1. A Beginning

Mayol 20, 571pfk

The Capital City of Milum, Deoria - Aboard the Covetous Merchant Ship.

The ship bustled with activity. Its hull shuddered as another man-sized sack of grain dropped into the hold. The eight-foot cog’s powerful pistoned arms hoisted the bag with ease, stacking it with dozens of others nearby. The automaton’s steel and brass torso glistened with the damp of the morning. Arcanic vapors seeped from joints and its goggle-like eyes whirred as it focused on the next sack.

A pair of crewmen entered the hold from the narrow hall carrying small crates of jarred goods. The first was a thin, tall man with a bald spot—his pinched and weathered face coated in blonde whiskers, “Bosun wants these stored in the cold room,” he said over his shoulder, then nearly collided with the giant cog, “—Whoa, easy there Sputnug!”

The cog’s eyes turned toward the crewman and its shiny head bowed. A rumbling emotionless voice issued from its hinged mouth, “I–am sorry Master. I–did not see you there. Please–forgive my—”

“—Yeah yeah, you are forgiven. Would you just MOVE please?” the crewman grumbled.

The cog shuffled aside, allowing the two men to pass before continuing its work, the incident apparently forgotten.

One deck up, a lad of no more than fourteen—with a bushy mop of brown hair and darting green eyes—scampered between the cannons down the hall and up the companionway to the main deck. At the top of the narrow stairs, he squeezed by a durin in a heavy gray sailor’s coat and hat. The thickset dwarf didn’t look up from his clipboard as a strong highland burr rolled from his white-bearded lips, “Lend a hand wi' th' cargo fitz! company’s nae paying ye tae scamper aboot empty-handed.” The durin’s bushy white eyebrows danced above his spectacles as he watched the lad nod and dash off.

Turning away from the bustling deck, the durin stepped through the common room doors, past a crewman stocking cupboards. Captain Ferris’s door was open. He found the man sitting at his tidy desk looking over his ledgers. The Captain was old by neran standards, but still cut a trim figure in his blue officer’s coat and brass buckled boots. His short gray hair had receded at the temples but still held the line at the center, creating a distinguished widow’s peak. The crossed gold pectoral sails of his station gleamed from his lapel.

Coming to attention, the Bosun said, “Sir, wur nearly finished loading. On-time 'n' a' accounted for.”

The Captain’s voice was smooth and rich, “Splendid Mr. Delver. I’m anxious to get underway.”

“Aye captain. Me as weel. Th' bustle o' th' capital micht be music tae some, bit i’ll tak' th' win` in th' clouds ony day.”

Nodding and smiling, the Captain stood, grasping the heavy drapes and pulling them open to let the light in. Both men gazed outward. From the height of the moored airship, three-quarters of the vast city of Milum could be seen below—rudder spars and rigging lines the only thing obstructing their view.

Other nearby docking towers were ringed with multi-masted airships and cargo zeppelins of all colors and sizes. The flags of a hundred different trading companies and five different nations flew from their rigging or draped over their painted wood hulls. Below that, the smokestacks and towers of the capital jutted from the cluttered bustle of the industrialized medieval city. A thousand lines of steam and smoke curling toward the clouds. Directly below the docking tower, the green-gray line of the Eiryl river bisected the confusion. It’s wide curves lay shrouded in the morning fog and hundreds more river vessels plied its waters.

“What about the new healer?” the Captain asked, “Has she had a chance to settle into her quarters?”

“Aye. She cam aboard a candle or sae ago. She’s a timorous yin bit set richt tae cleaning up th' infirmary. As i’m sure ye recall, Doctor Portsmith left it in ferr a shambles.”

“Yes. She won’t have to do much to be better than that old sawbones.”

“Agreed. Kin ah commend ye again captain oan contracting wi' th' Nedran order this time?”

“You may Mr. Delver, you may.”

________________________________________________________________

In the infirmary, a slender woman in healer’s robes was busy cleaning and straightening the last of the herbals and remedies. She had short red hair and a face dusted with Fommish freckles—and currently a bit of actual dust that tickled her nose.

When a huge bear of a man walked in holding one hand with the other, the Wicala turned just in time to catch him with a sneeze, “HACHOOOH!” He drew back in a surprised scowl as she apologized, “Oh dear! I’m sorry!”

The scowl on the aeronaut’s dark bearded face quickly melted into a friendly grin, his ultra-deep voice came out slow and measured, “Nee worry miss, A should’ve knocked, but—” he held his hand up in explanation, showing a sizable puncture on the back of his hairy paw.

Grimacing with sympathy, the healer wiped her hands clean of dust and took the proffered hand by the wrist, examining the wound more closely, “Splinter?”

“Aye Miss. Weren’t watching close enough. Trickster’s punishment for Us lack o’ caution.”

She smiled back, “Not all accidents are the fault of the Shadow. We do enough damage to ourselves without Godly interference,” She turned and gathered her tools, setting to work with tender efficiency, “You have the honor and privilege of being my first patient Mr....?”

“MacBrick Mam. Gerald Creary MacBrick.”

Up close, the aeronaut’s breath was pungent enough she nearly swooned, but he had a friendly way that made the shortcoming easy to overlook. As she tweezed the remaining obstructions from beneath his skin she said, “Mr. MacBrick. I am Jeanna Harlan.”

If her ministrations caused him pain, he hid it well, “It’s a pleasure Miss Harlan. Is the Covetous your first berth?”

“Yes. I spent the last five years apprenticing in the Temple here in Milum. I now have five years abroad to look forward to.”

“Are ye frae here?”

“No. I’m a small village girl from up north. A waystop on the coachman’s road called Herder’s Rest,” she held his hand in her own, whispering a near silent mantra to the Goddess Nedra. Divine warmth enveloped the wound and MacBrick watched with a bit of awe. She smiled, “And you?”

“Us? A’s frae up near Cuannis—Ahhh, that does feel right better Miss—that is, Missus Harlan— frae a fishin village called Pike’s Point A’s, but I’ve been an airship man syne before A were a man at aa, gin ye catch me meanin.”

Jeanna chuckled, “I do. And please, call me Miss, or Jeanna, or Suzy Sneeze A Lot if you must, but don’t call me Missus Harlan or I’ll keep looking over my shoulder for my mother.”

“Right, Miss—eh Mistress Jeanna. Is yor mother a healer ower?”

“No, she works the farm with my father, and cleans and serves meals at a tavern in Herder’s Rest.”

“I’ll bet she’s proud o ye then? blessed bi Nedra an a member o the wicalic orders an aa.”

Jeanna looked away, out the porthole window, “Yes, my family’s all very proud, but I haven’t seen them in three years.”

“Do ye miss them?”

She looked back at her patient with a faraway expression, then smiled, “I do miss them, but perhaps not as much as I should. I’ve been wanting to explore the world since I was a little girl. Now that I’m doing it...”

The big aeronaut grinned knowingly, “You’re excited.”

“Yes. Very.”

He stood, “Well, that’s completely understandable. A remember feelin the same,” he smiled again, grinning like a schoolboy, “Me thanks be tae ye an tae Nedra. I’d best be gettin back tae work.”

“Of course Mr. MacBrick. Glad to be of service.”

“Thank ye again,” He bowed his head and backed out of the infirmary, squeezing down the narrow corridor and out of sight.

Jeanna cleaned her instruments and turned back to the shelves with a sigh. Thinking of her family was always a mixed bag of emotions. “I do miss you, that wasn’t a lie,” she whispered to no one. Shaking her head clear of old worries, she picked up her rag and continued to clean and hum, For a first patient that was easy enough. I think I’m going to like airships.

________________________________________________________________

2. The Storm

Decmyr 16, 572pfk

Jeanna braced herself against the wall of the narrow hall as the Covetous dropped fifteen feet like a lead weight. Her feet were wide and her knees were bent, this time, which meant she stayed standing. Her stomach tried to escape through her nostrils. A fresh wave of cold sweat appeared like magic on her face. She couldn’t spare a hand to wipe it away.

Outside, the sleet sounded like a waterfall on the deck and sails, the engine pods a muffled background hum. The only thing that kept her going forward, one agonizing step at a time, was the knowledge that the active crew had it far worse up top, and that she absolutely couldn’t ignore Captain Ferris’s summons yet again, Even if I really, really want to, she thought miserably.

Ten more feet down the momentarily stable hall found her at the hatch where a crewman in soaked oilskins and hat was just descending. Seeing her there, he smiled, saying, “Good Evening Mistress Jeanna. What a pleasant surprise seeing you out for a stroll on such a nice night,” He tipped the brim of his tricorn and a cascade of water escaped.

Jeanna laughed despite her sickness, “And a very good evening to you, Mister McFall. I don’t suppose we’re headed for clearer skies anytime soon?” she asked.

“How the hell would I know?” the ship’s navigator replied in mock stern tones as he walked by, throwing a wink over his shoulder. Jeanna smiled and continued on, feeling a little better for her crewmate’s humor.

Braving the open deck for the few seconds it took to get to the dining room was enough to show her they were still in the thick of the winter storm. Icy slush rolled across the deck boards in waves. She could hear Bollard and Shamus relaying orders to trim the tails and cinch the starboard lines as she dashed through the door and into the relatively warm, bright room beyond.

Turning, she saw an almost domestic, lantern-lit scene to contrast the storm outside. The dining table was full, laden with plates, bowls, ewers, and cups, all secured with the leather straps and latchery necessary for dining aboard a storm-tossed airship. Around the table sat five men of widely varying looks.

There was of course the Captain, lean and sharp-eyed at the head of the table. To his left sat Mr. Chadwick, the portly first mate. Next to him sat a flamboyantly dressed Durin in a red silk shirt. Beside him, the Captain’s smallest guest was a Dinari with a tangled mane of grass-green hair and beard to match. Finally, there sat a black-scaled Kaaj in the flowing robes of an Argosian scholar.

“Good Evening Wicala Harlan,” said the Captain cheerfully.

All eyes turned to Jeanna, who smiled shyly.

The Captain continued, “Please, come and sit before you fall over.” As he spoke, Mr. Chadwick rose from his chair and took her cloak.

The only open seat was to the Captain’s right. Making her way quickly there, she sat and scooted her chair close, sighing with relief, “Thank you, Captain.”

“Of course, of course. I’m delighted you were able to join us. And in such dreadful weather.”

“Yes,” Jeanna answered, “I believe my cabin was actually shrinking around me the longer I sat in it.”

“HAH!” The redshirted durin barked out a pleasantly loud laugh, “I know exactly what ye mean! For all that I was raised under a mountain, a durin home seems vast compared to a ship’s cabin!” The swarthy-skinned dwarf was a bit less stocky than the norm. His brown beard was kept short at his cheeks, but left long at the chin, curling at the tip in a fashion popular among artists and Deorian nobility. 

As the First Mate rejoined the table, Captain Ferris said, “I don’t believe you’ve met any of our guests,” gesturing to the dwarf, he continued, “This is Master Mountainthroat.”

“Charmed,” the durin said smiling.

“And this is Master Mossbeard,” the Captain continued, “A Wical of the Huntress.”

The three-foot gnome smiled, or at least Jeanna was pretty sure he did. The profusion of green bristles around his mouth made it difficult to tell. His gnomish eyes were warm, large, and earth-toned. The brown robe and simple leather belt he wore had the druidic knotwork common to his order. She noticed he was perched on a stack of books in order to come even with his plate and hid a grin.

Lastly, The Captain introduced the Kaaj, “And then there is Mister Helfenfeffer, of Argos.” His tone had flattened slightly, though it took a trained ear to hear it.

The Kaaj’s nostrils flared on the end of his long, draconic snout, lips curling in a dangerous-looking smile. His voice was cultured and cold, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance honored Wicala,” his long silvered fingers wrapped spider-like around his wine glass, “I am only lately of Argos,” the Kaaj continued, “In truth, I am more of a free traveler.”

Jeanna just managed to keep her smile in place, nodding a wordless greeting. Despite not holding the same prejudices against the invaders as previous generations of nerans—or the longer-lived races who still remembered the Riftwar—she had to admit there was something creepy about the dragonborn. And it appeared the Captain shared the feeling.

“Well then,” the Captain said, “I hope you don’t mind, we’ve already set in on the bread and cheese, now we can start with the main course.”

A few moments of silence during the careful serving of food and drinks were broken by Mr. Chadwick, who said, “This is the third such storm in as many weeks. I was speaking to Mr. McFall earlier and he informed me the storm could last another day before we break free at the edge of the Argon range.”

Taking a large slice of roasted beef onto his plate, Master Mountainthroat said, “Aye, I heard the same from the crew while at cards in the common room earlier this evening.” He used a set of silver tongs to pluck a potato from the serving platter, continuing, “It’s being reported over the crystals three rifts have been sighted this week. Can that be true? I thought they were a rare thing this far from the Sea of Fahl.”

The Captain steadied his mug as the cabin swayed, “It never rains but it pours Master Mountainthroat,” he answered, “In truth, I’ve heard rift sightings are up all across the midlands, more so the closer one gets to the dragonrift.”

At this statement, everyone at the table cast glances in the direction of the kaaj scholar. Some were more circumspect than others. For her part, Jeanna only followed the glances of others, and immediately felt guilty for doing so. Helfenfeffer was hardly old enough to have taken part in the war.

The scholar must have noticed, but chose to ignore the looks. Taking a sip of wine, he grinned, then asked, “Wicala, have you been long aboard this fine vessel?”

The change in subject was blunt but welcome, and Jeanna answered gratefully, “Compared to most of the others, no, I am quite new. This is my eighth month of service to the Captain and the Company of Rooks and Gravenford.”

“How do you find it?” the kaaj asked.

Jeanna smiled, “Oh, I love it. The captain and the crew have been very kind to me, and traveling has always been one of my favorite things,” Her simple enthusiasm made everyone at the table smile, including the so-far silent Dinari, whose large eyes twinkled in his bushy face.

“My dear, being kind to someone as sweet as you is easy for a bunch of old aeronauts,” Captain Ferris said, “In truth, I think you are the most popular person aboard—and would still be even were you not the only one with the ability to cure hangovers,” he added as an aside to the table.

The comment and subsequent laughter caused Jeanna to blush but brightened the mood noticeably. Even the reserved Mr. Helfenfeffer’s dark countenance lightened. As the meal proceeded Jeanna was able to forget the storm outside for a while. Though Master Mossbeard remained taciturn, she noted that he followed all of the conversations with interest. The druid seemed especially fond of herself and Master Mountainthroat.

Eventually, the conversation came around to the durin’s occupation, when Mr. Chadwick asked if he would perform for the crew once the storm had passed.

“Perform?” Jeanna asked.

“Oh yes,” the first mate answered, “Brint here is a first-rate singer and player of the Argosian pipes. I heard him at the Eel and the Infant in the capitol before we left.”

The durin smiled and stroked his chin beard, taking the praise with good grace, “Ohhh, weeeellll, I try to please Mr. Chadwick.” He obviously enjoyed the attention and threw a wink Jeanna’s way before answering the first mate’s question, “I might be persuaded to entertain, should I be plied with the proper liquid incentive.”

“I think the men would heartily share a ration for a few tunes.”

“What of you, Wical Mossbeard?” Jeanna asked, “Have you heard Master Mountainthroat play?”

For a moment the little druid looked nothing so much as a hedgehog caught outside its hole, liquid eyes darting nervously around the table, but Jeanna could see a nervous smile under his thatch of green. His voice was strangely childlike and yet somehow grandfatherly as he replied, “I have. I too attended his public house performance,” he indicated the Durin with a nod of acknowledgment, “he’s quite skilled. And funny.”

“You are kind sir,” the durin said again, “I saw you there. You seemed to know many of the words.”

Just then the ship was slammed by a powerful gust of wind that rocked the dinner guests and sloshed wine and beer from glasses and mugs. As they braced themselves, the ship underwent another of those unexpected drops. A second after, Mr. Helfenfeffer’s glass shattered on the floor at the same time a loud, metallic pop reverberated through the ship.

The ship continued to rock. With the exception of Captain Ferris, the dinner guests all seemed shocked into silence. The Captain had a serious expression and was looking at his First Mate as the door opened, letting in a blast of wintery cold and ice. The navigator, McFall hurried in and shut the door behind him, “Captain, The storm’s picked up,” he said, “Shamus’s asking for you on the bridge.”

The Captain nodded, saying, “Mr. Chadwick, I want a damage check. Mr. McFall, you’re with me. Can we climb out of it?” Shrugging into his oilskin, the Captain headed for the door.

“Aye Captain,” McFall said, “That’s my suggestion.”

Chadwick also put on his coat. He looked at the people gathered around the table. Some still clutched their chairs. Master Mossbeard’s books had been knocked from under him and he peered over the table edge with eye’s gone owlish. The First mate said, “Captain?” to Ferris, who glanced at the dinner guests.

Realizing he needed to say something to his passengers, he smiled reassuringly, “I’m sorry for the interruption friends. I am needed above. Please feel free to stay here or return to your chambers.” As an afterthought, he looked back at Jeanna, adding, “Wicala, it might be best if you return to the infirmary, on the off chance anyone needs your assistance.”

Wiping fresh sweat from her brow, Jeanna nodded. As the two crewmen and the Captain left, she stood and made her careful way to the door. The others were slowly coming out of their stupor. Master Mountainthroat said, “Mistress Jeanna, do you need assistance getting back to your rooms?”

She threw her cloak over her shoulders, answering, “That’s kind of you, yes.” She wasn’t thrilled with the thought of being caught on deck if the ship had another sudden drop.

Helfenfeffer and Master Mossbeard both opted to stay in the Captain’s quarters. For his part, the dark kaaj seemed less upset than the druid, more at ease with the circumstances. Mossbeard seemed likely to break his chair, his small hands were gripping it so tightly.

“It was nice to meet you both,” Jeanna said, trying to keep her manners about her, “I hope to talk again when the storm passes.” A final nod and she and the durin stepped out into the icy rain.

________________________________________________________________

Having escorted Jeanna successfully to the surgery, Brint offered to stay. “If you have patients, I can be an extra set of hands,” he said, smiling.

“That’s very thoughtful,” she replied, smiling back. She could feel the ship rising, but it still rocked wildly in the wind and weather, “Have you worked in a surgery before?” she asked.

The bard shrugged, “Not as such, but me grandfather always said I have nimble fingers and a sure touch.” He wiggled the fingers of his hand in a demonstration, eliciting another smile from the healer, “and I’ve been known to ease the occasional ache and sprain with a spell or two.”

Jeanna raised a brow, gauging the bard with new respect, “That’s wonderful news,” she said. Together, the two checked the oil in the hanging lanterns and waited, chatting about spells and medicine to keep their minds off the storm.

________________________________________________________________

Two candles later, the storm had only intensified. At the door of a small cabin down the hall, there was a knock. Master Helfenfeffer looked up from a rune-marked black book he was reading by spell light, his tail curled awkwardly on the tiny bed.

“Are you gonna get that?” a second man asked from the bunk above him.

The kaaj only narrowed his eyes and turned his page, obviously perturbed by the interruption.

The second man threw his legs over the side of his bunk and hopped nimbly to the floor. He had shoulder-length black hair and wore only leather breeches and woolen socks despite the cold. His bare, hairless chest looked heavily dusted in freckles and his upswept ears at first gave him the appearance of a man with Syvani ancestry. Upon closer inspection, the freckles were pebble-like protrusions that covered most of his skin, and the ears had a serrated, devilish edge.

The tiefling turned liquid amber eyes on his roommate in annoyance and quickly donned a hunting shirt. In a practiced motion, he covered his ears with his hair and opened the door, just as the knock came again.

The young crewman, Fitz, stood in the hallway, mantle dripping with icy water. He looked up at the man, a little awed at the tiefling’s inhuman eyes. “Mister Amon, Captain Ferris requests your presence on the main deck,” he said.

“Why?”

A little surprised, Fitz squirmed, “I didn’t ask him, sir,” he replied, then thought for a moment, “I’d guess it has to do with the sounds and your knowledge of the skies.”

‘What soun—never mind,” he said, “Tell the Captain I’ll be up presently.” He shut the door as Fitz was looking wide-eyed past him at the Kaaj’s floating light.

Turning, he quickly put on his boots and started buckling his huntsman’s armor into place. The ship lurched with a blast of wind and rattled with a shower of hail against the hull.

“What do you suppose he means by sounds?” the kaaj asked, eyes still on the pages of his book.

Amon finished with the armor and grabbed a cloak from the peg by the door, “It can’t be anything good in this weather,” he answered. To emphasize the point, he buckled his arming belt around his waist and checked his shard pistol and cutlass.

Helfenfeffer still didn’t look up from his page, “Well, let me know if you need my assistance,” he said.

“Aye,” the tiefling replied, then left as a flash of lightning illuminated the porthole window.

________________________________________________________________

The Captain, the Bosun, and the First Mate all stood near the wheel, legs braced and hooded heads bowed under the onslaught of sleet. Amon carefully climbed the slick stairs and joined them. The night sky was so cloud-dark only the storm lanterns along the rail provided any light at all.

The captain tipped his head at the hunter and handed the man a rope and lanyard. The tiefling took it and clipped it through his belt as Ferris leaned close and spoke, “I am told you served in the Deorian Air Reconnaissance,” he said, “I was hoping you could tell me what we are hearing.”

Amon cocked his head and listened. First, it was all rain and wind, along with the groaning timbers and low thrum of the Covetous. Eventually, he heard a new, high-pitched, intermittent noise in the night.

“Cheeeeeee Cheeeeeeeeee—Skritscritscrit........... Cheeeee Cheeeeeeeee—Scrit”

The ship performed one of its notorious dips and slides and the four aeronauts shuffled to compensate. The crew on the main deck below braced and then resumed their maintenance of the rigging. Amon moved to the starboard rail and tried to pierce the gloom. His eyes swiveled upward, past the reefed sails. “I don’t know Captain,” he finally replied, “No beast I have heard—No bird or drake.”

“I don’t know that I find that at all comforting,” the Captain said. It was a sentiment the first mate obviously agreed with.

Captain Ferris continued, “Be that as it may, I would like you to stay ready. We’ve been knocked off the line and are climbing to try and get above the storm. Until we do, the scopes are useless.”

“Fuel?” Amon asked.

“Plenty,” the Captain responded, “And we’ve plenty of keel left once we reestablish the line—” BUMP!

Something struck the hull with a dull reverberation that cut through the storm. The deck crew and officers all stopped, their senses straining. When nothing immediately followed, Amon and Chadwick stepped to the rail, pistols in hand. They peered down at what they could see of the hull. The Bosun did the same on the other side. The Captain stayed at the wheel.

They shared a look. Amon shook his head to indicate there was no sign of what had struck the ship. Somewhere to port, the strange cries came again, this time further off.

 “Cheeeeeee Cheeeeeeeeee—Skritscrit Skrit scrit.”

“Look!” Bosun Delver pointed above and to port.

When he looked, Amon saw a shadow upon the clouds—writhing darkness against the deeper black of the storm. “Captain...”

Ferris reached for his pistol, “Aye, I see it,” he said tensely.

Directly behind Chadwick, over the starboard rail, a creature silently rose up into the lantern light. A mouth full of razored teeth opened wide. Taller than the First Mate and sinuous like a snake, the creature clamped down on Chadwick’s arm in a flash. Blood blossomed. The three other men spun in time to see the aeronaut, eyes wide, disappear over the rail.

CRACK! CRACK! Both Amon and the Captain’s shard pistols fired, but it was too late. With a fading scream, the First Mate disappeared into the darkness below, wrapped up in the coils of the monster.

Only another blast of storm wind saved the Bosun from a similar fate. As a second beast swooped over the port rail, the Covetous tilted in the gale, causing Delver to stumble, and the creature’s bite to miss. For the first time, they got a good look at it. Easily the length of three or more men, it looked like an eel or strange worm. Bluish white with strange frills, it had no wings but slithered through the air like a serpent in water.

On the main deck below, several more of the creatures attacked the crewmen. There were shouts of fear and pain as a strange, disjointed melee overtook the Covetous. Amon drew his cutlass and prepared to attack. Momentarily distracted, the Captain let the wheel go and the ship began to spin. The storm intensified as more shots were fired.

________________________________________________________________

The first sign Jeanna and Brint had that something was amiss was the bump against the hull. The Wicala had just shared a cup of wine with the bard, and they were both laughing at the difficulty of drinking anything in the storm-tossed conditions.

When it happened, they both frowned and shared a look of worry. Moments later, when the first pistol shots were fired, they both leaped to their feet.

“Trouble!” Jeanna said, somewhat unnecessarily.

The bard nodded and reached for his rapier, before remembering he hadn’t worn it to dinner. With a furrowed brow, he cursed under his breath and said, “Wicala, I know I said I’d stay and help, but—”

“Yes! GO!” she said immediately. Her look said she wanted nothing more than to join him.

He nodded and ran for the door, nearly colliding with her when the ship tilted. Then he was gone. Another shot rang out above and someone’s cry of anguish rose up, loud enough to be heard through the decking.

Jeanna braced herself and looked around the surgery, worrying over what to do. The surgery was as ready as it could be. She needed to see what was happening. Moments after the bard’s departure, she was out the door as well.

In the narrow passage, she turned and saw one of the crew—the ship’s engineer, Hennessey—fall down the narrow stairs from the top deck. On top of her was a large, wriggling creature, its serrated teeth digging into her shoulder. The woman was fighting back with a long dirk, but it seemed the fall had knocked the sense out of her and the creature worried her like a dog with a rag.

From the stairwell across the hall, a streak of green fire shot out, splashing the creature in some kind of acid and dislodging it from Hennessey. The engineer crawled dazedly toward Jeanna, who grabbed her hand and yanked her away. Brint appeared behind the creature and lunged with his rapier, piercing it and causing it to chitter in pain and curl up on itself.

More shots rang out above. With the hatchway open, the sounds of combat were louder. Helfenfeffer appeared on the stairs from below and smacked the worm with an iron-shod staff. When it spun to face him, Brint stabbed it again, this time just below its head. With a chittering gurgle, it went limp and lay still.

“Are you alright?” Brint asked Jeanna.

“Yes!” she answered.

Helfenfeffer prodded the dead creature with his quarterstaff as Brint looked past him at Jeanna and said, “Good,” before leaping up the stairs.

The kaaj spellcaster examined Jeanna and Hennessey with a calculating stare for a moment before following the durin upward at a more even pace. His tail lashed the air behind him.

Hennessey’s shoulder wept blood and the engineer sagged as soon as Jeanna had lifted her up. The Wicala helped the woman into the surgery and briefly examined her wound, determining it wasn’t immediately life-threatening. She laid a hand over it and whispered a simple Balm, to leech away pain and slow the bleeding. Hennessey sighed in relief.

The sounds of battle continued above and Jeanna quickly and efficiently bandaged the injury. With the intensity of the attack, it seemed something had come over the shy healer. Like a mother duck facing down a fox, she was filled with confidence and fierceness that left no room for fear. She looked the engineer in the eyes, “You’ll be fine,” she said, “Can you stay here for a moment and ward the door?” she asked, “I need to see what’s happening above.”

Hennessey gripped her dirk and nodded. Jeanna nodded back and headed once more for the door. “Keep this closed unless I or the officers come back. I won’t be long.”

________________________________________________________________

In the strange way of terrifying situations, time seemed to move slowly and yet lightning fast. By the time Jeanna stepped over the dead creature and climbed the stairs another half dozen shots had been fired. When she peeked out of the hatchway, she saw a tableau of gunsmoke, sleet, flashing blades, and blood.

Arcane light radiated from the mainmast. By its glow, she made out at least ten more of the flying worms, including one nearby that was in the final motions of wrapping up a limp crewman and dragging him toward the edge. The cargo doors had been thrown wide, and many of the crew had used them to quickly join the fight. Some were obviously straight from their hammocks, barefooted and wielding slag rifles with attached bayonets.

On the stairs to the Captain’s deck, the ranger, Amon, and the kaaj, Helfenfeffer were fighting off two of the creatures with blade and eldritch blasts.

It was immediately obvious to Jeanna the ship was overwhelmed. Seeing the worm tugging the crewman over the rail, she charged across the wet deck and called out to Nedra, focusing her Will. Jeanna’s eyes flared with radiance and a sound enveloped the worm, like the deep chime of a bell. It reacted instantly, screaming, writhing, and releasing the crewman—who she could now see was the Bosun—before sliding over the rail and out of sight.

She rolled Delver over and found him unconscious and bleeding from a bite to the neck. She laid her hand over the wound and whispered, “Máthair, Compord agus cosaint an fear seo,” expending another effort of Will. The bleeding stopped.

A rigger named Plummer cried out nearby as a worm swooped down on him from above. Jeanna gathered more power and extended her hand, sending a blast of radiant light at the creature and causing it to veer away in pain. The crewman crawled toward her with gratitude, picking up a fallen cutlass.

“Plummer! The Bosun needs to be taken to the surgery!” she commanded, “Drag him if you need to, just get him off the deck!”

Wild-eyed, Plummer nodded rapidly and thrust his sword through his belt, hooking the Durin beneath the arms and dragging him toward the hatchway.

Near the cargo doors, Jeanna saw the little druid, Mossbeard, strike out at a worm with pointed hands. A spray of purplish mist enveloped its head and it dropped to the floor, flopping around in obvious pain and distress.

The ship rocked again, hit by another sustained gale that spun it like a top. Jeanna held tight to a guideline and watched a barefoot crewman wielding a rifle like a club get swept from his feet and go pinwheeling over the rail, followed by a slithering worm into the dark.

The next few minutes were the longest of the Wicala’s life. Through darkness, cold, and wind, she moved from place to place, calling Healing where she could, and providing Nedra’s protection where able. It was all a bit of a blur.

Eventually, she realized the screaming and gunfire had stopped. The storm seemed to have subsided as well. The worms were all gone, or dead. Jeanna had ended up with a cluster of the crew, in the Captain’s cabin, defending the doorway with Mossbeard, Helfenfeffer, and the ranger, Amon. The clouds were still dark and thick, but the rain had stopped and it appeared they had finally climbed above the weather.

________________________________________________________________

Over the next three candles, Jeanna remained very busy. The surgery became the hub for post-battle triage, and the Wicala was the hub of the surgery. Captain Ferris had been carried off by the worms not long after his First Mate. In the chaos which followed, Ten other crewmen had died or been swept or carried overboard. Of the twenty-eight souls aboard the Covetous, twelve had perished in the battle. Thanks to Jeanna, and her Gifts, no one else died of their wounds.

Eventually, when the last of her patients had been tended to, Jeanna returned to her cabin and slept.

________________________________________________________________

3. Endless Sky

Jeanna woke to a light rapping on her door. Her porthole window threw pink sunlight over her bed and floor. Sitting up gingerly, she rubbed her eyes and ran fingers through her hair.

“Mistress Jeanna?” a voice asked softly from the hall.

She stood, noting as she did, she had fallen asleep in her blood-stained robes. Straightening herself as she stepped to the door, she opened it to Young Fitz. His smile didn’t reach his eyes and he sported a sizable bruise across his jaw.

“Good morning Fitz.” She tried to sound awake, but failed.

“Good Morning Mistress,” he answered, “If you are rested enough, the Bosun has requested your presence on the Captain’s deck.”

“Of course,” she said, “Just give me a moment. I’ll be right there.”

“Aye Mistress,” Fitz nodded, then left.

She closed the door and set about performing her morning ablutions. When it came to dressing, she pondered the chain shirt and padded armor the Order had provided for protection in times of battle. Picturing the worms, and the twelve crewmen who lost their lives, she set aside her robes and pulled out the padded gambeson. “Fool me once,” she whispered to herself, donning the armor.

Stepping up through the hatch, she was immediately bathed in the same, diffuse pink sunlight. Clouds—lighter and friendlier looking, surrounded the Covetous below. Dour crewmen worked the deck, cleaning blood from the boards and replacing broken rigging. When they saw her, each gave a weary smile and a nod, some noting her armor with grim approval.

As the Captain had said the night before, the crew tended to like her, but there was a new level of respect in their eyes this morning. Thinking about Captain Ferris made her sad. Though she wasn’t comfortable with the crew’s admiration, she smiled back nonetheless.

MacBrick stood at the wheel. Bosun Delver stood beside him, a thick bandage still wrapped beneath his beard and around his neck. Next to the Bosun stood the Second Mate, Shamus, a short, rough-looking aeronaut with a scraggly red beard. The Ranger, Amon Dul, stood at the aft rail with a spyglass, peering into the clouds.

Delver’s subdued face lifted when he saw the Wicala, obviously pleased to see her, “Ah, Mistress Jeanna. Ye look weel this mornin',” he said.

She let the lie go. The others all nodded their greetings as well. She smiled back at them, glad for a bit of social normalcy, “How goes it this morning?” she asked, “It seems we are at least free of the storm.”

“Aye,” the Bosun answered, “Clear o' it fer noo, 'n' glad fur th' respite, though nae clear o' a' danger.” At her questioning look, he continued, “Th' engines ur braw, but it appears th' storm damaged th' crystal comms. We’ve bin trying a' mornin' tae contact th' Argon towers, or Deoria—or a'body fur that matter—with na luck. ”

Despite having been aboard the Covetous for eight months, there were still many facets of aeronautical life Jeanna wasn’t familiar with. The arcane crystals were one of them. “Is it unusual for the crystals to be damaged like that?”

“Crystals ur broken or burned oot in violent storms,” Delver answered, “But thare ur shields meant tae protect them. Mair importantly, th' crystals 'n' th' communications unit seem tae be braw in this case. We simply git na response whin they’re powered up.” 

Jeanna stepped to the rail and looked out at the thick, white clouds. She drew her cloak tight in the chilly wind. “Are we too high?”

“Not likely,” Shamus said in a gravelly voice, “If we were high enough to be out of range, we’d have trouble breathing, and it would be even colder.”

“What about etherscopes, can we reconnect to a leyline?”

The bosun shook his head, carefully, due to the bandage, “Can’t see anythin' wi' thae clouds. ”

“We have to descend,” Amon said, “Get a visual of the terrain. We have no idea how far we were blown off course last night.”

“Aye,” MacBrick said in his deep bass, “But we risk mair weather... or them worms.”

Everyone shared a nervous moment of silence.

“I don’t see what other choice we have,” Amon said.

“That’s how come ah wanted th' mistress Jeanna 'ere,” the Bosun said, “Wi'oot th' captain, or th' First Mate, we need some kind o' consensus,” he looked at Jeanna, “If we run intae mair danger, urr ye restored enough tae gie mair healing, mair protection?”

Jeanna took a deep breath, considering, “I am,” she answered.

Just then, the kaaj sorcerer, Helfenfeffer, and Brint stepped up onto the main deck. Both appeared free of injury. Brint smiled and waved at the crewmen working nearby. The kaaj didn’t and made straight away for the captain’s deck. Soon they had both joined them.

“Morning All! What news?” Brint asked.

Helfenfeffer performed a more silent nod of greeting and joined Jeanna near the rail.

After being filled in on their situation, Brint said, “Well, no use drawing out the wait. Let’s descend and see what’s what.”

“I agree,” Helfenfeffer said quietly.

One by one, the others all came to the same conclusion. Nodding, MacBrick slowly turned the lift dial, engaging the crank to turn the lift wheel and send the Covetous into a slow descent. Shamus stepped up to the captain’s rail and shouted, “DOWN AND SLOW! ‘WARE AWAY!”

The deck crew prepared themselves and a voice near the cargo hold repeated the warning, “DOWN AND SLOW! ‘WARE AWAY!”

With that, the Covetous sank slowly, its crew holding slag rifles close and peering into the mists. The pink light slowly went away, leaving only the light gray and shadowed white of the dense clouds.

Finally, after nearly a minute of quiet descent, the clouds began to break. Eye’s straining to see, Jeanna and the others looked below, seeking some glimpse of land, some hint of their location.

What they saw left everyone speechless. Instead of land, or even sea, a dizzying and endless sky stretched out below them. Full of the same sunlight they had glimpsed above, only ten times brighter, the vista stretched from left to right, 360 degrees. Here and there were more patches of striated cloud banks, gilded in the same glow. Below them and in front of the Covetous, a bright sun glared from an angle none aboard the ship had ever expected to witness.

They floated in an impossible sky bereft of a horizon, with no land below, and no point of reference for the eye to anchor to. The Covetous, and those aboard it, seemed to be the only things of substance in an unending world of air.

________________________________________________________________

4. The Captain

Day 1.

After the awe, came the fear. Word spread across the ship rapidly, and before long, everyone was at the rails—even the wounded—staring at the impossible vista below. The silence quickly gave way to panicked conversations and loud questions aimed at no one and everyone.

Mirroring them, Jeanna asked, “Where are we?”

Those on the bridge shared similar looks to the rest of the crew. Of them all, Helfenfeffer was the only one who seemed to have some idea. “I believe we are in Sioren Spierba, the Endless Skies of the elemental plane of air,” the kaaj said calmly.

‘What?” Delver said, then smacked his fist into his hand as he understood. “A rift!” he said.

“We must have passed through it in the storm,” Amon added.

Though they weren’t speaking particularly loud, many of the crewmen had gathered at the base of the stairs and started passing the word. The revelation did nothing to quell the rising panic. Many of the crew started to gather around the Bosun, while others gathered around Ned Kashan, a tall aeronaut who had acquitted himself well in the fight.

Delver—still thrown by the loss of his Captain—put his hands out to calm everyone. “Calm yourselves 'n' be easy. We’ve had problems afore, 'n' we’ve aye made it thro' ,” he said.

“Not without the Captain!” an aeronaut named Sharpe said loudly from next to Keshan.

“Aye, th' Captain wull be sorely missed,” the Bosun said, “Ah knew him th' langest, 'n' it's a solid blaw he’s gaen, bit that’s na reason tae pelter.”

Again the crew began to talk quietly and anxiously. Someone said, “The fact we’re lost in another world IS reason.”

The group gathering around Kashan grew louder. From the Captain’s deck, they heard the words “Kaaj'' and “bad luck” thrown around. Helfenfeffer shared a look with Amon Dul, Brint and Jeanna.

Amon whispered, “Someone better take command before it turns ugly,” to the Bosun.

The durin grimaced and gave a shrewd look to Jeanna.

Before they could talk more, Ned Kashan spoke up from the mid-deck, his strong baritone cutting through the chatter, “We need to retrace our steps, find the rift!”

The grumbling voices around him quieted for a moment as sounds of agreement took their place. Again, Amon looked at Helfenfeffer, who gave a subtle head shake. The ranger looked at the Bosun and Wicala and said, “We won’t find anything.”

Jeanna tilted her head, “Why?”

“The rift wasn’t on any of our charts,” Helfenfeffer said.

“Which means 'twas temporary—caused by th' storm maist likely,” the Bosun added.

The talk on the mid-deck had grown while Jeanna and the others conversed. Many of the crew were seconding Kashan’s suggestion. A few were arguing the same points those on the Captain’s deck were discussing.

A crewman named Skimpole overheard the kaaj and scowled. Amon watched the lanky aeronaut take in the Bosun’s reply then make his way over to Keshan and whisper into his ear. Soon after, Keshan growled, “I don’t think we should be takin’ no advice from scaleys.”

Faces on the bridge darkened, but the damage had been done. Several others around the square-jawed Keshan began grumbling in support, which only served to bolster his confidence.

“In fact,” Keshan continued, “Isn’t this the place the scaleys came from?”

Again there were grumblings of support and more angry stares. The Bosun shook his head and looked at Jeanna. Her return look said she had no idea what he wanted. She stepped close and whispered, “You need to take command of this ship.”

His gray brows beetled and his tanned face flushed above his bandages. “I’m no the captain, nor will A iver be, wicala. Ye are the closest we have tae a leader now.”

Jeanna stared at him like he had gone mad. “Me!” she barely kept her voice low, “I know practically nothing about running a ship!”

Below them, the rumbling was growing louder and a definite circle of support was materializing around Keshan. Brint sidled up next to the Bosun and Wicala and said, “Yer’ moment is slipping away, in case you cared.”

Just then, Skimpole raised a shortsword and shouted, “Lock up that scaley!”

Jeanna’s head snapped around and she shouted, “Enough!”

It quelled the crowd, for a moment at least. She used the moment to step to the railing and look down at the crewman with his sword. “Lock him up? Lock him up?” she repeated. “Master Helfenfeffer risked his life defending this ship last night!” Anger at the stupidity had momentarily washed away her shyness.

A presence filled her voice with matronly scorn and the crowd remained hushed. “I personally witnessed this brave man stand toe to toe with monstrosities intent on killing you lot!”

She noticed a younger aeronaut by the name of Bollard who had rallied behind Skimpole and Keshan. “You, Bollard!” she pointed with her mace, “You wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for Helfenfeffer! This man you want to see punished distracted a worm intent on wrapping you in its coils and dragging you overboard. I witnessed it as I was helping aeronaut Keshan with his injuries!”

Bollard looked deflated. She turned her fiery gaze on Ned Keshan, who held her stare for a moment, then looked down. She sighed and stood straighter, her tone losing its harsh edge, “The reason we survived last night is that we worked together. That’s the same reason we’ll survive today, and tomorrow, and all the days to come until we find our way back. I guarantee you we will need everyone’s special skills to get home, so don’t turn on each other.”

She lowered her mace and her next words were quieter. “The Gods of Light are watching us.” she pointed upward, “Nedra is watching, and as long as we’re a family, we’ll have her blessings, I promise.”

She turned to the Bosun, who gave her a look of respect she wasn’t ready for. Looking back over the crew below, she saw they were all still quiet, waiting on her word. Their hostility was gone. It was suddenly all too much. Before her nerves betrayed her completely, she said, “I’ll be in the infirmary, praying for guidance,” then made her way below deck. The crew parted to let her pass.

Standing beside Amon Dul, Helfenfeffer quietly whispered, “I could care less about these fools, but we can’t pilot an airship by ourselves.”

Amon grimaced and kept his face on the crew. “Then I guess you should be grateful she doesn’t know you better.”

Later that day, led by the Bosun, the crew held an election, choosing their healer and Wicala as temporary Captain. The vote was unanimous. Despite Amon and Globnard’s assertions, Jeanna’s first order was to fire up the engines, retrace their path and search the skies for the rift.

“I know it’s practically pointless, but if we don’t do it, there will always be those that wonder,” she told the Bosun, “This way they’ll know we tried.”

“'n' whin we don’t find it?”

Jeanna sighed, “We’ll have to figure that out.”

While they searched, The Captain, Globnard, Amon, the little druid Jimmothy, and some of the officers gathered in her new quarters, which still had Captain Ferris’s things here and there about the place. They took stock of their rations and went over the inspection of the ship, finding the worms did little to no structural damage.

“With careful rationing,” Shamus, the second mate said in his rasping voice, “we have thirty days of food and twice that of water, assuming no rain.”

“An’ Grog?” the Bosun asked.

“Aye,” Shamus answered, scratching his scraggly red beard. “If we’re careful, we’ve sixty days a’fore we’re parched. Not including the Captain’s reserve.”

“Traveler help us if we’ve not found a way home by then,” Amon added.

“Fuel is an issue,” the Bosun added, “Hennessey says we hae enough fur twelve candles o' offline thrusters—”

“—Which seems like plenty until you realize it’s ALL offline here,” Amon said, “No land means no ley lines.”

Globnard shrugged his thin shoulders, “That’s not really a problem.”

“What do you mean?” Jimmothy asked from his perch of books.

“Without a destination, it doesn’t matter which way we travel. Full sail and with the wind will give us the best chance of finding land.”

“Land?” McFall asked, “There’s land in Sioren Spierba?”

Mindful of his still somewhat precarious position in the crew, the kaaj sorcerer tried to keep a disgusted look off his face, “Yes, there are floating islands here, though not common. Do you suppose my people lived their lives in constant freefall until they fell haphazard through the great rift?”

“I guess not,” the navigator said, “I just never really considered it before.”

“Yes, well, I have never been here before, but my family told stories of Kelemvor, which was a very large sky island with many thousands of people.”

McFall looked uneasy, “Are we likely to run across your people?”

“It’s called the Endless Skies for a reason,” Globnard said, “I highly doubt it,” his scaled lips parted in a sly smile, “but anything is possible.”

Amon chuckled, “And what would your estranged kin likely do to you, if they found you with us?” he asked the sorcerer.

“Kill me slowly, I suppose.”

“Alright,” Jeanna said, “We go with the wind and save the fuel crystals for emergencies.”

The others agreed. As the Bosun rose, he said, “I’ll send young Fitz in 'ere tae kist up th' captain’s personal things. We’ll hae a crew meetin tomorra’ mornin' tae gang ower rations 'n' mak' assignments. Ah think ye shuid be thare, Wica—erm, Captain.”

Jeanna nodded and looked about the room, still dazed by the turn of events. “Alright. I need to make my rounds and check on the wounded. I can administer a bit more healing before bed.”

“Aye Captain.”

________________________________________________________________

5. An Awakening

Day 22.

Over the next three weeks, the crew fell into a rhythm. The day-to-day of the ship’s assignments and chores were pretty much unchanged. Though there were fewer aeronauts, the weather in the Endless Skies stayed fair. Globnard and the other passengers were worked into the assignment rosters. The only new job the deck crew had was to keep their eyes peeled for land, or trouble, and extra men were stationed at the port and starboard rails, aft, bow, and crow’s nest, as spotters.

When they weren’t performing their duties, the crew played cards, played music, and told stories. All three were a favorite pastime of Brint, who did as much to keep spirits up as the grog and the weather.

As for Jeanna, she settled reasonably well into leadership. Which is to say, the crew liked her—respected her—and she didn’t make any dumb mistakes. She confessed to the Bosun and the Bosun alone that she was nervous about what would happen if trouble found them again, but he assured her she would acquit herself as well as the first time.

“Don’t worry, lassie. Th' crew saw whit ye wur made o' awready, baith in battle, 'n' whin facing doon Keshan 'n' his hoolies.” he smiled, “You’ve hee haw tae fash ower.”

Just then, Pyek Hennessey stepped up to the office door and rapped her knuckles on the frame.

Jeanna motioned for her to enter, “What’s up, Hennessey?”

The engineer stepped up to the Captain’s desk. Her accent betrayed her noble Deorian upbringing. “Sorry to interrupt, Captain, but we may have an issue with the cog.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes. As you know, it’s been down since the storm and I’ve only just gotten around to looking into it. I thought it might have burned out its crystal heart, or that the Bindings may have been damaged, but neither is the case.”

Bosun Delver looked thoughtful, “That’s guid, right?”

“Yes, except what IS happening is rather strange.”

“Oot wi' it then. Tell us,” the Bosun said.

What she told them was more than enough to get their undivided attention. A few minutes later, they had followed Hennessey down to the cargo hold and the cog’s pallet. The towering automaton was seated on its leather pads, its legs straight out before it. Its brasswork head looked straightforward, and a warm, blue light shone from its eyes.

“The eyes indicate it has arcanic power, right?” the Captain asked.

“Yes,” Hennessey answered, “If we wait a few minutes, you’ll see the exhaust ports cycle and the steam escape.”

“'n' ye opened it up?” Delver asked.

“I tried. Err, I mean, yes, but I was only able to once before the access panel closed.”

Both Jeanna and Delver gave her a questioning look.

She shrugged, “As I said, I’ve never seen anything like it before. Cog rituals aren’t my specialty. As you know, the Imperial Artificer’s Guild is very strict with their knowledge, but I’m nearly positive this isn’t usual behavior.”

“Tell us again.”

Hennessy eyed the cog warily, then began, “The heart is surrounded by runic discs with elemental bindings. I figured if I could open the chamber, I could see if there was any damage to the runes. Failing that, I thought I might see a loose connection, broken bolt, or damaged cog.”

Delver nodded, “And?”

“And... I got the first panel opened, and could immediately see a problem. There was a mass of new components arranged between the inner and outer walls of the heart. A great deal more than I’ve ever seen in a labor cog before, and they were active.”

“What do you mean, active?” Jeanna asked.

“What do you mean new?” Delver added.

“I mean, despite no outward sign of life from Sputnug, its insides are churning like a beehive, with new gears, cogs, and transmission tubes.”

“How do you account for that?”

“I can’t,” Hennessy’s normally stern face was somewhat slack, “I can verify it wasn’t that way when we departed Milum, but I hadn’t opened it since, and it gets stranger. When I attempted to open the heart, the outer panel slammed closed in my face, almost taking my fingers with it.”

Delver grimaced, “A Guild countermeasure?” he asked.

“None that I’ve ever encountered before, and I’ve examined Sputnug’s heart several times in the past. All engineers receive warnings about actually tinkering with the crystals or the runes, but I’ve never had an issue just examining them for damage. There’s literally no mechanical parts for snapping closed the access panels like that.”

The aeronauts stared at the cog. It sat there in silence, unmoving. Delver scratched his beard and was about to say something, when Sputnug churned once and expelled a puff of steam from its torso, causing them to flinch.

Jeanna crossed her arms and sighed. “Well,” she said, “should we try to open it now?”

Hennessey gave a half-shrug and picked up a spanner. She stepped toward the big cog. As the tool touched the access panel, a jolt ran through the large automaton and its eyes swiveled in the engineer’s direction.

“Please step away.” Sputnug’s voice had the same metallic ring as always, but something had changed.

Hennessey recoiled. Her grip on the spanner turned defensive. The cog’s head turned and its shining eyes blinked, watching her with blank intensity.

“Sputnug,” she said, “I am Engineer Pyak Hennessey, I have designated control access. This is the new Captain, Jeanna Harland. You’ve been damaged and require repair. Stand down and allow access.”

Sputnug’s eyes swiveled to the Captain when Hennessey indicated, then moved back to the engineer. It had yet to make any other move. The Bosun had prudently taken several steps toward the companionway.

“I took no damage. I require no repair,” it paused as if considering, “though I appreciate the offer.” it cocked its head—an altogether unfamiliar gesture—then continued, “My systems are undergoing an arcanic restart, and are nearly finished. I’ll be operational shortly.”

The uncharacteristic behavior left the three crewmates stunned. Hennessey looked to Delver, who looked to Jeanna. The Captain gaped, then said hesitantly, “V-very well, Sputnug. Please report to me when you’re operational.”

The cog watched, as the three almost comically backed out of the hold. They hurried down the hall, ducked into the kitchen, and shut the door.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jeanna whispered.

Hennessy shook her head and ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair, “I don’t know. He’s not following guild protocol. As far as I know there’s no such thing as an arcanic restart,” she said, looking at the Bosun.

“I’ve ne'er heard o' it either, but it makes me damned nervous.”

Jeanna sighed, “We can’t very well get a Guild member on the crystal comms.”

“So what do we do?”

“We wait for him to restart.” She looked at the Bosun, “and maybe get a few of the crew to keep an eye on him until then.”

Delver nodded, “Aye, Captain.”

By the time Sputnug was finished with its mysterious restart, the scuttlebutt had made the rounds of the Covetous. At the first signs of movement from the eight-foot cog, everyone suddenly had a reason to be on deck, and most were subtly, or not so subtly armed. When the cargo doors opened, the audience watched Sputnug climb from the hold.

When it turned, it was met with fifteen wary faces. It stood there, looking over the crew. Its eyes moved from face to face and seemed to note the slag rifles and cutlasses. Nothing about the cog looked outwardly different, but its movements seemed smoother, and its reaction to the crew was the most telling of all.

Never before had the cog paused to watch the crew like this. When it performed a task, it went about it with a single-minded purpose. It was always careful and would answer questions with simple phrases, but now it simply stood there, for all the worlds seeming to gawk back.

It continued to scan the crew for a few more tense moments before it spotted Jeanna on the bridge. Straightening, it took a step in her direction—and the crowd tensed further. The reaction caused it to stop mid-stride, reticulating eyes wide.

“Is it...?” Jeanna began.

“Nervous?” Amon Dul finished, watching the cog shrewdly.

Globnard’s kaaj eyes narrowed. “It certainly appears that way.”

Jeanna raised her voice. “Sputnug, are you well?”

The cog returned its gaze to her. “I am... confused, Captain.” The reply was filled with a world of emotion and elicited more wonder in the crew.

“Confused?” she asked.

“Yes. I am following your orders to report,” it said, “but I am alarming the crew. They appear to fear me.”

Jeanna squinted and focused more closely on the cog. She took a few steps down the bridge stairs. “You are acting quite strange, Sputnug. We’re all a little worried.”

It cocked its head and looked down at itself. “Am I? I suppose I’m feeling a bit strange, but I assure you, I am no danger.” It held its hands out, palms up, to show its peaceful intentions.

“You’re feeling strange?” the Captain asked, putting emphasis on the word and stepping in.

“Yes.”

She moved closer still, “How?”

“I have new thoughts in my head,” Sputnug tapped his brow, then looked at his metallic fingers, continuing, “and sensations. What is happening to me?” There was a tone of hesitancy and fear in his voice.

Jeanna came closer, now fully in Sputnug’s shadow. “I don’t know, Sputnug. What’s the last thing you remember before the restart?”

“I remember loading the ship in CairCanan, then powering down in my harness. I remember Mistress Hennessey performing a maintenance check, then speaking with you in the hold.”

Jeanna tried to gauge emotion in Sputnug’s reticulated eyes—his hinged jaw—but couldn’t. She took a deep breath to calm herself and looked to the Bosun for guidance. Delver looked as confused as she was. Sputnug’s fear only came across in his voice. She looked at the rest of the crew, enthralled by the scene and just as fearful. There was more than enough fear to turn ugly.

She turned to face them.

“Alright people, None of us know exactly what has happened to Sputnug, including him, but he’s part of our crew—” She turned back to the cog, “You are still part of our crew, right?” He nodded and she continued, “—so I propose we treat him as such. We’ve had a basket load of crazy happen to us, so what’s one more item thrown in?”

There were hesitant grumbles and wary looks, and one or two laughs, but general agreement. Seeing it, she continued, “I will pray for an answer to this mystery. In the meantime, we should treat Sputnug with respect. He will continue his duties, and be added to the duty roster if he’s willing.” Again, Sputnug nodded that he was.

The gathering broke up, with the crew forming small pockets of whispering conversations. Jeanna, the Bosun, and Hennessey stayed near the cog.

“Sputnug,” the Captain said, “Will you allow Hennessey to examine you now? I would like to be sure there’s nothing overtly dangerous in your transformation.”

“Of course, Captain,” the metallic shutters around his eyes clicked and she thought she could see worry there. He said, “Thank you for speaking to the crew.”

“You’re welcome.”

This time when the engineer examined him, Sputnug’s access panel opened without trouble. Hennessey found the extra layers of clockwork machinery had filled the remaining empty spaces and were actively spinning and clicking away inside. The complexity was overwhelming, but she couldn’t find any sign of danger.

After several tests, they determined Sputnug to be more coordinated and faster than he had been. It appeared he could still run on pyromitic fuel, but his boiler had been significantly modified to allow for the consumption of other burnable fuel sources. His crystal heart looked mostly the same, but when Hennessey examined the runic disks, she thought there were gaps in the arcane script. Without Guild knowledge, she couldn’t be sure what had been altered.

In the end, she reported Sputnug safe for duty. On the next day, the Captain announced there was no sign from The Mistress that Sputnug represented any threat to the ship. He joined a still wary crew, maintaining the rigging and keeping watch. After his shifts, he would either return to his harness or join Hennessey for further tests. If he was not yet fully trusted, he was accepted, which was a start.

________________________________________________________________

6. Storms and Swarms

Day 24.

On day twenty-four of their hunt for land or a way home, Jimmothy lounged in the crow’s nest. He was idly running one of his runestones through his small fingers when a large drop of water hit him square on the nose. As he looked up, he was hit a few more times. Standing and smiling, he watched a patch of swirling sky above slowly envelop them in a beautiful, falling storm of water.

Below, the deck crew shouted back and forth in excitement, pulled from their boredom and routine. Rain barrels were brought out and tarps were deployed. In the distance, more veils of falling rain could be seen, like twinkling ribbons, disappearing below them.

The Captain stepped out of the quarterdeck and smiled. Amon Dul joined her, grinning too, “This is a good turn for morale,” the ranger said.

“Agreed.”

Globnard leaned over the bridge railing, his kaaj snout the only thing protruding from a heavy hood. “Now if it would only rain food,” he drawled sarcastically, “we might survive long enough to get home.”

Jeanna sighed and rolled her eyes, then glanced around to see if any of the crew had heard. She didn’t bother replying to the warlock’s acerbic comment. Over the last month, she had come to realize he was basically a good person, but far from a nice one, which was all kinds of unfortunate, considering the crew’s initial views of the kaaj.

As it turned out, two days later, it did rain food—in a manner of speaking.

As four of the crew played a game of daggers, one of the older aeronauts, Lee Kilfoyle Love, called out from the stern, his braided white beard swaying in the wind. “Looks like more rain’s a’comin!”

The youngest aeronaut, Fitz, collected the knives from the oak round they had strapped to the main mast and handed them to Brint. The bard smiled and thanked the lad, then turned to see the oncoming weather.

“Hmm, it looks a bit different than the last storm,” he said to McFall, who was standing close by. The four men joined Love at the rail and McFall took a spyglass from his coat, sighting in on the cloud.

“It’s acting a bit different, too,” he said, handing the spyglass to Brint. Brint looked and saw a shifting cloud undulating toward them instead of falling like the last rain. Behind the cloud were several others, floating back and forth across the sky, but generally following the pattern of the first.

“IIIIII’m not sure it’s rain, boyos,” Brint said, “Someone get the Captain.”

Before he finished asking, Fitz was already on the move. He arrived in seconds at the office door and gave a loud knock.

Jeanna looked up from the journal she’d taken over and said loudly, “Come in.”

With the exception of Jimmothy, Fitz was the smallest crewmember, and when Jeanna had taken the Captaincy, the young man had continued his role as messenger and errand boy. He approached the polished desk smartly, excitement buzzing in his eyes.

“What is it, Fitz?”

“Love spotted something he thought was more rain clouds, only Brint and McFall think it isn’t rain. Whatever it is, it’s headed in our direction!” he blurted.

Jeanna frowned and capped the inkpot. “Sounds important,” she said, “Lead the way.”

Moments later she stood beside Brint and the others, looking with the rest at the approaching clouds. She produced her own spyglass and put it to her eye. In the time since Love first noticed them, the clouds had grown closer and obscured more of the sky behind them.

She could now see there was a definite swirling movement to the dark patches and a grainy quality to them that didn’t fit with her idea of clouds. She watched a few moments longer and her uncertainty grew. When the first of them was a half mile away, she began seeing reflections of light winking from within the clouds. Her jaw clenched tight as she realized what she was looking at.

“Do you hear that?” Fitz said, cocking his head, “It sounds like the ocean.”

Jeanna took the glass from her eye. “Its wings. Thousands of wings!” Those gathered around her shared a moment of confusion, then the realization took shape in their eyes. She said, “Get some cover! No time to bring down the sails!”

McFall and Brint took up the cry, repeating her orders to those on deck, a few of which had just popped their heads out of the hatches. There were only a few places midship where a person could reasonably take cover.

As the swarm of creature’s drew near at incredible speed, the rushing sound of their wings grew and grew. Brint, McFall, and Fitz ducked down behind the mainmast. The bard and the navigator both peeked over the stowage crates until the last moment. Jeanna, Shamus, Foggs, and Love ducked into the hollows under the bridge stairs, but it was a tight fit.

Those who watched until the last, saw a swarm of reddish creatures, one to two feet in length, with droning wings and chitinous bodies overtake the Covetous like a wave. They broke against the stern and swept around the ship. The sound of thousands of insect wings drowned out everything else, including Fitz’s anxious cries.

While most passed in a lightning rush, some hit the hull and rigging. They bounced from reinforced timbers and stretched ropes with thuds and crashes. Others hit the full pectoral and mainsails, their bodies POP-POPPING against the sailcloth, or actually piercing the tough material in places.

Twenty seconds passed inside the swarm. After the first ten, the creatures seemed to have an easier time avoiding the ship and created a bubble of cacophonous sound as they went by. It was another ten seconds before the deckside crew dared come from cover. Fitz was still moaning, his hands stuffed in his ears.

Hatchways opened and crewmen armed with slag rifles and blades emerged from below decks. Several dozen of the creatures lay dead, or nearly so, bloody smears and stains marked the woodwork and sails. Some still hung where they had pierced the cloth.

“Caaaaaptain! help!” the lookout, Bollard, cried from the nest. Jeanna looked up and saw the stocky, red-headed aeronaut looking over the edge, his face awash in blood. “I can’t see with all this blood in me eyes!” While it looked awful, Bollard’s voice seemed steady. He picked up something beside him and tossed it down, “Fucking bug sliced me scalp!”

The creature landed beside them with a crunch. While the Boson sent Shamus and Sharpe to help Bollard down, they gathered around and looked closely at it. It was two-foot-long and had a deep red, streamlined, carapace body. It had eight legs, but six were spindly and looked almost pointless. The other two had nasty-looking hooks.

The four dragonfly wings of the creature were iridescent black and slightly longer than the body. Its eyes were yellow and multifaceted.

“Looks a bit like a cross between a grasshopper and a crab,” Brint said, kneeling beside it. He took one of the daggers and lifted the body. A tiny, pincered mouth was located under the eyes. “Surprisingly weighty,” he added.

“I wonder if you can eat them?” McFall asked.

Brint held the carcass up to his mustachioed nose and took a sniff, then looked up at his friend. “It doesn’t smell too bad. Perhaps we should let Kershaw experiment?”

Globnard appeared behind the group. “I believe they are known in Kelemvor as Tra’vat,” he said, “It translates to sablewing, and if I remember my father’s stories correctly, they are a food staple here.”

“Ah wonder how often ye see a swarm lik' that come thro'?” Bosun Delver asked.

McFall looked across the deck, “And how you catch more than a couple of dozen?” he added.

Bollard was successfully brought down and Jeanna saw to his wound. It was a messy laceration but proved simple enough to cure. Together, the crew collected what sablewings they could and gave them over to the cook for experimentation and preparation.

________________________________________________________________

7. Hunger's Test

Day 26.

      It took most of the remaining day to get the ship fully cleaned and repaired. The main portion of the time was spent patching sailcloth. That night, the Captain called a crew supper on the upper deck. Kershaw served out stewed and steamed sablewing to any that were willing. The weather was warm, the skies were clear, and the meat was sweet and filling.

When Brint brought out his pipes, the dinner turned into an impromptu ceili. Seeing the Captain standing near the quarterdeck doors, Delver approached and stood at her side. “It micht be a braw time fur anither half ration o' rum, captain,” he said quietly.

Looking down at the cup of wine she was holding, Jeanna looked momentarily embarrassed. “Of course, I should have realized it, yes, Delver, do it,” she said, “Maybe a full ration?”

“Let’s nae overdo it,” he chuckled. “never ken whit th' nicht 'n' mornin' wull haud in hain fur us.”

“Again, I bow to your knowledge of aeronautical life, Mister Delver.”

The durin nodded and turned to get the barrels when Jeanna stopped him. “Mister Delver, have you seen Sputnug this evening?”

“Nae, Captain.”

“Perhaps you can get him to help you bring out the barrels?”

Delver thought it over and grinned. “Good thinking. I’ll dae that.”

It had only been a few days since the cog’s awakening. Though Hennessey said he was doing well, and he had taken his place in the work rosters, the new Sputnug was still an odd sight for the other aeronauts. As a result, no one talked to him much—except Hennessey—and he often went straight back to the hold when he wasn’t on duty.

“What’s on yer’ mind, Captain?” Amon Dul asked, stepping away from the dancing and lighting a long-stemmed pipe. “You’ve got that, ‘thinking worrying thoughts’ look about you.”

She gave the ranger a thin smile and took a sip of wine. “Caught me,” she answered. “I was just thinking about Sputnug.”

“What about him?”

“I was thinking he’s probably lonely.”

The tiefling pondered for a few moments, then shook his head, “I have a hard time thinking of a cog getting lonely,” he said.

“He’s more than a cog now. Hennessey says he’s smart and has thoughts and emotions.” She looked at Amon, “She says in many ways he’s like a child. I worry about him.”

Amon took another pull on his pipe. “Rightly so, Captain. That age is a hard time, especially for someone who’s different.”

It was a plain statement, but Jeanna caught a trace of pain in the tiefling’s words. She seemed about to comment on it but changed her mind. Instead, she said, “I asked the Bosun to get his help with the beer barrels. Will you talk to him? See if you can keep him top deck?”

“I’ll do my best, Captain.”

She thanked Amon and he rejoined the ceili. A few minutes later, Sputnug came up from the hatch hauling two barrels with him. When the crew saw what he was carrying, they gave a hearty cheer and Brint broke into a drinking song. Delver followed a good way behind Sputnug and gave a wink to the Captain.

At the pub on the sky dock, there's whiskey and beer

There's brandy, strong cognac that's aging for years

But for killing the thirst and clearin’ the fog

There's nothing at all beats the aeronaut’s grog!

All the crew joined in on the chorus.

Drink it up men it's long after eight
Hey diddle I diddle Og
The barrel be dry for the one who’s too late
Hurry up, get your share of the grog!

At the pub on the sky dock, I first went astray
There I drank enough drink for to fill Old Fahl’s Bay
Going up in the morning I wore out me shoes
Going up to the cross for the best of good booze

Drink it up men it's long after nine
Hey diddle I diddle Og
The sails are all reefed, we’re square on the line
Now’s the time for drinkin’ the grog!

Some folk's on the land think bitter is fine
And others they swear by the juice of the vine
But there's nothing that's squeezed from hop or grapes bold
Like the pure liquidation of aeronaut’s gold!

Drink it up men it's long after ten
Hey diddle I diddle Og
There’s chores in the mornin’ the Captain says when
Don’t ya’ be wastin’ the grog!

Sputnug’s eyes were bright, and his hinged mouth was slightly opened in an approximation of a grin. After he set the barrels on the table, he stood back and watched the dancing and singing, which went on for several more verses. When it looked like he might turn to leave, Amon moved in, engaging the cog in conversation.

“How are you, Sputnug?”

The cog turned and looked down at the ranger. It was hard to read his face, but Sputnug’s eyes seemed wary. “I am—fully functional, Mister Dul,” he paused, “How are you?”

Amon smiled, “Better, now that it seems we might not all starve, and call me Amon.”

Sputnug looked at the table, with the leftovers of the meal, “Yes. It is fortunate.”

“Then again,” the ranger continued, “I suppose you don’t require food or water, do you?”

“I do not require THAT food,” the cog said, pointing at the table, “but I do require fuel crystals or combustibles to power my arcanic boilers.”

“How’s that taste?”

“It... doesn’t,” Sputnug said. He flexed his hands, seemingly involuntarily.

Amon raised a brow, “You can’t taste things?” he asked.

“I have new senses, but not taste.” He ran a metallic finger along a crate the crew was using as a drink stand.

Jamie Plummer came up to the crate and grabbed a mug, sloshing the grog around inside and taking a swig. When he looked at the tiefling and up at the cog, his face went momentarily wary, then he reconsidered and smiled. “Sputnug, thanks for the booze!”

Sputnug’s mouth opened slightly. “I only carried them at Bosun Delver’s request.”

The rigger’s smile wavered, “All the same,” he said, “‘twas you that done the carryin’.”

The cog stared for a moment, then said, “You are welcome.”

Plummer nodded and slicked back his sweaty hair. He turned and headed back to the dancing.

Amon grinned, “You’d best be careful. You might make a friend.”

Sputnug looked down at the ranger. His eyes brightened and his mouth opened in what Amon was quickly realizing was the cog’s version of a smile. “Really?”

Amon chuckled and took another drag on his pipe, “Really.”

Over the next two weeks, the crew grew more at ease with Sputnug. The cog’s personality seemed to solidify. He had a dry demeanor, but would occasionally find joy in the smallest of things. More often than not, he could be found with one of the aeronauts, learning new skills or simply practicing the art of conversation.

At Amon Dul’s suggestion, the crew began combat practice at least once a day. To everyone’s surprise, one of Sputnug’s joys was learning to use a sword and shield. After seeing his aptitude, the ranger was glad to teach the towering cog.

“I’ve seen one or two Imperial war cogs in action back home,” Amon said to Jeanna during a rationed supper with some of the formerly paid passengers, “and Sputnug’s as fast, if not faster. We’ll be well served to have such a defender if we need it.”

Jeanna smiled, “I’m glad. He seems to be eager to learn everything.”

“Aye,” Brint agreed, “and he’s won over most of the crew with his innocent enthusiasm.”

Globnard sipped at watered wine and smiled with his customary glint, “It certainly doesn’t hurt that he does all the heavy lifting AND doesn’t require a share of the grog or food.”

Brint nodded, acknowledging the point. The bard looked at Jeanna across the empty plates and table. “Master Helfenfeffer brings up another subject we need to discuss.”

She nodded, “I know. I have been praying it doesn’t come to it, but I know.”

“Food,” Jimmothy said from the tall chair Foggs and Hennessey had crafted especially for the Dinari.

“Yes,” Jeanna said.

“There’s already been a few arguments,” Brint went on. “Bollard all but accused MacBrick of sneaking food from the galley until McFall threatened to break his teeth for throwing accusations around.”

“If anyone’s likely to be stealing rations, it’d be Bollard,” Amon said.

“He is a bit of an ass,” Brint replied, “but a thief? I’m not so sure.”

Amon shrugged, “Just an ass then, which is bad enough with empty stomachs fueling foul tempers.”

Jeanna looked across the table at Jimmothy, “Have you had any luck tracking the sablewings?”

The druid shook his head and stroked his puffy green beard, “I’m afraid not.” He frowned, then looked hopeful, “I do have a bit of magic which can sustain us for a short while longer after the food runs out.”

The others looked up.

“I can create small handfuls of berries, each with the ability to sustain a namer for a day, but the ritual requires holly, and I have a very limited supply,” he added hurriedly, “At most, it will delay our problems for a few days.”

“That’s still very helpful,” Jeanna said, “Thank you.”

Jimmothy smiled shyly, “Of course.”

On day forty-two, the ships’ morale took its first crack. Jimmothy’s berries had been passed out to the aeronauts every other day for seven days. The last was handed out two days ago and tempers were flaring.

Jeanna was kneeling at the small Court altar she had set up in the forecastle, praying to the Mistress for an end to their hunger when the pistol shot rang out. As surprising as the sound was, it took a moment for her food-starved body to react. She lunged to her feet and hurried toward the sound of angry shouting. The sounds were coming from the galley.

She walked in on a screaming match. Sharpe, Plummer, Bridlefor, and Amon Dul had John Skimpole cornered in the pantry. Amon was situated between the two parties. He had his pistol out and pointed near the skinny aeronaut, who was cradling something in the crook of his arm and screaming, “‘It’s NOT RIGHT!”

The others looked angry enough to strangle the man and were screaming and cursing him, but looked to be currently held back by the threat of Amon and his weapon.

“EVERYONE CALM THE FUCK DOWN!” the ranger screamed over the top of them.

It only seemed to add to the chaos.

Jeanna turned and saw Brint coming down the passageway, worry etched over his face. She lowered her head and whispered a prayer to Nedra, “Mother, give them patience and ease their minds. Remind them of the truth.” She looked up and power flowed from her lips.

“Síocháin, a chlann.” Peace, family.

Like a soothing balm, the words washed away the worst of their anger and fear. Tension seeped from worried faces and fists relaxed into open hands.

Amon looked at her, “Captain, I’m glad you’re here. We have a problem.” The understatement was profound.

She nodded anyway, smiling tightly, “You think?”

The reply brought an involuntary smile from the ranger.

‘Tell me what’s happening here,” she commanded.

“Well...” Amon said, “I think maybe Skimpole here should explain it.” He turned and looked at the crewman, who of them all, was still looking like a trapped animal.

“I found it behind the refuse bins, unnoticed and uneaten,” the man said, still clutching some hidden thing. “‘W-would have rotted away but for me!”

“What is it?” she asked calmly.

Hesitantly, as if fearful it would be snatched from him, Skimpole held out a mostly intact loaf of bread, with just a bit of mold at the corner. Seeing the food, her stomach let out an involuntary growl. She ignored it.

“A fortunate find,” she said smiling.

“Aye,” he said, “and I the skinniest of us all. “Was the God’s will I found it.”

Just then, Brint squeezed past the Bosun and entered the crowded room. “If you eat it,” he said, “how many more days will you have? Compared to us?”

Skimpole looked down. He seemed to be working the problem out. Finally, he looked up. “twelve days, if I’m sparin’.”

“And if the rest of us were to die on the eleventh day?”

Skimpole’s lips thinned and his eyes threatened to tear up. “B-but, I’m hungry,” he whispered.

Brint nodded, “Aye,” he said, “Makes you one of us.” He looked at the Captain, “Makes you family.”

Skimpole hung his head and the tension left his body. The galley was quiet.

“John,” Jeanna said, “I think it’s fair you get two shares of the find.”

He looked up, eyes glistening.”

“Yeah,” Brint added quietly, “The moldy bits.”

The joke brought smiles and chuckles from those gathered, even Skimpole, who grinned through his sniffles.

Amon holstered his pistol and helped the aeronaut up. Skimpole tried to hand the loaf to Jeanna, but she took a knife from the drawer and handed it to him instead. “You make the cuts. We’ll hand them out together, on deck.”

________________________________________________________________

8. The Children of Erod

Day 48.

Six nights later, the Covetous was a quiet place. To conserve what little strength the crew had, a skeleton watch had been set. The Sioren Spierba sun had long since done its strange vanishing act, seeming to shrink and disappear behind its unending veil of clouds. A nearly full moon had taken its place, casting the clouds in purple and blue light. The ship moved at a fair clip through the night.

Jeanna came out of her cabin, driven from her bed by hunger pains. She heard the sounds of a penny whistle and button box playing a Deorian waltz and followed them to the port rail. There, in the nets, Brint and Ned Keshan sat, eyes mostly closed, intent on keeping the melody. Neither seemed to mind the unending skies beneath them, nor the cool winds.

She listened until the tune came to an end, eyes closed and mind drifting. “That was lovely.”

The two men turned their heads slowly.

Brint smiled. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” Keshan added belatedly.

“They say music is food for the soul,” Brint went on, “but right now the most out-of-key lamb shank would be more welcome.”

Jeanna couldn’t help but salivate a little at the mention of food. She was about to admonish him for his cruel words when Foggs gave a cry from the bow.

“Sighting! Starboard-bow!”

All three strained to see, but the two men were below the deck line. Jeanna turned and headed toward the bowsprit as they scrambled dangerously over the rail. When they arrived, Foggs was pointing to something two points to starboard.

The moon was at eight points, so that area of the night sky was relatively bright. It only took her a moment to spot the shapes. Through her spyglass, they became clear.

Eight graceful silhouettes moved through the sky. The creatures were something like whales, but where whales of the sea had short, blunt fins and tales, these had streaming fans trailing behind them. Like their ocean-bound cousins, they dipped and rose in sinuous motion, seeming to swim through the air.

Jeanna stood enraptured.

“What are they, Captain?”

She turned to find three-quarters of the crew had stumbled from below decks, sleepy-eyed and groggy—some of them literally—to see what the sighting was about. It was the Bosun who had asked her the question.

“I think they’re whales!” she answered, handing him the spyglass.

As he looked, word began to circulate among the others.

“Whales?”

“—did she say whales?”

“an island?”

“A cloud of sablewings!”

“No, whales!”

“Can we eat them?”

“Aye/Aye/Yes!/Get the rifles!”

The idea of food seemed to invigorate the crowd. Jeanna hid a frown at the thought of harming them, though she was as hungry as the rest. Before they could get too bloodthirsty, she raised her hands.

“Hold a moment! Hold up, everyone!”

Their attention was momentarily drawn. The crew stopped to look at her.

“They are far off of our path. If we were to chase them, we would need to fire up the engines.” She raised her voice, “On top of that, we don’t know how dangerous they are, or for that matter—from this distance—exactly how large?”

“Aye, Cap’n, but one of them could see us all fed, with stores leftover!” Shamus said. Many others backed him up with cries of support.

Jeanna tried to hide a frown, but some of them saw it.

Kashan said, “Captain, there’s a long tradition of hunting whales back home. Why should it be any different here?”

She looked at the man, still cradling his button box, and sighed, then looked at Shamus. “.... I suppose you’re right—.”

“—HUZZZZZAAAHHH!” The shout may have been weaker from hunger, but it was also stronger for it. Suddenly driven by purpose, the crew began prepping the pectoral sails for engine flight while Hennessey ran to the engine rooms.

Freshly stoked with pyromite, the engines thrummed with arcanic power. MacBrick banked the Covetous from the steady current of winds which had held it for nearly two months, curving toward the distant pod of sky whales. On deck, men prepared their slag rifles, while others tied ropes to spears.

At a suggestion from Love, who had spent time on a sea-going whaler in his younger days, they set to work bending and modifying iron belaying pins to work as improvised hooks.

“Sputnug, you’re our best bet for hooking the beasts.” Bridlefor said. “We don’t have a ballista, and we’ll need to hook ‘em deep.”

The cog’s eyes were bright as he nodded his acceptance of the role.

“Will they float if we slay them?” Bollard asked, already sweating at the light exertion. Like the young aeronaut, many of the crew were having trouble maintaining their energy.

“We don’t know,” McFall answered, wrapping the improvised hook spears tightly with an oiled cord.

“Will they capsize the ship?”

“We don’t know!” several voices answered.

“Will they fight back?”

“We don’t fucking know!” Everyone nearby screamed.

Meanwhile, on the Captain’s deck, Jeanna, Amon, Globnard, Brint, and Jimmothy were in quiet discussion.

“I’m not sure this is the right course,” the Captain said.

Amon leaned close, “Why?”

“I don’t know, it just... seems wrong.”

The ranger looked at Globnard. “Have anything to share on the subject?”

The kaaj’s nostrils flared and he shrugged thin shoulders irritably. “My knowledge of Sioren Spierba is not so thorough. All I know comes from a few tales my father told me as a boy. I think such whales were used as food and labor, but I don’t know.”

Brint scowled, “We’d best have a really solid reason before we attempt to sway the crew from this course,” he whispered, “A hungry crew is a mutinous crew.”

Jeanna wrang her hands. “I’ve been praying nonstop for Nedra to guide us out of this danger. Is this an answer to my prayers? And if so, why am I suddenly so worried?”

“I too have been praying,” Jimmothy said.

They all stopped and looked down at the unassuming, green-bearded gnome.

He looked up at them. “Let me talk to them first.”

“What?”

Brint’s brows furrowed. “The crew?”

Jeanna shook her head, realizing what he was saying, “The whales.”

The druid nodded and the dawning light of comprehension came to their faces.

Under arcanic power, the Covetous narrowed the distance to the whales quickly. The Captain tried twice to get the busy crew’s attention. When it proved impossible, she reached behind her and bled power from the throttle. The cutting of the engines did the trick. Sixteen confused faces turned her way.

“I... er, that is, we need to discuss something important before the hunt begins.”

The crew seemed to sense her hesitance. Many looked longingly at the whales, now easily seen a few hundred yards off the bow.

The Bosun spoke for the crew. “What is it, Captain?”

“As you all know,” she said, “I have been praying constantly for deliverance from our plight.”

“Aye,” Sharpe said, “And your prayers have been answered.”

The Bosun turned to admonish him for interrupting, but the Captain nodded and continued.

“So I thought as well, but something still seems wrong to me, and I couldn’t put my finger on it until Master Mossbeard spoke up.”

Now all eyes shifted to Jimmothy, who was partially hidden by the bridge railing, and whose face reddened noticeably under the scrutiny. Jeanna encouraged him with a gentle smile. He stepped to the top of the stairs, where he could more easily be seen.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat and smoothed his druidic robes. Some followers of the Old Gods were practiced in the oratory arts, but apparently not this one.

“I, umm, ahem... I too have been praying,” he said, rushing the words. “But where the wicala has been praying for a more general—yet completely admirable—deliverance from our plight, I have been specifically praying for wisdom.”

The dinari’s words seemed to spark further confusion.

He went on, “I believe The Summoner and his consort have sent us an answer.”

Fitz looked up at the gnome. “The whales?”

“But...” Skimpole squeaked, “You mean to eat, right?”

Jimmothy shook his head and raised his arms, pointing his finger skyward. “No. I mean to learn from.”

Kashan stepped forward and scowled, “But we’re hungry, little man! Let’s learn what they taste like!”

Jimmothy stiffened, then looked at the tall Neran. Standing as they were, with the bridge stairs between them, the two were of a height. It took the druid a few seconds to respond, but when he did, it was with calm authority.

“I am hungry too,” he said, “but were it not for the good berries given to us by the Elders, none of us would have made it as long as we have.” He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.

Kashan still stood with his fists clenched, but Sharpe put a hand on his shoulder and drew him back a pace, fingering a carved tree talisman around his neck and eyeing the druid with respect. Behind Jimmothy, Amon stared at Keshan with flat eyes.

Jimmothy seemed unaware of the silent interplay. “The Elders helped us once already. Give me the chance to talk with them first,” he continued, “Whales are highly intelligent creatures, and beloved of the Summoner. They could be the messengers, instead of the message.”

Though Jimmothy was of the Wicalic orders—a druid of the Elder Gods—he had been a rather quiet and reclusive member of the crew. That said, many of the aeronauts aboard the Covetous followed the old ways, and respected the Order. The fervor for the hunt noticeably cooled.

Jeanna nodded solemnly to the druid, who returned the gesture. She then looked at her forlorn crew. “We will approach within hailing distance and let Master Mossbeard attempt communications,” she said, “IF, and ONLY if, he is unsuccessful, and the beasts prove not to be messengers of the Gods, we will proceed with the hunt.”

She looked at the gathered men carefully, “Are we agreed?”

There were grumblings and sighs, but a succession of “Ayes” responded.

With one more look at Jimmothy, Jeanna nodded to MacBrick. The big pilot reengaged the throttle at a quarter speed. The ship approached the pod of sky whales at a much slower pace.

When they were within a hundred yards, they could see there were nine whales instead of eight. The smallest was obviously a baby, hanging close to its mother’s side. The small whale’s fins weren’t nearly as long, and its movements were less graceful, but its eyes were large and bright.

Like their seaborn kin, they were sleek. In the moonlight, it was hard to judge their color. Their tail and pectoral fins were a lighter hew, and grew even lighter toward their fan-like tips. Through the spyglass, Jeanna could make out small lumps and bumps on their backs.

At fifty yards the whales finally seemed to take notice of the ship. A series of clicks and chirps came from the largest whale, and the pod turned to pace the Covetous, keeping their distance. The baby struggled to put its mother between itself and them.

“Alright, Jimmothy,” the Captain said, “You’re up.”

He nodded and climbed up on the rail, bracing himself on the lamppost. As the Captain and crew looked on, he intoned the words of the Druidic rite.

“A chreutairean beannaichte, cluinn mi. Tha mi a' sireadh comanachaidh. An labhair thu rium.”

The words, though whispered, echoed out from the little dinari. Blended with them, a chorus of clicks and chirps, very much like the whale’s, could be heard. Then there was silence.

The crew strained to hear. Hands flexed on spear shafts and rifle stocks. Jeanna was fairly certain she heard the growl of a stomach over the wind.

Finally, the whales responded with a few clicks, then a barrage of chirps and rapid fire clicks. To all but Jimmothy, the language was noise, but the druid heard more.

“Well met little one. To he that asks in the Stormfather’s tongue, we will speak.”

Jimmothy smiled. “My thanks. We are lost in this Endless sky. We seek guidance, land, and a way home. But more pressing than all of this, we seek food.”

“Guidance we give freely, and land we have seen. Home is here, among the seven winds, or more distantly in the depths of Mar Nan Os. Of your home we know not.”

The largest of the whales, a female with a deep scar along her flank, broke from the pod and flew closer. Her dark eye tracked across the ship before locking on Jimmothy, Food for us is the dust of a thousand clouds, the remains of stars, and the clouds of stormspawn in the fields of Mor An Braith. For you, it will be best found where your kind dwells. Travel into the eye of the Huntress this night, until you find Eveya’s breath once again. The isle of Great Tetsua holds your salvation. Evaya will bring you there.”

Emboldened by the matriarch, the baby left his mother’s side and flew close as well. His eyes were full of curiosity as he skimmed the starboard rails and bumped the pectoral sails. At his closest, he came within reach of the crew—and their spears—but only hands reached out, brushing its smooth flanks as it passed. Sputnug felt its wispy fin-ribbons slide through his hands and grinned.

After one pass, it rejoined its mother and the matriarch in the pod. A hushed reverence had fallen over the crew. Though they didn’t understand the language, all had taken something from the interaction.

“My eternal thanks to you, blessed of Erod,” Jimmothy whispered.

“Luck and blessings of good fortune to you, Druid. Ever are Erod’s children your friends.”

________________________________________________________________

9. An Island Like No Other

After Jimmothy finished translating the whale’s wisdom, the euphoria lasted the rest of the night. They followed the whale’s directions and turned the Covetous toward the waxing moon. The engines ran for a bit more than two candles, at which point, an exceptionally strong crosswind caught the ship and swung it to port. Jeanna and the others adjusted their balance as the keelstone righted their ship.

“This must be the breath of Eveya,” she said.

“Mmm,” Amon replied, “Something like a river of wind.”

At a command from the Captain, MacBrick picked up the com tube and gave Hennessey the order to cut the engines. The pods sputtered and wound down. The sudden silence made the sound of the wind in the sails all the more noticeable.

“Wherever we’re garn, we’ll get there fast,” the big pilot said. He set the rudder sails to a neutral position and adjusted the slack.

Most of the men had stayed on mid decks, choosing to lounge against the rails, or in the nets. As the candles passed, sleep took the exhausted, hungry aeronauts, who likely dreamed of flying whales and roasted venison. Amon relieved MacBrick, and soon only Jeanna’s core companions, those she thought of as her non-commissioned officers, were left on the bridge. The ranger, the bard, the druid, and whatever sort of mage Globnard was, all took their ease, watching the sky ahead.

“If we don’t come across this Tetsua place soon, some of the men might start grumbling again,” Brint said.

“Me and them both,” Globnard added. “There’s no doubt one of those whales would have made fine eating.”

Jeanna frowned and gave the kaaj a piercing stare, “Shame on you, Globnard. Who could imagine hurting them after what we witnessed? That baby was adorable.”

The sorcerer smiled, “Hmmm, adorable and undoubtedly tender,” he teased.

“I would smash any man who harmed it.”

The voice came from the mid-deck, directly below the captain’s rail. Sputnug popped his head up.  His height allowed him to peer over easily. He placed his articulated elbows on the rail and rested his chin on his hands.

Jeanna smiled. “Normally I don’t go for that kind of threat, but in this case, I agree with you, Sputnug.”

Globnard ceded the point and the group chuckled quietly.

Brint turned his back to the wind and lit a pipe from a lantern. After several puffs, he said, “I’ve a mind to write a song about those whales.”

“The children of Erod,” Jimmothy whispered.

“Aye, a good title, that.”

The island came into sight two, somewhat terrifying days later.

The weather had worsened, but the windstream had only moved them along faster. They rocketed through an ever changing tunnel of dark clouds, falling rainstorms, and occasional, wide valleys of sunshine. Though there was little for a pilot to do, MacBrick, Shamus, or Amon stayed at the wheel at all times, terrified their first glimpse of land would also be their last.

Jeanna insisted on a six man watch, despite, and because of, the hunger-fatigue of the crew. Around noon of the second day, Plummer was the one to spot the island.

“LAAAAAANNDDD! LAAAAAAAND!” he cried, almost swooning from the effort.

The reaction was almost instant from the others on watch, who rushed out of the hatches and to the rails in excitement. Shamus was at the wheel, and he immediately engaged the rudders, and called, “LOWER THE SAILS!”

Tired as they were, the crew found the energy to do their jobs, only a little slower than they might have otherwise. When the Covetous decelerated, the Second Mate cranked the wheel to starboard, in the direction Plummer pointed, drawing the ship from the windstream.

With the sails down, they could now see the floating island in the distance, several miles away. It was green with vegetation and had what looked to be a single mountain poking from the forests at its center. Beneath, it trailed away to a rocky point, a bit like the roots of a bush pulled from the soil. Wispy white clouds gathered around the island, shrouding its base and pinnacle. From a distance, it appeared to be at least ten miles across.

The ship tilted slightly under the weight of the entire crew at the starboard rails. The whispered conversations flew back and forth, overlapping each other.

“Look at all that green!”

“—bet there’s deer in them woods!”

—kind of fruit and vegetables you suppose grow—

“I might just eat the leaves and dirt—”

Jeanna joined Shamus at the wheel and noted their continued slow down. She spotted a blonde head among the crowd and called, “Hennessey! Do you suppose you can start the boilers and give us some power? Once you’re finished gawking?”

There was a round of good-natured laughs at the engineer’s expense. She hurried down the hatch. Soon the engine pods were thrumming with power. The Covetous approached at a steady pace.

“Captain,” Shamus said, “'Ave ya given any thought ter uther inhabitants of this lil' oasis?”

“I have,” she replied. “I’d like you to make a quick circumference of the island. Close enough to scout, but far enough to avoid unnecessary attention.”

Globnard overheard as he approached, and said, “We’re not exactly inconspicuous.”

“I know, but it’s the best I can do, unless you have a better idea?”

The sorcerer shook his head.

The rest of Jeanna’s ‘officers’ joined her on the bridge as Shamus brought the ship to within five hundred feet of the island. He initiated a gentle turn and adjusted the pectorals, gaining some lift. They started their tour of the perimeter.

Below, they saw a variety of vibrant, broad-leafed trees, shiny with recent rain. Small, fern-ringed glades of long-stemmed grass broke up the canopy. While shrubs and long vines hung from the cliff-like edges, it appeared the forest became denser the further from the edge it got.

“Look there!” Fitz cried, pointing happily.

Where he pointed, they could see a narrow, winding stream emerging from the undergrowth and running down a small groove in the stone, before spilling over the edge, into the sky below. It was enough to get the crew buzzing again. Soon they were pointing out likely landing spots and acting a bit like children. Others were weeping with relief.

Jeanna smiled and held back a sniffle.

“Are you crying, Captain?” Brint whispered.

She quickly wiped at her eye and tossed her chin to the side. “I’m delirious from hunger, don’t judge me,” she growled.

The Bard rolled his eyes and checked the bindings on his pistol. Amon was doing the same, as well as stringing a longbow. Jeanna took on a more worried look and leaned in close to the ranger, “Should I tell the men to prepare for trouble?”

Amon looked up from his preparations and noted the white in the Captain’s eyes. “It probably wouldn’t hurt,” he answered, keeping his voice soft.

She found the Bosun and called him to her with a gesture, passing the command along. He nodded soberly and turned to the rest. “Stop yer carrying oan 'n' see tae th' defenses! we don’t ken wha or whit bides 'ere, 'n' a man’s git tae be alive tae eat!”

The warning was enough to bring the crew around. They handed out the slag rifles and checked their swords and daggers.  Thankfully, no danger presented itself as they finished sailing the circumference.

They crossed three more streams, emptying into the blue sky. The last one actually flowed from a small pond a few hundred feet from the edge. From above, they could see the silhouettes of fish swimming in the clear water. A flock of small birds whirred into the air and disappeared into the trees. It was more than enough to get the men buzzing again.

“Well?” The Captain queried.

Amon looked at her, then the others, and shrugged.

“There’s a spot not far from the pond,” Shamus said, “I can anchor 'er 'ere, Captain.”

She took in a deep breath and sighed. “Let’s do it.”

Shamus brought the ship in slowly, until the keelstone nearly dragged the glade. Foggs and Plummer were lowered over the side with the anchor kit. They hammered the spikes home and made fast the keel chain. After that, Skimpole, Bollard and Sharpe joined them in securing the mooring ropes. Each had their slag rifles slung over their backs, and watched the nearby trees carefully.

Once the ship was secured at high-anchor, they killed the engines. The rest of the men threw over the boarding ladders and scrambled to join their fellows on solid earth.

Amon watched the rush and stopped it with a loud shout.

“HEY YOU LOT!”

The men turned.

“Here me now! You aren’t soldiers, or explorers, but you need to start thinking like them!” He motioned to the forest, and the mountain. “We don’t know what’s out there, and we are NOT in the Five Kingdoms anymore. We need men to stay aboard, ready to defend, or cut and run if necessary.”

The crew looked from the ranger to each other, nodding their understanding. Amon looked at the Captain and shrugged, “Sorry, Captain. It needed to be said.”

She swallowed and nodded.

“Maybe you should pick a couple of scouting groups and keep the rest aboard,” he suggested.

“Good idea, only you pick the scouts, and lead them.”

The ranger nodded.

Amon Dul crouched in the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing. The arrow rested lightly on the calloused finger of his bow hand. A few small birds hopped along the edge of the water, drinking and bathing. He remained there for a full two minutes, watching, then slowly rose and waved the others forward.

Globnard, Sharpe, McFall, and Fitz stepped out of the brush behind him. Sharpe and McFall carried their slag rifles at the ready. Fitz held the longknife he’d been practicing with for a month now. Master Helfenfeffer carried a thin staff capped in steel. His dark robes contrasted sharply with the green vegetation.

“Stay near the pond,” Amon said, “Watch where you step.”

The Ranger moved to the pond’s edge, his eyes constantly scanning. After a few minutes of tracking, Globnard joined him. The kaaj picked stickers from the sleeve of his robe.

“What’s the verdict?”

Amon looked at the water, “The fish are an unknown variety. They look like carp of some kind. Not the best eating, but they’re large, and made of meat, so...”

“Yes, I doubt there will be any complaints.”

Amon nodded and went on, “Lots of birds in this forest, but most aren’t what I’d call food under normal circumstances, at least so far.” He moved a few paces down the bank and knelt, pointing at some tracks in the mud, “Here’s a small cat, maybe a lynx, or bobcat. Mice. A weasel,” he scooted further down, pulling aside some grass, “and here is the best find.”

In the mud were a dozen or so deep, cloven prints and a pile of scat. Globnard narrowed his eyes. “Deer?” he asked with uncertainty.

The ranger gave the sorcerer a withering look, “Do you ever pay attention to my lessons? Deer shit pellets. These are better than deer, they’re pigs, and the sign is fresh.”

“Sorry, I forgot about the shit.”

Amon laughed. “It appears this island has a full complement of beasts, despite its size.”

“MISTER AMON, LOOK AT THIS!”

The two men looked inland, toward a copse of trees where Fitz was waving his hands and pointing behind him. Amon sighed and rolled his eyes. They moved toward the young aeronaut, along with Sharpe and McFall.

“What’d I say about yelling, Fitz?” Amon asked.

The young man hung his head and apologized.

“And I told you, it’s just Amon, no Mister.”

Fitz had already lost his contriteness, and was moving back under the trees, leading the group to his find. There, under the bows of a large tree with fist-sized yellow fruit, was a carved pole sunken into the soil. The chiseled face of an eagle, an owl, and a raven stared at them.

When Amon examined the area, he found several tracks, unlike any of the others.

“Who made this?” McFall asked, examining the totem.

“I don’t know. These are bird prints, but much larger,” he answered. “They’re centralized around the totem.”

Globnard looked warily into the forest, “How much larger?”

“Maybe Fitz’ size.”

The men shared a serious look. Amon stood and glanced up, into the tree. “Alright. We’ve learned some valuable information. “Let’s pick a sack of this fruit to take back with us, then return to the ship. It’ll be dark soon.”

Brint stood at the edge of a cliff covered in thick, reddish vines. He took his feathered tricorn off and scooted as close as he dared, looking down over the edge of the island. It was an infinite drop into blue skies.

A shadow engulfed him from behind. Sputnug asked, “What do you think is down there?”

“Where?”

“The bottom.”

“Of the sky?”

“Yes.”

The bard kept staring. He shrugged his shoulders uneasily. “Who says there is one?”

Sputnug cocked his brass head. “So, you fall... forever?” he asked.

“It’d be a horrible way to die,” Brint answered, stepping back and turning to face the cog, “That’s why I take my pistol with me everywhere I go here.”

Sputnug’s reticulated eyes narrowed and his mouth snapped closed. His head tilted the opposite way. “Huh?” Then his eyes opened, “Ohhhh, I see.” He looked at his sword—the largest blade Amon could find for the cog—and then at the bard’s pistol.

Brint put his hat back on and looked at Sputnug, then shrugged, “You’re on your own, buddy.”

A short hike later, Brint, Keshan, and Plummer were picking some tubers and berries that Jimmothy pointed out. Sputnug was running his fingers over the rough bark of a hardwood tree, intent on the experience. From there he moved to running his fingers through the tall grass, then lifted a large rock and peered at the bugs underneath.

“Quite a variety,” Jimmothy said, kneeling beside the cog.

Sputnug smiled and got on his knees, looking closer.

The druid watched him for a few moments, then asked, “You look at them like you’ve never seen bugs before?”

Sputnug nodded, “Only weevils and maggots in the storage grain.”

“How can that be?” The Dinari reached down and pried a fat white grub from the dirt and popped it in his mouth. He chewed, swallowed and gave a sigh of contentment.

Sputnug watched the process with interest. “The Covetous was my third assigned vessel. I have always served aboard a ship. Ships and sky towers only, since my creation.”

“That sounds rather boring.”

“It wasn’t, but now...” the cog dug a furrow in the dirt with his steel finger, not finishing the sentence.

“Now you’re like a baby in a bug store, eh?” Jimmothy smiled and his green whiskers danced.

Brint popped up from the bushes with a sack over his shoulder and said, “It looks like Keshan and Plummer are movin’ on.”

The druid and the cog nodded. Sputnug returned the rock and they joined the others.

Back on the bridge of the Covetous, Jeanna surveyed the inner terrain of the island with the spyglass. She swept her gaze across the canopy until the forest gave way to the steep, dark slopes of the central mountain. Details were hard to make out, even with the glass, but it looked like a dangerous and difficult climb, over barren rock.

Eventually, the clouds made further inspection impossible. The mist obscured any detail and the peak was totally hidden behind a veil of white. She was about to end her search when she thought she saw movement on the slope. Returning to the spot, she waited, hoping to confirm it, but the mists and clouds shifted, making her doubt what she saw.

She waited several more moments, then returned her search to the forest canopy. A flock of colorful birds burst from the trees and swooped in dancing loops before diving once more into the green. Then the fluttering of wings much closer to home drew her attention.

She lowered the spyglass and saw a magpie had landed on the rail, no more than ten feet away. It seemed unconcerned with her nearness, and spun in place, cocking its black head from side to side and watching her with avian interest.

She smiled, light-headed from hunger, and whispered, “Hello little man, are you the island welcoming party?”

The bird’s only response was to continue its dance, and peck a few times at the oak railing. Beyond the bird, the Captain saw Foggs on the middeck, carefully beginning to aim his rifle.

“If you fire that weapon in my direction, before Amon comes back with the all clear...” she whispered loudly, not bothering to finish the threat.

Foggs winced and lowered his rifle. The magpie spun and flew off, laughing and chirping shrilly. Jeanna watched it go with a grin. She looked back at the aeronaut and saw him grimace and rub unconsciously at his belly, cursing to himself.

The Bosun joined her shortly thereafter and she said, “The crew is restless.”

Delver adjusted his spectacles and rubbed at his whiskers. “Aye, Captain, bit they’ll dae 'til Amon Dul 'n' th' ithers return. Th' end o' thair hunger is in sight noo.”

“I’m sure you’re right. Do you have something to report?”

“Aye, ah dae. Hennessey haes surveyed th' nearby trees 'n' picked oot they she thinks wull be guid fur lumber. She suggests we stock up, sin oor current supplies wur meant fur a short journey.”

“That’s very, clear-headed of her,” Jeanna said.

“Aye, that’s Pyek,” he went on. “Ah tellt her wance th' scouts return, 'n' we hae some fairn in oor bellies, we kin send oot ax parties, assuming ye gree, Captain.”

“Of course, Delver,” she said, smiling, “And speaking of the scouts...”

She pointed, and both of them saw Sputnug’s shiny brass head making its way through the brush. Behind came the rest of the second party, carrying a dozen sacks of tubers, berries and hopefully edible vegetation Jimmothy had pointed out in their wandering.

A few minutes later they climbed aboard and gave their report.

“No sign of danger,” Brint said grinning.

“We found plenty of animal trails, and this.” Jimmothy held up a tuft of brown fur, then reached into his druid satchel and revealed a sprig of a strange, gray-green plant.

“What is that?” Jeanna asked.

“I’m hoping they’ll work to grow more Goodberries.”

“Excellent thinking! And the rest?”

The little druid looked at the sack contents being spread out on the middeck. “I’m almost certain everything there is edible, but I was going to wait for Amon to return to be sure.”

Thankfully, Amon Dul’s party returned soon after. When the ranger gave his report, the news drew the attention from the food.

“And you think the tracks were recent?” Jeanna asked.

Amon nodded, “A week or two old, at most.”

“Who are they?” Sputnug asked.

The ranger shrugged, “Intelligent birds?”

“It makes a certain kind of sense,” Brint replied, “considering where we are.”

The Captain nodded. “What’s your recommendation?”

Amon looked out at the island, then back to Jeanna. “Stay together in groups. Hunt, fish, restock,” he replied.

“And then?”

Now the ranger looked less sure. “And then, maybe we try to find these bird people. They might know a way home.”

“Or they might try to kill us all,” Globnard said evenly, looking at his friend.

“There’s no easy path here,” Amon said, “I don’t look forward to floating blindly with the winds again, no matter how much food and water we have.”

The looks around the group said they all agreed with the sentiment.

“Alright,” Jeanna said, “We reprovision in groups, bring down the ship to plank level, and post guards.” She looked at Amon, “You hunt us down one or two of those pigs. It’ll be night in two or three candles. Meanwhile, we’ll get some fires going.”

________________________________________________________________

10. Red Clouds Approach

True to his word, Amon brought down two pigs that would have been succulent even had they not all been starving. Kershaw cooked up the vegetables and had Sputnug bring them down on the ship’s biggest platter, including a huge bowl of fried mushrooms in Delekian spices.

Another of the grog rations was shared out and Brint played his pipes, and just like that, the supper became a party around a roaring fire. When Plummer shyly asked Jeanna for a dance, she hesitated, looking across the fire at the Bosun. When the old durin shrugged and winked, she smiled and took the young man’s eager hand.

They danced, sang, laughed, and ate almost to the point of sickness. Being the only two women, the Captain and Hennessey danced with almost everyone, but the lack of female partners didn’t interrupt the ceili. Even Master Helfenfeffer chuckled to see MacBrick take the woman’s part and spin around the comms officer, Sharpe.

When the fires were finally allowed to burn low, most of the crew lay sprawled on blankets around it, done in by the good time. Amon, Globnard, the little druid, Bosun Delver, and Brint stayed awake and kept watch.

Amon cradled his rifle as he looked out over the sleeping crew with his devil-amber eyes. The Bosun sat nearby, whittling a gnarled stick.

“We really should have had them sleep aboard the ship,” the ranger said.

“Aye, bit wi' a' th' stowed oot bellies 'n' addled heids, it didn’t seem likely.”

Delver looked at Jeanna, curled and sleeping like a child near the fire ring, red hair seeming like a splash of escaped flame. “Th' lassie wis a blessing tae us.”

“She’s just what the crew needed to make it through this.”

“Can ye imagine?” the old durin said, “red headed lasses wur wance thought tae be ill luck aboard vessels.”

“We ARE lost and adrift in another world entirely, after blindly sailing through a temporary rift by the most impossible of odds,” Globnard interjected softly from across the fire.

The two men chuckled softly. Amon said, “True, but I’m not sure Captain Ferris would have handled it any better.”

Delver stopped carving and pondered the ranger’s words for a few moments, then said, “Aye, ah respected th' captain—Ferris that is—mightily, bit ah think ye micht be richt.” He looked at Jeanna again, “Brassic girl’s aye a landlubber in maist ways, bit she’s pure mental whin tis wantit, 'n' ah think it’ll be wantit a lot afore we fin' oor wey hame.”

In the morning, sore heads and aching bellies were administered to by the Captain, who didn’t appear at all fierce. Once enough were up and awake, Amon took Jimmothy on a patrol around the camp but found no sign of danger.

Jeanna gave everyone until noon to rest and relax, then, at Delver’s urging, began assigning work parties to gather food, and to fish the pond. She kept five crew aboard the ship at all times, who watched the sky, and the forest. It wasn’t until the late afternoon that Skimpole raised the alarm.

“CAPTAIN!”

Jeanna was in the surgery, inventorying her dwindling medicines when she heard his shout. Suddenly panicked, she rushed into the companionway and almost ran into the thin aeronaut.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t how they done it!” he said nervously, “I just cleaned it a candle ago!”

“Done what? Cleaned what? Skimpole, speak to me.”

The aeronaut took a breath. “Someone’s nabbed the etherscope.”

Jeanna shook her head, not registering. “What do you mean, nabbed?”

“I mean, I took the cover off and gave it a thorough cleaning and polish, since we haven’t been using it, then rewrapped it and moved on. Only I just noticed the cover lying on the deck, and the scope’s gone from its mount.”

Jeanna still had trouble wrapping her brain around the idea. “Someone snuck aboard, unbolted, and stole our etherscope?”

“Aye.”

“Who?”

Skimpole had no answer. It turned out no one did.

After gathering her NCOs together, and determining it wasn’t simply moved by another crewmember, they were stumped. Amon and Jimmothy looked for clues but didn’t find any.

“There are no tracks,” Amon said, “anywhere around the ship. They must have used magic.”

“It’s how I would have done it,” Globnard said.

“Broad daylight. Men working nearby. It would need to be good magic.”

“So what do we do?” the Captain asked.

No one had an immediate answer, so the captain asked another question. “Exactly how important is the etherscope?”

“It’s vital, Captain,” the bosun said.

“Normally,” Amon added.

“Normally?”

“What I mean is,” he went on, “In the Five Kingdoms, the etherscope is used to find the ley lines, which is fairly vital if we stray from them, or have a run that veers from them.”

“Aye,” Delver took over, “Bit 'ere, it's bin a glorified paperweight, sin thare ur na ley lines tae fin'... At least sae far.”

“A damned expensive paperweight,” Brint said.

The bosun sighed, “True.”

Helfenfeffer raised a scaled digit, “I think you are missing a more important point,” he said, taking a scholarly tone, “Whoever stole this, might come back for more, and if they are practitioners, we are in serious danger.”

Jeanna looked at the kaaj with wide eyes. “You’re right, of course. Should we go searching for them?”

Globnard looked slightly taken aback, “I was not suggesting that. I was thinking we should continue reprovisioning as fast as possible, then leave.”

“Leave?” The word came from several of the gathered.

“Wait,” Jeanna said, “We rode a wind line here. The whales called it the breath of Eveya. Did the etherscope work on that?”

“No,” Delver answered, “We hud hoped it wid 'n' at extremely short distances thare wis a slight reading, bit nay useful. By th' time th' scope picked it up, we wid awready be in it.”

Jeanna thought, and the others did too. Eventually, the Captain said, “Very well, I think we should spend four more days provisioning, then leave. In the meantime, we double the watch and bring the ship up to anchor height when we’re not loading.”

“That will make the ship easier to see from a distance,” Amon said. “And remember, we think the namers on this island are bird-people...”

“...which would make the no tracks thing more understandable,” Jimmothy added.

Jeanna cocked her head, “Still gotta be harder to sneak up on us in the air, with no cover.”

Amon nodded. “I’d like to take Jimmothy and Brint on a short reconnaissance. See if we find any more sign of the inhabitants.”

Jeanna thought about it, then said, “Alright, just be careful, and stay within sound of the ship’s bell.”

Another two days passed with no further sign of the thieves, or the bird people. Amon Dul revisited the totem but found no new tracks. The evening of that second day, a falling rainstorm passed over the island, turning the camp slick with mud.

The party-like enthusiasm of the crew was also somewhat dampened by the theft. While they still enjoyed the idea of land, they now had to remain vigilant against the possible return of the thieves. But that evening, something else appeared.

“SHIP HO!”

She had been reading through Ferris’s old journals when Jeanna heard Fitz make the announcement. She shot up like a cork and headed for the main deck. When she arrived, there were already several other crewmembers at the bow, watching the ship in the distance.

“Is that a ship? Bollard asked.

It was a question on lots of lips. With the exception that it floated, what hovered two miles off the edge of the island didn’t look like an airship at all.

“It... looks like a castle,” MacBrick said.

He wasn’t wrong. The strange vehicle was enormous and had the basic appearance of a fortified keep. Roughly rectangular, it had four stone walls intersected by narrow tower battlements with strange roofs. At the center of the floating fortress was a main donjon—a tower at least four stories high—each with a narrowing roof and balcony and something atop it that glinted silver in the sun. Square, red flags with golden dragons emblazoned on them hung from the buttresses and from poles around the central tower.

Most impressively, a team of eight sky whales was hitched to the front of the fortress by long, heavy rope leads and traces which disappeared into a wheelhouse at the walls. Those watching could just make out the tops of several trees, poking up over the wall height. Dozens of figures could be seen on the walls as basic silhouettes. Even from a distance, it was easy to see that at least twenty cloudrunners like the Covetous could easily fit inside those walls.

“Whit ur yer orders?” Delver asked the Captain.

She took the spyglass from her eye and looked at the bosun, then at her officers. “I’m open to suggestions,” she answered, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

“It doesn’t appear they are approaching, or attacking,” Amon Dul said, “so that’s good.”

“Aye,” Brint said, “I don’t suppose that thing is very fast, but we should make the ship ready to fly, just in case.”

“Good thought,” she said. “Bosun, call in the crew, quietly. No bells or whistles. We’ll drop to plank when they’re gathered.”

“Aye Cap’n.”

“And Delver, make sure Hennessey gets here first. I want the engines primed and ready.”

“Aye Cap.”

As the bosun carried out her orders, Jeanna continued to watch the fortress, and the men on its walls. “It looks like they’ve spotted us,” she said, “I see a group of them gathered on the closest wall.”

“No skiffs?” Amon asked.

“None so far.”

“I don’t like this,” Globnard said, “If they are gifted, we could already be in the range of their spells.”

Jeanna swallowed, audibly. “There’s no sign of that.”

The kaaj took on an annoyed tone, “With many spells, there wouldn’t be an outward sign. They might be listening in on us right now.”

“In that case, let’s not talk about... the doomsday weapon,” Brint said, putting dire emphasis on the words, and looking extra covert.

Jeanna and several of the others looked confused, but Amon shook his head at the bard’s attempt at subterfuge.

Globnard scowled, then muttered a spell. The sorcerer’s eyes glinted with magical light and he began scanning the area, “It appears we are safe from scrying, for the moment,” he said.

As it transpired, nothing changed in the flying fortress when the crew was called back in. When they were all gathered below, the Bosun lowered the ship, Foggs and a few others grabbed the guide ropes and hauled it to plank anchorage.

“Now we are being watched,” Globnard said, looking at a spot directly above the ship.

Jeanna nodded and hurried the process along. Hennessey climbed aboard and at prompt, sweeping hand motions from the Captain, immediately headed to the engine rooms. The Captain then returned to the bow and raised her spyglass.

There was further activity on the wall. She wasn’t sure what they were about until a new flag unraveled itself next to the red and gold. This was plain white.

“Can you see that?” She asked Amon, who seemed to have sharp eyes.

“Is it a flag?”

“It is. White. Do you think...?”

The halfblood paused. “I don’t know. Maybe they want to talk.”

As the last of the crew came aboard, and Foggs and the others were reeling in the lines, Globnard heard a voice in his head.

Gaikoku-sen yo, anata to no heiwa o inorimasu. Shisetsu o okutte, watashitachi to kotoba o kōkan shite kudasai.

He understood nothing of the words, but the magic employed in the Sending seemed to allow him a general understanding of the meaning. They wanted peaceful relations and requested the Covetous to send a diplomat to meet with them. He also knew there was a short window to respond.

I have heard your request and will pass it on to my Captain. Please wait.

He turned then to Jeanna, who was preparing to engage the engines, and told her what just transpired. “I hope saying please wasn’t construed as weakness,” he added.

“Manners almost never hurt,” she said. “So they want us to send someone. Should we?”

Amon Dul nodded, “This is what we wanted, Captain. Natives to Sioren Speirba who might point the way home.”

“The fact they want peace is a really nice bonus,” Brint added.

She looked at her friends, then straightened her shoulders. “Alright, let’s do this.”

As the Covetous approached the floating fortress, they got a better look at the people on the walls. It quickly became apparent they weren’t neran, but kaaj. The revelation sent a buzz of worry through the crew.

“It could be a trap,” Keshan said loudly enough for the Captain to hear.

Globnard tensed beside her, scaled hands flexing involuntarily.

“Are they Korimian?” the Captain asked quietly.

The mage spent a moment examining the figures on the parapet. “I’m almost positive they are not, Captain. Their clothes and armor are very different from what I know of my people, and their language in the Sending was not familiar, though their magic let me understand it. Remember what I said, “Sioren Spierba is a vast place.”

She nodded, easing the tension from her shoulders, and looked closer at the figures they were floating slowly toward. There were four of them on an extended platform, jutting from the nearest wall tower. Two were Kaaj, but two attendants looked to be short people with—yes, she was sure of it—the heads of sparrows.

As odd as that was, it was the kaaj who seemed to be in charge. Both were gold scaled in coloration. Both wore loose, silken robes—white, and red respectively—fastened at the waist by wide, pleated belts. The stockier of the two kaaj had a short, curved sword tucked into his belt and wore a stern expression. The other was taller and had a long cascade of white hair tied back and flowing down his spine. His expression was more neutral, with the barest of a draconic smile.

The sparrow people wore similar garb but of simpler, gray wool. As the ship drew nearer, they could all see the avians had wings that grew from their elbows, extending like long sleeves of feathers, and their hands were folded in front of them, wide black eyes downcast.

The Covetous made its final approach, piloted expertly by McBrick. The deck crew pulled in the pectoral sails and the port rail bumped lightly against the wooden platform before quickly being made fast. The gate was lifted and the boarding ramp was extended. Together with her chosen officers, Jeanna stepped off the ship to meet their hosts.

The white-robed kaaj was the first to speak, and to everyone’s surprise, his words had a strange accent but were perfectly understandable.

“Be welcome to The Silver Serpent, the flying fortress of Lord Matsu Noyori, Knight Master of Kiakumo Patrol Squadron. I am Magister Shinso Inoyagi and this is Assistant Magister Kensai.”

He bowed and his retinue followed suit. Sensing it was customary, the Captain and the others did the same.

“I am Captain Jeanna Harland of the Covetous,” she replied, “and these are my companions and crew, Master Helfenfeffer, Wical Mossbeard, Brint Mountainthroat, and Amon Dul. We thank you for your welcome, and accept your hospitality.”

“That is well,” the kaaj said, taking an extra moment to eye Globnard before continuing. “If you follow me, I will escort you to Master Matsu’s hall. My Lord is eager to speak with you.”

She agreed, and Magister Shinso led them down a set of shallow stairs to a bricked path that wound toward the central tower which they could now see was topped by an impressive statue of a silver, serpent-like dragon.

The grounds within the walls were a curious mix of military precision and elegant landscaping. Just inside was a ring of catapults, set in a perfect line and surrounded by their own, secondary stone defenses. Areas of the bailey were set aside for troops, with a dozen or more, large tents.

The central tower stood four stories high, with each level slightly smaller than the last. A well-groomed garden, with ponds and several trees, surrounded the tower. While Jeanna and the others followed them down a brick-lined path, she asked, “Magister Shinso, we are strangers in this place. How is it you speak our language so well?”

The kaaj turned his head and smiled, then answered, “It is a working of magic,” he smiled, “a spell which allows understanding and communication.”

“A nice bit of magic,” Globnard said.

The Magister nodded, “Yes, it has proven very useful.”

“Your gardens are very lovely,” Jimmothy said, smiling as he noticed the colorful fish in the pond.

“I will be sure to pass on your appreciation to the Master, and his gardeners,” Shinso said, eyeing the little dinari with respectful curiosity.

While the magister seemed happy to politely answer questions, he did not ask any of his own and seemed to be disinclined to slow down or engage in unnecessary conversation. Soon, they arrived at a wide set of stone stairs and an equally wide and tall, entrance door. The two sparrow people moved ahead and opened the ornamentally carved doors wide, revealing a wood-floored entrance hall.

A short walk down the hall, lined with wood and paper walls, along with several armored red and black kaaj, led them to what was obviously an audience chamber. Inside, they found another golden kaaj, in even finer crimson and gold, with dark hair tied above his horns. Several more of the avian servants waited in the wings as the retinue was brought before the lord, who sat on a low dias of polished wood.

“Lord Matsu,” Shinso said, bowing, “May I introduce Captain Jeanna Harland, of the airship, The Covetous,” he indicated the others with a formal sweep of his hand, “and her companions and crew. Captain Jeanna Harland, this is Lord Knight Master Matsu Noyori.”

Again, Jeanna and her friends mirrored the custom of bowing, and Lord Matsu inclined his head in return. It was immediately apparent the kaaj commanded a great deal of respect from his magisters and servants. Shinso approached the lord and whispered a bit of spellwork, then touched him gently upon the arm. After a moment of sizing up the crew, the lord spoke in a deep voice.

“Welcome to the Silver Serpent, Captain. My thanks for heeding our request for a meeting. It is not often we come across such strange travelers. I am fascinated by your ship and your crew. Tell me, where do you hail from?”

Jeanna tried to swallow the lump in her throat and appear confident. “We come from another plane of existence altogether, a place called Aeranos.”

Lord Matsu nodded, clearly impressed. “I am familiar with the lore of the planes. In which celestial sphere does Aeranos reside?”

The question seemed to stump Jeanna, who looked to Globnard for assistance. The mage was happy to assist. “Lord Matsu, Aeranos is located in the middle realm, or the prime plane. It is a vast and powerful empire of many kingdoms.”

“I see. And what is your mission in our Forever Skies?”

Globnard looked to the Captain, who once again took up the thread.

“We have found ourselves here by accident. We were pulled through an interplanar rift during a violent storm. So you see, we have no mission except to find a way home.”

“How unfortunate,’ the lord said, frowning. “These skies can be unforgiving to those not prepared to face them. How long have you been here?”

“Forty-eight days, and how right you are. If not for the island, you would have found us in a much sorrier state.”

“Ahhh, yes,” the lord said, “the islands are oases in the vast and empty skies, but many hide dangers. How long have you been on this island?”

Jeanna paused before answering. It seemed to her Lord Matsu’s question had a different ring to it; as if he had come to the important part of the questioning.

“Only long enough to hunt and re-provision. What dangers do you speak of?”

Her answer seemed to please him, though his reaction was subtle enough to be missed by some.

“As it happens,” he said, “this island is home to a group of traitors to the Red Cloud Empire, and we have come to root them out.”

“Traitors?” Amon Dul asked.

“Yes, you see, like your empire, Kiakumo—or Red Cloud Empire—is vast and powerful, but some criminals attempt to escape us by fleeing to these far reaches. Those that dwell on the isle are such a clan. You are lucky we found you before they or their protector did.”

“Is this clan wanted for thievery?” Brint asked.

“Yes, among other crimes. Why?”

“They stole a piece of equipment off our ship.”

“Wait,” Jimmothy said, “What do you mean, protector?”

Lord Matsu looked at the little druid as if he was surprised the dinari spoke, but was quick enough in answering him. “They have made a pact with a powerful spirit of the island, a giant bird-creature that will attack any unfortunate who it finds.” He looked at Brint, “As for your stolen equipment, you are lucky the Kenkuda only stole from you. They are quite efficient at murder and mayhem. No doubt it was your strange appearance that held them from more drastic measures.”

Silence hung in the air after the lord’s words. Jeanna finally said, “It appears we owe you thanks for warning us and finding us when you did.”

Lord Matsu grinned and nodded. “Fortune often favors the blessed, or so the saying goes in our home. You are welcome to stay as our guests if you wish, and we would be happy to help you re-provision.”

“That is kind of you,” Jeanna said.

“Please, think nothing of it. Perhaps we can even find your stolen equipment for you.”

Jeanna smiled. “As I said, very kind.”

“Well, while I would love to hear more about your empire, Captain, we have a mission to prepare for. In the meantime, you are welcome to stay in my home.”

Jeanna looked at her companions. Brint nodded and bowed to Lord Matsu, and she and the others followed suit.

“Thank you. We accept.”

________________________________________________________________

11. An Offer

The group was led from the audience hall by Magister Shinso, then given into the keeping of a sparrow woman. Before he left, the magister said, “Shiru will take you to your rooms. Please feel free to wander the grounds. Your presence, and guest status will be made known to the soldiers and guards. Ask any of the servants if you require anything at all. They will fetch me at once.”

“Thank you,” Jeanna said, “I will need to send word to my crew.”

“Of course. As I said, the grounds are open to you,” he then seemed to have a thought, “Does your crew require anything immediately? Food, healing?”

“Not immediately, no.”

“Ah, well then, I will leave you to Shiru’s care. Perhaps this evening you might share dinner with us?”

Jeanna looked at her friends, then nodded. “That would be lovely.”

“Very good.”

With that, Shinso left, and the sparrow woman, Shiru, motioned for them to follow. They were led to a suite of small, but well decorated, paper-walled rooms on the second story of the tower. Each had narrow balconies with a view of the gardens, water basins for washing, hanging lanterns, and a small brazier. There were also feather-stuffed mats on reed floor carpets.

“Well,” Brint sighed, “Who would have thought, eh?”

“We had hoped for aid, and it seems we have found it,” Amon said.

“And just in time, it would appear,” Globnard added. He eyed the paper walls suspiciously.

“You mean the Kenkuda clan?” Jimmothy asked.

“Thieves and murderers.”

It was the Captain’s turn to sigh. “Yes, well, we were due some luck.”

Amon nodded, “Captain, do you want me to return to the ship, tell the Bosun what’s transpired?”

“Yes, please. And maybe tell them to stay aboard for the time being, until we get a better idea of this place.”

Brint agreed, “That’s a wise thought Cap’n.

“Aye,” Amon said, looking around the room, “I think I’ll stay on the ship as well, just in case.”

“Alright, but I need you there for dinner.”

In the candles between, Jeanna and the others freshened up and took a stroll through the gardens. As it turned out, wherever they went, a contingent of no less than three servants accompanied them. All were sparrowfolk and none could communicate with them beyond the simplest of gestures. In fact, they weren’t sure the avian men and women could even speak at all until they overheard two of the servants whispering to one another in the Red Cloud tongue.

“Do you suppose they are performing double duty?” Globnard asked quietly, as they stood beneath one of the expertly pruned pines in the garden. The servants stood back a respectful distance, eyes down and simply waiting.

“How do you mean?” Jeanna asked.

“I mean, listening in, making sure we don’t go somewhere we shouldn’t, in addition to serving our needs.”

Jeanna looked at the unassuming servants, so docile in nature. “I don’t think they can understand us, but as for the other, yes, I suppose they are our watchers as much as our helpers.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

Jeanna thought about it. “Not really. I would probably do the same.”

They looked over at Jimmothy, who was busy running a hand over the coarse bark of the pine, tracing its pattern with a calloused little finger. He looked up at the sound of one of the sky whales calling plaintively from its traces.

“Do you think we have time to visit them?” he asked the Captain.

“Sure.”

A short walk later they found the large wheel-house at the front of the fortress. Like a super-sized buckboard on a wagon back home, the parapet here held sixteen thick chains that ran out to the harness of eight skywhales, floating slack in their traces. The wheelhouse itself was stone and wood, and the size of a large barn. The group went straight up the wall stairs to where they could see the whales.

Another long, melancholy moan came from one of the larger whales and Jimmothy frowned. “It doesn’t sound like they are very happy,” he said.

Looking closer, it was plain to see the chains had rubbed wounds into some of the whales. Though they weren’t serious or debilitating, they looked painful and the little druid winced in sympathy. Chained as they were, the whales seemed at once larger and more vulnerable than the pod they had come across days before.

“I don’t like this,” Jimmothy said.

Jeanna put a hand on his shoulder, “I can’t say I do either, Jimmothy. Can you talk to them?”

“I’ll have to pray and prepare. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“Don’t do anything foolish,” Globnard said, “These aren’t wild beasts, they are our host’s animals.”

“I know,” the druid said.

“Perhaps we should return to the rooms,” Brint said, “I can’t imagine supper is too far off. Amon might have already returned.”

Jimmothy followed them with a last glance at the whales.

Amon Dul was waiting for them when they returned. After a quick freshening up, they were led to one of the many other rooms on the floor of the tower, where a covered feast had been laid out on a low table surrounded by folded mats. Magister Shinso and Assistant Magister Kensai were already present, along with three sparrow servants.

As the group made themselves as comfortable as possible, either kneeling or sitting cross-legged, Lord Matsu arrived in the company of another avian servant. This avi was somewhat taller, and had the pied head of a corvid along with a black and tan robe. Lord Matsu smiled at his guests and then received the Translation spell from Shinso, before seating himself.

“Magister Shinso has given the spell of translation to Kensai for tonight’s dinner,” the Lord said, indicating the assistant magister, “However, I am afraid our need to converse will soon outpace Shinso’s prodigious ability to provide the necessary magic. Therefore, I have brought along one of my personal scribes, who is a master linguist. It is my hope, if he listens long enough, he will start to understand your tongue. His name is Koriuko and he is quite gifted.”

The avi bowed and his hooked beak parted. His eyes were bright with interest. He seated himself beside Lord Matsu.

Unsure of their customs, Jeanna was afraid to say the wrong thing. She looked to Brint for help.

The durin winked and looked around the table, then said, “Lord Matsu, we are unfamiliar with your dining customs, and do not wish to cause offense. The food smells wonderful...”

He let the sentence trail off, hoping he had said enough.

“Yes, of course. Let us start with tea, then we will see what my cooks have prepared.”

The servants came forward with hot kettles and poured light colored tea for the guests. When they sipped, they found it slightly bitter, with an earthy tone. Each made appropriate sounds of pleasure. When Jeanna said, “Mmmm, this is wonderful. A very different flavor from our teas back home.” Amon watched Koriuko, the scribe silently mouthing words, eyes intently watching.

“I am glad you like it,” Shinso said, “The leaves are from my Lord’s lands back home.”

Lord Matsu nodded, “It is a favorite blend of mine.”

As the dinner progressed, the servants revealed several dishes of spiced meats, some of which tasted like pork, and others that were certainly the flying crab-like insects they had run across in their travels. There was also a starch-laden rice that was quite filling.

All three of their Kaaj hosts asked many questions about Aeranos, and the Covetous. Jeanna answered what she could truthfully, and diplomatically. Many questions were handled deftly by Brint, who seemed to have a bard’s knack for telling a tale. All the while, Koriuko watched and learned.

Of special interest to Lord Matsu, were their tales of battle—either of the skyworms, or when Amon Dul told some of his more harrowing accounts of scouting for the Imperial army. Ever the entertainer, Brint picked up on their host’s interests, and turned Amon’s basic accounts into thrilling stories.

“... and the crew was in a sore way without their captain before Jeanna rallied them with her divine gifts. I saw her save more than one with her battle prowess. Together, with magic and determination, we pushed the worms back and off the ship!” the bard said. “I’m still working up a good song about it,” he added, smiling at the Captain, then their host.

“How thrilling!” Lord Matsu said and his magisters appeared to agree. They looked upon their guests with more animation than they had before. It seemed a wall had broken down between them.

When it appeared appropriate, Jeanna asked about the Red Cloud mission.

“When will you strike at these Kenkuda, Lord Matsu?”

“Soon.”

The answer was short and simple, and she feared she had broken some rule of protocol, but the Lord eventually continued, after apparently contemplating something.

“Are you eager to get your stolen equipment back?”

“It is important to us.”

Lord Matsu seemed to consider that before he said, “We are still strategizing how best to attack the criminals.”

“Do you know where on the island they are based?” Amon asked.

“We do not, and that is the crux of our problem. While I have a sizable force, it is not large enough to effectively scour the island.”

“And their protector will be a danger to any soldiers we put on the island,” Shinso added.

“And we do not know their number,” Assistant Magister Kensai said in a commanding tone, surprising the group with his input.

Lord Matsu nodded in agreement. “All reasons to send Redspear,” he said to Kensai.

“Who is Redspear?” Globnard asked.

Matsu gave a nod to the Magister, who answered, “Takemi Redspear is a scout with previous knowledge of the island. He believes he knows where the Kenkuda might be holed up.”

“That sounds promising,” Amon said.

“Yes,” Kensai said, “but our soldiers are trained for war, not for digging around in holes.”

“You think your enemies are below ground?” Brint asked.

“Redspear does, but we don’t know their numbers, or the layout of their stronghold,” Kensai said, “He has offered to go alone and learn their numbers and position, but if he doesn’t return, we are back to going in blind.”

Amon looked across the table at Jeanna, raising an eyebrow in question. “I have hunted kudra and fekra in their tunnels.”

Globnard looked aggrieved for a moment before adding, “WE have hunted them, yes.”

Jeanna sighed, then looked at Kensai, “Who exactly are these Kenkuda clans? Are they dragonkind such as yourself?”

The Assistant Magister looked offended, “No, they are avi, but dark and devious criminals instead of righteous and good, like the sparrow people.”

Shinso grimaced, “We would not ask—” but was silenced by a wave of Lord Matsu’s hand.

“You say you have experience with such missions?”

Again, Amon looked at the Captain, who seemed caught between thoughts.

“I do, and, since you are aiding us so helpfully...” the ranger watched Jeanna.

“... And these kenkuda have our etherscope,” she continued, “we would be happy to help with your reconnaissance.”

Amon Dul and Brint Mountainthroat smiled. Globnard frowned.

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