The Servants of the Storm

by Jack Campbell

  How high had that ship been when it performed what the librarians called “orbital surveys”? Much, much higher than this. The thought made Mari momentarily dizzy.

  It was afternoon before they reached the outskirts of the Southern Mountains. Mari was at first interested in seeing how the foothills and lesser mounts looked from such a vantage, but as the Rocs flew deeper into the mountains strong air currents began to buffet them. Mari clung to her harness as Swift’s flight experienced sudden drops and abrupt rises, the steep sides and jagged rocks of the mountain peaks all around. As the wild motion created painful nausea, she found herself increasingly grateful for the fact that her stomach was nearly empty. At least that discomfort distracted her somewhat from the terror of being flung around the sky amid the jagged peaks, her body jerking against the harness that now seemed entirely too lightweight to hold her safely against such stresses.

  By the time the Rocs spiraled down toward a small, high valley resting like a bowl between three towering peaks, Mari felt like a piece of laundry that had been pummeled all day in cold water by unusually strong and enthusiastic washers wielding clubs.

  They landed on a thin layer of soil in which a few shrubs and clumps of weeds had taken root. A small stream trickled down from one of the peaks, fed by snowpack slowly melting. The valley was high enough that the air was still noticeably thin and chill. There was nothing even remotely idyllic or comfortable about this resting place. “At least I don’t have to worry about rolling off a ledge in my sleep,” Mari mumbled, looking at the rock walls rising on all sides.

  She slept that night huddled against Alain, the other two Mages fighting the cold by lying next to their Rocs.

  Awake before dawn for the third and hopefully last day of flight, Mari gazed blearily at the undimmed stars overhead before nerving herself to climb back onto Swift.

  The first part of the day was a brutal repetition of the day before, with the Rocs and their passengers jolted by vicious air currents that roamed the mountains like invisible giants who enjoyed slapping around anything within reach. But finally the mountains fell behind them, though the range still stood tall off to the west. Below the Rocs a great expanse of dirt, sand, and rock stretched to the north and east with little sign that humans had ever traversed it.

  With a shock, Mari realized that they were skirting the edge of the desert waste around Ringhmon. Having privately vowed never to come near Ringhmon again, her relief at leaving the mountains was tempered by fear that the Rocs might have to land in the waste because of a storm or other emergency.

  Late in the day, she caught sight far to the east of a low-lying bank of dark cloud that probably marked the smog hovering over Ringhmon.

  Mari thought she was catching occasional glimpses of sunlight reflected from the waters of the Sea of Bakre when the Rocs once more descended to land. Disappointed, Mari watched the details of the wasteland below grow larger as the birds flew lower. Was that—? “We can’t land near the train tracks,” she yelled to Mage Alera. “I don’t know what schedule they’re running now. One might come by and see us.”

  “The smoke snakes never do anything when they see us,” Alera yelled back. “Swift tells me this is the only place there is water.”

  Swift landed with a thump not far from a natural spring-fed pond. Mari unstrapped herself and fell off, barely feeling the sand and gravel under her. She struggled to her feet and gazed to the south, seeing the train tracks they had flown over tinted gold by the rays of the setting sun. They were only a few hundred lances away, and just beyond them were a small station house and a water tank for servicing locomotives running this route. Of course the Mechanics Guild had constructed a station house here, where there was water to be found. Normally there would only be a single Mechanic and an Apprentice occupying that station house. How many were there now with rebellion seething all around the Sea of Bakre?

  She was not surprised to see a Mechanic appear in the door to the station house, checking on the noise the Rocs had made when landing. The last thing she expected was for that Mechanic to then start walking steadily toward them.

  Alain, standing beside her, looked at Mari. “What is the Mechanic doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Mari said. “Mechanics Guild policy is that spell creatures can’t even exist, so any sightings of Rocs, dragons, or trolls are supposed to be ignored. But that guy is walking toward us in a way that means he is admitting the Rocs are here.”

  “If he desires to speak with Mages,” Alain said, “then it is best that he see only Mages.”

  “Good idea. That Mechanic can’t have made us out in any detail. You, Alera, and Saburo remove your armbands so you look like Mages still loyal to the Mage Guild.” The sun had slid behind the peaks of the western mountains as Mari faded back behind Swift, wondering how much the Mechanic had seen of her in the growing dusk.

  She drew her pistol, made sure it was ready for use, then waited, tense, worrying that she might have to shoot—might have to kill—a Mechanic whose only crime known to her was to be too inquisitive.

  The scrunching of the Mechanic’s boots on the gravel drew closer, halting so close that he must be facing Alain, who was now flanked by both Mage Alera and Mage Saburo. “Is there a message?” the Mechanic asked in tones which were so grudging and resentful that the words were a little hard to understand.

  Alain replied, his own voice impassive and devoid of feeling. “No. Is there a message?” he asked in turn.

  “My Senior Mechanics want to know what Mari is doing! Didn’t you come from the south?”

  “We do not concern ourselves with what Mechanics want,” Alain said, the blandness of his tones only adding to the insult of the words. It was a perfect imitation of the old Mage tactics for infuriating Mechanics.

  “Watch it, Mage,” the Mechanic growled. “Didn’t I see four people here?”

  “There is a common,” Alain said. “She offers us…entertainment.”

  Mari winced at that, knowing exactly what Alain meant, what any Mage would have meant not so long ago, when all Mages regarded other people as playthings at best. It hurt all the more because some Mechanics had been equally willing to mistreat the commons for their own amusement.

  This Mechanic apparently wasn’t one of those who cared little for commons. His voice quivered with rage. “If I didn’t have orders from the Senior Mechanics, I’d—" His words choked off.

  “Neither your Senior Mechanics nor the Mage Guild elders care what you think,” Alain said, his words cold and emotionless and thus striking harder.

  Mari worried that Alain had gone too far and prepared herself to leap out and fire if the Mechanic lost control of himself. But after a long pause she heard the sound of boots stomping away through the gravel and the growing darkness.

  She was putting away her pistol when Alain came walking around Swift’s back to join her. “Our former Guilds are working together in ways they never have before,” Alain said.

  “Yeah,” Mari agreed. “I was afraid you might have pushed that Mechanic too hard.”

  “I wanted to cause anger within him at both his allies in the Mage Guild and his own leaders,” Alain said.

  “And you succeeded admirably,” Mari said.

  “Is this what you call ironic?”

  She paused. “Is what ironic?”

  “The prophecy said that the daughter of Jules would unite Mages, Mechanics, and commons to free the world, but you have also united Mages and Mechanics to keep the world enslaved.”

  Mari laughed softly. “Yes. That is sure as blazes ironic. Are the birds all right?” she asked Alain. “I see Alera and Saburo fussing over their Rocs.”

  “The Rocs were created with much power,” Alain explained, “but they have used much on this journey. They will not last much longer. Perhaps two days.”

  “Oh.” Mari felt guilty, as if she were actually killing the huge birds with her demands upon them. But then another thought occurred that drove away all guilt and replace
d it with worry. “Can they just disappear in midair? While we’re riding them?”

  “In theory,” Mage Alera said, having heard the question. “But we can sense when our birds grow weak, and would land before then.”

  Already worn out, Mari spent a nervous night, waking up often to look toward the lights of the station house and listen for the approach of a train. But the Mechanic and the Apprentice who should also be in the station made no more appearances, the Mechanic apparently having had his fill of trying to communicate with Mages, and no trains passed by.

  They took off again before the sun rose, the Rocs winging northeast toward the sea. Mari felt tremendous relief as the desolate plains gave way to coastal salt marshes.

  The Rocs soared over the Sea of Bakre, the sun casting their shadows on the waves rolling in to strike the coast. Once well out to sea, with land still visible to the south, the birds turned and began flying parallel to the coast.

  The mountains dwindled as the coastline curved northeast toward the Imperial city and port of Landfall. Mari looked to the southeast as the Rocs followed the coast, thinking that inland a ways sat Longfalls, site of the Mechanics Guild prison. But she could do nothing for the prisoners there, nothing except try to win so that the Mechanics Guild, its power broken, would no longer be able to maintain such a prison.

  The birds kept going as the sun sank lower again, until sunset once more loomed near. Where could they land this time?

  Swift dipped suddenly, diving toward the sea. Mari, her heart seeming to have jumped into her mouth, tried to see around Alera. “What is it?”

  “The Pride,” Alera said.

  Mari looked to the side as Swift raced past the masts and sails of the Pride, the large ship gliding along the surface at a pace that Mari would once have characterized as fast. She caught glimpses of the flag the ship was flying, not Mari’s banner of the new day but that of an Imperial merchant ship, and of Mechanic Captain Banda waving from the quarterdeck. Up forward crouched the shrouded shape of the new heavy cannon. Mari knew that Alli had personally overseen the reinforcement of the Pride’s hull to withstand the shock of that gun firing, but still worried about it. Amidships, the stack for the new steam boiler had been lowered to lie flat on the deck so that the Pride appeared to be a regular sailing ship to anyone spying her. A heavy tow line led to the Terror, most of the strange vessel lurking below water but dimly visible from above.

  Swift came around again in a long, slow turn as the Pride put one of her boats into the water. The sun was sinking below the western horizon, throwing a glare into Mari’s eyes as she looked toward the Pride. But as the Roc finished its turn, the sun set and the darkness to the east began spreading overhead.

  Swift skimmed along just above the surface, heading back toward the Pride. It still looked too high to jump as far as Mari was concerned, and the water beneath was going past entirely too fast for her peace of mind. “Release your harness,” Alera called back. “I will tip up Swift so you can slide off his back.”

  That didn’t sound like something she really wanted to happen, but Mari loosened the straps of her harness. She also unbuttoned the heavy coat, and reached back to open the laces on her shoes.

  “Are you ready?” Alera asked.

  No! “Yes!”

  Swift’s wings flared, braking the bird and flinging his head and body up as the tail dropped. For a moment, Swift hung suspended above the waves before his wings beat again, propelling the Roc upward. It took all of Mari’s control not to grab at the harness as she slipped down the feathers and off the Roc, nothing between her and the water below.

  She hit the water feet first. Stunned by the impact, Mari shrugged out of the coat and kicked off her shoes, struggling toward the surface, hoping she would make it and that the boat from the Pride was nearby.

  * * * *

  Alain stayed on Mage Saburo’s Roc, watching Mari drop into the water with a mighty splash. “Take us to where she fell,” he yelled at Saburo. “I want to drop as close to that spot as possible.”

  The Roc winged over, gliding lower.

  “Now!” Saburo called. The Roc tilted upwards and Alain fell.

  He saw Mari surface not far away just before he hit the water and sank deep.

  Alain had shed his robes already, and now slipped off his shoes as well, stroking inexpertly but without panic toward the surface. It seemed to be much farther away than he had expected, and as the darkness in the sky grew it was harder to tell which way was up. Holding his breath was getting painful.

  One hand broke the surface and he realized that he had been swimming just beneath the surface rather than up toward it. Alain jerked himself upwards and got his head clear of the water, inhaling deeply. Looking around, he saw the Pride’s boat not far away, a lantern on the bow casting light forward. “Here!” Alain called, waving one arm. “Where is Mari?”

  “We already have her.” Within moments the boat had pulled up to him, the rowers on Alain’s side taking care not to brain him with their oars before he was helped into the boat. “Welcome back to the Pride, Sir Mage,” Mechanic Deni greeted him.

  Alain sat down in the stern next to a wet, bedraggled Mari, who instead of expressing relief glared at him. “Why did you try to kill me?”

  “I did not,” Alain protested.

  “I finally get back to the surface, I finally start breathing, and a certain Mage comes plummeting down into the water, his feet landing practically on my head!”

  “I was not that close,” Alain said.

  “It felt really close.”

  “I wanted to be able to help you.”

  She grinned. “I’m kidding, Alain. I’m so glad that is over.” Mari looked upwards. “I can’t see the Rocs. Did either of them say where they were going?”

  “To the mountains of the Sharr Isles,” Alain said. “Their Rocs are tired and will cease there, but once Mage Alera and Mage Saburo have rested they will be able to renew their Rocs and fly back to the coast near here.”

  “Good.” Mari shivered, leaning against him in a way that made Alain happy. “I’m cold and tired and this adventure has just started.”

  The boat came alongside the Pride. Alain let Mari go up the ladder first, then followed, finding that Mechanic Dav and Mage Asha were waiting on deck along with Captain Banda. “How was it?” Dav asked.

  “It was great!” Mari said. “See how I can barely stand? I need dry clothes, a soft place to sit, and warm food.”

  Not long afterwards they were seated in the cabin next to Captain Banda’s, Mari and Alain huddled together in a blanket as they ate. “How was your trip?” Mari asked Dav and Asha.

  “Long and uneventful,” Dav said. “Ash and I spent most of our time trying to find out as much as we could about the part of the Empire we’ll be going through.”

  “Ash?” Alain said.

  Asha gave him a bland look. “It is a friend name that Mechanic Dav uses. Between ourselves,” she added, her tones staying largely emotionless but still causing Dav to wince apologetically.

  “We’ll stick with Asha then,” Mari said, amused by something that Alain did not understand. “How far from Landfall are we?” she asked.

  Banda gestured to the north. “Another day’s travel. Dav and I will transfer to the Terror in the morning to get her boiler going. Mage Asha will come with us to help get everything ready. We’ll maintain a pace to arrive near Landfall as darkness falls, go in as close as we dare, then cut loose the Terror.”

  “Alain and I can help with that,” Mari said.

  “Yes,” Alain agreed.

  “Take the day to recover,” Banda advised. “Tomorrow night will be a very long night.”

  * * * *

  By the time Alain awoke much of the next day had already passed. Mari was still asleep, so he quietly put on the new Mage robes the Pride had brought along for him and went out on deck.

  All that could be seen of Imperial territory was a thin gray line on the horizon to the east, but Alain cou
ld see the masts of numerous ships which were close enough to be spotted. “We’re getting close to Landfall,” Mechanic Deni told him as Alain walked onto the quarterdeck. “There’s always a lot of traffic around that port. As long as it’s still light, we’re trying to stay far enough from any other shipping to keep anyone from wondering about that mess of driftwood following us around.”

  Alain looked over the stern. Two heavy lines formed low arcs that ran from the back of the Pride to the front of the Terror. As Deni had said, the parts of the strange craft above water had been well concealed by what looked like a tangled mess of branches and logs that had locked together. One log rose incongruously nearly straight up, though. “Why is that one positioned so oddly?” Alain asked.

  “That’s the stack for the boiler,” Deni said. “Made to look like a weathered log. Once you get into the harbor at Landfall the swells will be gentle enough that the stack will be lowered onto its side and look more natural. There are a few other branches that are hollowed out the same to serve as air intakes and exhausts. It’s a funny-looking ship, but the design has all sorts of clever touches like that. The Captain, Mechanic Dav, and Mage Asha are all aboard, getting the ship ready.”

  Deni turned to judge the position of the sun. “You can let Master Mechanic Mari rest a while longer. We’ll start our run in toward the port soon, but it will be well after dark before we’re close enough for the two of you to transfer to the Terror.”

  As it turned out, Mari didn’t rouse until nearly sunset. That was just as well, since once she had dressed and they had both eaten there was nothing to do but wait.

  As they stood at the rail of the Pride, looking at the lights of other ships visible in the night, Mari shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably. “They had a Mechanics jacket for me,” she explained to Alain, “but it’s new and stiff. I miss my old one. I’ve been through a lot in that jacket.”

  “You feel an attachment to an article of clothing?” Alain asked.