The wind picked up and tossed back my hair, my favourite part of flying.
After what must have been an hour or so, I began to realise why travelling strapped to a harness wasn’t ideal. My shoulders and thighs began to feel a little constrained and I was sweating underneath the straps. I wanted to loosen them somewhat, but I thought sliding around in the seat would only make things worse.
The fog had now lifted. The sun was even more searing, not just from above but also from its reflection in the water. Admittedly, the wind provided a little alleviation from the heat. But the harness strap and the back of the seat blocked off a lot of the airflow, causing me to sweat even more. I had to put up with this for the sixteen hours it took to reach Fraw, through sunset and sunrise. I just couldn’t wait for the coolness of night.
The armour made me feel that I was a little more distant from Velos as well, as I could no longer feel his scales against my skin. Every so often. I found myself muttering under my breath, “is everything okay, Velos?” And I’d stroke the leathery skin underneath his steering fin. Even though I couldn’t feel the croon rumble through his body anymore, I just felt deep inside that he didn’t mind his situation one bit.
Every so often, I also remembered the song that I’d sung to Velos the other day, when I was drinking the brandy. Then, I would sing what I remembered, and for a moment, Velos’ wings would relax, and then he’d soar in the sky a little before resuming the slow, steady beat of his wings.
Eventually, the outline of the Southern Barrier came into view. First came the glint off the ironclad flotillas and the tiny armed Hummingbird automatons that darted around the boats like wasps. All who travelled this way knew the rules. Anyone flying over or sailing through had to do so via one of the designated checkpoints on the islands. The spaces in between were guarded by boats with automaton technology, connected to air-torpedo launchers that could shoot anything larger than a seagull out of the sky.
Soon, I could see the coast of Fraw, the white foam lapping against the golden shores. There was no vegetation on this island; there was not much on any of the Southern Barrier islands, really. Here, the land segued from golden sandy beaches into a mosaic of red mudflats and then rocky grey hills.
The checkpoint stood between two brass watchtowers, with automaton technology built into them, so they could scan anything that passed nearby. To the outside of these, a line of ground-based shrapnel-flak automatons could shoot down anything that tried to veer from the checkpoint. A military airship was buoyed to the base of each tower, both of them bobbing up and down in the air as we approached.
I pulled back on Velos’ central steering fin to brace him for passing through the checkpoint, and he slowed down a little.
“So, this is it,” Sukina said once the wind had eased off. “I have to admit, I’ve never flown through one of these checkpoints.”
“No?” I asked.
“I’ve never been a big fan of airships. And you can probably imagine why I wouldn’t pass a dragon through here.”
Faso said something from the back, but he was too far away for me to hear.
The men at the top of both towers waved two green flags to signal us through. I pulled down on Velos’ steering fin to speed him onwards. This was part of the ritual – pretending to this man I had no respect for authority, in the hope that one day he’d call me in. The wind picked up around us as Velos gained speed and was soon whipping my hair back again. Behind me, Sukina was grinning and Faso looking a little green.
We approached the tower faster than most would, but these men knew who I was and so I could do this out of habit now. I turned my head to my left and got my smile ready for the man who I expected to see in the window, a handsome dark-curly-haired thing. Often, I’d wondered if I should just stop by and visit him at his post. But then that would ruin the mystery of not knowing who the hell he was.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t him that I glimpsed behind the glass, but a middle-aged plump and toothy faced man, not looking happy to see us. Just as we passed, he was turning towards the big red button on the wall.
Soon enough, the alarm was sounding and Hummingbirds, two or three dozen of them, swarmed out of the airships and formed a wall in front of us. Part of me wanted to barrel right through them, testing the armour Faso had installed. But I did want to return home eventually and I certainly didn’t want to impede my chances. Besides, I reminded myself, Sukina’s harmless. She couldn’t be a terrorist, surely.
“To your left, Pontopa,” Sukina said, and I swung round to see the mooring rope swinging in the air no longer connected to the ground. The airship’s propeller fans were making a racket and the balloon was careening fast towards us.
I turned Velos away from the Hummingbirds, towards the airship’s flight path, ready to level out against it. Soon enough, a voice bawled out from the airship’s loudspeaker. “You are harbouring a terrorist. On King Cini III’s command, we order you to land.”
I looked back into Sukina’s wide eyes, her knuckles white against the handlebar in front of her.
“Land, damn you!” Faso shouted from the back. “Whatever the consequences of this, it’s better than being shot out of the sky.”
I don’t know what had possessed me to even hesitate, to be honest. Maybe, instinctively, I felt that Sukina really was in trouble and I didn’t want her to get caught. “Sukina, what should I do?” I asked.
She didn’t seem as anxious as Faso and me, looking at the airship with narrowed eyes, her hand on her chin.
“Land,” she said firmly. “We’ll deal with things on the ground.” And I nodded and pushed down on Velos’ steering fin.
As we came further in to land, I looked down at the sky-torpedo launchers and shrapnel-flak automatons. There must have been one every hundred or so yards. The Hummingbirds had come closer now, and they had their spark-guns pointed at each of us. If we even raised our flasks to augment, they’d shoot. The automatons guided us down to a landing platform just south of the fortress housing Fraw’s marines. There, accompanied by two soldiers, a tall and lithe blue-suited officer stood waiting for us, tendrils of smoke rising from the cigarette he held towards the floor.
8
As soon as Velos touched down on the ground, the officer motioned his two guards forward while he kept his rifle trained on Sukina. Really, Velos could have roasted them alive if I’d only shouted the command. But we were still surrounded by those armed Hummingbird automatons, darting around us in every direction. Even if Velos had his armour, we had nothing to stop ourselves being shot off our saddles. Plus, I wasn’t a murderer.
Sukina climbed off the ladder first and I followed her down to the ground, Faso going last. The guards forced us to hand over our hip flasks, then frisked us. They didn’t want us augmenting when they weren’t looking – all it would have taken is one sip of the secicao oil and we might get enough superhuman speed to disarm them in an instant.
As the guard frisked Faso, Ratter started doing a little dance around his suit. It used its extra feet to cling on to the fabric and scurried away from the guard’s hands whenever they came close, always staying out of their sight.
After the frisking, we handed everything over, including our passports, and the Hummingbirds then left us and buzzed back towards the hatches on the gondolas of the two airships.
A hut stood in front of us, with a corrugated blue-painted tin roof. Just beyond that were the two customs towers, with a guard seated at each lookout point. Behind us loomed Fraw fortress with artificial escarpments rising in front of its four stone towers. The building housed over two hundred marines and thousands upon thousands of Hummingbirds, on-call in case any dragons decided to attack the island from the south.
“I demand an explanation,” Sukina said. “You accuse me of being a terrorist, but we’re just three innocent travellers heading south for mutual research purposes.”
The guards moved back towards the officer, keeping their rifles trained in our direction. They dropped th
e hip flasks into a box by his feet and then gave the officer our passports. The officer ignored our forest green ones, and instead opened up Sukina’s red passport to the first page and examined it with an eyeglass.
“Seliano Artino, I see…” he said. “Our orders have been to look out for a woman of your physical description by the name of Sukina Sako. You must wait there until my superior arrives.” He looked at his pocket-watch. You would have thought that if Sukina was so important, the guard would have recognised her immediately. But the guy just didn’t seem to know what was going on.
“What’s taking him so long?” Sukina asked.
The officer shrugged. “Biscuit break, I guess. What kind of device is that?” He pointed at Ratter who had just perched itself on Faso’s shoulder, its red crystal eyes focused on the officer. Faso looked down at it disdainfully. Clearly, he hadn’t wanted Ratter to do that.
“It’s my very own invention,” Faso said. “Programmed to protect me when I’m under threat.”
“Disable it immediately!”
“What? Why would I disable my only protection when I have a gun pointed right at me?”
“I said disable it! Unless you want a bullet in your head.”
Faso moved his hand towards his pocket.
“Slowly! Keep your hands where I can see them.”
Faso carefully lifted his hand the rest of the way towards his shoulder. He tapped Ratter four times, pausing slightly before the last tap. Ratter buried himself inside Faso’s left sleeve.
“Hand the automaton over,” the officer said. He signalled one of his guards to move forwards.
“I’ll do no such thing,” Faso said. “That’s my life’s work. You’ve insulted me enough by ordering us to land when we’re on a mission under edict of the king. Here, I have the papers.” He reached into his pocket.
“I said, put your hands where I can see them!”
Faso put his hands to his sides and scowled. “Cini will have your head for this, you know?”
“I don’t think he will… And I remind you who’s in charge here.”
Reluctantly, Faso shook out his arm until Ratter tumbled into the guard’s hands. “Look, just let me get my papers. You should see them too.”
The officer gave Faso a nod. “Slowly,” he said.
Faso reached carefully towards his pocket. From there, he produced a manila envelope. The guard took this, strode back to the officer, gave him the documents, and dropped Ratter on the floor. The officer opened the envelope, took the contract, scanned it and then turned to the page that contained the king’s seal.
“Which one of you is Pontopa Wells?” he asked.
Before I could utter a word, Faso butted in. “That’s her.” He pointed at me. “And I’m Faso Gordoni. No doubt, you’ve heard of my genius. I’m famous and still you treat me like dirt.”
The officer didn’t seem particularly interested. “Miss Wells,” he said, clearly sick of Faso’s whining. “Your dragon is registered at our station but who is your third passenger?”
I looked at Sukina who looked surprisingly calm given the situation. She nodded a confirmation and, instinctively, I knew exactly what to say. “This is Seliano Artino, a biologist. She’s coming south to help with some research we need to improve our secicao refinement process.”
The officer turned to Sukina and studied her. “And, why do you travel, Miss Artino? I want to hear the words from your own mouth.”
“I write about dragons and wish to research their relationship with the secicao down there. In return, I’m also going to help these two in their harvesting operations for the king. That’s understandable, isn’t it, officer?”
The officer squirmed. “Hang on a moment.” He took hold of his talkie on his belt and spoke into it. “Captain Orson, I’ve performed the initial inspection and we’re awaiting your arrival. What’s your ETA?”
I couldn’t quite hear the words over the talkie, partly due to the fact that Sukina started singing as soon as the officer was distracted. But I did recognise Sukina’s song. It didn’t have a tune, as such, but the way the music segued from one harmony to the next sounded just like what I’d sung by the tree that day.
It was simply a pastiche of notes, in which Sukina’s lilting voice blended into a natural meditative harmony. This lifted me into a trance, and I imagined Varion with his silver staff and apple calling down his Grey from the sky. I felt as if I could drift away from my mind and travel into Velos’ mind, calming the dragonfire that had built inside his stomach, his emotions raging due to our captivity. Or perhaps my mind could find its way towards the three score Greys that I somehow knew to be circling over the ocean somewhere nearby.
The officer lifted his head from and pointed his rifle at Sukina. “You, what did you do?”
“I just felt like singing,” Sukina said. “That’s how they chant in the North Eastern Ranese temples, you know.”
“And why sing at a time like this?”
“To keep me calm in a moment of crisis, of course. Why do you hold guns against people who intend you no harm?”
The officer tugged at his collar. “Just don’t try any funny business.”
A voice came back over the talkie, but it was again too faint to hear. A door opened at the top of the right-hand customs tower and a portly man emerged. He scurried down from the tower at an unbecoming speed, considering his size.
“Don’t move a muscle,” the officer said. “Captain Orson will be here soon.”
“You know,” Faso said. “There was once a time that prisoners of status were treated with a little civility. You could at least make us a cup of tea.”
The officer didn’t reply but stared Faso down with a hard look. Faso fell into a slouch and looked away. My gaze drifted to the captain, now sprinting towards us at a much slower speed than he had come down the ladder at.
The officer’s talkie crackled, and an urgent voice came much louder this time. “Dragons,” it said, “coming from the south. Requesting red-alert. Requesting red-alert.”
The officer screwed up his eyes and glared at Sukina. I hazarded a look over my shoulder to see a V-shaped line in the sky, like a flock of geese but longer. The portly captain stopped in his tracks and, since Sukina had stopped her singing, I could make out his words over the talkie.
“Granted,” the captain said. “Soldiers, take your stations. Hopkinli, stay put with the prisoners.”
The officer nodded and put down his talkie. He turned back to us. “You heard what Captain Orson said.”
The captain was now running back to his station, much fleeter of foot now in his panicked state. He climbed the ladder even faster than he had climbed down. From the fort, klaxons sounded. I suppressed the instinct to raise my hands to my ears since we’d been warned about any rapid movements. The officer took a step towards Sukina.
“If I find that you’d had a part to play in this then I won’t hesitate to hang you from the custom towers. The three of you!”
“How exactly can we be involved in this, officer?” Sukina asked.
The officer opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a roar from behind. A grey dragon rose up from behind the fortress, whose parapets were now limbed in fresh flame. Mortars boomed around us and steam-powered surface-to-air missiles screamed into the sky. One seemed to pass awfully close to the Grey, which managed to evade just in the nick of time to return to its flock circling over the fort. Then, the shrapnel-flak cannons started to create their own roar, and black clouds enveloped the sky, full of floating shards of metal that would tear through anything that tried to pass through – airship or dragon alike.
The officer again lifted his talkie, which gave Ratter from its position at the officer’s feet an opportunity to take advantage of the situation. The automaton moved faster than a squirrel. It scurried over to the box on the ground. Then, in a motion that seemed to defy gravity, it sprang up onto its tail, took Sukina’s hip flask in its jaws, and launched it towards her.
“Halt!” one of the guards shouted.
But Sukina already had the flask in hand. She flipped up the top and took a swig of her secicao oil blend. A guard fired at her, but Sukina spun out of the way almost faster than the eye could see, her blend clearly augmenting her reflexes. Then she was running towards the guard that had fired, her speed three times that of a normal man, and a faint green glow now visible beneath her skin.
Before the guard could lower his rifle, Sukina took hold of it and backflipped, kicking the guard in the chest and knocking him back against the wall. The other guard was turning towards her, just as she used the momentum from the flip to launch her procured rifle at his knees. It hit him there with a crack. The soldier groaned and tumbled forwards onto the floor.
Sukina drew two curved daggers from her garters and stood in a half-crouch, breathing heavily, as if waiting for the officer’s reaction.
And he didn’t hesitate. He popped the top off his hip flask and raised it to his lips. But Sukina was already upon him. She knocked him unconscious with two blows to the side of the head from the handles of the daggers.
By this point, the second guard had managed to lift himself onto all fours and reached out for his rifle. But he wasn’t fast enough. Sukina had already drawn a concealed dart from her hip, which she threw at him. It burrowed into his shoulder and, after a couple of seconds, the guard collapsed under his own weight.
My jaw dropped, astounded. I mean, I’d seen soldiers augment before, but I’d never seen anyone use their augmented abilities to their advantage in such a graceful way. Sukina had moved with all the ferocity of a wild animal. Many would become incredibly clumsy once they augmented using oil, not being able to handle the sudden abilities they gained. It could make them pretty dangerous. Which is why King Cini III tended to keep military-grade secicao oil out of the hands of normal men. And which is also why it was incredibly important to get the blend right.
Dragonseers and Airships Page 7