by Lisa Daniels
“It seems far too luxurious,” the woman said with a sniff. “Be interesting to see how it fares in a real storm.”
“Well enough.” Janus gazed up at the lightning rods that adorned the top mast, designed to harness the power of lightning and contain it in a small, magical chest. Raw lightning sold well in some parts, where people preferred something called electricity to light witch orbs.
He figured the crew wanted extra money, and wouldn’t begrudge them the opportunity.
They really thought this woman was one of the best air witches, though? She seemed so light, he suspected even a faint breeze might knock her off her feet.
He hadn’t left the Isles in his entire lifetime here, though. Likely he’d be horrifically ill-equipped to deal with the unknown, but he didn’t want to stay on that floating death trap of an island, either. Pretending that the disease would eventually go away if he just ignored it. Sure, it might go away for some years.
But it seemed it’d always come back in the end.
The air witch vanished into the bowels of the skyship, and when he followed, he saw that she was impressed in spite of herself, seeing the bronze pipes lining the sides to provide additional heating from light witch magic, comfortable beds, and even two bathrooms, which could be filled up from rainclouds to provide warm baths. More than what a lot of ships had. They also had a communal eating hall, attached to the galley kitchens, and a recreational room which had classic games stored in it, and a couple of tables for batball.
“This is quite… the luxury ship,” the woman breathed, running her hands over the metal plating in the bowels of the ship. They mixed wood and metal for strength, intending not to stress the hoverstone more than necessary, as it empowered the ship to float. “Though it feels big, empty, and soulless. No one’s made any memories on this ship. Not like the Cloudstalker, which had so many memories you could feel them on the tip of your tongue.”
“Sounds like nonsense,” Janus said, stepping up beside her. He inhaled more of her scent, when he’d been catching only a faint suggestion of it before. He had a hard time placing it, really. The atmospheric pressure of rain before it’d fallen? How air tasted when cold, and the ground was covered with snow? Either way, it was natural, and he liked that about her. He could believe her to be a creature of the sky. Someone who’d spent their entire life with their head above the clouds.
“Evelyn,” Meridas said, his deep voice resonating through the chamber, “would you consider something like this ship difficult to move? Does the size change the effectiveness of your magic?”
“Not really. The hoverstone compensates for most of the weight. There will be more drag in a storm or hurricane, though, but it’s not hurricane season, as far as I’m aware. And you said you have a second air witch, so we can take breaks easier.”
“I was considering a third one, honestly,” Meridas said with a faint smile upon his thin lips. “But they are rather expensive, and also in short supply. If we paid for others like we paid for you, we’d have no money left for the expedition.”
“Expedition.” She folded her arms, regarding them both, dark eyes narrowed. “Why would you want to go to Zamorka? That’s like signing your own death warrant,” she said. “You—you really want to go to the land of demons?”
“Yes.”
“The land of the very same people who are plotting to probably destroy the Undercity and the Six Isles, and who were most likely involved with the fall of Jarithas?”
“Yes.” Meridas raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to protest further. “That is precisely where we’re going.”
“You’re a fool,” Evelyn said. “I’ve half a mind just to quit on the spot.”
“But you won’t, because you know what it’ll do to your reputation,” Meridas replied. “And yes, it may be considered foolish. But I’ve seen what the Creeping Rot does. I’ve also seen that a woman of Zamorkan descent was the only one who could do anything about it. She wasn’t, however, able to heal the island we sent her to—Karibos. It will collapse, perhaps in one week, perhaps in one year. But we did find out some clues. Which point to Zamorka. I assume you’ve heard about our report of the Red Woman?”
The air witch fell silent, chewing on her bottom lip.
Janus scowled. The mysterious Red Woman—some kind of ghost who turned up when the core of an island was dying. Who apparently could only be understood by someone who shared lineage with them. A Zamorkan.
Sky take those cursed Zamorkans from this planet.
Evelyn and Meridas continued their back and forth as they wandered back up to the top deck again, and Janus’ head was full of images of dead and dying people, all consumed by the Creeping Rot, which crept green veins along their victims’ skins and wasted away their bodies. Which left communities crippled, and drove people to desperation, similar to the street urchins below who grubbed day in and day out for a meager existence.
And now he banked his entire reputation, and a good chunk of his fortune, on this accursed trip. It had better pay dividends for the effort.
As he examined Evelyn again with mild interest, because the wind caught her hair and turned it into a chaotic tangle, an uncomfortable notion entered his brain.
There was a high chance that the air witches would suffer when entering Zamorka. If this Creeping Rot could be passed in the atmosphere, somehow… then that half-breed woman of Meridas’ needed to be fast when it came to healing.
He’d already ensured his own last will was ready. If anything happened to him on the trip that resulted in death, all his family’s wealth would go into an island-based fund, run by his most trusted accountants. A fund that would go to people like him. People who had lost everything once upon a time, but were willing to work hard to make up for such loss.
Hopefully, though, they’d all make it back out alive.
But it helped to always be prepared for the worst.
Chapter Three – Evelyn
Zamorka wasn’t exactly at the top of Evelyn’s list of planned locations to visit. If anything, she’d hoped to avoid such a place for the entirety of her existence. She’d heard quite enough about that place from the crews on the Cloudstalker, who usually spoke of it while making the sign of protection with their hands. Sure, sailors were a superstitious lot, always worried about upsetting the ship they rode in, treating it like it had a soul, and they loved their little trinkets—but surely, the fact that so many people talked about Zamorka in the same way, like it was where the monsters under your bed dwelled—there had to be some truth in it.
Yet now, almost all the crew were here, and the supplies loaded into the belly of the ship seemed like they’d last for months. Was that how long they anticipated the trip to be? Months and months?
She wondered if the royals of Azarus Isle approved of such a trip. Or whether this was at the discretion of Meridas and Janus. It probably explained why they needed that Janus to fund the trip, but of all the people who could have funded such a trip, she’d never expect a reputed miser like a Ruthe family member to do so.
She pictured Janus now, with those cold, dark eyes of his, the kind that looked like they were tiny repositories of a bad temper. His hair was a shade lighter than her liquid black, but not that much lighter. Not quite how she imagined a Ruthe to be. Especially one that had the ability to turn into a monstrous serpent. But she supposed they were still humans, at the end of the day.
The other air witch, Rukia, had an attitude which Evelyn thought immensely ill-fitting for someone about to travel into the jaws of death, with a trap probably waiting to snap shut on them. She engaged with the other crew members with an almost insufferable enthusiasm, and stared at the ship as if it was the single most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her life. When Evelyn had voiced annoyance of this enthusiasm to Meridas (politely, of course), he’d given her a smile.
“She was originally from the Undercity,” he had said. “So for her, everything is grand and fancy. She’s not used to seeing such wealth.”
Neither was Evelyn, but you didn’t see her going around the place, her eyes almost falling out with excitement. Rukia almost seemed to have a similar taint like the other Undercity foundling, Alex. Where Alex had dark hair with that tell-tale blonde streak, Rukia’s hair was a most unusual shade—a dark brown which appeared like a dark, muggy red in the right lighting. She could probably pass as a native in bad lighting, but out here, in full glare of the sunlight, it was obvious she, too, had impure heritage.
Two of Zamorkan descent, coming to Zamorka with them. Did they think they would be safe with these people?
Evelyn strode over instead to examine her new room, where fresh clothes had been placed in a small drawer, and a few of her small possessions from her time on the Cloudstalker lay on top of it. Just little mementos from the trips she’d made. Souvenirs to remind herself of all the places she had been.
Sitting on the small cabin bed, she regarded the wooden, box-shaped walls. More luxurious than her former ship, but still nothing compared to the fancy manor rooms people like Janus Ruthe and Meridas Dasenson were used to. There was a light witch heater in the wall as well, designed for her to put coffee granules in, to pour out into a cup.
Shame she hated coffee, really. Many air witches on their journeys loved stimulants to keep them up. But for Evelyn, she’d long since trained her mind to multitask everything, to stay supremely alert for long stretches of time, no matter how tedious the work was.
Because some hazards could hit out of nowhere, or be severely underestimated. They did have a barometer to help, of course, but… just no. No coffee. She remained in her room for a while, appreciating the opportunity to just think about nothing at all.
Two sharp raps to her door some indeterminable time later put paid to the bliss of nothing. She turned on her side and grunted a “Come in.” The door opened a second later and Alex walked in, already dressed up like an oversized hot water bottle. “Ship’s ready to go. I’ve been told to inform you that Rukia’s lifting it off and going. You prefer night shifts or something.”
“I’m not particularly bothered by what kind of shift I get,” Evelyn answered. “Since I’m usually used to being the only air witch on duty.”
“Okay.” Alex turned as if to go, before deciding otherwise. “What does an air witch do for entertainment on long trips?”
Evelyn shrugged, not willing to talk about herself so much. “Sleep. Eat. Listen to people. Sometimes get involved if they’ve got some gambling den going on, but I’m usually too busy to have that much time off.”
“You visit your family often?”
Evelyn gave a small sigh. “As often as I can tolerate them. Now, why don’t you ask me some questions with meat?”
The life witch’s mouth curled into a cold smile. “Is an air witch able to train a life witch in magic?”
“There we go.” Evelyn got off her cabin bed. “That’s more like it. And as for your answer—no. You need to be trained by someone who has the same branch of magic as you, or research it, or have that whole trial-by-error approach.”
Alex let out an irritated sound. “So I’ll just wait for more people to almost die before I get to practice. Exactly what I want.”
Good point. Evelyn regarded Alex for a moment. “I suppose we can at least deliberately injure ourselves, and see how you fare with it.”
“Shallow injuries, I can do.” Alex closed her eyes. “I used to do some healing on the streets, but I didn’t fully understand it. I healed a lot of minor injuries. Some diseases, as well. But I didn’t do it often, and… well, I’d like to be able to understand better how I can do it. But I don’t think serious injuries to members of the crew is a great way to start it.”
“I’m sure you can find some lummox who thinks having his arm cut off is worth a thousand circs or something. Can you heal a missing arm?”
Alex shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“We can always find out,” Evelyn said, grinning wickedly. She wouldn’t mind seeing the life witch in action. And it’d be a good way to discover the personalities lying in the crew. Always good to know who you worked with. “Let’s wait until an hour or so after lift-off, and we can go ask around. See if anyone’s on board with helping you with your powers.”
The smaller woman’s smile became softer, more genuine. “And who will be paying a thousand circs to have their arm cut off?”
“We can ask Meridas or Janus. I’m sure they won’t object to you getting better at your magic. Especially Meridas. You two seem pretty close.”
“We are.” She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need to. The ship gave a small, familiar lurch, as Rukia worked her magic upon the winds. The familiar coating of stable atmospheric pressure soon cocooned their ship, and the lurching turned into a smooth glide.
Not bad, Evelyn thought. Some air witches launched far less adroitly than that. She supposed Rukia had to be somewhat talented, to be picked out as a member of this crew. Probably not as talented as her, however.
Maybe this trip wouldn’t be completely terrible. Just when they finally crossed the seas into Zamorka.
* * *
Turned out, an awful lot of the crew didn’t mind getting themselves injured for money. Meridas had reluctantly agreed to front the bill, though he warned them of their minimal spending budget. Rukia and about four of the crew were currently working on deck, but the others were lounging in what they called the Rec room, or already delving into food supplies. They’d needed to drag Meridas along just so he could back up their statement and prove they were good for the money.
Prospective victim number one, Lowen Rivers, a sailor sporting far too many muscles and a long, braided black beard, volunteered to have his nail ripped off for 200 silver circs. The bolder members of the crew cheered, the more dignified watched in silence, including Janus, who had come down to see the life witch’s ability for himself.
Blinking with pain, Lowen held up a bloody finger for Alex, who took it and stared at the offending wound with no revulsion upon her features. A whisper of magic wrapped around her, alien to Evelyn’s senses, but holding the undeniable stink all casting had. For Evelyn, air magic felt like air itself—a breeze waiting to be manipulated. The wind felt alive to her, willing to fall under her command, and atmospheric pressure settled naturally upon her shoulders, acquiring the right composition for humans to survive.
Alex looked as if she were struggling to push past something, or as if she’d hit a solid wall. Her cheeks went red with strain, but Evelyn clearly observed Lowen’s nail regrowing, until it became a pristine version of its former self, with no dirt lodged underneath it. Lowen held up his hand with a roar of delight.
“Two hundred silver to me, boys and girls! Next port we stop at, I’m buying all the drinks!” Laughter, cheering and clapping followed, and Alex looked rather pleased with herself.
“So you can regrow a small body part, at least,” Evelyn said with a grin. “I wonder if anyone will volunteer to lose a little more than a nail…?”
“My ear,” someone said, pointing at an ear that more resembled a cauliflower than an actual ear. “I’m a bit deaf this side anyway. But I want more than two hundred for it.” The weedy-faced man jutted his jaw out in a determined manner, and Meridas let out a sigh.
“Four hundred silver circs for the ear, then.”
“Done,” the man said. Some people muttered, others cheered, and the man who had his nail cut off also volunteered, obviously wanting more money.
By the time Evelyn left the brightly lit room, Alex had successfully managed to regrow several ears and a couple of fingers, and someone was yelling that they could have their leg off and just work with a stump if needed. Evelyn didn’t plan to have any parts of her lopped off. She didn’t much like the idea of subjecting herself to someone else’s mercy, no matter if it did serve a good cause or not. Upon the deck, she noted that Rukia was doing something with the heat of the air as well, because despite being so high up, the air felt gentle and cool.
That’s pretty impressive. Evelyn could do it as well, but it ate through her energy reserves quite fast. Others didn’t burn their energy nearly as much. Couldn’t be perfect at everything, after all. Rukia herself chatted with a female crew member in the air witch alcove. The captain was at his wheel, inspecting a brass compass just above the wheel. No one inspected the sails or sat in the crow’s nest. They’d need more crew if the weather picked up. The view of the Undercity and the Six Isles hung behind them, growing smaller by the minute, leaving them traveling through open sky with the ground below so small, full of fields and twisted woodlands, belonging to people who’d never let themselves be absorbed by civilization. Small towns, nothing like the sprawl of the Undercity, existed in pockets.
Already she missed the views afforded by her old ship. And she dreaded the notion of making it to Zamorka, which she pictured in her mind like some shadowy blob of evil.
“Why aren’t you with the rest of the crew?” a deep, gruff voice asked. Evelyn checked to make sure it was addressing her, and saw Janus standing there, regarding her with keen, dark eyes. “Especially since what’s happening down there is entirely due to your suggestion.”
“I just needed some fresh air, is all,” she replied coolly. “And it does get a little crowded when everyone’s down there, chanting for body parts to be taken off.”
“One man offered to be castrated, last time I checked, but he wanted two thousand silver for such an action.”