,” Rika said fondly as Isa finished reading.

“He’s probably right, you know – this does look quite complex,” Isa said, looking closer at the diagram.

“Maybe, but he could have given it a minimal effort.”

“I’m less interested in the complexity of his theories and more in the bit where he sends us into a heavily guarded mine to look for a rock,” Trentor interjected. “Why does cozy scholar-boy get to order us about?”

“The Don has decreed it so,” Syd stated simply.

“But still…”

Syd only shrugged. “It is not our place to question.” She turned to Rika and Isa, “I do admit to some curiosity of my own. I have not heard of this Foinse-stone.”

Isa shrugged, looking at Rika. “He seemed to assume we knew what it was. Do you?”

Rika grabbed the scroll back from Rika and looked at the drawing. The stone was long and narrow, shaped a bit like a flute except with crystalline protrusions where on a flute, there would be holes. She nodded decisively. “I have seen a drawing like this before, at University. The Foinse-stone is an interesting aberration in Fòrsic theory.” She looked around at the group, “bear with me if you have heard this before,” she said to Isa, and when she nodded, she continued on behalf of the others, her voice slipping into a lecturing tone honed during her days as a teaching assistant. “Normally, a Fòrsic crystal is imbued with a small amount of energy and then uses that energy to draw power from elsewhere. When it has drawn a certain amount, the crystal’s fòirceann, it ceases to function. If it draws too much, too fast, it cracks or shatters. In recent years, stones have been failing unexpectedly because they are losing their internal energy altogether, well before they reach fòirceann. 

However, the Foinse-stone doesn’t need to draw other energy, at least from what scholars have been able to tell. Instead, it appears, pending further experimentation, to have unlimited energy already within it.”

“I see!” Isa exclaimed. “He must think he can affect some type of energy transfer, to empower stones whose energy has been lost!”

Rika nodded, growing excited. “If you’re right, and he’s capable of doing this, it’s only on a limited basis. That said, we could slow this crisis down, and give ourselves a chance to explore why it is happening and come up with a more permanent solution.”

“Hmmm,” Simon mused. “And if the Resistance develops this power while the government does not…” he trailed off thoughtfully.

“Exactly!” Rika and Isa said together.

“We must retrieve this Foinse-stone, then,” Trentor said. “Does the scroll say where in the mine it is being held?”

Rika looked over the scroll, but there was nothing in the letter or on the drawing. “I don’t think so,” she said. “As usual, the little details are left up to us.”

“There is a vault in the mine,” Simon put in. “Special crystals are held there, among other valuables. It’s a museum of sorts.”

“If museums were hidden from public view and kept under heavy guard,” Trentor interjected.

“I think that’s probably where it is,” Isa said. “Are there any other options?”

“Hmmm,” Simon said, thinking carefully. “The overseer’s office, perhaps? It’s the only other place that is secure enough.”

“We’ll have to check both,” Rika added.

“Fortunately,” Syd said, “Simon and I have discussed possibilities for what we might be… fetching from the mine. The vault came up, and so we have a plan of attack – if, indeed, the Foinse is being stored there. We will hit the vault first, and then the office”

Simon nodded, “the office has a window to the outside, we could blow our way out, if necessary.”

“Excellent,” Isa said, rubbing her hands together with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Let’s go!”

Syd made a calming gesture. "Patience," she said, and turned to the rest of the group. "Check your gear. We will go in at dawn tomorrow." Rika and Isa exchanged excited glances. "Now," Syd continued, "let us have dinner, and then we will familiarize ourselves with the approach."

Chapter 13 can be found here.

The Floating City - Chapter 11

As I said two weeks ago, the previous chapter was the end of Part I. Welcome to Part II! I'm hoping to start things out with a bang, and mix things up a little, so that the narrative POV format isn't quite the same as it was going forward. As always, your comments, questions, and critiques are welcomed. Additionally, updates will likely continue their fortnightly schedule, but I will be posting some more reviews and maybe some other short stories on the off weeks.

The High Magistrate

As a consequence of its great height, winters in Ater-Volantis were as miserable as the summers were pleasant. The stone towers of Eolas University, like those of the city’s wealthier inhabitants, were well insulated, but the constant wind found all of the cracks in the wooden structures that framed the city’s outskirts. Worse, despite the heavy blankets hung over the entrance-ways, the opening of a door to the outside always led to a keening blast of cold air.

Despite her comfortable seat in one of the back rooms of the Sodden Sprocket, the haunt of many Eolas engineers, Aki shivered as a rising chorus of voices from the taproom shouted “shut the bloody door!” She did not hear the door clang shut, but the resumption of the general pervading din proved that the crowd’s orders had been followed. Without moving from her sideways position in her chair, she reached out and grabbed the bottle of cider whiskey on the table in front of her. Pouring herself another dram, she took a large sip, reveling in the warmth that filled her as the smooth liquid slipped down her throat. Despite the city’s faults, which she considered to be myriad, the concentration of some of Alis Dak’s wealthiest individuals meant that even lowly establishments like the Sprocket boasted at least a couple of bottles of higher class spirits.

The back room itself was snug and comfortable, with low ceilings and a drafty bay window that let in light across from a decorative fireplace. Wood was expensive, both to store and to burn, for Ater-Volantis, so the room was warmed by a glowing Fòrsic crystal set in the stones of the mantle. It gave off a red-orange glow that was almost cozy. The only obvious entrance was a door in the center of the long, rectangular wall, although Aki knew for a fact that the long row of bookshelves concealed a passageway that opened up into one of Ater-Volantis’s many tunnels much further down the street. It was one of the reasons she preferred to hold court at the Sprocket, along with the fact that owners were friendly to the engineers and rarely asked any questions. Since Roshan’s disappearance over half a year ago, Aki had become more involved in the politics that governed the floating city. She had become much more paranoid as well; the two activities now seemed to be self-reinforcing.

As a guild, Fòrsic Engineers had always been more united and organized than not, tasked as they were with looking out for their less worldly Fòrsic Theorist counterparts. Since her ascension to the head of the student version of the guild, Aki had been pushing back against the Prime’s increasingly draconian policies, and encouraging the other guilds to do likewise. They published pamphlets and broadsheets detailing the Prime’s abuses, and organized public rallies. They had even, daringly, hidden a small number of fugitives from the both the City Watch, and the Choisant, the Prime’s personal police force. Aki wanted to do more, but many of the other engineers were reluctant. Their current activities were still, mostly, within the law, and doing more invited more severe reprisals. It was a dance on the edge of a knife, and Aki did not know how much longer they could keep it up.

She looked up from her musings as a feminine figure, cloaked and hooded against the cold, shrugged aside the curtain in the doorway and stepped into the room. One of the engineers near the entrance rose and moved to bar the newcomer’s path, with a glance toward Aki. She nodded her approval, and the girl stepped aside. Aki leaned forward and poured a little of the whiskey into a second glass as the figure approached and began divesting herself of her outerwear. A scarf, a knit cap, and a cloak later, and a silver-haired, middle-aged woman stood before her. “Professor Filias,” Aki said, with a nod of acknowledgement. “It’s been awhile.”   

“It has indeed. May I sit?” Filias’s voice was warm, but professional. This was more than just a social call.

“Certainly,” Aki replied, gesturing toward a nearby chair. Once Filias had dragged the heavy, wooden chair over and sat down, Aki pushed the second glass of amber liquid over to her. Filias picked it up, and they touched glasses. “To the light and the warmth,” Aki intoned.

“To the dark and the cold,” Filias replied.

“To both together, and the pursuit of knowledge.” Aki said, completing the toast. It was one of the more common blessings at Eolas, popular among students and academics alike, as it invoked the mirrored essences of Alos and Dar-Alos. They both tipped the liquid back, and then returned their glasses to the table. Still seating in her sideways position, Aki raised her eyes to Filias’s. “So,” she asked, “what do you need?”

“What makes you think I did not just come to say hello?” Filias replied, sounding offended.

“Professor,” Aki said flatly, “the last time you contacted me was to use me to deliver a message to Roshan, nearly two seasons ago. Whatever this is, it is not a social call.”

“Have you heard from him?”

“I didn’t know you cared,” Aki spoke with an obsequious tone.

“Of course I care,” Filias snarled, mitigating her tone when the other people in the room looked over in interest. “He was my best student. I wanted him to be safe, not to disappear into one of the Prime’s dungeons – or worse.”

Aki softened toward the older woman a little. Whatever Filias’s other faults, she did seem to genuinely care for Roshan. “I don’t know where he is, but I do know that he’s not in one of the Prime’s dungeons,” or re-education camps, Aki thought grimly. It had been tricky, and potentially very dangerous, but she had managed to verify this information. She had calculated the risk of revealing it to Filias, given whom Aki believed that Filias was working for, but she felt it safe given the old professor’s concern for her wayward student.

“So he is safe?” Filias asked, tension visibly leaving her face at Aki’s revelation.

Aki shrugged. “Maybe yes, maybe no. All I know is that he is out of city, and out of reach,” and I would never tell you where, if I did know, she added silently.

“That… is good news,” Filias replied. Taking a moment to recover her composure, she continued, “Magnus Stirech wants to meet with you. He thought you might listen to me, as you don’t trust him.”

Aki accepted the naming of the head of the Choisant with only a lifted eyebrow. The Choisant’s interference at the University had been strongly rumored for years now, including in the case of Roshan’s disappearance, but it was gratifying to hear those rumors confirmed even if the reality made the situation far more dangerous. Magnus was the iron fist within the Prime’s velvet glove. People whispered also that the group was a power not just before the Prime, but behind him as well. Anyone with legitimate, or otherwise, business with the governments of Ater-Volantis and Alis Dak knew of Magnus Stirech and feared the pressure of his gaze. Filias revealing that she was indeed working with him provoked an unpleasant churning in Aki’s stomach. Still, she refused to be provoked into any precipitous action by his dread name. “If you are working for the Magnus,” she asked, “why should I trust you at all?”

“A fair point,” Filias replied calmly. “For which I have one important distinction. I am working with him, not for him.”

“And what difference does that make?”

“All the difference in the world,” Filias smiled knowingly at the question. “Because I am still my own woman, whatever Magnus might believe. He has convinced me that there is a very real danger to this city, and so I am helping him to ferret it out. In return, he has promised to ask the Prime to… reconsider certain avenues of Fòrsic research,” she raised an eyebrow expectantly, and Aki inclined her head in acknowledgement.

“I see. So what does the great Magnus want with me?”

“He knows you have influence among Ater-Volantis’s engineers, particularly the students. He wants to meet with and convince you to support him in the face of this threat, in return for certain concessions.”

“Concessions?” This time it was Aki’s turn to raise an eyebrow. While a certain degree of interference had always been the case, the presence of the Prime, and his minions, had been increasingly felt at the University over the last several years. Investigations into certain subjects were suppressed without explanation, and research assignments were now handed out solely on the basis of political connections rather than merit. Throughout the city, clashes with the City Watch were common, and the populace had become increasingly restless. Aki knew that many of the ground cities shared similar sentiments as well. It was a mystery to her what the Prime was thinking, for things to have changed so drastically. More worrisome than the possibility of an external threat, Aki feared that there was no reason at all, and that the man’s greed and veniality were to blame.

“Concessions,” Filias repeated. “He did not elaborate, but I assume you have something in mind.”

Aki did, but she was unwilling to discuss them with Filias, despite her seeming sincerity. She trusted Filias and Magnus to look after their own interests and no further. Still, she and her fellow Fòrsic engineers were reaching the limits of what they could do to push back without exposing themselves in outright rebellion. “I might,” Aki said, and smiled. “I admit to some… academic curiosity as to what he has to say. I will meet with him, but only under certain conditions.”

Filias nodded. “He anticipated that you might say that. He offers to meet you on neutral territory, alone, or, if you prefer, with two companions each, and at the time of your choosing. If you would like there to be companions, I will be one of those accompanying him.”

“That is fair,” Aki responded. She felt some hesitation, but at least under these conditions it would be safer than waltzing into the headquarters of the Choisant. People with meetings there did not always return, and she would prefer not to find out where it was that they went. “Tell Magnus I shall meet with him and two companions at midday on two-day,” she said, naming the date three days away. “We will meet at the gate to Eolas University, at which point I will walk with him to an dining establishment of my choice.”

“Eolas University is hardly neutral,” Filias observed.

“Fine, then by the obelisk in Monument Square.” The square was centrally located in the middle ring of the city, and was the point of a triangle between Eolas and the Choisant Headquarters.

“That will do,” Filias responded. “Expect a confirmation from a courier within the day,” she said, and then softened her voice, speaking without the formal tones. “Thank you for doing this, Aki. We need to work with the Choisant, to ease pressure on the university and to make sure that what happened to Roshan does not happen again.”

Aki made a noise of assent, but otherwise did not respond. She had her own opinions regarding working with the Choisant, but she would hold her thoughts for now.

Filias nodded once, sharply, and then stood up. “I will see you on two-day,” she said, and then turned and made for the entryway.

Aki watched the old woman leave with a tinge of regret. Filias’s position at the university put her in difficult position with respect to the Prime’s new policies, and Aki did not envy her one bit. Furthermore, despite Filias’s good intentions, Aki suspected that she and the Magnus were working at cross-purposes. She looked around the room, “Maz,” she called, “and Benji, come here.”

Two of the many students scattered throughout the room stood up and approached. Maz was a petite woman, with close-cropped dark hair and a pale, sandy complexion. She was shorter than even Aki, but despite her quiet nature, she quick in mind and body and among the most skilled of the Engineers. Benji was skilled as well, and quiet, but he was as big, brawny, and dark as Maz was tiny and pale. Aki found that people tended to underestimate his intellect because of his bulk, missing the clever mind behind his deep set eyes. The mismatched pair came to a halt in front of her chair. “What do you need, Aki?” Benji asked. Maz said nothing.

“How much of that did you overhear?” Aki inquired by way of answering.

Maz shrugged, but it was Benji again who spoke. “Enough,” he said laconically.

“Then you know what I need you for. Can you keep quiet about it?”

Both of them waited expectantly for her to continue, and Aki nodded in approval. “Magnus may be playing this straight, but I prefer to be paranoid and wrong than overconfident and wrong. We have three days, let’s make sure we have more information about what is going on, and a back-up plan.”

“What did you have in mind?” Benji asked.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Aki replied, smiling widely. “I like to hope that if Magnus tries something, the Choisant will be in for an exciting surprise.”

Chapter 12 can be found here.

The Floating City - Chapter 10

Here is Chapter 10, I hope you all enjoy! Due to all of my travel concerns over the next two weeks (East Coast Law School Road Trip!), the next chapter will be in two weeks instead of one. As always, any questions, comments, or critiques are welcomed.

The Hidden Valley

Syd was true to her word, and it was another grueling ten-day before they reached their destination. For most of the journey, they kept the purple-hued solidity of the Cnoic Iaranna on their left, but in the last several days they had turned and headed directly towards them. The mountains grew in Roshan’s vision until they seemed to fill the whole world. Their slopes were covered in hard-edged conifers, and he could see more craggy peaks and ravines than he could count. However, he still saw no sign of their destination.

The party was in good spirits when Syd called a halt on their tenth night of traveling since the bandits. Since that battle, Rika and Simon had ridden on either side of Isa, ready to catch her if she fell. Her burns were such that she could not grip the reins of her camel, and she had, with much protestation, agreed to being strapped into the saddle. Her arms were covered in bandages, which Simon changed several times a day, applying a salve of his own invention, while Rika used up several crystals in an effort to speed the healing process along. However, in spite of what must be a grueling and painful ordeal, Isa put on a good front. She remarked several times that she was “sorry to have missed Roshan’s moment of triumph,” and talked animatedly with him and Rika about Fòrsic theory, especially interested in the topic of how her staff had failed, and what could be done to prevent it from happening again.

Depressingly, it looked to Roshan like the channeling crystal had failed, not through any flaw in the matrix of the crystal, but rather because it had simply ceased to be animated with Fòrsa. Even in Roshan’s and Aki’s worst-case scenarios, they had predicted a gradual decline in crystal’s effectiveness. This sudden cessation of Fòrsic ability in a crystal held sobering implications for the future of their world.  

None of them had much time to dwell on it, however, as Syd set them a hard, driving pace. They travelled from before dusk until well past dawn, stopping to rest only during the hottest parts of the day. Despite the improvements in her arms, Isa was pale and wan at the end of each hard ride. Roshan felt similarly beaten down, and the whole party was on the ragged edge of exhaustion as they rode into one of the craggy defiles that led up to into heart of the mountains.

The trail climbed steeply and steadily. Hidden birds trilled amongst the thick-bowed pine trees covering the slopes, welcoming the sun. As the dawn light poured down the sides of the gorge, it revealed that they were climbing up the side of dry streambed. “This route must be impassable during the rainy season,” Roshan said, looking with interest at the tumbled rocks and boulders surrounding them.

“More passable than you might think,” Simon laughed. “The winter rains, if you can call them that, fall rarely here. These channels are carved from snow melt from higher up.

“That much snow falls?” Roshan asked.

“You Thesians are all the same,” Rika complained. “Not every part of the country has the same weather as your Alos-cursed jungle.”

“Just because Hascillis is always miserable and grey…” Isa said, joining in.

 “Hascillis is not miserable,” Rika retorted, but Trentor cut in before she could say anything else.

“Ladies, ladies,” he said, condescendingly. “As accurate as your observations are, everyone knows the worst city in Dak is Crystalis.” He cast a sideways glance at Simon, “it’s why so many of them turn to soldiering: they’re all desperate to get away!”

Simon shook his head, smiling. “At least I have a city, wild-man.”

Trentor put a hand over his chest in feigned outrage. “I’ll have you know that my family carries Demardian blood back seven generations!”

“Seven generations of pig farming, maybe. Weren’t you born in a sty?”

“Be that as it may…” Trentor said pompously, and they all laughed.

Further up the slope, Syd pulled them to a halt in front of a steep section of scree. Behind them, they could see for miles over striking, rugged steppes. “We will have to dismount, and lead the camels from here,” she said, seemingly uninterested in the view.

Roshan looked around. The gully had narrowed precipitously by this point, and was nothing more than a washed through track in the rubble and stones of the mountainside. At the base of the scree slope and stretching out to either side was a large boulder field, studded with grey granite stones of all shapes and sizes. The slope itself looked impassible, a jumbled pile of loose rocks and stones. He could tell from experience, having climbed similar slopes in his youth at his uncle’s country estate at the far end of this same mountain range, before he had joined the university. The scree was steep enough that climbing it would require scrambling up on all fours, preferably in a spread out group, to prevent dislodged stones and gravel from harming the next person down the slope or starting a slide. It would be a struggle even without Isa’s arms, but the group would be able to make it to the top eventually. Maybe. However… “There’s no way we bring camels up that,” he said, jerking his head at the slope above them. “Maybe if they were mountain goats, or if we kept some of the raider’s ponies instead of turning them loose….” 

Syd raised an eyebrow at him, and Trentor laughed. “Done some climbing before, have you?” He asked, jovially.

“A bit. Enough to know that if we want to keep our equipment, we had better find another route.”

“Lucky for us then,” Syd interjected, “that we are not going that way. Our way lies through there,” and she pointed at the boulder field.

Roshan peered at the field, but could discern no passage through except for scrambling up and over the boulders. “That’s even worse!”

“Trust,” Syd ordered. “There is a way through, but it is hidden. You will see,” she turned to others, “we will rest here for a bit. Eat some food and catch your breath. This will be harder than the climb. Camels, you will find, do not like enclosed spaces.”

“Great,” Isa said, grimly. “Sounds like buckets and buckets of fun.”

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

It wasn’t.  By the time they entered the boulder field, the sun was high in the sky and beating down mercilessly. Rika considered herself to be physically fit, but pushing and shoving camels along the narrow trail, around, through, and occasionally over tightly packed boulders required a different sort of strength. The camels protested every step of the way, and, by the end, Rika thoroughly hated the shaggy brutes. She had been stepped on, nearly sat on, and crushed against the side of too many rocks to count. The latest indignity was slowly dripping down her face as she glared back at her recalcitrant charge. She’d always been told that camels spit, but she’d been unprepared for the smelly mix of bile and juices that was now saturating the top of her tunic. “I have no qualms about leaving you here to rot,” she said to the camel through clenched teeth. It was an empty threat, as she was the middle of the line. They were passing through a narrow passage between two enormous boulders, their tops coming together to block out any view of the sky. It was so dark, in fact, that Syd had ordered several of their Fòrsic lamps to be lit so that they could see where they were going.  Despite the light, Rika was still surprised when the trail had abruptly turned to the right, forcing them to shepherd the understandably reluctant camels around the hairpin bend.

Trentor’s swarthy face appeared over the back of the camel whose reins Rika had been futilely tugging. He grinned at her stormy expression. “Is that this season’s new perfume, Rika? I hear that it’s all the rage in Hascillis.”

Rika made a rude gesture. “Shut your mouth and keep pushing,” she ordered, and Trentor’s face disappeared back down off of the camel with a wink. “How much longer is this going to take?” She asked herself out loud.

“This is the last troublesome section, I can the tunnel widening up ahead,” Isa answered, her muffled voice drifting back from further up the trail.

“Great,” Rika muttered grumpily. The group was strung out in single file along the narrow channel, moving the camels in a stutter-stop motion, pushing the camel in front of them or yanking on the reins of the camel behind them as necessary. All except for Isa, who was in front, and thus was only doing half the work in deference to her weakened condition. Syd was next in line, and then Rika, Trentor, and Roshan, with Simon bringing up the rear. To add insult to the whole injurious process, they’d had to shoulder most of their own packs in order to fit the camels through some of the narrower spots, and Rika’s shoulders and legs burned with exertion.

“Rika!” Syd called, “We are nearing the end. Just a few more paces. On three! One, two, three!” Syd counted, and Rika leaned her weight wearily into the backside of the camel blocking the passageway in front of her. It stank, but she sank her hands into its matted hair and shoved with all her might on the on the three count. With a grumpy, grumbling noise, the camel trotted several steps further down the passageway, the walls scraping its sides, before halting again in stubborn obstinacy. A wet smacking sound and a muffled curse from Syd made Rika smile.  ‘Misery, and sogginess, love company,’ she thought.

They repeated their push-pull progress along the tunnel for several more minutes, before suddenly Rika saw space on either side of the camel in front of her. The channel was widening! She gave a crow of delight, and redoubled her efforts to drive the camel forward. The space on either side of the camel grew and grew, until she could walk abreast with it. The camel now walked forward with only Syd’s hands on the reins. Rika returned to pull her own camel forward, with Trentor pushing. As they made their way through the wider tunnel section, she heard a shout from up ahead.

“Daylight!” Isa called, and Rika heard answering crys of joy from Trentor and Roshan behind her. She herself could see the channel growing brighter, until suddenly she was out in open air with the hot sun burning down. She stood on the lip of a cliff, overlooking a small valley completely contained by the forbidding mountains surrounding it. The valley was large enough for human habitation, and she could see a patchwork mosaic of fields surrounding a central lake. She spied a town, as well -- one she recognized with delight. Turning to look behind her, she realized that the boulder cleft had segued seamlessly into a tunnel through the mountain, and she hadn’t even noticed. She turned to stare accusingly at Syd. “You could have told us we were this close!” She said reproachfully.

Syd gave a small smile, “and ruin the surprise?” She replied, lifting an eyebrow.

“A warning might have been nice, Syd,” Trentor chimed in as he joined them. “We could have taken it a little easier.” He looked meaningfully at Isa, who was slumped against the cliff face, looking wan.

She fluttered a hand at him, “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, her eyes closed. “Just resting for a bit.”

Rika frowned in concern. Even after a day as difficult as the one they had just experienced, she had never known Isa to run out of energy. “Let’s see to your bandages,” she said, trying to sound unconcerned.

“It’s not necessary,” Isa protested, but she didn’t resist as Rika knelt down next to her to unwrap her arms. The bandages came away damp with fluid. Not soaked, but enough so she could hardly mistake it. The burns themselves were like nothing Rika had seen before. She marveled every time she looked at them: three burns on each arm each about an inch across, starting on the outer edges of Isa’s palms and spiraling up to her shoulders. They were quite impressive, but very difficult to treat. Rika and Simon had settled for wrapping both arms entirely in linen gauze, which had worked thus far, but heavily impacted their amount of medical supplies.

“You’re lucky we’re almost there,” Rika chided as she applied some of Simon’s burn ointment and rewrapped Isa’s arms. “Another day or two and we’d have had to start cutting up your clothes.”

Isa opened one eye to look at her. “You’ve already reduced several of my shirts to vests. I say do your worst.”

“On your own garb be it, then,” Rika said, tying off the last of bandages around Isa’s shoulder. She made sure to include some Fòrsic crystals etched with runes that encouraged healing inside the folds of the wrapping. Rika was heartened by the fact the Isa still had use of her arms, even if it appeared to pain her at times. However, even if she made a full recovery, she would have a truly impressive set of scars.

“Are we all ready?” Syd asked. Roshan and Simon had emerged from the tunnel while Rika was tending to Isa.

“A few moments longer, I think,” Simon responded, looking at Roshan, who had slumped down next to Isa. “Not everyone is as hardy as you are.”

“Syd thought for a moment, and then nodded. She looked at the sun, judging the time with an experienced eye, and said “we will wait for a few moments more and then descend. We should still have enough light to reach the village.”

“Excuse me,” Roshan spoke up. He was looking out at the valley with interest, despite his physical weariness. “Where are we? I’ve never heard of a village in a valley like this.”

“It would be an enormous waste of our considerable time and efforts in hiding it if you’d simply heard about it in a geography lesson,” Trentor said, smiling.

“What?” Roshan sounded confused.

“Well, we didn’t personally participate, but you get the gist.”

Roshan continued to stare blankly at him.

“C’mon boy, are you thick? This is where we’ve been heading!” Trentor flung out a hand encompassing the valley and the village near its center. “Welcome to Glenn Rhúnda, the hidden valley, and the heart of the resistance!”

Rika snorted disparagingly. “Stop being so overdramatic, Trentor”. Turning to Roshan, she smiled and said, “leaving the rest of that aside, this is our home, for all we rarely see it. Your home too, if you like.”

“Thank you, Rika,” Roshan replied gravely. Rika extended a hand. He took it, and she pulled him to his feet.

“Where’s my hand?” Isa asked, and Rika laughed and helped her up as well.

They all looked to Syd, who shook her head in bemusement. “Well, if you have finished, let us go home.”

Chapter 11 can be found here.

The Floating City - Chapter 9

Apologies for the missed week. The good thing is that now I am most of a chapter ahead in my own writing, which makes things easier. The bad news is that I am traveling a lot over the next few weeks, so expect an irregular posting schedule until the end of February. After that things should settle down and I hope to bring it back to once a week. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! As always, questions and comments are welcomed.

The Northern Wastes, Part 2

 “Dar-Alos curse it!” Syd yelled, as Roshan stumbled to his feet in confusion. His ears ringing as she continued to bark orders. “That’s torn it. Simon, cover them. Trentor, get your crossbow out!” She turned to Roshan, “can you use their equipment?”

“Uh… I think…” he began, but Syd cut him off.

“Then do it, or get out of the way!” She whipped her own weapon, a beautiful horned recurve bow, and, kneeling, stuck five arrows into the ground in front of her, leaving one on the string. Trentor was pulling out a small, collapsible crossbow from his packs, hand-spanning it as he locked a bolt into place. Simon had leapt both the kneeling camels and the tangled, senseless pile that was Rika and Isa, and had placed himself between the two women and several of the onrushing raiders. He had sheathed his two-handed flamberge into a long scabbard on his back, and had instead drawn a short sword akin to the one he had tossed Roshan. Roshan wondered at the change, but as he watched, Simon flicked out the blade as an arrow whistled toward him, cutting it out of the air with a calm assurance.

To Simon’s left, Roshan noticed Rika’s crystal studded targe lying just by her outstretched hand. Hoping that Rika and Isa would be alright, he scrambled over the nearest camel, which gave him a reproachful look, and scooped up the shield. He examined it in a rushed fashion. The runes were hard to make out, but it was still glowing with a bright yellow light, so he assumed that the crystals were still active. ‘Rika had moved it something like this…’ Roshan thought as he made an exploratory swipe toward one of the charging raiders.

The shield triggered with a whoosh, a blast of Fòrsa as a wind gust billowed towards the raider, blowing him off his pony and thirty yards through the air. He landed with a sickening crunch, but Roshan didn’t notice, as the backdraft from the wind had tumbled him back over into the ring of camels. He came up sputtering with a face full of dirt, looking for the shield. With a sinking feeling, he saw it hit the hard-packed earth with a ringing metal clash over twenty paces away. Syd shot him a raised eyebrow, before turning back and loosing an arrow that took a rider in the throat, tumbling him off his horse and to the ground.

The five remaining riders were closer now, and their return shots were coming faster and more accurately. Simon was still casually blocking any arrows that came near him, but Trentor, who was guarding his back with a small shield and his tiny crossbow, gave a strangled yell as an arrow hit his foot and pinned him to the ground. After the death of so many of their companions, the raiders were out for blood. However, they were content to take their time and whittle them down from a distance.

Syd’s bow, and Trentor’s crossbow, were the groups only ranged weapons, and Syd was running out of arrows as she kept the three riders on her side of the circle from closing in. Roshan knew he had to act soon.

On the ground inside the circle Roshan spied the shattered remnants of Isa’s staff, and knelt to examine the wreckage. As he ducked down an arrow flew over his head and he flinched, but continued digging through the pieces looking for the left-over crystals.­­ Deep inside the ruined shaft, he found three crystals and crowed in excitement, but his elation was quickly tempered by the state of two of crystals. One was inert, dead, and the other shattered into tiny pieces as he touched it, but the third still glowed with an inner yellow fire. The crystal itself was as fine a specimen as he had ever seen, perfectly formed and cut, with ruins etched in the beautiful calligraphic style of Thes. He saw the runes for wind and fire, and guessed that this crystal must be for calling the fury of the storm down, while the other ones had been for directing and channeling that power. ‘I can work with this,” he thought, forcing himself to not panic. 

Without turning, he reached around and snatched the sword Simon had given him from where it had lain, forgotten since the opening minutes of the battle. The sword was a gladius, with a short, wide blade and a leather wrapped hilt, it lacked a cross guard, but that didn’t matter for his purposes. He stabbed into the ground in front of him, and went to work. Pulling some wire and his pocket knife from the recesses of his cloak, he scratched a few more symbols onto the crystal, modifying Isa’s original work. Then, he affixed the crystal to the sword with the wire, wrapping it around the top of the pommel. Copying the moves that Isa had done earlier, albeit much more carefully, he gave the sword a few experimental twirls.

“Alright!” he yelled in exultation as the crystal started to glow more brightly.

“Stop messing about and help!” Syd yelled, as she fired the last of her arrows, narrowly missing one of the circling raiders, who ducked.

“On it,” Roshan shouted back. “I hope this works,” he added to himself in a lower voice. He sighted down the blade and felt the warmth as a tongue of lightning licked out and left a smoking crater in the dust at the feet of one of the bandits. The raider’s pony stumbled, throwing him off the ground, and Trentor finished him off with a bolt.

“Excellent,” Trentor called. His voice sounded a bit strained, but otherwise he seemed in good humor. “Can you get the others?”

There were three raiders left, Roshan aimed the blade again and picked off another with a crackling boom. The remaining two pulled up short, and started to ride away.

“Get them,” Syd ordered. “They will bring back more, and we will not be able to outrun them for long. We need time!”

Roshan aimed for a third and final time, released a bolt of actinic yellow that crashed into one of the last riders with a titanic boom. Syd scooped up one of the many arrows that had been shot at them, and fired it back in a high, arching shot that hit the rider, tumbling him from his saddle on the steppe earth.

His adrenaline abruptly faltering, Roshan leaned over and threw up. Limping, Trentor made his way over to him, and patted him gruffly on the back. “First fight?” He asked, gently.

“Is it always like this?” Roshan responded, still feeling shaky.

Trentor shrugged. “What, crazy, messy, and terrifying? Yes, but, you do get used to it.” He looked at the bodies spread around them in a wide circle. “Maybe not that part,” he said soberly, “but the rest of it”. He patted Roshan on the back again. “You did good, kid. Lots of people lose their heads in a big dust-up like this.”

Roshan looked at him quizzically. “You’re not more than five years older than me…”

“It’s not your age, it’s how many miles you’ve traveled.” 

Syd came over to them, as Simon checked on Rika and Isa. “How is the foot, Trentor?” She queried, sounding concerned.

“A little leakier than it used to be, but it’ll be fine. Quite a little skirmish, huh?”

“We have had worse. If you are feeling up to it, can you check the mounts? Simon is going to see to the bandit’s remains, once we are assured that Rika and Isa will be okay.”

“On it,” Trentor said crisply, and limped off to see to the camels. Several of them had arrows caught in their thick, shaggy fur, or sticking out from the saddles, but none appeared to be hurt. As he left, Syd looked at Roshan.

“That was some fine work. We would have been in trouble, else.”

“Thanks…” he muttered, glad his dark complexion hid his blush.

Syd dipped her head, accepting his response. “We still have work to do. Can you examine Isa’s staff? We must know what happened, so it does not happen again.”

“Uh, yes,” Roshan nodded. “On it,” he said, smiling.

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

Rika opened her eyes slowly, and winced as the light sent a pain shooting through her throbbing head. She groaned, and felt someone hovering over her.  “You’re awake?” Roshan said, surprised. His voice sounded distant, like he was speaking from the other end of a tunnel.

“No,” Rika replied without opening her eyes. “Go away.”

“How are you feeling?” Roshan asked, not moving.

“Like a camel sat on my head.”

“I’ll get Simon,” Roshan made as if to move, but Rika flopped a hand at him weakly.

“No, no, I’m fine. This isn’t the first time Isa has knocked me unconscious,” Rika said lightly.  “At least, I assume it was it her?”

“Oh…” Roshan sounded startled, but quickly mastered himself. “Uh, yes. I don’t know if it was her fault, but she definitely knocked you out. What do you remember?”

Rika chanced opening one eye, and held it open as the room wavered and came into focus. She was lying on a camp roll on the hard-packed earth, while above her was the curve of a tent awning. Trentor was next to her, and Roshan was on his knees leaning over her, his stubbly face concerned. “Trentor, you’re here too? I remember the beginning of the fight…” she murmured, as the memory began to surge through her. “What happened? Is everyone alight?” She asked, suddenly worried.

Roshan made calming gestures with his hand. “Everyone’s fine, a bit banged up, and Trentor’s got a hole in his foot.”

“A hole in his foot?!” Rika exclaimed loudly, and then winced as her own voice hurt her head.

“Caught an arrow clean through. Would you like to see it?” Trentor asked.

Rika shuddered “Never mind. What happened to Isa?”

Roshan grimaced. “Her staff exploded. She blew into you, and knocked you both out. She’s fine, although with some bad burns on her arms and chest.”

“Her staff…exploded…” Rika repeated, incredulous.

“Yes,” he stated, gravely. “As far as I could tell, she used three crystals in a tiered system. The first drew in Fòrsic energy, the second channeled it, and the third released it.”

“That sounds about right,” Rika said. “I helped her come up with her initial designs, although she built it herself. What happened?”

“The crystal that managed that managed the release failed… unexpectedly. The channeling crystal had nowhere to send the energy, and cracked. Isa was very, very lucky, the explosion should have killed her. Instead she is just severely burned.” At Rika’s anxious look, he added “she’ll be okay, Simon is tending to her now.”

“Simon’s a fine medico,” Trentor added. “Have no fear.”

“I know. How long was I out?”

“You’ve slept most of the day, but you started coming around soon after Roshan here crisped the last of the raiders,” Trentor said, smiling broadly. “Setting up tents for you and Isa was one of the first things we did.”

“Roshan did what?” exclaimed Rika, wincing again.

Roshan’s skin darkened, was he blushing? “I... repurposed the charging crystal and made it release the energy, too.”

“It was amazing,” Trentor interjected.

“Well well well,” Rika mused, “Good job. I didn’t think you had it in you?”

Roshan’s flush deepened, but he was saved by Syd poking her head into the tent. “Simon says Isa is awake. As soon as he feels she is capable of riding, we leave. How are you feeling, Rika?”

Ignoring Trentor’s proffered hand, and her own aching head, Rika sat up. “A bit tender, but I’ll live.”

“Good,” Syd said. “It is unwise to linger in a battlefield.” She looked up, outside of the tent, and then turned back to them. “As soon as the sun touches the tips of the mountains, we leave. We have a long way to go.”

Chapter 10 can be found here.

The Floating City - Chapter 7

Here is Chapter 7, hope you all enjoy! In some more personal news, I have a job again (part time), as well as a lot of upcoming travel. I will have to see how my writing schedule fits into that, but it is possible that updates may move to a bi-weekly schedule as opposed to its current once a week schedule.

The First Goodbye

The next seven days passed slowly, and uneventfully. Per Syd’s orders, Roshan, Isa, and Rika were confined to the group’s cramped quarters in the warehouse district, while Simon, Trentor, and Syd flitted in and out of the building, scouting the city and gauging responses to Roshan’s disappearance. Trentor even brought back new clothes in roughly Roshan’s size. Although Roshan had managed to liberate several things from his quarters at Eolas when he made his escape, spare clothing was not among them. The clothes he was wearing had been decidedly dirtied by his dash through the city, even before Isa had set the better part of his cloak on fire. Therefore, he was happy to have something to change into. Although he would have to get used to the plain laborers outfits that were so unlike from the bright hues of his university clothes.

Overall, Roshan appreciated the slow pace of these days, glad to have the opportunity to catch his breath. Rika seemed thankful for the break, as well. She spent most of her time reading, either curled up in the bedroom that she shared with Isa or at the central table. Roshan spent much of his time at that table as well, reviewing the research notes he had taken with him. Isa and Rika took part too, asking intelligent questions and engaging in a dialogue about Fòrsic research that made him both feel at home and miss Aki with a persistent pang. Still, Roshan found that he was happier than he had been since before his fateful conversation with Filias, an event that seemed like it took place a lifetime ago, rather than less than two five-days. Although the suite was small, consisting of three sleeping chambers, a central kitchen, and a dining room, and his back was quite stiff from sleeping on the floor of Trentor and Simon’s room, he still felt that the cramped quarters gave an atmosphere of camaraderie that was quite comforting. Unfortunately, not everyone felt the same way.

Whumph. The explosion shook the living room, casting a heap of dust onto the central table.

Syd poked her head out of her room. “What in the name of Alos was that?” She asked. Mutely, Roshan and Rika pointed towards the room Rika and Isa shared, as it toppled off its hinges with a crash to reveal a sooty Isa with her head scarf blown backwards and all of her tiny braids standing on end. “What in the Two Moons were you doing?” Syd yelled.

Isa had the grace to look slightly abashed. The expression did not mix well with the rest of her face, which had a distinctly sullen and defiant cast. “Just, uh, testing a few things out.”

“Testing out what, exactly?” Syd sounded exasperated, though unsurprised.

“Oh, you know…” Isa said vaguely.

“I do not,” Syd responded astringently. “You do know that we are in hiding, yes?”

“I do,” Isa acknowledged. “I was just seeing if Roshan’s theorized rate of decay was accurate for our own crystals.”

At that, Roshan started. “I thought you said you trusted my research?” He asked, slightly offended.

“We do,” Rika assured him. “Isa’s just bored and wanted to try for herself.”

Isa smiled at her. “Exactly!” she exclaimed. “And it went more or less as I thought.”

“More or less?” Syd sounded slightly strangled.

“Well… the crystal I was using failed rather more spectacularly than I was expecting,” said Isa, shrugging.

“What sequence did you try?” Roshan asked, his interest piqued, accidentally speaking over Rika who simultaneously demanded, “What glyphs did you use?”

Syd threw up her hands. “Theorists,” she said disgustedly. “And you!” she turned and pointed at Isa, who by now was grinning broadly, “You are a Fòrsic engineer! Are you not supposed to be the responsible one?”

“You know me, Syd! When has that ever been true?” Isa retorted. “It’s your own fault, you know. What else do you expect me to be doing, after confining us to this tiny place for more than a five-day?”

Syd shook her head. “I expected you to behave with a bit more professionalism; perhaps even refraining from blowing up our own quarters.  Regardless, your long suffering is coming to an end, at last. We leave tomorrow.”   

Roshan had been counting down the days till set-down himself, so he was not surprised, but the words filled him with a nervous energy regardless. He decided to finally ask the question that had been at the forefront of his mind for days. “How will you get me past the guards on the gate? I don’t have any of my papers, on top of which – won’t the watch be checking for me?”

“We have not yet heard anything about increased security measures,” Syd said. “It is possible that they think you are dead.”

“You’re welcome!” Isa chimed in.

Ignoring the interruption, Syd continued. “As merchants, our cover is that we are hauling a load of slate. Hascillis slate is highly valued as roofing material in Dak, so transporting via Ater-Volantis makes perfect sense. If we leave a bit of the slate behind, we can secure you in the middle of it and haul you off the city with the watch none the wiser.”

Roshan nodded. The plan made sense. As a city, Ater-Volantis jealously guarded the privileges of its citizenship. Not everyone would be allowed to stay, and most merchants and traders, aside from the heads of the respective guilds, were taken careful account of and hustled off of the city at each set down with great Alacrity. Although the city was often on high alert for stowaways, the focus was on those trying to sneak into the city, rather than off of it. “What do you do as merchants?” He asked, curious.

“I’m the head merchant,” Syd said.

“Obviously...” muttered Isa.

“Isa and I are her apprentices,” said Rika, taking up the thread. “Simon and Trentor are the hired help. We’d cast you in a similar role, but Volantian papers are hard to come by. It wouldn’t do to have more people in our party leaving than we had when we arrived. On the rest of our trip, that’s likely what we will do.”

“Makes sense,” Roshan said. “So what do we do now?”

“Pack,” Syd responded curtly. “That goes for all of you. Simon and Trentor are securing our transportation, but we should be queued up for departure early tomorrow morning before set down, with the other merchants.”

“C’mon,” Rika said, rolling up the scroll she had been reading. “I have a spare bag you can use, if Isa hasn’t blown it up yet.”

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

The next morning dawned bright and clear, but Rika and her companions had been awake for hours. Ater-Volantis policy required all departing merchants to be lined up at the city’s exits before set-down had even begun, creating a scramble as everyone packed and hauled their goods to the city limits in order to depart the city in a timely fashion. Still, the sight of the sunrise from this high up was spectacular, and Rika felt awe as she watched the reds, golds, and purples lit the ornate wrought iron gate of the city in a riot of colors.  The gate was set in what could scarcely be deemed a wall, a yard-high stone fence set around the perimeter of the city. However, the wall’s lack of height only served to make the imposing splendor of the gate that much more impressive.

“I’ll never get tired of seeing this,” Isa said, looking up from her work on the Fòdamh hitched to the front of the wagon. Rika nodded in agreement. This had been Rika’s first visit to Ater-Volantis, and the beauty of the sunrises and sunsets from this high up took her breath away

“I can’t imagine how Roshan is feeling,” she whispered back, “it’s sad that he has to miss this final sight of the city.” They both glanced back at the wagon they flanked. It was a large wooden contraption, with four large wooden wheels, and its sides were piled high with crates of grey slate from the quarries near Hascillis. Roshan was hiding in the middle of the wagon, completely surrounded by crates of slate and invisible from the outside. As a consequence, of course, he was missing the spectacular sunrise backlighting the city, casting golden shadows over the rough, scrubby landscape below. She turned back to Isa. “How’s it coming?” She inquired.

Isa grunted, up to her elbows in the fòdamh, a small pile of metal bits, leather, and crystal shards strewn on a blanket on the cobblestones beneath her. The fòdamh was a medium-sized, boxy construct, about the size and shape of pommel horse. It was set on four spindly legs that were surprisingly strong. Normally, a fòdamh could haul a wagon like theirs with ease, but this one had proved to be finicky.

“Another quarter of a bell, maybe?” Rika asked. Isa grunted again, this time in assent. Set-down was in less than a bell, and they were running out of time to get the wagon mobile. She looked at Simon and Trentor, who were sitting on the rear lip of the wagon, red-faced and panting. “All right back there?” She asked.

Simon gave a small wave of acknowledgement, and Trentor winked. He slipped from the back of the wagon and approached wearily. He surveyed Isa’s work with a grin, and then turned to Rika, his voice low, “You all could have helped push, you know.” Livestock and beasts of burden were not permitted on Ater-Volantis while the city was in motion, and merchants were forced to rely on Fòrsic-powered methods of conveyance for their goods. Not everyone could afford top of the line equipment, however, and the type of merchants they were portraying certainly wouldn’t be able to. As a result, when the fòdamh that had come with the wagon Trentor and Simon had secured had failed unexpectedly, the two men had been forced to push it the rest of the way.

“You’re the hired help,” Rika said sweetly. “It wouldn’t have been proper for us to help.”

“Besides,” Isa added, without looking up, “it’s your own fault for buying such a terrible old wagon.”

“And whose fault was it that you were confined to quarters and couldn’t consult?” Trentor asked in a sharp undertone.

“Syd’s!” Both women chorused, and Trentor laughed.

“Actually,” he said, looking around, “where is our fearless leader?” The group and their wagon were in the middle of the line of freight vehicles stacked up outside the gate. Their position was, relatively-speaking, early in the line, before the great boulevard curved to follow the circular edge of the city. Around them surged a vast tide of humanity, merchants and laborers talking, laughing, and arguing. Fòdamhs sparked, wagons creaked, and the whole street buzzed with an unfocused intensity. In all this, however, Syd was nowhere to be seen.

“She’s just taking care of a few things.” Rika caught Trentor’s eyes, and made a subtle gesture, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together. Trentor nodded, accepting the explanation without comment. Bribery for ease of movement was an increasingly common custom in Alis-Dak, especially when departing from a city. No one was concerned about people smuggling things out of Ater-Volantis, so it was much easier to persuade the Stripies watching the gates to not examine certain cargos too closely. Still, it was a bad idea to flaunt the act, and they were trying to not attract attention.

Rika continued to chat with Trentor for a while longer, until Isa made a satisfied noise and sat back from the innards of the fòdamh, closing the hatch with clang. She stood up, tightening the bolts with her wrench, before giving the whole thing a swift kick. There was a clang accompanied by a few sparks, and then the whole contraption began to give off a greenish-bronze glow. “What a piece of junk,” Isa said grumpily.

“But it works now?” Rika asked.

“It should. The movement crystal was cracked, and the whole drive belt was worn through.” Isa said. “I swapped out the one, and patched up the other as best I could. Frankly, I am amazed that Simon and Trentor got it to us in the first place -- but it should now at least get us off the city and into Dak.”

“The crystal was cracked?” Rika flicked her eyes to the wagon where Roshan was hiding, but Isa only shrugged.

“It was an older crystal, and not one that was particularly well refined. I’m not surprised it stopped working. The replacement should hold.”

“Let’s hope so,” Rika said grimly. Although always worrisome, since Roshan’s revelations, any unforeseen failure in a crystal carried with it a premonition of coming disaster. She did not have time to dwell on it however, as all of Ater-Volantis’s bells sent up a ringing clamor. As the first toll faded into the next, Syd reappeared at her side. “Did everything go well?” Rika asked under the cover of the noise.

Syd shrugged noncommittally. “We’ll see – the watch never promises anything outright. They take your money and make noises about ‘ensuring the ease and safety of your journey’.”

Before Rika could respond, a blast like a foghorn cut through the tolling bells, and the city and its people swayed gently as the slow rotation of the city stopped abruptly. They began to descend with, Rika noted nervously, increasingly rapidity. “Is it always like this?” she asked.

“Yes,” Syd said shortly.

“Apparently, the city’s engineers flicker the lifting crystals rapidly. The city requires the constant application of Fòrsa to stay aloft, so if they flicker them, it falls in a slow, controlled fashion,” Isa put in, and Rika raised an eyebrow at her. “What?” she asked. “Our newest friend told me. The theory behind the whole lifting apparatus is actually quite fascinating.”

“Hmm,” said Rika. “That does not make me feel better.” Isa grinned. The whole ordeal lasted only a sliver of a bell. The rushing wind slowly settled, and the air became warmer. Below them, the features of the ground came into sharper and sharper focus: the stone city of Dak, set against rolling desert hills. At last, with an enormous, reverberating click, the city locked into place on the ground. Ater-Volantis was not just a disc-shaped floating city. Rather, the whole structure was in fact shaped like a top. The avenues of the city curled up towards the beautiful domes and minarets at the apex of the hill, while underneath the city dangled the lifting apparatus in graceful and deadly looking crystal spines.

A great, circular crevice had been created in the scrubby, packed earth outside of the ancient City of Dak, into which the city settled gently. The pit was clad in flashing bronze, and identical structures sat outside each of the six cities for when the capitol game to visit. Tunnels underneath would allow Fòrsic Engineers access to the lifting apparatus, in order to assess and repair any damage incurred by the all-important crystals, while above, people exited and entered Volantis along a narrow causeway and through the aforementioned gate, carrying the commerce that was every city’s lifeblood.

In the line of wagons, the newly-repaired fòdamh inched forward slowly, as the merchants moving through the gate ahead of them were checked over by the watch before they were permitted to leave. For everyone who had paid the appropriate bribes, the checks were perfunctory, but every so often more careful attention was paid, and the wagon in question was hauled off to the side and underwent a more thorough inspection. Rika had been through several customs checks like these, including the one to enter the city, but her heart still beat a little faster and her hands began to sweat as they approached the open gate.

However, Syd had ice-water in her veins, and gave no indication of nerves as the watch captain, a corpulent, mustachioed man looking like a striped apple in the watch’s uniform, interrogated her.

“What’s yer cargo?” He asked, sweating in the newly risen hot desert sun.

“Roof slate, for Dak.” When painted white, the slate provided a cool, dark interior for Dakian houses.

The captain nodded, comparing the response to his notes. He then counted the members of the party, and consulted his list again. He made a visual inspection of the crates in the wagon, and pointed at one near the front. Simon and Trentor quickly cracked open the top, and the captain peered inside. Standing, he nodded at Syd, apparently satisfied. She stepped forward. Hearing a faint clink, Rika noticed a small coin purse concealed by the sleeve of her embroidered blouse. “This all seems to be in order, Trader Gravid,” The Captain clasped wrists with Syd, and when he withdrew his hand the small purse was gone. Stepping back, he waved them through the gate, and Isa urged the fòdamh into motion. Although its motions were clanky and jerky, it steadily hauled the wagon full of slate, and one wanted fugitive, through the gate and out onto the causeway.

Looking over her shoulder, Rika spared one final glance for city of Ater-Volantis. It shone in the desert sun, glittering copper and gold, looking even brighter in the dulled sand surroundings. She looked from the simple wood and stone buildings at the edge of the city, up through the winding boulevards to the intricate domes and turrets, all the way to the splendor of the Prime’s palace at the top of the city. Her thoughts turned from the city’s beauty to Roshan, hiding among the dark crates full of slate, and of her and Isa’s own flights from persecution. Her gaze hardened as she turned her back on palace on the top of the hill, looking ahead toward what was to come.

Chapter 8 can be found here.