The Floating City - Chapter 17

The Running Battle

Blue-white lightning split the night, and the top windows of the Rosehip’s tea room blew out into the night, following by blazing balls of fire. Ringing bells heralded the fire, and Aki heard the clanking as the Ater-Volantis fire fighters rushed Fòrsic water engines towards the orange glow. Lying prone in the darkness several rooftops away, she grimaced. Beside her, Benji gave a low, low whistle. “That’s the biggest one yet!” he whispered.

Aki nodded. The conflict touched off by their precipitous departure from the meeting with Choisant was not going well, for either side. If pressed, however, she could admit that it was the Engineers who were bearing the brunt of it. An inescapable fact of life on the Floating City was that it really was not very big. The population totaled approximately twenty thousand people, give or take, of which Eolas made up ten percent. Not everyone at the University was an Engineer or a Theorist, and so against the might of the Choisant Aki had a mere two score of students. There were others throughout the town who supported them, but not openly, and it was open support they desperately needed.

Lacking that, they also needed places to hide. The mountain of rock upon which the City rested was honeycombed with tunnels, lightening the load and making ideal storage and maintenance passages. The Warren, as it was called, was also the obvious place to hide, and thus it was the first place the Choisant had looked. The tunnels were not endless, and there was no escape from the City when it was in the air. Aki had been forced to spread her forces throughout the city to avoid detection, and was doing all she could to avoid open conflict. She had opted, instead, for a barrage of broadsheets, posted wherever possible and decrying the excesses of the Prime and his cronies. Unable to find them, the Magnus and the Choisant were becoming increasingly frustrated. And their reactions to finding a hiding spot were becoming increasingly severe.

“Thank Alos that we got our people out in time,” Aki whispered back in response to Benji. Lack of open support didn’t mean a lack of information. The same heavy-handedness that kept people afraid also built resentment, and there was no lack of people surreptitiously slipping them information. The trick was deciding what was genuine and what was a potential trap set by the Magnus. Still, there were ten Engineers who had been living in the vacant rooms above the Rosehip tea house. Enough that, when word came of the raid, they’d had to move them or lose more than twenty percent of their forces.

It was Benji’s turn to nod. “Yes, suspiciously well-timed,” he murmured, “especially since we don’t know how they found the Rosehip hide-away in the first place.”

“I am worried about that too,” Aki replied, pensively staring at the burning building. “Perhaps a patron heard them moving around, but we’ll have to move everyone else to be safe.”

“Agreed,” Benji said. Then, he pointed down at a shadowed alley to the corner of the former tea room. “Look!”

Aki followed the line of his finger. There were several dark figures there, dressed in drab clothing. “Too soon to be here to fight the fire,” she murmured, peering at the mouth of the alley. “Do you think these are our fire-starters, hoping to pick off anyone escaping the building?”

Benji grinned fiercely. “I’m sure of it. Let’s take these snake-eaters.”

“Hmmm,” Aki pondered. It could be a risk exposing their positions, but without opposition the Choisant would undoubtedly try and blame the conflagration on them. It would be worth it to capture some operatives, and display them prominently somewhere public. The Choisant relied on fear, show they could be defeated, and they would lose their mystique. “All right,” she said finally. “Signal Maz and her team.” Their biggest advantage lay in their ability as Engineers and the subsequent quality of their equipment. Aki intended to use it as much as possible.

Without moving from his prone position, Benji fished a small crystal from his pocket. The crystal was housed in an open wooden box, with mirrored sides to direct the light forward. Aiming to the left of the alley, he trigged it twice. On the roof across the way, five dark figures rose and leapt down onto the Choisant soldiers below them. Four of the figures moved jerkily, slowing their descent with bursts of Fòrsic energy directed at the walls of the surrounding buildings. The last figure, Maz, glided smoothly ahead of her team in her flying suit. She was first to reach the unsuspecting soldiers, and at the last second twisted in the air to slam boot first into the back of the last man in line, sending him stumbling into his companions, scattering them.

The rest of her team followed swiftly on her heels, dealing stunning blows from Fòrsic staves and batons. The fight quickly devolved into individual battles, the Engineers using surprise and speed to overwhelm and incapacitate the Choisant soldiers. “I hope they remember the plan,” Aki muttered. It would be a shame if any of the soldiers died and missed their humiliating debut as sign posts in the main forum the next morning.

“Maz trained her team well,” Benji reassured her. “They will do you proud.” There was a lull, punctuated by distant thwacking noises, occasional shouts, and the hum of a Fòrsic discharge as Maz and her companions made short work of the remaining Choisant. A thud and a clanking, like someone in armor stubbing their toe and recoiling, intruded on their concentration. “What was that?” Benji asked.

Aki turned and signaled to her team of Engineers, arrayed behind her. Three quick hand gestures, go, scout, quiet, and one of the Engineers, a tiny slip of a woman named Ora, went bounding away across the rooftops.  Ahead of them, the last of Choisant firestarters turned to flee. The man was brought down by Maz, her gliding suit enabling a flying tackle down the alleyway. “That suit looks like it is working great,” Aki remarked as Maz stunned the last soldier with a Fòrsic discharge placed expertly behind his ear. “That leap must have been fifteen feet.”

“As long as the crystals hold out,” Benji replied. “It locks up otherwise, the clockwork can’t sustain movement without any Fòrsa.”

“That could be rough, depending on how high up you were,” Aki mused. The rest of Maz’s team were hogtying the downed soldiers, gagging and blindfolding them and preparing to leave.

“Yes. Although since the main crystal is in the chest plate, you could potentially swap it out on the fly, as it were. We designed it so that the arms still work even if the rest of the suit is locked up.”

“Good to know,” she said, which was true, considering she and Benji were both wearing the other two suits that he and Maz had produced. She hadn’t used it for anything more strenuous than climbing to this rooftop, however. While Maz and Benji had been using their suits for five-days, Aki had been too busy organizing the Engineers and keeping them just ahead of the Choisant and Magnus Striech to become fully comfortable using her own. This mission had offered an ideal opportunity, a chance to test, and see the suit in the field, without much risk to herself. The suits seemed to perform well. If they could equip all the Engineers thus, they would gain unprecedented power and mobility. The suits could both defend and attack with Fòrsic energy, and while by now most of them had some Fòrsic means of climbing, quick access to and from the rooftops was such an important tactical route that any advantage there had to be followed up on. Unfortunately, the suits burned through all but the purest crystals quite quickly, a problem exacerbated by the increasing amounts of crystals afflicted by Síosar. They couldn’t afford to outfit more than a few suits, although Maz was looking into making them work more efficiently, to be able to utilize less pure crystals.

Ora returned, and rushed over to Aki, a panicked look on her face. Aki frowned, something was wrong.

“Choisant,” Ora whispered hurriedly. “In the streets below. Maybe two score, they’ve got Maz surrounded, but I don’t think she knows yet. I couldn’t get through to her.”

Aki swore quietly. Had the whole thing been a trap, or just suspiciously good timing? It didn’t matter now, they had to get Maz and her troop out. “Are they moving, or are they just waiting?” She asked Ora.

“Waiting,” the young woman replied. “But they can’t wait for much longer, or Maz will notice them.”

“We have to warn her,” she said, “and quietly, or the Choisant will move in and we will be out of time,” she looked out at the streets and the burning Rosehip, thinking quickly. The former teashop was on a square, a crossroads of sorts, with Maz on the other side of them. It was impossible to Maz by rooftops, and the streets below were apparently full of soldiers. The Fòrsic lantern was just a signaling device. They could get Maz’s attention, but they couldn’t tell her anything.  If only they could fly… she looked at Benji. “We’ll go,” she said. “The suits can glide us across the square. If we move quickly enough, we can get to Maz and get her people out.”   

“No!” He protested. “Too risky for both of us to go,” he stood. “I’ll warn Maz, you stay here and watch my back.”

“Easier for you to watch mine,” she retorted. “Besides, I’m in charge. And we’ll need all three suits to get everyone to safety.”

He stared at her intently, and then angrily shook his head. “You’re too important, without you all this will fall apart.”

She reached up and patted his cheek gently. “You worry too much,” she admonished, and then grinned. “And I can’t resist a chance to tweak Striech’s nose.”

“All right,” Benji gave in. “Take this and signal when they move in,” He handed the lantern to Ora, and then turned back to Aki. “Let’s go!”

Aki looked at Ora. “Keep quiet until the Choisant have moved passed you. Then get out of here. We’ll meet you in the tunnels.” Ora inclined her head in assent, and Aki turned and nodded to Benji and they both launched themselves into the air.

Aki had doubted the suits, but they worked smooth and silently. She’d have to apologize to Maz later, after they saved her. The crystal in the chest-plate was a comforting warmth against her chest as it powered the various mechanism of the suits, extending the ‘wings’ out from the below the arms to lock into the legs, creating a gliding surface that caught the cold night air. The crystals also used Fòrsic energy to slow the rate of descent dramatically, so that they glided out and away from the roof rather than down and away. They flashed across the square, Aki in front and Benji right on her heels, and then they both flared the gliding arms to pull up and skid to a stop in front of Maz and her team as they finished hog-tying the rest of the Choisant soldiers. Maz raised an eyebrow at their approach, and Aki got straight to the point. “Two score more Choisant soldiers,” she whispered hurriedly. “We’re surrounded.”

“Risky of you to come yourself,” was Maz’s only reply.

Aki ground her teeth in frustration; must they all baby her? “Too late for that now,” she said instead, waving the concern aside. “We need to get you out of here.”

“Rooftops?” Maz asked, looking up. The Engineers had escaped several scrapes by taking to their rooftops, using the versatility of their Fòrsic equipment for the mobility to escape the fights where they were at a disadvantage.

Aki nodded, “Quick as we can, before they notice we’ve slipped out of their trap.”

“All right,” Maz agreed. She pointed a member of her team, a brash young Dakian. “Kevi, scout the top,” she commanded.

“Yes, Maz,” the young man said, and took off like a jackrabbit. Kevi had a combination of Forsic gloves and boots, and used them to scramble up the alley wall with alacrity, using window ledges to throw himself upward. He reached the top, but before he could pull himself up there was a wumph and a net flew in from what seemed like nowhere, wrapping around his upper body and sending him tumbling to the cobbled streets below. He impacted with a sickening crunch as Aki looked on in horror.

Behind her, she heard Benji say hurriedly, “I see Ora’s signal. They’re moving in, Boss, what should we do?”

Her mind was blank, shocked into stillness by the suddenness of Kevi’s fall. It took several crucial seconds before the shouts of her companions bought her back fully into wakefulness. She immediately began giving orders.

“Maz, defense formation. Leave the prisoners behind. We don’t want to be trapped in the alleyway, so we will retreat backwards out into the square,” Aki commanded, and then dropped her voice so only Maz and Benji could hear. “There are tunnels under Rosehips, it’s a reason why we had people stationed here, but they are disused. I don’t know where they go, but any place is better than here.”

Benji surveyed the burning building skeptically. “We better hurry, then. That blaze isn’t stopping for anyone.”

Maz was busy directing her troops, “Joe and Sabine, trip lines and traps, slow them down!” The two Engineers, a brown-haired woman from Hascillis and weedy looking man from Alis, hastened to obey. Joe stuck spikes in the masonry of the wall, while Sabine rolled out lines of string and pulled them tight. Tripping the string would trigger a Fòrsic blast from the spikes, and the line would be near invisible in the dark. While they hurried to set up more trip lines, Mei turned to the two remaining of her force, two red-haired Crystalian women, one tall and broad the other short and slender. “Sadhbh, you and Anna are on the defensive. Redirect or block all incoming missiles.”

It was the most sentences Aki had ever heard the quiet woman speak, but she knew that Maz, whatever her reticence, was capable of much more than she seemed. It was why Aki had flown in to rescue her, she needed her to win this war. Besides, she was a friend.

Sadhbh and Anna pulled out defensive equipment, a small round shield for the shorter Anna, and a long, thick staff for Sadhbh. She whirled it in a figure-eight pattern, as Anna activated her shield, and the air began to hum with building energy. Aki smiled to herself. The Choisant were in for a surprise. Most soldiers had very standardized equipment, mostly Fòrsic lances, but Engineers (and Theorists, she supposed) could not resist tinkering. They had built much of their own Fòrsic arms and armor, and she hoped that the alterations they had made would be unexpected enough for them to win free.  

Down the alleyway, they heard the steady thuds of many footsteps. “They come,” Maz said ominously.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Aki grumbled, and waved the other Engineers to keep stepping backwards, maintaining a loose defensive formation and backing them away from the oncoming footsteps. They had just emerged out into the square, when the sounds of boot-steps suddenly halted. A magnified version of Magnus Striech’s voice filled the air. “Engineers of Eolas! Your resistance is commendable, but unnecessary. Surrender now, and you will be spared.”

Silence followed the pronouncement, but behind Aki Benji put his hands to face and blew a raspberry. The rest of the Engineers laughed, and Aki shouted “Come on and get us, you old dirty bastard!”

“Very well,” Striech’s voice said. His voice was hard. “On your own head be it.”

Flashes of light came from the streets leading into the square, and Aki could see rows of Choisant soldiers moving towards them, Fòrsic lances leveled. The lances spat light, and blasts of Fòrsic energy shot toward them. Sadhbh whirled her staff in another figure-eight pattern, ending with the staff held up in the air. A dome of light surrounded the Engineers, and the blasts of energy spattered off it. Off in the alleyway, explosions marked the first row of troops finding the tripwires. The group continued to move back towards the entryway to the building, backlit by the flames licking down to the lower stories. Anna used her shield to bolster Sadhbh’s dome, reflecting back Fòrsic blasts towards the narrow streets. Here and there a soldier went down, but the rain of fire was unceasing.

They were almost to the door when the crystals in Sadhbh’s staff failed. She gave a scream of pain as the length of wood erupted into flames. She dropped the staff, and ducked behind the group and Anna’s single shield. “Benji, GET THE DOOR!” Aki yelled, as she and Maz stepped forward. Without some sort of barrier, the blasts from the lances would overwhelm them all. The suits, however, had some shielding, and they protected the rest of the group with their bodies. They were in a tight clump on the steps to Rosehips now. Aki and Maz flanked Anna with their hands out, generating a pale dome that shivered and contracted as the Fòrsic blasts impacted it.  Behind them, Sadhbh nursed her burned hands, while Joe and Sabine hurled more Fòrsic stakes towards the soldiers, and soon the air was filled with dust and flying debris. A wooden crunch from behind them told Aki that Benji had broken open the door.  The three Engineers behind her went pouring up the steps into the building, and Benji came back down to bolster their defenses.  

Anna’s shield broke in half with a ringing snap, and a piece flew back and knocked her back and down. Maz turned and, with a mighty effort, picked her up and threw her bodily through the doorway. There were just the three of them now. The crystals on Aki’s chest were burning hot, and all three of them had to pause occasionally and insert more crystals into the chest-plates of the suits as they used them up. They backed up the steps towards the doorway. The soldiers were close now.  She saw Striech’s ‘valet’, Fal Katu the assassin, leading the way through the dust of the square. “Back, back, back!” She yelled, as he lowered an evil-looking staff, the crystalline tip beginning to glow. Maz was first through the entranceway, but as Aki turned to follow, the assassin’s weapon fired. A beam of pure Fòrsic energy shot toward them, and Benji threw himself in front of her. The beam sizzled as it scorched his suit, and the flesh beneath, and both of them were thrown back into the building, hitting the far wall with a crash. Aki grunted as her wind left her. Benji was a limp, dead weigh on her chest, and she could only raise one of her arms.

Ahead of them, Fal Katu appeared in the doorway. “A valiant effort,” he said, his Volantian accent polished and urbane. “Pity it was not good enough.”

“Alos curse you,” Aki grated.  

Fal Katu only shrugged. “You have lost. I could wait for the building to burn down around your ears, but,” he lowered the staff, “I prefer to finish it now.”

As the tip of the staff started to glow, Aki raised her shaking hand to point first at the Assassin, and then higher, at the doorframe. His eyes widened, “Wha…” he began, and then she triggered all of the remaining crystals in her suit. A white-hot blast shot forth from her hand into the doorframe. It held for a long moment and then collapsed, burying Fal Katu under a pile of burning wood and bricks. Aki slumped backward, her eyes closing. Her last conscious feeling before she lapsed into unconsciousness was Maz’s strong hands pulling Benji free of her, and then carrying her gently down the flame-lit hallway.

Chapter 18 can be found here.

The Floating City - Chapter 16

The Untold Stories

Roshan returned to the central hall in a fugue, still mulling over the ramifications of his conversation with the Don of the resistance. Deep in introspection, his need to pace had instead led him through the back door and out into the night. The bracing cold felt like clarity as he wandered the outskirts of the village, avoiding the pooling glows of light that denoted people, warmth, and companionship.

Finally, his wandering feet led him back to the meeting hall; right around the time that he had lost feeling in his fingers. As he entered the hall and stamped the snow from his boots, Eithne came to greet him, a worried look upon her face. “Roshan!” she exclaimed. “Where did you go? I was worried!”

“I, uh, went for a walk,” Roshan replied lamely.

“Outside?” Eithne laid a hand on his shoulder and tsked. “You are freezing, let me get you a mug of chicory and warm you up,” she said, taking his arm and leading him away from the doorway. In the warmth of the hall, he realized how cold he had been.

“Thank you,” he said. “Sorry, I had a lot on my mind.”

Eithne patted his hand comfortingly. “It is fine. I know the Don has placed a lot of pressure on you. Just remember that I am here if you need to talk.”

“I…” Roshan opened his mouth to unburden himself, but stopped abruptly, struck with a sudden thought. In his growing sense of unease, he realized that he had neglected to question anyone in the village closely about the Resistance. If the Don ordered him to do something and he refused, what would happen? Would the Resistance members cart him away, never to be heard from again? Would Eithne turn away from him? Was she friendly and open to him because that’s who she was, or because the Don had ordered her to be? Were there other Theorists before him, who had wondered the same thing and then disappeared?

He had been treating Alsce as his own personal research retreat, enjoying the people, the food, and the unfettered access to books to research what he was most passionate about, but ignoring everything else about the political situation. Now his willful blindness was coming back to haunt him, and he was no longer sure how to proceed. However, Eithne was staring at him expectantly, so he decided to change the subject. “Why are you here? I mean, why did you decide to join the Resistance?”

Eithne blinked at him, and then smiled, taking the non sequitur in stride. “I’ve told you some of this, you know,” she said with a chuckle. “Have you forgotten?”

“No, no,” Roshan assured her, “I’m just… looking for reasons.”

Eithne smiled warmly up at him, understanding what he was asking beyond what he was saying. She was quiet for several moments. “It’s about what is right,” she said finally. “Of how difficult my family’s life was before getting I got a job at the library there.”

Roshan nodded, “I remember.”

“Well,” Eithne continued, “I told you that I left Crystalis, and traveled to Dak, where a Resistance member recruited me and sent me here. I never told you why I left Crystalis in the first place.”

“I assumed it wasn’t willingly,” Roshan nodded.

“You assume correctly,” Eithne said forcefully, her voice hard. “Somebody was stealing scrolls, selling them on the black market. It turned out to be a young scion of the Crystalis aristocracy, trying to finance their drinking habit,” Her tone was bitter. “I was new, and he was connected. They had every proof outside of catching him in the act, but still they blamed the theft on me. Someone who felt guilty about the lie came to tell me, and I left before they could arrest me, or worse. On my way, the only help I received was from a Resistance fighter,” Eithne let out a long sigh, and shook her head. “You will hear similar stories from many of the others. The Resistance has given a home to us all, but this life was not one any of us planned to have.”

“I’m sorry that I never asked before,” Roshan said, holding her arm a little tighter. “I’ve been so focused on my research, I have neglected to really get to know anyone.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Eithne replied, releasing his arm. “Most members of the Resistance are content with leaving their past behind them.” Stepping away from him, she unlocked the double doors to the library. According to the locals, the Don had arrived in Alsce more than 15 years ago and converting the villagers to his cause (the story was that he had used Fòrsic weapons to rescue them from a den of bandits lairing in the mountains). Afterwards he had fashioned a two-storied wing to the central lodge, before packing it full of all of the Fòrsic research he had managed to beg, borrow, or steal during his and his soldiers’ travels. Eithne was quite proud of the resulting collection, and rightly so, Roshan thought. Although limited in space, it was packed full of scrolls and books, reaching up to a carved wooden ceiling stretching nearly thirty feet above them. Halfway up, there was a wooden walkway around the edge. There were wheeled ladders at both levels to facilitate reaching the highest of shelves, all of which were made with dark, mountain wood. Roshan thought that in some respects, he preferred it to the great library of Ater-Volantis. That might have been the largest concentration of scrolls and tomes on the continent, but this library had better company.  

Eithne bustled him into one of the plush leather armchairs situated throughout the room and lit several glowlamps before busying herself preparing two mugs of chicory using a Fòrsic cooker and a few sachets she had squirreled away throughout the room. The warmth of the room restoring feeling to his fingers, Roshan tried to get up and help, but she only shook her head and pushed him back down into the chair again. Sitting, he tried to enjoy the languid feeling of warmth overtaking his body, but mostly was preoccupied with how pretty Eithne looked, and how the low light sparked fires in her hair.

Finally, the drinks were ready, and Eithne settled herself down into an armchair near to his. They spent several moments in companionable silence, before Roshan spoke. “You were right about the energy distribution glyphs,” he said, finally.

“Oh?” Eithne arched an eyebrow.

Roshan grinned. “I don’t mean to sound surprised,” he teased. “However, it’s not sufficient to bear the Fòrsic load.  Any other ingenious ideas?”

“What, and rob you of your chance to do your own research?” she asked archly.

“Well,” he replied, “you are a librarian. I would just be… taking advantage of your talents.”

Eithne grinned, “Oh, is that what you call it in Ater-Volantis?”

Roshan blushed, or at least as much as his ochre skin would allow. “I, uh, didn’t mean to, I mean to say I had no intentions of….”

“It is all right,” Eithne reassured him, laughing. She stood up and grabbed a massive, ornate, leather bound tome off of a nearby shelf and dropping it with a heavy thud on the small table between their chairs. “Take advantage as much as you like,” she said with a wink as she flipped the book open. “It’s Focati’s glyph compendium. Undoubtedly there will be some clue in here.”

Roshan bent over the musty pages with a smile. Here, talking theory with Eithne, he had almost forgotten his earlier conversation with Alistair Gaunt. It was a shadow on an otherwise pleasant evening, and if he tried hard enough he could blot out the dark possibilities that shadow portended.

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The following morning dawned sunny and beautiful, although Roshan only caught the tail end of it. He had stayed up talking with Eithne until the early hours of the morning, and had only just beat the rising sun to bed. However, as it was a rest day, he could sleep as late as he liked. Their small team lacked the amount of crystals required to test theories every day. Instead, they tested once, or twice at most, every week, leaving him plenty of time between each test to relax, and to refine his current theories on Fòrsic energy transfer. When he was with Eithne, he was usually doing both at once, even if it also led to his staying up far too late. Roshan was housed with other visiting Resistance members in another recently built wing of the central lodge, and it was easy to, after throwing on some old clothes, a pair of stout breeches, and a heavy wool sweater, wander down to the kitchens to scrounge a late bite to eat.

After he was well fortified with freshly baked bread and venison sausage, Roshan wandered through the lodge. He admitted, if only to himself, that he was not sure what to do next. After all, the Don had done nothing beyond make some remarks Roshan had interpreted as mildly threatening. Roshan therefore did not think that any precipitous action on his part seemed a wise idea. Burning his notes and riding off into the sunset in defense of his research seemed righteous enough, but he had nowhere to go and no survival skills worth mentioning. Moreover, he was not even certain if the Don was planning to appropriate his research and use it for his own ends. For that matter, Roshan had produced his theories using the Don’s own materials and with the Don’s backing. If the Resistance had been a socially legitimate organization such as a University, no court would have upheld Roshan’s protest about the perversion of his research. Practically speaking, he had nothing to go on but a vague feeling of unease growing about his work with the Resistance.

Roshan sighed. The only conclusion that he could draw was that he needed more information. The lodge, and the village of Alsce, was the headquarters of the Resistance, and there were many members there who were reporting in or awaiting assignment, and thus had little to do. They tended to congregate in the main hall of the lodge, and it was there that Roshan decided to head.

“Roshan!” Harshun called out in greeting when Roshan entered the high-ceilinged hall. He was sitting with a long-haired blond man from Hascillis whom Roshan did not know, and a pair of dark-haired women from Demiard named Hana and Bira. He hadn’t seen the two of them in a few weeks, and presumed they had been out on a mission. “You’re up late,” Harshun continued. “Keeping Eithne company?” He gave Roshan a lusty wink.

“No, no,” Roshan said, blushing slightly. “I mean, she did pull some interesting runes out of the library for me.”

“I am sure,” Harshun said, smiling broadly. He waved a hand at an empty seat next to Hana and Bira, across from him and the blond man. “Have a seat on the bench, we were just lingering over lunch. “Have you met my friend Sebastian?” he gestured at the man next to him. “He just arrived from Alis last night with Hana and Bira.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” Roshan said, reaching out and clasping arms with Sebastian. “Had you been there long?” 

“Since the end of the summer,” Sebastian replied, sitting back down. His voice was a low, resonant baritone, but his accent reminded Roshan strongly of Rika. “Although some of that time was spent as a… guest of Prime. Hana and Bira here had to get off their comfortable seats at headquarters to come and fetch me.”

“This fool got caught eavesdropping on the city council,” Hana griped. “We do not begrudge him – nothing like a mid-winter jailbreak to get the blood pumping!”

“Did you discover anything?” Roshan asked, curious.

Sebastian shook his head. “Nothing major, but tensions are high throughout the region. Our men--”

“—And women,” Bira added, and Sebastian tilted his head at her in acknowledgement.

“Our men and our women,” he amended, “are riling up the populace in exemplary fashion.”

Roshan nodded. All of this was news to him, but he refused let his surprise show. “The Don’s plan is well underway then?” He asked casually.

“I assume so. The man never shows his glyphs,” Sebastian shrugged, “We’re all here to seek justice, in one form or another. We trust that the Don is leading us towards it.”

“Oh,” Roshan said, trying to keep his excitement about the direction of the conversation from showing. “What brought you all here to the Resistance, if I may ask?” At Bira and Hana’s quizzical expressions, he added, “I’ve been so embroiled in my own research that I’ve realized I don’t really know the specifics of the conflict here beyond the basic ‘us good, Prime bad,’” he chuckled self-consciously, sweat beading in his armpits at the thought that someone might call him out for his ignorance or lack of zeal.

Instead, Sebastian just bobbed his head. “I hear you,” he replied. “We often get caught up in our own tasks and lose sight of the bigger picture. Of course, I assume that is part of the Don’s plan as well, since no one can reveal what they don’t know. Still, it is good to have a general idea.” He sighed, and seemed to be thinking. “For me, I joined when my mother died. My stepfather stole my inheritance, and parceled it out to his own children. Since he was a friend of the village headman, he got away with it, and I was left destitute. Living on the streets with the other orphaned children I met a Resistance recruiter. He,” Sebastian paused and took a breath, “he saved my life.”

Harshun patted his arm. “It’s alright, my friend, everyone here has a similar story. It is what fuels us, each in our own way.”

The rest of the group nodded. However, Roshan was still searching for answers. “It’s why we fight,” he echoed, “but does anyone know why the Don fights? How did the Resistance start? I mean, I have heard stories, but…” he trailed off.

There was a pause, and then Hana said “that’s all there are, really, stories.” She pointed at Bira. “We came here almost nine years ago. There’s hardly anyone still here who predates us…”

“Maybe Syd and Simon,” Bira put in.

“And a few others,” Hana continued. “We’re some of the senior members, but the Don was here for almost a decade before us. Some of the older villagers remember when he arrived in Alsce, but no one knows where he came from. He’s got a slight Volantian accent. I always figured that the Prime had his parents killed or something like that, and things crystallized from there.”

“I’ve never noticed his accent,” Harshun mused. “He’s too fair skinned to be from my city, but he could be from Alis. I thought he was a member of the old ruling class there. The unification of the Alisian and Dakian cities happened six generations ago, but there are some who are still bitter, especially from Alis. With the Prime’s corruption, and the fact that his family used to be Dakian, there is a logical point of contention for someone with the right background.”

“Wait,” Sebastian said. “The Prime is Dakian?”

“Well, not anymore,” Harshun temporized.

Bira clicked her tongue at Sebastian. “You’ve forgotten your history,” she chided. “The war between the nations of Alis and Dak ended with the Dakian sack of Old Alis while an Alisian force threatened Dak. Both sides sued for peace, and Ater-Volantis was created as a neutral capital. The first Prime was of Dak, but he married an Alisian woman to seal the alliance. Each successive generation married the nobility of a different city, so the current Prime belongs to no city, really. Except maybe Ater-Volantis.”

“Ah,” Harshun added, “You forget. The previous Prime married a Dakian man. This Prime is more Dak than anything else. A diehard Alisian might resent that.”

“Phaugh,” Hana shook her head. “You southerners and your grudges. The war was of generations,past,” she shrugged. “I do not know what drives the Don, but it’s not a dispute that has been over for more than a hundred years.”

Roshan shook his head too, lost in thought while the others continued to argue back and forth. Sebastian’s story, and Hana’s and Harshun’s theories had filled in some missing pieces, but there was still so much he did not know. The mantra of the Resistance was ‘Justice for the Overlooked.’ Everyone here seemed to agree that the only way to achieve justice was to overthrow the Prime, or at least to create enough unrest to force him to make serious concessions. It had all seemed so straightforward in Ater-Volantis, but now he found himself questioning everyone’s motivations – even his own.

Chapter 17 can be found here.

The Floating City - Chapter 15

This is a big chapter for me, because it is, according to my notes / plan, halfway through the story! I want to thank everyone who has been following this story for their support, and I promise you an exciting finish!

The Mountain Village

An explosion shook the small testing chamber. Roshan cursed the stone ceiling above him trembled from the wumph of bursting crystals, covering him in masonry dust. This was the tenth such explosion, after the third, the Don had forbade him from experimenting in the vicinity of the village. He and a few other Resistance researchers had taken up residence in a small cave, high up on the mountain slope. The cave had been cleaned and furnished -- people from Alsce, the hidden mountain village of the Resistance, had previously used it as a hunting camp before the Don appropriated it.

Harshun, one of the Resistance’s Engineers, came up to him, shaking his head. Harshun was a fellow Thesian, with long, dreaded hair wrapped into a dense ponytail that he had covered by a brightly embroidered bandana. Roshan liked the big, brash man. He reminded him of Isa, with his excellent Engineering skills -- and penchant for explosions. “Too much charge, I think,” he told the man.

“WHAT?” Harshun asked, wiggling a finger in his ear. He, too, was covered in dust, and Roshan hoped, not for the first time, that the ceilings were well buttressed.

“Oh, knock it off,” Roshan replied acerbically, “that wasn’t nearly a big enough bang to deafen you through a wall.”

“No, guess not,” Harshun chuckled. “They seem to be getting smaller, actually,” he observed. He sounded mournful.

“That’s a good thing,” Roshan reminded him. “I think. It means that the energy transfer is working.”

“You think.”

“Hey, this is uncharted territory. Three months ago we didn’t think it was possible!” Roshan protested. Soon after his arrival in Alsce, Alistair Gaunt, the Don and leader of the Resistance, had sat him down and interrogated him on his Fòrsic knowledge. It had been an intimidating experience. At the end of their discussion, Roshan understood why so many saw this man as a leader. Angular and bony, the Don lived up to his name, while also exuding an intense energy and compelling charisma. His gravitas was helped by the whitest, bushiest mustache that Roshan had ever seen. The Don had questioned him for what felt like hours, and the end result had set Roshan up with a lab, a few Engineers like Harshun, and carte blanche to research whatever he felt necessary. From his experiences with Isa and Rika, Roshan knew that the Resistance relied heavily on innovative Fòrsic technology to maintain an edge over the Prime’s police and soldiers. However, while simple Forsic devices like lamps and hot-plates could be used by anyone, it took a trained Fòrsic engineer or Theorist to use the more complicated devices. People with that training didn’t exactly grow on trees, and the Resistance needed most of them to be out doing things; the result being that the Don, a former Theorist himself, was overjoyed to have a researcher like Roshan able to stay on site.

Roshan had spent months pouring over theory books in the Don’s surprisingly complete library, finally arriving at what he hoped was a solution to the ongoing catastrophic crystal failure that he had termed the Síosar. Fòrsic crystals were amazing in their flexibility, durability, and power, but all of the extraordinary acts they could perform were wholly reliant on the Fòrsic energy inherent in the crystals. That energy acted as a seed, drawing other energy to it, enabling crystals to give light, call lightning, and heal wounds, among other feats. When crystals reached Fòirceann and that Fòrsic energy dissipated, then the crystals were useless. But it was possible, theoretically, to transfer Fòrsic energy from crystal to crystal, and thereby stave off Fòirceann. According to the theory Roshan had pieced together from his extensive research, he should be able to use a specialized crystal to magnify the energy from a smaller, weaker seed crystal, draining it of Fòrsic energy but allowing him to spread that energy to a range of other crystals, empowering and restoring them in a way that was heretofore considered impossible. Initial experiments showed that his theory was mostly correct, but the energy transfer had so far proved… unstable.

“A point, definitely a point,” Harshun said. “I’ll miss the bangs though, when we finally get it right.”

“I won’t,” Roshan muttered, and Harshun laughed. It took almost half a day to make the long slog up the slope to the cave where they carried out their experiments. Roshan thought the exercise good for him, but he deplored anything that wasted the precious time they had remaining. When it came to stopping the Síosar they were up against a time limit that they knew was coming, but very frustratingly did not know when. Crystals in their current iteration could last another hundred years, or they could all be gone tomorrow. Without this crucial knowledge, each of their days was precious.

A knock sounded on the door to the cave, echoing down the entrance tunnel. Harshun yelled, “come in!”

A tousled brown head poked in around the doorframe and said in a high-piched voice, “sirs? Eithne sent me to tell you that it’ll be supper, soon, and you should come back down.”

Harshun gave Roshan a broad wink. “Oh, if Eithne says so, then I guess we must.”

Roshan sighed. “Fine,” he agreed. He turned towards the village boy who had delivered the message. “Hold up, Elias. We’ve got to close up, and then we can all go down together.”

The boy nodded, cheeks ruddy from the cold. “Can we take the sled?” He asked.

Roshan looked at Harshun, who repeated, “can we?” His tone was uncannily similar to the ten year old at the door.

Shaking his head, Roshan said, “I don’t see why not.” Elias clapped his hands in excitement, and Harshun looked as though he wanted to do the same. “I know why Elias is excited, but aren’t you supposed to be an adult?” Roshan accused.

“Some boys never grow up,” Harshun said, shrugging. “Besides, it’s fun!”

“I guess it is,” Roshan replied, grinning.

The two busied themselves securing the lab, as Elias shuffled back and forth impatiently in the doorway. “Hurry up!” He implored as the two grabbed their coats and headed towards the entrance.

“Patience, young one,” Harshun intoned as they wrapped their scarves and shrugged into their heavy jackets.

Elias ignored him, darting outside the door and into the outer cave. There, resting against the wall, was a toboggan of Roshan’s own make and manufacture. He had thought on his own boyhood in the foothills of these same mountains, although admittedly much further to the south and west of their present location, and he’d remembered how much fun sledding was. He had also remembered how miserable trudging through the snow could be, and so, upon learning that he would have to slog up and down a mountain every day to perform his research, had taken some preventive measures.

The toboggan that Elias was carefully removing from where it leaned up against the wall was long, made of the light but sturdy pine that was indigenous to the region. It had cushioned seats for three, with leather straps and a complex steering system of reins and rigging. The crowning achievement, however, was a low slung, wooden box on the back. Right now the box was latched shut, but when opened, it contained a Fòrsic propulsion system.  At full power it simply burned through crystals, but at lower settings could assist with hauling the sled up the mountain… or give you an extra boost on the way down. Eithne had told him that there was a waiting list of volunteers among the village children to run messages up to him… provided that they got to ride the sled on the way down.

Roshan helped Elias drag the sled out of the cave mouth and to the lip of the flat rise where the cave was situated. The cave squatted on the south side of the valley. The north facing slope meaning that the snow fell here more heavily and the winds blew stronger, leading to more twisted, stunted pine trees than in other parts of the valley. Combined with the dense snow pack, this meant that there was remarkably little separating them form the fields of the village below. From a distance, the curling plumes of smoke gave the village a welcoming look, and he was looking forward to dinner and to being warm. He sat in the rear of the sled, with Harshun in the middle and Elias in the front. Elias was positively vibrating from excitement, as Roshan took the reins in one hand and reached back, activating the crystals.

The sled shot forward, careening down the mountainside, and Roshan mentally patted himself on the back again for taking a crew from the village and banking up snow over the worst of the rocks. The sled fell like an arrow, the wind whistling in his ear and the cold air making his eyes water even behind his workshop goggles. Blinking, he swerved right, and then left, dodging around several copses of trees. The ride seemed to last forever, until he overcorrected on a turn nearly to the village and sent the three of them, laughing, into a soft snow bank.

“Again, Again!” Elias cried, but Roshan only ruffled his hair.

“Maybe tomorrow, kid,” he said. “Let’s get home.”

The main lodge of the village was cozy and warm, kept so by several roaring blazes. To avoid the darkness and solitude of the winter months, the villagers of Alsce had constructed a giant log lodge as a central meeting space. There, they served communal meals and played music to wile away the long winter nights. The Don had claimed this lodge as his own hall, when he had first arrived in the village decades ago. While it remained the heart of the village, it now served as the heart of the Resistance, as well.

After a hearty meal of venison stew, Roshan lounged near one of the fires, reading and trying to stay awake. A light touch on his arm snapped his eyes open, and he smiled as he saw a slim, red-haired woman standing in front of him. She was pale, with a thick braid reaching all the way down to her waist. As always, she had on a severe looking pair of spectacles, but the hazel eyes behind them were warm. “Eithne,” he exclaimed, “I missed you at dinner!”

She smiled back at him, somewhat ruefully. “I got held up in the library. You know how it is.”

“I do, indeed,” Roshan chuckled. The library was never closed, but Eithne kept a sharp eye on all its patrons, and several times she had roused him and sent him off to bed when he had dozed off over one tome or another. “Find anything interesting? Why don’t you take a seat?” He asked hopefully, gesturing at one of the padded leather cushions on the couch beside him.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” she replied, and then as his face fell she added hurriedly, “Or rather, I can, but you can’t.”

“What?” Roshan asked, confused. Then, thinking, he answered himself. “Oh, the Don wants to see me?”

“Yes, but don’t worry, I’ll save your seat for you,” she said, plopping herself down on the cushion beside him.

“Oh, oh, all right, then,” he stammered, standing up and fighting the urge to sit right back down. “I’ll be back soon. I’m sure he just wants today’s report.” 

Eithne shifted over to his cushion and took a scroll out of a shoulder bag that Roshan had not noticed before. “Hurry back,” she said, making herself comfortable.

“I…right, see you,” and he turned abruptly on his heel and strode off towards the Don’s study in the rear of the building. He found Eithne to be a trifle disconcerting. Although there had been plenty of female scholars at Eolas, Roshan had never quite mastered talking to women on topics beyond Fòrsic research. Rika and Isa treated him like a younger brother, which was comforting and reminded him of home, but he felt differently about Eithne. They had such a good rapport when talking about books, so why…? ‘Phaugh’ he grumped to himself, and tried to focus instead on his imminent report to the Don.

Alistair Gaunt’s study was down a narrow hallway in the back of the meetinghouse, on the second floor. It was a small room. Although the workmanlike desk was bare, the office was made even smaller by the voluminous shelves lining the walls, scrolls and tomes packed into every available space. From this office, the Don managed the Resistance, challenging the might of a realm. The man always retired here after dinner, if he had dined at all. The Don kept himself phenomenally busy, a constant stream of visitors and Resistance members moved through his office, and as far as Roshan could tell, he did not appear to sleep.

The one luxury the Don permitted himself was a padded rocking chair, and he spent much of his time leaning backward in it with his feet up on the bare desk. Every time Roshan came to talk to him, he slammed his legs down and bounded up, his moustache quivering with energy. Today was no exception. “Roshan, Roshan, my dear boy,” the Don exclaimed, coming around the desk to shake his hand vigorously, “so glad you could make it down!”

“You summoned me here, Sir?”

“Quite right, quite right,” the Don said as he returned to sit in his rocking chair. “And why do you insist on calling me sir? Just call me Alistair, like everybody else!”

Roshan smiled. “As I’ve said every time, no one calls you just Alistair. They’d probably lynch me if I tried. Sir,” he added insolently. And then, in a more serious tone, “besides, it’s a mark of respect.”

“Oh, all right. I don’t suppose you’d consider it, even in private?”

“I’ll consider it,” Roshan promised, and Alistair smiled at him for a moment. Then, his expression abruptly turned grave.

“Harshun says you are making progress?” the Don inquired.

“What? Uh, yes,” Roshan responded, caught off balance by the sudden shift in subject. “We haven’t had a breakthrough yet, but we’re making progress,” he paused, then said, “I was going to tell you all this in my weekly report…”

Ignoring him, Alistair pressed the tops of his fingertips together thoughtfully, his steel eyes glinting behind his glasses. “So, we are still on schedule.”

Roshan shrugged mentally; evidently the Don did not want to wait to hear about his progress. “Yes. The energy bleed off is becoming less dramatic. I have a few more glyph combinations to try that should reduce it still further.” Roshan said calmly, although his stomach was flip-flopping around. He’d always hated presenting.

“And you think you will be successful before Syd and her team return with the Foinse-stone?”

“I think so,” Roshan answered, trying to sound confident. “I’ve had to invent a whole new runic symbol structure, but it certainly transfers energy successfully.”

“It just makes the receiving crystals explode?”

“Right,” Roshan shrugged. “Preventing those explosions is what we’re working on now. We don’t actually need the Foinse-stone for that, just for using this technique in a wider setting.”

Alistair seemed to be considering that. He stared at Roshan intensely for several moments and then in a low voice asked, “could you reverse the process, stealing energy from other crystals?”

Roshan shrugged again. “Theoretically, if you inverted the right symbols you could, but you would need somewhere to put the energy,” he paused, thinking more about it, and then said slowly, “Although, I don’t know why you would want to do that. It could be a powerful technique, but completely useless for what we are trying to accomplish here. We want to restore energy to crystals, not take it away!” He stared back at Alistair, trying to ignore the sinking feeling this question had caused. He hadn’t yet considered other applications of his research. It would be madness against the looming threat of the Síosar, but… it could be effective against the Prime and the forces of Alis-Dak. He decided he would have to be careful how he approached this issue, and waited patiently for the Don to respond.

While Roshan was thinking over these options, Alistair had continued to gaze at him intently. Now his whole demeanor shifted back to the jovial man he had seemed when Roshan had first walked in. “Of course, of course,” he said heartily, “it was just a touch of academic curiosity.” He made a show of consulting the Fòrsic-clock on the wall, “It is getting late; I will let you get back to your books. Do not think that giving your report early will allow you to slack off on this week’s update, though,” Alistair said, wagging his finger.

“Thank you, Sir. I won’t,” Roshan responded.

As he opened the door, the Don said, “Goodnight, Roshan. Say hello to Eithne for me, would you?” and winked.

“I, uh, yes, Sir. Uh, Goodnight,” Roshan stammered, and left, feeling thoroughly wrong-footed. The Don’s abrupt shift back to conviviality had not erased Roshan’s earlier misgivings about Alistair’s line of questioning. He had felt safe here, supported, and separated from the messy politics of Eolas and Ater-Volantis. Now he no longer certain felt certain that was the case, and the thought disturbed him. He missed Isa and Rika with a sudden pang. They may also be Resistance members, but they had treated him with honesty and forthrightness. What would they do in this situation? The only thing to do, he decided: move forward with his original research. If the Don wanted to misuse it by turning it into a weapon, well, he’d cross that bridge when he arrived there. The world needed a solution to the Síosar, and he would risk almost anything to be the one to provide it. Roshan nodded his head firmly, his decision made, and headed back down the staircase toward where a warm fire, and Eithne, awaited. 

Chapter 16 can be found here.       

The Floating City - Chapter 14

The Secret Cave

“Go!” Syd whispered, and Simon glided down the mountainside, skis strapped to his feet. Three heartbeats later and then, “Go!” Syd whispered again, and it was Isa’s turn to race perilously down the mountainside. She moved with much less fluidity than Simon, but she made up for it in speed and enthusiasm. Another three heartbeats. “Go!” and Rika took off in Simon’s and Isa’s wakes, moving swiftly and silently down the slope.

The cold air stung her cheeks, and her eyes began to water as she picked up speed. Ahead of her, Isa and Simon disappeared down either side of the rise that led to the side-entrance to the mines. Rika continued straight over the lip, triggering the Fòrsic crystals in her boots to boost her up and back rather than out. Below her she saw the three sentries standing in a triangular formation, two on either side of the entrance further down the slope, and one in the center by the tunnel. That was her target. She used the charge from her boots to flip, cursing her now ungainly skis as her momentum continued to carry her out into the sky. With her boots pointed upwards, she triggered them again, shooting herself like a spear towards the central guard, who was now staring at her in openmouthed surprise. With a grunt of effort, Rika twisted in midair, turning to slam feet first into the guard’s stomach before the woman could react. A second before impact, Rika triggered her boots a third and final time, the woosh of the discharging crystals sending the guard flying into the stone wall of the tunnel with heavy thump. It also flung Rika into the soft snowdrift near the entrance, and she watched upside down as Isa incapacitated the second guard with crackle of electricity from her baton, and Simon took down the third sentry with the flat of his blade.

Rika let her head rest on the cold snow until Trentor appeared, upside down, in her vision. He jerked a finger toward the tunnel. “Your beauty rest is over, oh sleeping princess. Time to get a move on.” When she groaned getting to her feet, he grinned at her. “You know,” he said sounding serious, “that was a serious piece of athleticism. I’ve just got one question though…”

“Ask away,” she said, eyeing Trentor warily as she stripped the broken skies from her boots.

“Why didn’t you just stop up there and take her out like a normal person?” He inquired, pointing at the rock ledge overhanging the tunnel.

“Can I tell you something,” Rika replied, leaning close and pitching her voice low and conspiratorially.

“What?” Trentor asked, cocking his ear eagerly.

“You’re an ass.” Rika whispered, and then headed up the slope. Trentor gave a bark of laughter, which was cut off as Syd shot him a quelling look. He joined her right outside the entrance with the others. Both Isa and Simon had dragged the two men they had incapacitated up the sloped, and tied all three sentries together. All three were hooded and gagged as well, to keep the party from being identified or the guards from calling out.

“Everyone alright?” Simon asked. When everyone nodded, he looked at Syd.

Before she could speak, a sardonic voice came from the tunnel entrance. “Oh well done,” the voice exclaimed, the speaker clapping slowly.

Everyone whirled towards the entrance, brandishing an impressive display of weaponry. Isa flourished her staff, knives appeared in Trentor’s hand, and Rika brought up her buckler. Syd and Simon had whirled with the group, but made no movement towards their weapons. “Brother,” Simon said wearily, inclining his head at the speaker. “I did not know if you would come.”

Rika and Isa’s jaws dropped open in shock, and both of them peered closely at the figure. He was as tall as Simon, dressed in the canvas and leather mining garb common to the region. His closed-cropped red hair matched as well, as did his brilliant blue eyes. “I didn’t know you had a brother,” Isa said incredulously.

The man grinned humorously. “My little brother has left his family behind, although we have not left him,” he turned to look at Simon. “Mother insisted that I come, she worries, you know.”

“I know, we had tea yesterday.” Rika and Isa exchanged glances. Simon and Syd had visited his family? Simon looked back at them, “This is my brother, Sean. Syd and I thought we needed a guide, my family have been miners and… smugglers, among other things, for generations. No one knows the mountains like them, inside or out.”

Sean nodded. “We do not approve of our little brother’s… allegiances, but family is family, no?” He shrugged, unsmiling.

Rika couldn’t think of a response to this, but Trentor smiled welcomingly. “Any brother of Simon’s is a brother of mine,” he exclaimed.

“Do not mistake me, little man. I am here for familial duty, not for brotherly love,” Sean replied harshly. He looked at Syd. “Let’s get this farce over with.”

Rika and Isa both looked at him, startled at his vehemence, but Syd ignored the byplay and beckoned them close. “Our target is the vault, first,” she reminded them. “Take care to make as little noise as possible,” she looked at Simon, “you and your brother are on point,” she said, jerking her head towards the entrance. She turned to regard the group. “The rest of you follow on my mark, make no offensive action without my signal. If we have to take someone out, silence is paramount.” She grinned suddenly, “Let’s take it to them. And mark!”

Rika smiled as they dashed into the tunnel, glad that the introduction of Simon’s brother hadn’t completely ruined the mood. Syd was just as excitable as the rest of them, deep down, but it was a side of her that came out only rarely.

The tunnel was stone, carved smooth using Fòrsic powered mining tools. Fòrsic lamps at regular intervals lit the tunnel, but as they moved away from the entrance, the lamps became pools of fiery light surrounded by an inky darkness. They went quickly from shadow to shadow, Syd motioning them forward one at a time as Simon gave the all clear signal from ahead of her. Being a seldom used side-exit and glorified ventilation shaft, the tunnel was empty. As they got further in, however, more and more side passages emerged from the gloom. Down them, they could hear the clink of pick axes and the distant murmur of conversations. Under the mountains the mines were a vast hive of activity and they were only just scratching the surface of it. The vault would be at its heart.

As they moved in, the walls of the tunnel changed. The smoothness of the entranceway gave way to rougher, more natural stones. The tunnel began to widen, turning into a main shaft. Rika heard approaching from up-ahead, and Sean was quick to direct them down one of the now ubiquitous side passages. They huddled together in the shadows of the narrow corridor until the group of miners had passed. “Shift change, already?” whispered Isa, questioningly. Simon shook his head and looked at Sean, his blue eyes worried. Sean only shrugged, looking supremely concerned.

Sean paused for a moment, and Rika could see him thinking, consulting his mental map of the mining complex. He leaned his head close to this brother, and had a whispered conversation, pitched so low that even though the group was huddled together in silence, she couldn’t make it out. Judging by Simon’s expression they seemed to be arguing, an argument which Sean clearly one, as Simon put up his hands in a placating gesture, his expression stormy. Sean turned on his heel and stalked off further down the side tunnel, forcing the rest of them to scurry to keep up. As Simon passed by Syd to resume his place at the front of the line, Rika saw her lay a comforting hand on Simon’s shoulder, his back straightening as he strode to catch up to his brother.

The narrow side tunnel gave way to a maze-like cross section of corridors. They crept along carefully, spurting quickly across crossways and intersections to avoid detection, but mainly sidling between and around the dim pools of light that filled the tunnels at regular intervals. Sean led them unerringly through the twists and turns, and Rika knew that she would never be able to find her way back to the surface alone.

It was difficult to keep track of time down in the tunnels, but the softly glowing dial of her pocket-watch indicated that almost a full bell had passed since they had taken out the sentries when Sean suddenly halted. With only three bells remaining before the next guard shift arrived and the alarm was sounded, every moment was becoming precious, and Rika hoped that their stopping meant that they had arrived. No such luck.

Sean beckoned them all to close in, so that their heads were mere inches from one another. “There’s something I want you all to see,” he said, pitching his voice so that it wouldn’t carry beyond their small circle.

Frowning, Syd asked, “is it the vault?”

Sean shook his head. “It is nearby, but closer to the main thoroughfares. This is… something else.”

“We do not have time to delay,” Syd started to protest, but Sean cut her off. Simon gave him an angry look, which he ignored.

“You will want to see this,” he insisted. “We are safe here, no one comes down these corridors anymore. It’s too… unsettling.”

On that ominous note, he stepped around the corner, indicating that they should follow. They did, and Rika gasped in amazement at the sight. The tunnel they had been travelling down opened up suddenly into a small cave pocket, about five paces high and maybe fifteen around. The sight of that much open space was welcome after the dark and narrow corridors, but what caught Rika’s attention was the light. A vein of raw Fòrsic crystals ran through the rock on the cave’s far wall, twinkling in a kaleidoscope of colors. “It’s beautiful,” she said, awed.

“I can’t believe that no one comes here,” Isa commented, a reverent tone in her voice.

“Can’t you?” Sean asked rhetorically, an odd, fearful tone in his voice. “Look closer.”

Rika peered closer at the shifting colors of the crystals, but couldn’t make anything out from far away. Isa, however, ran up close to the wall and stopped, her nose almost touching it. Suddenly, she gave a horrified gasp and backed away hurriedly.

“What is it?” Syd demanded, her own tone worried.

“It’s the crystals,” Isa answered, still sounding shocked. “Rika, come see.”

Rika approached warily, and then her own mouth dropped open and she felt her heart fall deep in her chest. “Alos fend,” she whispered to herself. The crystal vein was a swirling mass of colors, but upon a closer look, only about three quarters of the crystals were actually glowing. They were packed so densely on the wall that it was difficult to see, but there were large dead spots. As she watched, one of the smaller crystals flickered and died, its brilliant cerulean hue fading away into darkness. She, too, backed away hurriedly, and tried to catch her breath and ignore the sinking feeling inside her. “It’s the crystals,” she repeated to the group. “They’re dying.”

Syd hurried forward to peer closely at the wall herself. She was silent for a long moment, and then, nodding, turned to Rika. “How is this possible?” She asked, calmly, although Rika could hear the iron control in her voice.

Rika shifted her shoulders uneasily. “I don’t know,” she said, firmly repressing her mounting hysteria and a desire to giggle nervously, “it has to be related to what we have already seen. There’s no reason to suspect the effects that Roshan observed to be limited to worked crystals.”

Isa looked at Sean and asked “is this the only vein of crystals where this is happening?”

“For now,” he replied. “This was a major vein discovery, and they were planning to excavate further. Now?” he spread his hands in a shrug, “people avoid it as if it was cursed.”

Simon frowned, thinking. “Did the mine overseer mention anything about it?”

“No,” Sean answered disgustedly. “No official acknowledgement at all. Unofficially, miners who do talk about this phenomenon have a habit of… disappearing.”

“Looks like the Prime is hiding secrets from his followers, even here,” Trentor put in, and Sean frowned at him and opened his mouth to speak, but Syd cut him off.

“Save the politics for later,” she ordered, turning back to Rika. “What does this mean for us?”

“Here? Now?” Rika replied, thinking. “Probably nothing. But in the long-term? Nothing good.”

“Then our mission is unchanged,” she stated decisively, a determined look on her face. “Sean, thank you for showing this to us. It has deeper repercussions that we do not have time to discuss here, but you are right to be concerned about this site. Now, lead on to the vault.”

Sean inclined his head in acknowledgement, although he clearly wanted to talk more about something, either the distressing phenomenon or Trentor’s causal disrespect of the Prime. Whatever the case, he kept his mouth shut and led them back down the way they had come, before turning them onto a wider, more brightly lit tunnel. “Speed is more important than stealth, here,” he said over his shoulder. “We can’t linger,” and he picked up his pace, moving them down the tunnel in a fast walk. Doorways and archways sped by quickly, but mercifully they did not encounter any miners or guards. Finally, they halted again at an intersection with another wide corridor. “Two guards. Wait here,” he said, beckoning Simon forward.

The two brothers vanished down the corridor, and the rest of the group waited in hushed silence, hoping that no one else came along. There came the dim sounds of a scuffle, two dull impacts followed by two heavy thuds, and then Simon reappeared. “The vault is here,” he whispered. “Come, quickly.”

Rika and the others rushed around the corridor, and down the wide passage. As they came down it, Sean reappeared from a darkened side room. Before he shut the door to it, Rika spied two sets of motionless boots, clearly belonging to whatever guards the two men had surprised. Of much greater interest, however, was the heavy, iron doors at the end of the corridor. The doors’ surface was intricately carved with runes and sigils, and where the handles would go there were instead a set of eight Fòrsic crystals, four on each side.  She and Isa stepped forward to regard the crystal configuration. “Runic-lock, you think?” Rika asked, and Isa nodded her agreement.

Syd came forward to look at the mechanism with them. “Can you break it?” she asked.

Isa nodded, peering closely at the sigils carved on the raised crystals. Rika looked at Simon and Sean. “There should be a key, probably a crystalline rod of some sort. Did the guards have anything on them?”

Sean shook his head, but Simon produced a fluted rod about the length of two fingers. “Is this it?” he asked.

“Yes, hand it here and then stand back and watch the Maester’s at work.”

He rolled his eyes at her, but handed over the rod, which was carved from a single milky Fòrsic crystal. Rika kept it close, as Isa continued to study the crystals on the door.

The group stood in silence for several minutes, Trentor and Simon nervously checking the corridor behind them. They both jumped when Isa suddenly announced, “I got it!”

“Really?” Rika moved forward to stand beside her. Runic-locks were complicated Fòrsic constructs, designed to keep people out unless they knew both the sequence to activate the crystals and possessed the proper key. Activation methods and codes varied widely, but they all had to be carved onto the crystals themselves, and anyone with a thorough knowledge of runes could decipher them eventually. Many successful thieves carried detailed scrolls of runes with them to consult if they were stymied by a lock, but the Engineers and Theorists who designed the locks were equally clever, and often there were decoys and other traps built into the system as well. Fortunately for the group, Isa excelled at reconstructing an Engineer’s trail of thought. Together with Rika she could break through any runic-lock eventually, and it appeared this one was no exception.

“Yes,” Isa said, pointed to the two top crystals. “It’s a tone lock, see?” Rika nodded, the top crystals bore the rune for music, with several smaller glyphs denoting pitch and inflection. In locks like this one, depressing the crystals produced a lingering musical note, and the crystals had to be played in a special sequence before the door could be opened.

“Do you know the song?”

Isa shook her head. “It’s no song, just a simple scale. Someone really skimped on this lock.” She leaned forward and pressed the top left crystal with her finger. Immediately, a low, sustained note sounded in the corridor. Not loud, but Rika knew it would soon be louder.

“Hurry up!” She hissed. Isa waved a hand back at her, much as Rika had down when she was spying on the sentries yesterday. In quick succession Isa activated the remaining seven crystals, each one playing a slightly higher note until the corridor filled with a harmonious, vibrating tone. Rika gritted her teeth, the reverberations from the crystals making her jaw hurt, but just as quickly as they had begun the notes faded away, leaving behind a small, circular hole in the center of the door. Rika took the crystalline rod that Simon had retrieved, and slid it home with a click.  For a moment, nothing happened, and then the doors swung outward on silent hinges and the inner vault was revealed.

It looked to be a shadowed, natural chamber, similar in size and shape to the cave containing the failing vein of Fòrsic crystals. The light from the lamps in the hallway did little to penetrate the gloom inside, but Rika could see mounds of coin and gently sparkling gems. Almost as one, the group stepped forward into the vault, she and Isa activating Fòrsic torches. The orange light flared off innumerable shining surfaces, but in the exact center of the vault, where the Foinse-stone should have lain, there was only an empty plinth. "It’s not here,” Isa exclaimed into the shocked silence, and then the vault doors swung shut on their silent hinges. Simon whirled towards the door, but it was too late. The doors shut with a hollow bang, and then the lock snapped shut, trapping them in the darkness.

Chapter 15 can be found here.

The Floating City - Chapter 13

The Midday Meeting

Aki surveyed herself in her mirror while listening to the comforting murmur of the Sprocket’s lunchtime traffic below. She twirled back and forth, admiring herself. As a rule, Engineers were more concerned with their tinkering and their projects than with their appearance, and were generally accustomed to simply wearing university robes. However, there was also no denying that, sometimes, clothing could inspire confidence. In her meeting with the Magnus, she would need every edge she could manufacture. She was dressed in breeches made of sturdy, yet flexible canvas tucked into a pair of solid black boots. Her blouse was made of a similarly thick material, topped with an intricately embroidered emerald scarf and a brown leather jacket that could be laced shut against the omnipresent chill. Most importantly, she could move and fight in these clothes, if need be. Still unsure what the Magnus was after, she knew this meeting would be moving into decidedly uncharted territory.

Three staccato knocks at the door interrupted Aki’s reverie. “Come in!” she called, recognizing the signal. Benji opened the door and entered, with Maz close on his heels.

“Afternoon My Lady,” he said, smiling broadly and giving an overly florid bow.

“No nonsense, Benji, we’re on the clock,” Aki replied briskly. “I was elected, not ennobled.”

He winked, and eyed her ensemble. “Dressed to kill, eh, Aki?”

“I could say the same to you,” Aki returned, looking him up and down. The big man was wearing a long leather duster, buttoned closed and oiled against the rain, and he cut a dashing figure. Maz was dressed similarly to Aki, with comfortable looking brown boots and a heavy coat. Both of them were wet from the rain, their boots forming muddy puddles outside the doorway. “Are you ready for this?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Benji responded, and Maz nodded her agreement. “But we have something to show you first.”

“Something to show me?”

“Yes,” he said, turning to Maz. “It’s your project, you tell her.”

Maz shook her head, her voice soft. “It is a secret, but I will show you. Come with me,” and she turned and headed back down the narrow stairway that led to the rest of the tavern.

Aki shot a questioning glance at Benji, but he only shrugged and gestured for her to lead the way through the door. She rolled her eyes at him and followed the retreating Maz down the staircase. To her surprise, when they reached the landing that led to the main floor, Maz continued down the staircase and into the Sprocket’s cellar. The cellar befitted a disreputable establishment like the Sprocket, full of great, dusty tunnes of ale or of what the Mikail, the proprietor, referred to as wine. Aki had not spent much time in the cellar, and she looked around with interest. Her interest turned quickly to concern, as Maz stopped in front of a shelf filled with disused tankards and goblets and pulled a hidden lever. The wall began to shift slowly to the side, the glassware rattling. “The tunnels come out this far?” Aki asked. Eolas, The Prime’s Palace, along with any upperclass dwelling that dated to the founding of the city, were connected by a series of tunnels to ease movement during the winter. The lower classes were generally expected to make do with warm jackets and sturdy boots, but on occasion, a tunnel was discovered this far out into the city. A tunnel connecting the Sprocket­ to this network could be useful, but was also a serious security issue that they should have already been aware of.

“Not exactly,” Benji shrugged unconcernedly. “You’re not the only person to rent space from Mikail, you know.”

“Obviously. But down here?”

“Mikail runs a lively…sideline business.”

“Ah,” Aki said, understanding. However much the city officials might pretend otherwise, smuggling was a lively pastime on Ater-Volantis. The quick and easy transport of goods between the far-flung cities of Alis-Dak was too good an opportunity for any businesswoman, legitimate or otherwise, to ignore. “A secret compartment,” she mused. “But what’s in it?”

Benji grinned at her, as the open door settled into place, but it was Maz who spoke up, her soft voice echoing loudly in the quiet cellar. “Research project.”

“A project that you didn’t want to do at Eolas?”

In response, Maz activated a Fòrsic lamp, lighting up the hidden chamber. The room was much larger than she had anticipated, stretching back into shadowed dimness. The walls were bare stone, with a cluttered workbench nestled up against the wall near the door. However, Aki’s eyes were immediately drawn to several human sized…suits, displayed prominently on what appeared to be figures from a dress shop.  The suits appeared to be made of copper and bronze armor, with a cloth material attached between the arms and the legs. Aki whistled in appreciation, and walked to inspect the other side of the suits. The back was similar to the front, with straps for the front shin guards, vambraces, and an iron backing set with a slot that would accommodate a fist-sized Fòrsic crystal. “These are impressive,” she said feelingly. “But what do they do?”

“They fly,” Maz said simply.

“They do what?!”

“They fly. Well, sort of. It’s more like falling very slowly. Any normal Fòrsic crystal would reach its fòirceann in record time if you ask it to generate a significant amount of lift. The suits provide a gliding mechanism, so that the crystal can generate the minimum amount of energy necessary to keep you aloft. You wouldn’t be able to get anywhere higher than your starting location.”

Aki stared at Maz incredulously. It was by far the longest speech she had ever heard out of the diminutive woman, and the technical skill and applied theory behind the suits was astounding. Then some of the implications of what Maz had said percolated through her brain. “Wouldn’t be able to fly higher, huh? But if you started on, say, a floating city…”

Maz and Benji both nodded, excited.

Aki was still mulling over the implications behind Maz’s project when the three of them stepped outside nearly a quarter of a bell later. It was, as was usual in the winter, cold, windy, and rainy. Today’s weather was a sideways blowing sleet mixture, and the whole city seemed to be trapped in a grey, soupy cloud. To add to the miserable weather, they were running late, but Aki preferred the Magnus to be the one standing and waiting and freezing his bits off. They hurried slowly down the narrow streets, stepping carefully on the ice-slicked cobblestones. Walking fast required a kind of shuffling slide. Although they were lucky none of them fell, they were all quite soaked by the time they reached Monument Square.

The square was actually trapezoidal, with five wide avenues stretching away from it. The two streets at the top of the square led in perpendicular directions, one towards Eolas and one towards the Prime’s palace and the centers of city government. The other three led to various districts of the lower city, with the center leading towards the Gate of Iron, the main portal to and from the city. The square’s wide expanse was dominated by the colossal Monument of Founding, a triumphal arch celebrating the union of the warring nations, Alis and Dak. Aki had to admit that it was impressive, made of white marble and edged with polished bronze. Despite the weather, there were several clusters of people out and about, moving quickly (but carefully) across the square. However, the Magnus and his companions were instantly recognizable.

These three figures stood to the right of Arch, on the side of the square nearest to the Choisant’s headquarters. The middle one was undoubtedly the Magnus. He stood a head and shoulders above his two companions, dressed in a long black cloak, which flapped in the unceasing wind. He was standing in a rigid power stance, feet spread wide and his hands clasped behind his back, seemingly indifferent to the cold and the sleet. One of the figures behind him was cut from a similar rigid cloth, but Aki could see the third figure shivering slightly, and she smiled. Despite her many years in the city, Filias was from Alis, and she notoriously hated the cold.

Aki, Maz, and Benji had paused upon entering the square, and Aki took a moment to look at each of them in turn. Both returned her look with fierce gazes of their own, and Benji nodded. They were ready. She started towards the three figures, and felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the water dripping down her back. Aki made her way carefully across the square, Maz and Benji flanking her. She stepped cautiously, not only to give the two of them time to watch her back and assess their surroundings, but also to avoid slipping and falling. That would, she imagined, be a very inauspicious start to this meeting.

They made their way across the square without incident. After nodding a greeting to Filias, who returned it with a slight movement of her own head, Aki stepped to the burly man in the flapping cloak. “Magnus Striech, I presume,” she said, and proffered a hand.   

The Magnus eyed her coldly, looking her up and down before taking her hand. “Engineer Enjarrous, a pleasure,” he replied, smiling as they clasped wrists. The smile was not a welcoming one, and his hard, black eyes remained fixed on her, taking her measure. His voice was deep, and resonant, and its echo raised the hair on the back of Aki’s neck. Still, she met his gaze unflinchingly. He gestured to his companions. “I believe you have met Professor Filias. This is Fal Katu, my valet.”

Aki gave the valet a hard look, and he returned her gaze with flinty blue eyes. His flapping coat concealed the outline of his figure, but if he was actually a valet, Aki would eat her own Maz’s flying suits. “Allow me to present my colleagues, Benji and Maz,” she said, indicating her own companions.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” the Magnus said. He turned back to Aki. “I believe you know a place for us to get out of this weather?” Striech asked unhurriedly. When she nodded, he gestured toward the foggy edge of the square. “Very well. Lead on, Engineer.”

Resisting the urge to rub her wrist where Striech’s strong grip had done its best to crush it, Aki turned and walked to the street on the opposite side of the square from where they had entered, heading toward the merchant quarter. The Magnus followed closely on her heels, and, after some jostling and positioning, Filias and the “valet” followed him, with Benji and Maz bringing up the rear.

Following much deliberation with Benji, Maz and several of the other engineers, Aki had decided on a tea house and restaurant called the Fish Scale, located on the outskirts of the main merchant district. Considering the city only had access to fish very infrequently after one of their brief set downs in the rare coastal cities, the name was more optimistic than anything else. However inapt the name, Dunkin, the proprietor, was friendly to engineering students, having once been one himself.  The block it was in also boasted a connection to one of the outer reaches of Ater-Volantis’s tunnels, one disused enough that Aki fervently hoped that the Choisant didn’t know of its existence.

The walk from the square was quick, taking up only a third of a bell. Still, Aki was finding it difficult to keep her teeth from chattering when they reached the Scale, and she quickly ushered everyone through the doorway. The inside was decorated in a distinctly nautical theme, incongruous with the City’s current location, high in the air and above a desert. Aki approached the bar and identified herself, and the bartender sent a serving girl to escort them to a private room in the back.

 The room was rectangular and sparsely furnished, with a long table and six wooden chairs. On the middle of the wall opposite the door was an enormous iron anchor, with “Anchors Aweigh,” emblazoned across it. Aki smiled at the decor. She doubted Dunkin had ever seen an anchor in real life, considering that he was from Crystalis, and had barely crossed a river, let alone sailed a ship.

The six of them filed into the room, and Aki and her companions took the three seats across from the doorway. As soon as they were seated, the Magnus opened up the meeting. “I suppose you are wondering why I called you here today.”

Aki snorted softly at the platitude, and Striech gave her a humorless grin. She decided to step right into it. “I, along with other Engineers and Theorists,” she said, flicking her eyes towards Filias, who didn’t react, “have been discontented with some of the Prime’s current policies.

“So I understand. I hope to allay some of your concerns, and perhaps come to a mutual agreement on how to proceed. Now,” Striech spread his hands magnanimously, “To what policies in particular are you referring?”     

Aki glanced left and right at Benji and Maz, who both nodded their support. This was why they had come. “We have a list,” she said, producing a scroll from her jacket pocket. She passed it over the table to Striech, who unfurled it. “The most important grievance is the Prime’s interference with university regulations and suppressing crucial research, the results of which could impact Alis-Dak for generations.

Striech didn’t look up from his perusal of their list of grievances. “We are simply trying to avoid mass hysteria. Publishing inaccurate or incomplete results can only incite panic.”

Shocked, Aki stared at Striech, who didn’t acknowledge her gaze. “With all due respect, Magnus Striech,” she stated, her voice indicating anything but, “we won’t know what the results will be unless we can pursue the research!”

“As you say,” Magnus said. His tone switched swiftly from dismissive to conciliatory. “Still, there have been no concrete findings, thus far.”

Despite Benji stepping on her foot, hard, Aki could not contain herself. “MY research was, and you chased my Theorist out of the city entirely!” She said through gritted teeth. “I demand to know what in Alos’s name you were thinking. How could your actions possibly be to the city’s benefit?”

The Magnus waved a hand airily, dismissing her outburst. “There were reasons, of course” he replied soothingly. He seemed unfazed by Aki’s stormy expression. The condescension in his voice made her clench her jaw, but she continued to grind her teeth in silence as he continued. “As is often the case, these particular reasons were complex and political.”

“Roshan was from a minor family of the aristocracy,” Aki retorted. “He wasn’t even the heir. I fail to see…”

“Political REASONS,” Striech cut her off, “that had nothing to do with your friend’s position, and only partly to do with your research. The Country,” he proclaimed, “is under threat.”

“You mean the Prime is under threat,” Benji put in, and Aki nodded in agreement.

“The Prime is the Country,” Striech returned, his voice smooth and cultured. “And the group known as the Resistance,” he stressed the word, “threatens both him and the stability of this Country.”

“The Resistance?” Aki asked, finding in easy to feign ignorance. She’d heard of them, of course, only someone completely oblivious could have missed the increasing number of clashes attributed to them, but that was all she knew.

“Yes, the Resistance. The group has planned and executed a number of acts of terror and destabilization. They claim to be fighting for the common people, against perceived, and false, excesses of the Alis-Dakian government. However, I assure you that they do not have the Country’s best interests at heart.”

“Uh huh,” Aki said sarcastically, and in a rare show of emotion, he glared at her.

“The philosophical aspects of our quarrel with them is immaterial,” the Magnus continued, staring hard at her. “What is important is that we have obtained information that they are planning a strike upon this city -- a disruption of epic proportions. Regardless of our own… disagreements, all of us in this room cherish this city, and would do anything to protect it.”

“Do you have information on this strike? Any… Proof?” Aki asked, genuinely curious.

“None that we can reveal right now. If you agree to join us in preventing this attack, we can begin to show you what our information has brought to us.”

“It is a real threat,” Filias added from Magnus’s right. “I have seen it. I know you don’t fully trust the Choisant, but trust me.”

“No proof,” mused Aki. “You’re asking me to trust the word of the head of the Choisant, one of the most ignoble and duplicitous organizations in the Country, and to trust the word of a woman who threw my friend and my partner to the wolves?” she paused, “no offense meant.”

“Make no mistake,” Striech told her. Although his tone sounded almost pleading, his expression remained stony, his eyes hard. “This is not an issue of trust, rather, of self-interest. Join with us, and not only will we protect this city, but your path will be smoothed and your goals made achievable. Helping us is the best way forward for you. Go against us…” he trailed off ominously, and shrugged.

Drawing a deep breath, Aki stood. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Maz and Benji doing the same. On the other side of the table, Filias looked apprehensive. The valet looked eager, the expression cruel on his thin face. His hand rested underneath his cloak, doubtless on a hidden weapon. Striech showed no sign of emotion, simply waiting, expressionlessly, for her to decide her fate. “I don’t think so,” she said at last, glancing across the table at Filias. “And I’m not yet ready to sell my soul. Good day.”

As she spoke, the table erupted into action. Fal’s hand darted from his cloak, whipping a knife through the air toward Aki’s throat. Opposite him, Maz triggered the Fòrsic crystals embedded in her gloves, flipping the table with a flash of bronze light. The knife hit the upturned table with a dull thunk. As Filias hit the ground in shock, a pair of Choisant soldiers appeared in the doorway. Benji triggered his own crystals, and a sheet of flame leapt from his hands, roaring over the top of the table and sending the Choisant members scattering to the side. “You are making a huge mistake,” the Magnus said loudly, rising from his seat, seemingly unperturbed by the flipped table or the flames rushing toward him. The fire reached his cloak and then died, suddenly and without preamble. However, behind the table, only the cheery anchor remained, its “Anchors Away” sign askew. The Engineers had vanished.

Chapter 14 can be found here.