by Lisa Daniels
“Not many people are willing to go to the little people’s places,” Evelyn said, knowing she sounded arrogant, but convinced of her own ability. “Not many air witches are capable of the endurance it requires. Because they don’t know how to conserve their magic effectively.”
Reginald smiled, brown eyes sad. “Well… the skies know you’re fantastic with this ship. I just… well… wish this wouldn’t be your last run with us.”
Evelyn’s expression soured. “I don’t blame you. I’d do it as well.” A part of her still felt bitter he’d agreed, all the same.
Turned out a witch of her talents had something very keen to buy her off the crew. To the point where the buyer offered sums of money beyond anything they were accustomed to making with several years of hard work. It made sense. The people of the Cloudstalker weren’t getting any younger. Some of them were slower with their reactions in attending to the little emergencies a ship might encounter during long-distance travel. Some wanted retirement, and Evelyn’s former friend, a deckhand by the name of Ufus, had long since decided sailing wasn’t for him.
“We had to get one last little island run,” he said. “As a… tribute. It will be strange not to see you here.” His eyes traced the etched patterns in the wood around Evelyn. Badly drawn pictures of sky dragons and ships and clouds, with a gradual improvement in them over time. “But I’m sure your parents and grandparents will be delighted.”
“They are,” Evelyn said, now tugging out a black snarl of hair from her scalp and letting it drift into the currents. “They’re all happy that one of the six noble families has hired me. They’ve already moved location, and when I meet them, they do nothing but babble incessantly about how wonderful their new houses are, how I’ve brought such honor upon them.”
Her mouth twisted. Not like they’d earned any of it themselves, but they gained the rewards of her hard efforts anyway. She was the one who had learned magic, who had discovered her gift for it. She was the one who had to listen to them prattle on about how her purpose was to honor the family, while they spent all their time undercutting taxes and being paid under the table. She was the one who spent sometimes weeks on ships, carefully managing her power through storms and ice sleets and chaos, keeping the crew alive. Then there was that mysterious death of her uncle, the rich one, and the subsequent squabbling of five family members who wanted the money for themselves.
They deserved nothing. But the rules of the Six Isles dictated that ten percent of her earnings went to her immediate family’s bank anyway.
She supposed it made sense on a level, though. And she did enjoy her job. It just… it would be nice not to feel like some kind of trade commodity herself.
All too soon, they touched down upon Dasen Island, ready to unload all the goods. Ready to hand her over to a new, unfamiliar ship, and a new master. At the docks, they were already rooting through the paperwork, and when she got off, she had to watch as her captain formally signed her over and received a writ of money—ensuring the deal was completed.
People she’d been familiar with—Old Janker and Macius—everyone who’d been sailing the Cloudstalker for decades, waved her goodbye. Reginald gave her a hug, too, with his big bear arms, and her last payment for running with him in a little pouch. Evelyn wondered if the new air witch would get on with the crew so well, or if she’d even be capable of long-distance travels.
Her new masters strode up to her. They were a strange, motley group. Two men from noble families—ones who could shift into dragons. Meridas Dasenson, tall and solid in his own right. Responsible for putting forth mechanisms to halt the Creeping Rot, a disease that devastated magic users.
Then there was the hard-faced witch behind him with short dark hair and a streak of yellow in it. Alex of the Undercity. The little prodigy, the Life Witch, servant of Meridas. The third one, Evelyn recognized with a start of surprise, even fright.
Janus Ruthe. A noble from Ruthen Isle.
I knew I was being hired by Meridas… but why is he here?
Ruthen Isle was well known as a high-tax nightmare. Anyone planning to trade there needed to pay ridiculous fees, yet those on Ruthen were the only ones who traded in certain goods in the Six Isles. The kind of goods that destroyed people’s lives down in the Undercity, and that a few of the upper class took until their own destructions. Yet this son of one of the richest families in the Isles was standing here, clearly a part of the group picking her up.
“Greetings,” Meridas said, sticking out a hand for her to shake. She took it dubiously, not feeling a particular inclination to be friendly. “I’m Meridas. This is Alex. This is Janus. Glad to have you on board.”
“Thanks,” Evelyn said, swallowing down her impulse to snap at him. “I’ve heard about your exploits. I’ve also heard about… you.” Her gaze slid to Alex.
The life witch’s mouth twitched upwards, though it appeared condescending. “I’ve heard about you, too. Apparently, you’re one of the best for long-distance traveling in the Six Isles.”
This Alex clearly had the mannerisms of the Undercity, yet Evelyn found her attitude now slightly more interesting. She had a faint trace of the boroughs in her accent. “You heard that, did you? Glad to know some people are paying attention to me.”
“You had the highest marks in the practical exams. My tutor’s showing me all the witches who were trained up here. Meridas, here, meanwhile, was seeing who he could buy out of the sky…” Alex raised her eyebrows at Meridas, who gave a rather guilty-sounding cough, in Evelyn’s opinion.
“You’re about to have a wonderful time with us,” Alex continued, still wearing a wry smile upon her face. “You get to come with us to Zamorka.”
Blinking rapidly, Evelyn’s brain refused to register what she’d just heard.
“What?”
“That was my reaction, too,” Janus said from next to her.
Zamorka? The place across the sea where demons and curses originated?
That Zamorka? “You’re joking, right? We’re not traveling there.”
“Unfortunately, we are.” Alex rubbed behind her ear. “Time to find out if those rumors have any weight behind them, I suppose.”
Chapter Two – Janus
He hated having to go to other people to ask for help. Janus enjoyed the reputation Ruthen Isle generated. Intolerant of the lazy. Hard workers who managed to scrimp and scrape from a beginning of nothing to wealth and riches. While people like Meridas lived comfortably under the wings of their relatives, even with the fall of Serpent Isle, he had nothing. He’d been a ward to the childless Gevard Ruthe instead, and Gevard had him working from day one.
At least, until a few months ago.
When it all went wrong.
It’d been galling to even ask for help, but Meridas and his little life witch were the only ones on board with the whole situation. The only ones actively trying to stop the Creeping Rot from killing them, and to find a way to make sure it never re-emerged. The thought of approaching Meridas in the court still burned a sense of humiliation in him. People seeing it with their own eyes. The proud son of Ruthen Isle, crawling to someone else for assistance.
But sky take them all. His pride wasn’t worth more loss.
Though he’d been tempted just to let it all slip past him, anyway.
Right now, he and Meridas walked outside to inspect the brand-new ship lodged in the sky port. It stood out, even among the other vessels. Most vessels were smaller and had much less storage space under the deck. The Elegant looked like it’d comfortably house a crew of twenty for many weeks—which, coincidentally, would be the size they planned to take with them. “Thanks for helping us fund the trip,” Meridas said with his hands tucked into his pockets. “Even with the data we’ve collected about the Creeping Rot so far, many people have an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ attitude. Even less actually want to attempt what we’re planning...”
“I have half a mind not to agree to what you’re planning, either,” Janus said, exami
ning the Elegant’s sleek, black exterior and five sails with an appreciative eye. “But it’s equally obvious that unless we do something to break the pattern of disaster we’re seeing, then at some point, there won’t be six islands. There’ll be craters in the Undercity instead.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who cares about that,” Meridas said lightly, watching a crew member scuttle onboard with a crate of food. “Your island doesn’t really carry a reputation of warmth.”
“Yes, well… generally we don’t have people dropping dead,” Janus said. He closed his eyes, seeing his adoptive father and mother both lying in bed together, refusing to be separated. His adoptive father screaming at him to leave, before he got infected as well.
That image haunted him, because he remembered one other set of parents who didn’t want him infected, either.
He hadn’t forgotten that promise he made to himself back then. And watching the Ruthes succumb to the same accursed disease made him yet more adamant to do something. To do whatever it took.
Janus needed a way to fix the mess before it got worse.
“I am, at least, self-interested enough not to want another island to fall,” Janus said with a tight smile. “My fortunes are there. And you’re the only one offering to do something about it.”
“True,” Meridas said. “I was most surprised when you threw all that money at me, though.”
“I thought it might grab your attention.”
Truthfully, he’d wanted to buy the life witch off Meridas, but a few well-placed spies told him that they were a couple. Meridas wouldn’t sell his lover for anything. Plus, one little life witch couldn’t bring back the dead or heal all the rapidly dying magic users in time. No, they needed preventive measures. And this… trip, ludicrous as it was, might provide answers they sorely needed.
Or kill them all.
“At least we’ll be in relative comfort when we travel. This is a fine ship of yours, Janus.”
“I doubt we’ll keep it for very long, given where we’re going,” Janus said with a snort. “Doesn’t help that half the crew are scholars. People who haven’t seen a day of physical work in their lives.”
“That’s because their work is with the mind,” Meridas said rather dryly, but didn’t make any real effort to contradict him. “With a life witch on board, we hope that if anyone does fall sick, she’ll be able to tend to them fast enough with such a small crew. And we have two air witches in our crew, both renowned for their long-distance skills.”
“What about their fighting?”
At this, Meridas shrugged. “I’m the dragon, here. I’ll do the fighting.”
“Not alone, you won’t,” Janus said with a grin. “And I bet I’ll fight a cursing sight better than you, you overpainted fop.”
A noise behind them caused their attention to shift elsewhere, and they turned to see the brand-new hire, the surly-looking air witch with long, curly black hair and eyes the color of coals. She did have a rather striking manner about her, and that hair of hers seemed to explode in thick curls—more volume in it than he’d ever seen in his entire life.
“Fancy-looking ship,” she said in her cultured voice, wrapping around her like the winds she controlled. “And much bigger than my former one. Can’t be more than a year old, surely?”
“The last of the wooden timbers were placed just four months ago,” Janus said, nodding towards her. “It was intended to be a family traveling ship, but we ended up losing a few members of said family. Might as well use it for something else.”
“Oh, hmm.” She blinked rapidly at his statement. “Right. I knew about the, uh, blockade to Ruthen Island, but not why...”
“Now you know.”
The dark-robed woman stepped up the gangplank onto the huge ship, clearly intending to inspect it. Janus and Meridas followed, observing as she went to the air witch alcove, complete with a small chamber for the off-duty witch to sleep in, and the finest, softest seating arrangements, along with a shelf of books and a small service bell if she wanted to get food or drink without leaving the confines of the alcove. Crew members bowed to Janus, though he knew none of them—he only paid an accountant, who then filtered the money to the hired crew. The captain was supposed to be some rugged expert that his father had trusted, but since he didn’t really travel on skyships, he didn’t have a lot of interaction with said captain.
“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.”
“Yo
u’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.