“They’re coming, too?”
“Of course.”
“Is that necessary?” Vera didn’t want extra bodies on the skyship. That just meant more threats.
“Absolutely. The ship can take off without them, but it will plummet from the sky within minutes if my acolytes are not in the engine room to keep everything … pristine.”
“You don’t have your acolytes in the other skyships.”
“Different engine, different needs.”
Vera gave Osyrus a long, measured look. She couldn’t tell if he was lying. And given the fact that Ganon Domitian was lying dead in the palace, she had no choice but to trust him.
“Fine. But keep them belowdecks at all times. I don’t want them near the empress.”
“As you wish.” Osyrus Ward pulled the engine Kor from his pocket. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to install this.”
Osyrus headed for the bowels of the skyship. Two acolytes followed him.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, the skyship was fueled and they were standing on the deck. Overall, the layout was similar to a Balarian pleasure yacht, although the deck was twice as wide and the hull far deeper.
At the stern, there was a lavish, two-level cabin that Osyrus had designed specifically for Kira. Toward the bow of the ship, there was a small cockpit set into the deck. One of the longbowmen was seated inside of it—the lower half of his body obscured by the inner workings of the controls. The other longbowmen hustled around the deck, adjusting various levers and cranks.
Vera had been checking the entrance to the hangar constantly, waiting for scores of Horellian guards to swarm through it and put a stop to their escape. But none arrived. It was possible that nobody had found Ganon’s body yet.
The crew finished their preparations. The pilot lifted a gloved hand and gave a signal to Osyrus, who nodded.
“Everything is ready, Empress,” he said to Kira, who was sitting on a plush sofa bolted to the middle of the deck. “Shall we depart?”
Kira’s face was flush, but determined. “Yes.”
Osyrus moved to the gunwale and yanked on a long chain that was attached to the ceiling. A deep, metallic rumble echoed through the hangar as thousands of gears tumbled and clicked and worked. The ceiling of the hangar split apart. Each half retracted. Vera looked up at the pale gray sky. Felt a wave of cold air rush across her face, cooling the sweat behind her armor. Sunrise was seven minutes away.
“If you’d like to give the order…” Osyrus said.
Kira smiled. “To the sky!”
The pilot gave another sign of affirmation. Two men hustled to opposite sides of the ship and began spinning circular wheels attached to large pipes that ran from the levitation sack to the lower holds. The smell of dragon oil filled Vera’s nose. Overhead, the levitation sack began to expand.
“Filling and maintaining pressure levels in the levitation sack is what requires the dragon oil,” Osyrus Ward explained as the sack rose off its metal struts. “But once we are in the air, the Kor’s power and the sails will propel us forward.”
Once the sack was fully inflated, men rushed to the gunwales and began unpinning the metal cords that had been holding the skyship in place.
They started to rise.
It was slow at first, as if they were underwater and allowing themselves to float to the surface. The men bustled about the dock, tightening down ropes and turning cranks.
“Levels?” Decimar called from his place near the center of the ship, voice rising above the churning at their feet.
“Steady as your bow draw, sir,” replied the pilot.
“All right. Begin full-powered ascent.”
The pilot flipped a few more switches, which caused the hull to hum with energy. They rose faster.
Kira whooped, grabbing Vera’s hand and squeezing. Vera counted the seconds. Clung to them in her mind, just to have something familiar in such a surreal moment.
Eighty-three seconds later, Burz-al-dun looked like a coin below them, instead of the largest city in the realm of Terra. They leveled off just as an orange slice of light started cutting across the horizon. Sunrise.
Dawn was different when you were looking down on it. Vera watched the squat trees and dying grasslands of eastern Balaria ignite with color. A flock of white gulls flew underneath the ship—winging into the west.
Underneath.
Vera’s stomach lurched. She closed her eyes. Steadied herself with one hand on the edge of the sofa. Took ten breaths. Opened her eyes. Looked down to see if Kira was all right.
But the empress wasn’t there. She’d moved to the gunwale, and was looking out over the side.
“Kira!” Vera yelled, rushing toward her. “Kira get back from there!”
She took Kira by the shoulder tried to pull her backward, but the empress shrugged it off.
“It’s all right, Vera. I’m not going to fall.” Kira took a deep breath in—although hers was clearly not to avoid emptying her stomach. She had a look of pure glee on her face. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”
Now that Vera had taken a few moments to calm her body, she had to admit that there was a certain appeal to the feeling of flight. A freedom. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Empress,” Osyrus said, coming over as well. “Would you like to see how the controls work?”
“Definitely.”
Osyrus led Kira over to the cockpit. Vera followed—abandoning her usual distance of two strides back, one to the left, and instead keeping a hand on the empress’s shoulder at all times.
“The larger frigates require a team of three men to properly control—two navigators and a highly trained pilot. However, I designed your skyship so that a single person can manage everything, and with far less training.”
Osyrus crouched next to the pilot. Pointed deeper into the cockpit, by the pilot’s feet. “See down there? Those pedals dictate height and speed,” Osyrus said, motioning to a set of pedals that were attached to a larger apparatus of gears and pipes that funneled into the bowels of the ship. “Turning the wheel left or right will lilt the ship in the corresponding direction.”
“That’s it?” Kira asked.
“Takeoffs and landings are a bit more complex, but those are the basics.”
“It seems simple enough,” Kira said.
“Bad weather and wind complicate things in a hurry,” the pilot said. “But Aeternita was kind to us on our first flight.”
Vera’s stomach tightened again. “This is your first flight?” she asked.
“Of course. All the frigate pilots are in Lysteria, ’cept for the Time’s Daughter and her crew that’s covering the western coast of Almira.”
Osyrus stood up. “I think that’s enough of a demonstration for now, Entras. Thank you.”
“So, should I head out over the bay?” Entras asked. “Maybe do a quick loop and then head back?”
There was a silence. Vera had been so preoccupied with getting Kira out of Burz-al-dun safely, she hadn’t had a chance to think much beyond that.
“No. Head south, I think,” Osyrus said.
“For how long?”
“Until I tell you to stop,” Osyrus said.
Decimar—who’d been moving from man to man, surveying their work—came over when he heard that. “What about the Pargossian envoys?” he asked.
“That? Oh, that might have actually been tomorrow. No need to rush home!” Osyrus turned away before Decimar could protest. “Empress. Vera. Perhaps you would like to retire to the royal cabin for refreshment?”
* * *
The royal cabin was plain compared to the palace, but comfortable. There was a large globe in the middle of the room and there were several more sofas. Up a small flight of stairs there was a sleeping chamber with a feather bed.
Osyrus dug around in the cabinets and produced a bottle of bubbled wine and three glasses. Popped the cork with a yellow, thickened thumbnail.
“It’s not chilled, I’m afraid. But it will suffice.”
Kira ignored the offered glass and drank directly from the bottle. Her cheeks were flushed.
“I can’t believe we just did that,” she said.
Vera’s mind raced. They might have escaped safely, but they were thousands of strides up in the air and surrounded by trained soldiers who had sworn eternal loyalty to the emperor Kira had just killed. They were still in a huge amount of danger.
“We can never return to Balaria,” Vera said.
“Agreed. However, with the skyship at our disposal, a return is unnecessary.” Osyrus moved to the globe and gave it a spin with one of his knobby fingers. “Shall we select a destination?”
Vera looked at the globe. “We should go to Papyria. Empress Okinu will give shelter to anyone who shares her royal blood, and I can protect you there.”
Kira took another long drink before responding.
“No,” she said, voice firm. “I won’t do that.”
“You’ll be safe in Papyria.”
“But what will I be besides safe? I’m not Okinu’s heir. I am not anything up there, which means that I will be shoved into another colorful and comfortable drawer. It will be the same dragonshit all over again. I won’t do it.”
Vera waited a beat for Kira to calm down before she pressed harder. But before she could try another angle, Osyrus Ward cleared his throat. “If I may point something out, Kira will not actually be safe in Papyria. None of us will.”
“Why not?”
“This skyship is smaller than the frigates, but it is large enough to be noticed wherever we take it. Word will get out, and Actus Thorn will send the armada after us. There is no place in Terra where we can hide from those ships.”
“Then we leave Terra,” said Vera. “Go south to the jungle nations. Beyond that, even.”
“Anywhere we go, the armada will eventually follow,” Ward pressed. “But there is another option.” He smiled. Took a sip of warm bubbled wine from his glass. “We take control of the armada ourselves.”
Vera frowned. “We have one unarmed ship and a score of longbowmen who think we’re on a joyride. How are we possibly going to take control of the entire armada? By flying to Lysteria and shooting arrows at them?”
“No. We’ll fly to Almira. Floodhaven, to be precise.”
“What’s in Floodhaven?”
“An opportunity. The unrest in Almira made it easy for me to inject a substantial number of spies into Floodhaven over the last few months. They brought me Ashlyn’s research, which has proved immensely useful. But they also brought me reports of a large surplus of dragon oil in the sublevels of Castle Malgrave—far more than we ever would have been able to access in Balaria. Linkon Pommol accrued it with plans of opening new trade lines.”
“Dragon oil won’t save us from skyships,” Vera said.
“No. But if the reported volume is accurate, there will be enough oil to power an experimental apparatus that I built to work in conjunction with this ship’s Kor engine. As luck would have it, the apparatus is currently aboard the ship. Right underneath our feet, actually. If successful, the machine will nullify the armada’s strength.”
“Nullify. Explain that.”
“The process is extremely complicated. But rest assured, the ships will be under our control when it is complete.”
“If you have a machine like that, why are you just telling us about it now?”
“There was no reason to mention a machine for which there was no available power source. It will likely burn through the entirety of Linkon’s oil surplus in a single use—an expenditure that could topple entire economies. But that is a worthwhile sacrifice.”
Vera frowned. “You said it was experimental.”
“A prototype. Yes.”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
Osyrus shrugged. “Then I would imagine the three of us will be swiftly executed by a very smug Actus Thorn.”
“That is no different than the position we are in right now,” Kira said. “And the potential reward is worth the risk. A fleet of my own, which I can use to help Terra instead of conquering it.”
“You’re both forgetting the fact that Linkon Pommol rules Floodhaven,” Vera pointed out.
“Pommol is weak,” Osyrus said, dismissing the obstacle with a wave of his bony hand. “His strongest asset was his navy, which is nothing but flotsam now. The Malgrave and Wallace armies are destroyed. The soldiers that Linkon does control are embroiled in a civil war with the wardens of the Dainwood that will not end soon. The jaguars are nothing if not stubborn when it comes to defending their precious forest.” He pursed his lips. “I would say that Floodhaven is more vulnerable today than it has been in a thousand years.”
“Just because Floodhaven is vulnerable doesn’t mean Linkon Pommol will simply give us his dragon oil,” Vera said. “And I cannot sneak into Floodhaven and kill everyone who guards it like I did in Burz-al-dun.”
“Don’t worry about Linkon Pommol,” Kira said. “I know how to deal with him.”
Vera was extremely worried. But Kira was beaming. “It’s decided. We are going back home, and I am taking the throne of Almira for myself. No husband. No prime magnate.” She looked at Vera. “Just you and me.”
Vera let that sink in. She didn’t want to admit it, but Ward was right. Actus Thorn would never let them live in peace. Never let Kira’s crime go unanswered. Despite the risks, this was their best chance at long-term safety.
“I’m willing to try,” Vera said. “But we also need to convince Lieutenant Decimar and his men. They still believe they are taking the empress on a joyride.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Kira said. “I will tell them we have embarked on a secret mission to avenge my fallen sister and conquer Almira for the good of the empire.” She shrugged. “They’ll be heroes. More famous than the Flawless Bershad.”
She seemed sad, despite her confidence. That was how Vera knew she could do it.
“There is just one more thing, then,” said Vera.
“What?” Kira asked, impatient.
“Now that your ship has begun her maiden voyage, she needs a name.”
Kira smiled. “The Blue Sparrow.”
25
BERSHAD
Ghost Moth Island, Beyond the Bone Wall
Once Ashlyn had explained everyone’s part in rescuing Wendell, they continued into the heart of the island, trekking across corrupted forest and meadow and marsh. The farther they traveled, the more machinery they encountered that was intertwined and implanted into the landscape. The air reeked of chemicals.
They passed fetid pools of thick slime that were fed by copper pipes sprouting from the broken ground. Enormous mushrooms that had been festooned with wires and attached to arcane machinery, which had turned their caps black and shiny. The few animals they did see were mostly deformed rodents or lizards—ridges of fungus ran along their skulls and sprouted from their ears and mouths and noses. The animals scurried into the shadows as they passed. Watched them with weeping, corrupted eyes.
Eventually, they reached more Ghost Moth carcasses. Scores of them.
They’d all been killed the same way—a ballista bolt through the forehead. Their bellies had been cut open and their bodies excavated, then propped up with iron rods. But these hadn’t been completely hollowed out like the first one. They passed a juvenile with an intact heart and liver, both of which were connected to wide ceramic pipes that ran along the ground, disappearing into the murky gloom ahead. Another one nearby had the bones of its hind legs preserved and attached to the same type of ceramic pipe.
“So this is how Osyrus did it,” Ashlyn said, tapping the place where the pipe was fused to the bone. “He ran some kind of preservation fluid through the bone marrow.” She followed the pipe with her eyes. “The rest of the apparatus must be up ahead.”
“So is Kasamir and his giant,” Bershad said, motioning to the tracks, which followed alongside the pipe, too. They were fresh. He turned to Felgor. His part in Ashlyn’s plan
was the most important, but it was also the most dangerous. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“Don’t worry about old Felgor—these fingers haven’t failed me yet.” He wiggled his right hand.
Bershad crossed his arms. He was worried, even if Felgor wasn’t. “This doesn’t work if you don’t take him by surprise,” he said.
“I have some significant sneak to me.”
“You do. But this is Kasamir’s territory. He said he could smell us. I’m thinking that all the time he’s been on this island, anything fresh—anything that doesn’t belong—stands out to him.”
Bershad looked around. Eyes settling on the Ghost Moth carcass with the preserved heart and liver.
“But he won’t notice a dragon’s scent,” Ashlyn finished.
“Right.”
Ashlyn stepped closer to the dragon, examining the liver, which was the size of a baroness’s bed. “Goll, hand me your knife. The liver enzymes will make the perfect mask for Felgor’s scent.”
“What? Enzymes? Mask? What are you talking about?”
Goll laughed. “They’re gonna coat you in dragon juice, Balarian. That’s obvious.”
“But … but that’s … there’s got to be another way.”
“Goll. The knife.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, Felgor was completely coated in wet strips of liver, and completely miserable.
“I expect to be amply compensated for this,” Felgor said.
“Two thousand gold do it?” Bershad asked.
“No. I’m gonna need some property. Two, three brothels at least. Good ones.”
“No problem,” Ashlyn said. “Just don’t get yourself killed before, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He snuck off into the gloom without a word—strafing around to the east like they’d discussed. Bershad waited for a few minutes so Felgor had time to get into position.
Everyone else was quiet while they waited. Vash paced nervously. Ashlyn continued examining the Ghost Moth. Goll drank from his canteen, which he swore was water but was clearly rum.
“It’s time,” Bershad said eventually. “Keep back a ways, like you’re trying to stay out of sight. And don’t make your move until—”
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