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.

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 4

Here is Chapter 4 of the floating city, now with comments enabled, which I realized had not been the case previously. So now you can actually tell me what you think! If you're looking for the first entry of The Floating City, you could find a link to it in the about section, or click here.

The New Allies

Isa Velensi was bored, and when she was bored, nations trembled. Rika recognized all the signs: the way she was desultorily looking at the market stalls goods, the way she kept adjusting the colorful scarf she always wore over her brown, intricately braided hair, and the way she started to tap her foot as Rika made her own purchases. As soon as Rika finished buying the day’s supply of bread for their little group, she tried to head it off. “Do you want to see if the Boundless Books has anything new?” She suggested, trying to make it sound as exciting as possible.

Isa fixed her with a steely grey-eyed gaze and Rika tried not to swallow. “We’ve been in the air for three five-days now, and it’s another seven days until set down.” Isa said slowly. “What makes you think they would have anything new?”

Rika shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Syd said that people sometimes have to sell possessions to afford necessities while Volantis is in the air. Might be worth a look.”

Isa nodded. “Makes sense, let’s go and see.” She set off across the crowded marketplace without another word.

Rika gave a silent sigh of relief and trailed after her, not unlike a dingy being towed by a clipper ship, she thought. Physically, the two women were of roughly the same size, but Isa just took up much more space. She was brown, brassy, and bold, in sharp contrast to Rika’s own pale and unobtrusive blondness. Rika loved her for it, but Fòrsic Engineers were supposed to look after their Theorist counterparts, and not the other way around. However, in this case, the dynamic was reversed. While a brilliant Fòrsic engineer, Isa, when bored, had the tendency to create her own amusements. The last time she’d gotten away from Rika’s watchful eye during a mission, the resulting chaos had burned down the Hascillis city docks, destroyed several thousand crowns in trade goods, and sent a score of men to the medicos. On the other hand, she’d also rescued their informant, broken up the surveillance on their cell, and, apparently, saved an orphanage from the extortion of the Hascillis underground. All in all, however, it was better if Rika kept Isa distracted, for everyone’s peace of mind. In fact, their cell leader, Syd, had given her standing orders to that effect.

Trailing by a step, Rika followed in Isa’s wake across the crowded marketplace. She admired how Isa’s steady, straightforward gait forced the various patrons of Ater-Volantis’s main market to bend out of her way, like reeds before the wind. Isa chattered back to Rika as they walked, oblivious or uncaring of the wave of disruption their passage caused. “What time are we due back at the house?” Isa asked.

Rika shrugged. “Syd said the fourth bell past midday. Apparently a curfew is being enforced tonight, and she wanted to make sure everyone was back well in advance.”

Isa nodded. “Plenty of time then. Should we get some chicory after Boundless?”

Inwardly, Rika blanched. They barely had a bell to spare, half of which would be spent trekking across the city to their lodgings. Still, the covered plaza was cool despite the afternoon sun, and something hot sounded nice. “How about Rose-hips?” she suggested. The popular shop had the bitter beverage that Isa, and other Thesians from the south of Alis Dak favored, as well as drinks more suitable for Rika’s more northern palate.

“I prefer Salvenor’s, it’s less crowded. What do you think?”

“Vorchesny’s is similar, and it’s on the way home.” Rika allowed just the slightest hint of an admonishment into her voice. They had been late the last several times they’d been sent on errands, and Syd had threatened to keep them under house arrest. Rika would go crazy if that happened, let alone how Isa would react. They had been operating in the field for a long time, and every member of their five person team was feeling edgy from the increased security precautions they had to take to remain on Ater-Volantis while it was in transit.

“Fine by me,” Isa said, a brief smile acknowledging Rika’s tone. They had just reached the edge of the plaza and were about to turn onto the main avenue that circled up through the city’s neighborhoods, when Isa suddenly stopped and held up a hand. Rika stopped too, and was about to ask why when Isa hissed “listen!”

Rika strained her ears to hear over the background murmur of the market. Far off she heard a wailing noise, and then a crack, followed by the distinctive sound of crumbling masonry. “Oh, thank Alos” was all she said.

Grinning from ear to ear, Isa nodded. “We’re here to keep an eye on city. We’d be remiss in our duties to not… investigate that disturbance.”

Rika sighed audibly, knowing Syd would be angry regardless of what information they discovered, but even she had to admit that it would be better than seeing the old, familiar scrolls at the local booksellers. She turned to Isa and matched her, grin for grin. “After you,” she gestured, and the pair of them turned and made their way quickly toward the distant sounds of trouble.

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

Roshan’s afternoon was not going well. After finally making it off the university grounds, he’d headed down toward the seedier areas of the city. Because Ater-Volantis spent most of its time airborne, touching down every fourth five-day for resupply and repair, there was not a lot of movement in or out of the city. The crystal that powered the city’s lift was unique. There were very few other crystals near its caliber, and even fewer capable of sustained flight. Thus, while there was some short distance air-traffic to and from Ater-Volantis, there was not the type of continuous trading that would take place if Volantis was a more normal, grounded city. This meant that there were no bustling inns that Roshan would be able to slip into and wait out the remaining seven days until set down in comfortable anonymity. However, there were a number of seedy taverns, frequented by students and the other lower classes in the City, which offered dingy rooms for assignations and for people too drunk to walk home.

Roshan had been headed for Tipsy Turtle, his favorite of those establishments. When he had rounded the corner into its dingy alley, he’d come face to face with a pair of city watchmen resplendent in red and yellow. In retrospect, he should have pretended to be someone else with legitimate business there. Certainly his chosen tactic of standing in shocked silence and then turning and sprinting away had not been the best strategy. The watch had, predictably, given chase.

Half a bell of panicked, wheezing running later, they were closing in. Roshan took a hard right into a small alleyway, another pair of watchmen hard on his heels. He had been trying to stay off the main streets, but hadn’t been successful in losing them in the twisting streets that ran between the wide, circular boulevards of the city. The alley itself was grimy and greasy, and there were several piles of garbage that would never be seen in the nicer parts of the city.

Roshan ran towards the opening at the other end of the alley and skidded to a halt, cursing as two more members of the watch entered, blocking off his exit. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the pair chasing him close in. Looking at the pair in front of him, Roshan swore again, loudly. The two watchwomen were both armed with Fòrsic Lances, heavy wooden staves that were iron shod, with a crystal embedded in the tip. The staves’ design meant that they could be used as bludgeoning weapons, or lowered and discharged, firing Fòrsa blasts with effects ranging from the unpleasant to the uncomfortably lethal. Roshan had visions of himself turning and running, only to be shot in the back. As the pair behind him carried only truncheons, he drew a deep breath and ran directly toward the armed pair, screaming incoherently as he went.

The two women’s eyes widened, and the smaller one took half a step back before both of them lowered their lances, the crystals in the tips beginning to glow with an eerie yellow light. Roshan reached into a pocket sewn into the lining of his cloak and pulled out two failed testing crystals from his and Aki’s experiments and with a crow-hop, threw them at the two women in front of him.

He shouted the activation word, “Lohjs!” meaning light in old Alisian, and as the crystals hit the cobbles in front the watch members, they began to emit blinding, flickering light and a deafening screech. Right before the crystals activated, Roshan shut his eyes and put his fingers in his ears and threw himself to side, landing with a splat in nearby pile of garbage. He felt a crackle of energy pass over head as one of the lances discharged followed by the sound of crumbling masonry as the blast impacted the wall above him.

Roshan rose wearily to his feet and continued to stumble blindly down the alley. Counting out the time between flashes, having previously memorized the sequence over the course of months of experimentation, he chanced a quick peek and saw the two watchwomen clutching their faces in stunned surprise, unsure whether to cover their ears or eyes. He dashed between them, eyes still shut, and burst out into the sunny street beyond.

As there were still two watchmen in pursuit, Roshan couldn’t stop to gloat at his presumed escape. He kept running, turning the corner and running down another alleyway further down the street. He had made it most of the way through the alley before he realized that it doglegged into a dead end. “Damn,” he said mildly, coming to halt.

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

Isa and Rika made good time rushing through the crowded streets. Part of their time in Ater-Volantis had been spent exhaustively mapping the city’s byways, and so they dashed through alleyways and side streets with complete confidence, honing in on the source of the noise. Coming out of a dark, covered passageway onto a broad, sunlight boulevard, they spotted a pair of red and yellow-clad watchmen advancing down another alley cautiously.

Rika nudged Isa with her elbow and jerked her head towards the watchmen. “Reckon we should follow these fellows?” she asked.

Isa nodded, thinking. “I’ll go behind them, you take the roof tops,” she said, and then ran toward the mouth of the alley where the watchmen had disappeared, slipping a lead-weighted baton out from the small of her back as she did so.

Typical of her not to wait for me to agree, Rika thought, as she looked at the buildings lining the street. They were three stories tall, with sloped roofs covered in reddish clay tiles. Fortunately for her, they also lacked the spires and domes of some of the wealthier neighborhoods. The buildings were a combination of wood and artfully designed masonry and looked sturdy. She decided to go for it. Glancing back and forth to make sure that the street was clear, she stamped her right foot three times, pawing backwards on the last stamp like a bull preparing to charge. Rika then took three bounding steps, coming down with both feet on the last leap. There was a hum of released energy and a copper-colored flash as the crystals sewn into her boot soles boosted her up through the air. She landed with a clatter on the roof tiles, tucking her momentum into a forward roll perpendicular to the slope of the roof before popping up onto her feet. Moving forward and stepping softly as she could, Rika made it to the edge and looked down into the alley below.

The two watchmen were moving towards a third man, wrapped in a stained brown cloak. He was tall and thin, with his back to the wall at the end of the alley, and he appeared to be breathing heavily. As the watchmen approached, the man spread his hands in a placating gesture. “Greetings, sirs, how can I help you on this fine day?” He asked. Rika was impressed; his voice had hardly a quaver in it, although it was clear that he was scared.

“Roshan Orjuwani,” one of the watchmen called, his voice harsh, “you are wanted for treason against the city of Ater-Volantis. If you come quietly with us, you will not be harmed.”

“Much…” muttered the other watchmen, and both men advanced menacingly. Each of them outweighed Roshan by several stone, and one was tapping a black nightstick against the palm of his hand. Looking behind the watch, Rika met Isa’s eyes as she poked her head in around the mouth of the alleyway. Isa nodded and mouthed, “go” and darted in around the mouth alleyway, her baton in her hand.

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

As the watchmen advanced, Roshan stood with his back to the cool alley wall, his hands in a defensive posture. Having lived the life of a sedentary academic, he was not expecting to be able to win a fist fight, but maybe he could get in at least one good hit.

Prepared to go down fighting, he took a step forward, before pausing in confusion. From the entrance to the alleyway came a startling vision. A woman was sprinting toward him, running silently on soft-soled boots. A brown cloak and an intricately colored headscarf streamed behind her, and she hefted a wooden baton studded in sparking crystals.

One of the watchmen must have seen something in his eyes, because he turned and looked over his shoulder. He had time to utter a startled “what…?” before the women reached him and clouted him across the head with her baton. There was a sizzling sound of Fòrsic discharge, and the watchman went rigid before collapsing in a boneless heap. The other watchman turned and raised his own truncheon, readying it to bring it down in a crushing blow. Roshan started to shout a warning, when another woman crashed into the fight. She was blonde and pale, in sharp contrast to the first woman’s rich sepia-toned beauty. As the blonde woman hit the watchman, her boots pulsed out a halo of Fòrsa with a whoosh, sending the guard to the ground, hard. The woman rose back up in the air, and executed a graceful backflip before landing in a crouch next her darker companion. Both watchmen lay on the ground in front of them, stunned and unmoving.

Roshan looked from one woman to the other and then asked, “Who in the name of Dar-Alos are you?”

The two woman exchanged a pair of leonine smiles. “Roshan—was that your name?” The one with the headscarf asked. Roshan nodded, still confused. The woman extended her hand. “I’m called Isa. Welcome to the other side.”

Chapter 5 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.