“Did you ever meet the man? What was his name?” Fionn continued as his heart beat like a racehorse. After Ywain had disappeared, he and Izia spent every resource at hand to find him, but to no avail. He was like their little brother and one of the bravest members of the Twelve Swords. Not even Yaha had been found to mark his grave. During the years after Fionn woke up from his ‘slumber,’ he secretly retained the hope that Ywain had survived and might have found some semblance of peace somewhere else. But tracking that had proved futile, as before.
Yaha, if the legends were true, was the first Tempest Blade to have been forged. It wasn’t easy to handle because it seemed to have a mind of its own. Ywain used to talk about it before the battle, and it had never let him down. Having it there was a fortunate coincidence. And yet Fionn didn’t believe in those. I wonder if this was your doing, Izia, he thought, while briefly looking up as if he could see her in the Last Heaven.
“My great-grandfather, Ywain? No, I never met him. He died before I was born. What I know is he was a reclusive man with health problems and a lousy memory, who couldn’t recall much of his early life beyond his name. But he was a kind man,” Alex explained with a smile. “Now my yaya, Zyanya, his wife. She was another matter. My grandparents said that she was a tough lady even at her advanced age. She was the one that taught archery to the family. And she loved Ywain with all her heart.”
“Are you thinking what I think you are thinking?” Harland murmured. “He might have got a happy ending after all, halfway across an ocean and in another continent.”
“I can hope,” Fionn rubbed his eyes. “Back to business. Do you know where Hunt could have hidden his notes?”
“If they weren’t at his manor,” Alex replied, looking at Fionn as if examining him. “He might have stored a copy in his office at Ravenstone. As I said, his assistant might know more. But I don’t have access to that place. I don’t know anyone that does.”
“Don’t worry, we know of someone,” Harland laughed.
“That’s no good, in more ways than one,” Fionn exclaimed. The migraine, which had subsided somewhat, was back in full force. This was going to be a really uncomfortable conversation.
“Why?” Gaby asked him quizzically.
“Let’s say it is complicated.” Fionn smiled ruefully.
“The only issue is that it will take us a while to get there and we are already pressed for time,” Harland interjected.
“Sorry to interrupt, but we might know a way to get you there fast, but only if we tag along,” Alex added, finishing his burger and turning to Gaby. “Do you think he will agree?”
“Maybe if we can pay him. It won’t be cheap though,” Gaby told him, making calculations in her head.
“Money is not the objection,” Fionn replied, turning to Harland, taking him by surprise.
“Wait, what?”
“If you are sure…” Alex began. He lifted his hand and called the waitress, who arrived with her notepad in hand. “Ok. Please bring me six shell-headed burgers with everything for takeaway.” Alex then turned to Fionn and Harland. “Part of the payment.”
Chapter 7
The Figaro
“Your guy lives here?” Harland asked, looking at the abandoned industrial warehouse sitting in the middle of nowhere. The place was on the outskirts of Lafabra, the town where Mercia University was located. The nearest sign of civilization was a couple of farms more than five kilometers away. And the warehouse looked dilapidated. Whoever lived there wasn’t interested in keeping the place in good shape. It made Fionn wonder what kind of transportation Alex could hire here.
They left the car and the trike parked outside the main door of the warehouse, under a group of macabow trees. Several of the trees peppered the terrain, covering the building behind their limbs and foliage. Fionn wasn’t surprised to see that a few of the trees were growing through the roof. The warehouse was four or five times longer than most buildings he had seen before, with the exception of the Royal Hangars during the war. Airships weren’t common in Theia. The atmospheric characteristics of the planet, including a thick ionosphere that generated severe electric storms, made it difficult for flying ships without the right shielding. Most airships were dirigibles, private enterprises and the few dreadnoughts used during the war. That had been the reason behind the development of the warptrains that crisscrossed the planet. They were a more practical means of transportation than dirigibles, for example.
But the warehouse’s appearance didn’t give Fionn the feeling that it belonged to a rich dilettante and, certainly, it was not a military installation.
“Sometimes the best way to hide something of value is to make it look like there is nothing of value, and in plain sight,” Alex punched a code into a small door’s datapad. He waved at a camera barely hidden by a brass bell. The door opened and Alex let them in.
The inside of the warehouse was divided by a wall that separated the living quarters from the larger space behind it. Metallic debris littered the floor, making it look more like a junkyard than living quarters. There was a small loft, held up by wooden posts of dubious structural integrity. Fionn could see a small bed and a fridge in the loft. How it hadn’t collapsed was a wonder. The walls were covered with bookshelves and tools of every description and use. But what piqued Fionn’s curiosity were the aerial photographs, star and pressure charts, atmospheric ionization measurements, navigation maps and high-altitude topographic maps. None of these could have been taken from a dirigible. And access to the feed of the few satellites was limited. But these were taken and printed recently and bore no mark of who had done it. Only a few countries were rumored to have access to such technology.
Alex guided them through the door that took them to the rest of the warehouse. It had ample room and was filled with more tools, machinery, and right in the center, resting on a couple of metal rails, was a bulky object covered by a massive canvas. It was thirty meters long, almost twenty meters wide and twelve meters high. Fionn was sure that if he stood on top he’d be able to touch the warehouse’s roof. It was considerably smaller than a dreadnought but looked heavier than a dirigible.
The four of them were staring at the bulky object, the sunlight entering through the dirty windows, when a shadow moved fast around them, taking Fionn by surprise.
Harland was startled and the sudden movement made him jump backwards. But Alex walked with ease and confidence around the covered object patting it from time to time, releasing a metallic thud. And Gaby was relaxing, taking a seat on a dilapidated sofa, the only piece of furniture in that area. Alex reached one of the ends of the massive object and, from his duffel bag, took out a hamburger he had brought from the diner.
“If you don’t get your hard-ass here soon I will eat your burgers,” Alex yelled, holding the burger aloft. Soon a blur swung from the loft, hanging from a rope and ending up on top of the bulky object. The burger was gone from Alex’s hands, which left Gaby muffling a laugh.
“He always does that,” Gaby explained to Fionn and Harland. “Don’t worry, he is friendly… in a way.”
“More like an acquired taste,” Alex added.
“I could say the same about you,” a voice behind them said. It had a weird quality but it was not guttural. And it had an uncommon accent, thicker than Alex’s. “And you forgot the ketchup, again.”
Harland and Fionn turned around to face their host, who promptly struck Harland’s face, leaving it dripping red.
“I’m injured!” Harland exclaimed at seeing the red drops falling onto the floor.
“It’s ketchup. Geez hoomans,” the voice said. “At least your burgers are a delight to die for. I’m Sid, by the way,” the small green creature left the ketchup bottle on the floor and offered his open hand to Harland.
“A samoharo?” Fionn muttered. Samoharos rarely left their homeland, with the exception of a few merchants. Their home was th
e Hegemony, located on the southeastern continent of Ouslis.
Ouslis was located across the Lirian Ocean, separated from the Auris continent by the Slender Sea and the Straits, Alex’s homeland. It was said that only samoharo lived there because everything else had evolved to be as lethal as possible to humans and freefolk alike.
It all started to make sense for Fionn. Alex was from the Straits and its inhabitants were on good terms with the samoharo, even adopting some of their customs and beliefs while working as a bridge between the Kuni Empire in Auris and the Hegemony is Ouslis. Fionn then remembered that Alex had mentioned a hunter that had helped them during the incursion. Samoharo hunters were known for being willing to hunt dangerous game. They might be one of the few cultures on the planet that would see an incursion as a challenge or a job rather than a crisis.
He had seen a samoharo once, during the Great War. His name was Sir Lionel the Cursed. He had fought alongside Fionn as a member of the Twelve Swords, the special operations unit that Fionn had led. Sir Lionel had been a Meemech samoharo, large and bulky, especially in full armor, close to two meters tall. His reptilian features resembled a humanoid iguana or a gecko with long hair, long fangs, and slit pupils. His tails had been strong enough to smash a tree. However, Sid, slightly taller than Harland but not by much, looked like a mix between an iguana and a turtle. He had a shell-like structure on his back. He also had hair on his head, styled in a mohawk. His humanlike eyes moved fast. His appearance was completed with worn sneakers, short cargo pants and a ragged t-shirt with the logo of a rock band. It was a poor attempt to cover the extensive tribal tattoos covering his shoulders, chest, and back. He was an Áak samoharo.
And it clicked for Fionn: This guy had some kind of specially-designed airship hidden under the canvas. But what nagged him was the fact that Sid was resting here, in the middle of the Emerald Island and not half a planet away. The samoharo were secretive with their technology. They had joined the war effort a century ago, when the war escalated, and had helped the Free Alliance. That had helped to even the odds against the Horde. The few samoharos that could be seen from time to time in ports around the world boasted that they were the best navigators in existence. Their legends said that they even navigated the stars eons ago, thanks to their special form of magick known as wayfinding. And unlike other reptiles on the planet, samoharo were warm-blooded and knew how to hold a grudge.
Alex and Gaby were acting friendly with Sid, hugging him and laughing at a few jokes. Then Sid got all serious. He was staring at Fionn, examining him. Fionn wasn’t bothered by people staring him, but this time it made him feel uneasy. He had seen that kind of look before when someone measures you while planning to kill you. And the description of ‘hunter’ that Alex gave him took on a new meaning. Whoever Sid was now, he had been an assassin before.
“I have seen Shorty there on the aethernet,” Sid pointed at Harland, who was clearly not amused. “But I haven’t seen you before. Who are you?”
“My name is Fionn Estel,” Fionn replied, not amused either but extending his hand nonetheless.
Sid gave him a good look once more and his eyes opened wide in realization. “Estel? The Greywolf from the war? I thought he was dead. Sir Lionel told us as much. Also that he was shorter,” Sid said to Alex with a snigger. “Oh man, Alex, you must be giggling from meeting your childhood hero.”
That wasn’t the kind of reaction that Fionn had expected either. But he had to admit that it made a nice change; instead of people being wary or scared, Alex, Gaby, and Sid had taken it all in stride. Well, Alex not so much.
“Sorta,” Alex replied with anger. He smacked Sid on the head, which started a slap fight between them. It was more comical than serious. Fionn pulled Gaby away, followed by Harland.
“Are they always like this?” Harland asked Gaby.
“Unfortunately, yes. They are like siblings. The same sense of humor, zero mouth filters. I apologize on their behalf.”
“Don’t worry, I’m used to the dwarf jokes,” Harland told her, waving the apology away.
“How do you know him? Seeing a samoharo outside the Hegemony is not common,” Fionn said.
“He is the hunter,” Gaby emphasized that word. “Who helped us during the incursion. It was thanks to him that we made it out alive. From there he became best friends with Alex and taught him how to fight. When Alex moved here he followed, with this whole thing. He is a good person. I trust him with my life.”
“What is he doing here? I mean in Ionis, besides building whatever he is building,” Harland interjected.
“We don’t know the exact details, but apparently he was expelled for disobeying orders. However, he seems to have retained enough clout and money to be left in peace. Apparently, he has a cousin that vouches for him in his homeland.”
“Who’s that cousin who has such power?” Fionn asked, intrigued.
“Have you heard of Yokoyawa?”
“The current titanfighting champion and a member of the Royal clan?” Harland exclaimed in surprise. Yokoyawa was considered one of the finest warriors the samoharo had, and had been adjunct ambassador to the Free Alliance.
“That one,” Gaby stated, looking at Sid, who was still slapping Alex. “I know. Hard to believe.”
“Now it all makes sense,” Fionn added. Only a former royal clan member would have enough money to finance such a project. “That explains most of the tattoos. Except for the one on the back of his neck.”
Fionn pointed at the design on Sid’s neck. It looked more like a burn than a tattoo. Gaby paused for a moment, looking at Sid with sadness.
“He doesn’t talk much about it. Samoharos have weird rules. It’s the mark of his banishment. It covers the mark of his clan. I guess he refused to hunt someone. Sometimes you are forced to do things that you don’t want to do, and refusing has consequences,” Gaby explained with a tight voice.
“You shouldn’t look all gloomy,” Fionn replied. “Take it from someone who has been there: Your training doesn’t define who you are, it’s what you do with it that does. And yesterday you helped a lot of people.”
“Thanks,” Gaby replied, grabbing his arm and smiling at him. She then left to break up the fight between Sid and Alex.
“Spoken like a true master to his apprentice,” Harland murmured to Fionn, standing next to him.
“Stop pushing it, Harland. It’s not happening. I won’t take a student again,” Fionn replied, not amused.
“Bullshit. You helped train the current Dragonking a few years ago. And then there is Sam.”
“That’s different. I was one of many teachers for the Dragonking. And Sam is family. We are talking about people with the Gift, and you know how it truly ended last time.”
“A waste of knowledge, and you know it,” Harland replied with anger in his voice. “It’s about damn time you get out of your head. These kids are not pampered princes. They can fight, you already saw that. They might be rough around the edges, but with the right guidance they could help. Especially if you are planning to drag them into this.”
“I’m not planning to drag them into anything.” Fionn trembled in anger. “As soon as we get to Ravenstone and find what we need, I will search for the professor and close the case. Alone. You can take them back home.”
“Sometimes I wish I could smack some sense into that thick head of yours,” Harland murmured. “For someone who has lived so long, you still have plenty to learn about life.”
Fionn glared at Harland. He wasn’t in the mood to have that conversation right now.
“Hey, wanna explain why all of you are here?” Sid interrupted them, approaching Fionn. “Because the kiddo is cursing me in my mother tongue, and I suspect this is not a social visit.”
“I was going to explain that to you before you tried to be funny,” Alex replied.
“Enough from both of you,” Gaby exclaimed. Alex
and Sid were going to say something but she shushed them.
Sid and Alex remained silent, shuffling their feet, embarrassed like scolded children.
“We need to go to a remote location, fast. As in needing to be there before the nightfall,” Fionn explained while Sid looked at Gaby with an eyebrow raised.
“You can trust them as I do. You can show them,” Gaby finished, appeasing Sid.
“Wello,” Sid said. “You have come to the right place. This is the Figaro.” He pulled a rope that lifted the canvas from the bulky object, revealing it to be a ship. “I have been rebuilding it from the carcass of an old mining ship, with the finest of samoharo and hooman technology and a bit of freefolk stuff. They do know their power couplings.” Sid was beaming with pride at his work.
The Figaro was unlike any other flying ship Fionn had seen before. It did not have a gas bag like a regular dirigible, but instead had three pairs of wings attached on the right side and three on left side of the fuselage, making it look like a bird… or a dragon. They were currently closed, but judging by the mechanisms, they could fully open once in flight. Behind each wing, on their back edge, were propulsors. On the sides, where the wings joined the fuselage, there were two horizontal exhausts, two meters wide. They opened to reveal several ion turbines in the back end, similar to those used in a warptrain. Both exhausts were large enough that they protruded from the back. Between them, there was a hatch that led to the cargo bay. Smaller thrusters were placed on the rear, belly, and front of the ship.
On the belly, there was an armored cockpit with protruding twin cannons. Similar cannons were placed on the top, in the front, and on the sides of the cockpit. Three massive domes of semi-transparent material could be seen on the top of the ship, two on the rear side and one in the front, near the upper cannon. The front of the ship, where the cockpit was placed, looked eerily similar to the head of a dragon, with a short square snout and glass panels instead of eyes. Below the glass panels, an open mouth was painted with baring teeth. The entire ship had a green and red paint scheme, completing the impression of a dragon.
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