Voyages of the Flying Dragon

by Ben Chandler

  Even so, excitement started to build inside Lenis, growing stronger the longer he looked in the crate. Karasu only had one of the stones they so desperately needed, though whether it was the stone of ebb or flow, Lenis didn’t know. It didn’t matter. The Shinzōn mercenary only had one of them, which meant the other one was out there somewhere waiting for the Hiryū’s crew to find. Lenis’s enthusiasm dampened as he realised it could be anywhere in the whole world, perhaps even hidden deep within the Wasteland, deeper even than Seisui’s temple had been. Or someone else could have it. Someone worse than Karasu. A Demon, or even one of the Demon Lords. Maybe it would have been better if Karasu had both stones after all. At least then they’d only have one foe standing between them and the unlocking of Suiteki’s power.

  The desire to reach down and snatch up the stone was almost overwhelming. The stone itself, like Suiteki’s crystal egg, emitted no energy of its own, or else its force was on a completely different level to anything Lenis could sense, but there was no doubt that this orb was what he had come looking for. Lying right within reach was one of the keys Lenis needed to awaken Suiteki’s dormant power, but he could no more take it now than he could leap over the railing with it afterwards. If Karasu came back to his cabin and found it gone, he would order an immediate search of his airship. A single misstep on Lenis’s part and he would be discovered. At the least, Karasu would know someone else was on board. It wouldn’t take long for him to discover that none of the crew had stolen the stone.

  Lenis was trapped. His only option was to remain hidden and wait for the airship to reach its destination. Once there, he could steal the stone from Karasu and try to hide until he could work out how to get in touch with or return to the Hiryū. It was a stupid plan, and a reckless one.

  What wisdom forbids, necessity dictates.

  He clutched Atrum even closer. The poor creature was quivering from the strain of maintaining the cloak of invisibility around them. He needed a rest. Lenis considered getting him to drop the cloak. Surely they were as safe in Karasu’s cabin as they would be anywhere. It was the one place on the airship that wouldn’t be receiving a surprise visit from a crewmember. No one would venture here until Karasu retired for the night.

  Just as Lenis was bending down to whisper in Atrum’s ear, he felt their flight slow and, a minute later, the familiar jolt of an airship docking. He swallowed. They had stopped. This was it. This was his one chance. He reached out a shaking hand to grab the stone.

  Lenis heard footsteps in the corridor just as his hand grazed the surface of the stone. He recoiled, pressing himself and Atrum against the wall of Karasu’s cabin. It was not a large space. Like the captain’s cabin aboard the Hiryū, it was bigger than those of the rest of the crew, but that wasn’t saying much. There was just enough room for a bunk, a trunk, the crate, and a desk that folded up against the wall. Lenis was hiding in front of the desk, the hinge that held it upright digging into his back. He ignored it, focusing instead on keeping his breathing as quiet as he could.

  The footsteps stopped right outside. Hopefully whoever was on the other side of the door was not coming in to use the desk. If not, there was no reason to turn around and … Lenis caught his breath. He’d left the lid of the crate open! As soon as Karasu saw it he would know something was wrong. The cabin seemed to press closer around Lenis, growing smaller by the moment as he struggled to hold onto his breath. There was no way Karasu could come inside without touching Lenis, and once the mercenary touched something he couldn’t see …

  The door was thrust open. Lenis could barely stand the ache in his lungs, though if he let his breath out now, Karasu would hear it. But it wasn’t Karasu at all. It was a short Shinzōn man wearing thick glasses. He might have been as tall as Missy’s shoulder if he wasn’t permanently hunched over. It was Chūritsu, the scientist who had been with Karasu back in Seisui’s temple. Now that he was up close, Lenis could see the man was unshaven. His receding hair was pulled back in a traditional Shinzōn tail, and there was more white in it than black.

  Dots appeared in front of Lenis’s vision, and he was covered in sweat. The ache in his side was growing sharper. He’d have to start breathing again soon, regardless of who heard him. Chūritsu was grumbling something to himself in Shinzōn as he stepped into the cabin and reached down into the crate, apparently unconcerned that it had been left open. After he had the stone in hand he turned and stalked out, not even bothering to shut the door.

  Lenis let out his pent-up breath slowly and tried to steady the tremor in his hands. That had been entirely too close. He waited until he had himself under control and the sounds of hurried footsteps had faded before leaving Karasu’s cabin. He moved even more cautiously than before, every sense alert for any sign of life, but the airship seemed deserted. Even so, Lenis wasn’t taking any chances. He kept himself and Atrum pressed up against the wall in case anyone walked by, and his footsteps were as light as he could make them. His arms were sore from clutching the Bestia against his chest, and he felt light-headed, but he managed to keep his breathing low and steady. Pausing often to listen for any footfalls or voices, Lenis made his way towards the fore hatch. In the moments he remained motionless, all he could hear over his own breath and the rushing of his blood were creaking timbers.

  His progress was agonisingly slow but thankfully free of incident. He emerged on deck into almost total darkness. A few torches had been left burning in the bridge and by the port railing, no doubt marking the location of the airship’s gangplank, but these were the only sources of illumination. The sky was blacked out. At first Lenis thought it was full of smoke, and his heart lifted at the notion that they had not travelled far from Fronge, but the brisk breeze was fresh and carried the scent of moisture. Lenis had long since lost all sense of time. Either it was still daylight, and the sun’s rays were obscured by storm clouds, or the day had already ended. Either way Lenis figured it would soon be raining or, more likely at this altitude, snowing. He shivered, wrapped only in the thin robe he always wore in the warmth of the Hiryū’s engine room. When he left there had been too much going on, and didn’t think to grab anything thicker to put on. Now the wind stung his skin. The weather was definitely getting worse.

  Lenis had assumed they were stationed at an airdock, but as he approached the portside railing he realised they were loosely moored to a wide shelf cut into the side of a mountain. The shelf looked too straight to be natural, but it hadn’t been designed for airships. Usually an airship docked with one wing balloon inside and over the airdock, which meant the deck was higher than the landing site. The shelf was too narrow for that, so Karasu had butted the portside wing balloon against the mountainside, leaving the deck almost level with the shelf. Instead of sloping gently down, the gangplank was stretched horizontally between the deck and the shelf, spanning the entire length of the exposed mast-shaft and wing balloon.

  The airship rose and fell gently in place. Lenis couldn’t see how the vessel was secured to the rock shelf, but he suspected it had been achieved by tying ropes to hastily erected moorage points. However Karasu had done it, it made for an unsteady berth that caused the gangplank to wobble where it spanned the frightening gap. Crossing it would mean risking a plummet to the very base of the mountain.

  Lenis shuddered as he came to understand that was just what he would have to do. The gangplank seemed narrower than most, though he told himself that was just his imagination. Someone had left a torch burning where it rested uneasily on the rock shelf, but there was a stretch in the middle that was in total darkness. An image of Namei running lightly across the Hiryū’s mast-shaft came suddenly to Lenis’s mind. He remembered his jealousy at the cabin girl’s ease and grace. Namei probably would have forsaken the gangplank altogether and leapt up across to the wing balloon and over to the shelf. She probably would have reached the other side by now, too.

  It wasn’t that Lenis was afraid of heights – he had spent more than half of his life on airships – but he wasn�
��t confident of his balance, and the fact that he would have to cross at least some of the way in complete darkness wasn’t helping. Indecision tore at him. The most sensible thing to do would be to crawl across on his hands and knees, but then he’d have to let go of Atrum. Lenis couldn’t see anyone on the shelf beyond the lone torch’s light, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anybody waiting in the darkness. Karasu struck Lenis as the sort who didn’t take chances. He’d been willing to murder everyone in Fronge just to find this place.

  Lenis wondered if it wouldn’t be better just to wait aboard Karasu’s airship for another chance to escape, but he was close enough to Fronge that a rescue from the Hiryū was still feasible. If only Missy would contact him! He wished that he had her gifts and could reach out over long distances to talk to people. The captain would know what to do, Lenis was sure. He squeezed Atrum to his chest. The captain would probably go after Karasu and try to steal the stone or, if he couldn’t do that, find somewhere to hide until the Hiryū came. What other options did Lenis have? He had no way of knowing how long Karasu would stay in one place, or where he would be going once he left.

  There was nothing to be gained from waiting any longer. Lenis considered taking one of the torches by the gangplank, but he decided that if Karasu had left anyone behind on the shelf they would definitely see a torch coming their way. Besides, he couldn’t carry it and crawl at the same time. He would just have to trust his luck that they wouldn’t be looking while he was revealed in the torchlight.

  Lenis bent down to whisper into Atrum’s ear. ‘Thank you, boy. You did great. I have to let you go now, so you can drop the cloak of invisibility. We’ve got to get across the gangplank, okay?’

  A shiver ran the entire length of Atrum’s body, right down to his extraordinarily long tail. He licked Lenis’s cheek, and Lenis sensed the pulse of Bestia power fade. Now perfectly visible, he ducked down behind the railing. As he did so, he recognised a flaw in his plan. Atrum was blind. How was Lenis going to get the Bestia across the narrow gangplank?

  Atrum solved the problem for him, climbing over his shoulder and onto his back. Lenis knelt on all fours as Atrum wrapped his long tail tightly around Lenis’s waist and spread his weight across Lenis’s back. Atrum was shivering. Lenis could sense the Bestia’s radiating fear. It wrapped itself around him until he felt his own resolve waver. Lenis steeled himself against it, countering it with an upsurge of confidence he didn’t quite feel himself. Atrum stilled, but he dug his claws deeper into Lenis’s back. Lenis winced but ignored the pain. He had considered briefly asking Atrum to cloak them again, since they were still going to be in contact for the crossing, but he pushed this aside too. If he asked his Bestia to concentrate on keeping them out of sight, he wouldn’t be able to focus on maintaining his grip around Lenis’s midsection. A moment of inattention would be disastrous. Better to risk being seen than to witness Atrum falling.

  Lenis started to crawl, half-expecting to hear someone cry out from the rock shelf as he left the relative obscurity of the railing and moved out onto the gangplank. No alarm sounded. The first foot or so was easy – the gangplank was secured firmly to the airship – but the further out Lenis crawled, the more precarious his perch became. The wind was not helping. It had picked up considerably since he had come out on deck and was crashing into his side. Atrum gripped tighter, his claws tearing through the fabric of Lenis’s robe and into his skin. Lenis gritted his teeth and moved on, inch by inch, worried now that the rain or sleet or snow or whatever was about to start falling would come before they had reached the shelf.

  What seemed like an hour later, Lenis’s hand plunged down into darkness. He pitched forwards until his hand connected with wood, jarring his entire arm. They had entered the patch of shadow in the middle of the gangway. Lenis’s arms and knees were aching, and the sting had returned in force to his ribs. His back was shredded constantly with pain as Atrum clung to him, and he still hadn’t reached the halfway mark.

  Lenis slowed down, sliding his hands forwards instead of bringing them up, feeling his way along the wood. Splinters dug into his flesh, but he didn’t pull his hands away. In his fear he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find the gangplank again if he did. Dizziness threatened to pitch him over the side. Up until then he had looked no further in front of himself than his arm could reach, but now he stared ahead, focusing on the torch flickering on the far side of the gangplank. The wind tore at it, making its flame dance. Lenis slid his hand forwards, ignoring the shards of wood that bit into him. He reached out until he could feel the edge of the gangplank, then did the same with his other hand, making sure he knew where the fatal boundaries were so he wouldn’t veer too close to them.

  The wind grew to a torrent. The torch died. Lenis froze. Every nerve in his body screamed out into the darkness. His head swam, his thoughts tossed around as if by the bluster that slashed at him. A wave of vertigo passed through him, and then another. Lenis leant forwards until his forehead rested against the rough wood of the gangplank. He pulled his legs in close to his stomach, making himself small. As if in response, Atrum pressed lower on Lenis’s back, and there they crouched, shaking together in the darkness, suspended out over a fathomless abyss, as the rain started.

  Terra’s tunnel took less time to get through than Missy had believed it would, but beyond it were still more passageways. These were straight, tall, and wide, and there was evidence they had been well kept in the past. Those days were long gone, though. The sconces that once held torches were empty, and the dust covering the floor was so thick it was basically dirt. They relied heavily on Heidi’s guidance, though Missy wasn’t convinced the Heiliglander knew her way through the labyrinthine temple any better than she, the captain, or Yami did. Captain Shishi had cocked an inquisitive eyebrow when he saw Heidi emerge from behind Missy, but the blonde girl had soon taken charge, leading them to the right and then taking turn after turn without any sign of hesitation.

  Several times Missy considered skimming Heidi’s mind, but she was too tired to concentrate on anything more than moving forwards. They had been underground for hours and hadn’t had much of a rest since they had left the airdock at Letzer-Zuflucht on the southeastern coast of Heimat Isle that morning. By Missy’s reckoning that was now yesterday morning, though without the open sky above her she couldn’t be certain.

  The pure light Lucis shed had started to waver in front of Missy’s eyes. The shadows seemed to be creeping into the edges of her vision. She stumbled over her own feet and fell onto all fours, skinning her knees and hands. Yami was by her side in an instant, but he didn’t try to pull her upright.

  ‘Perhaps we should rest here,’ the swordsman suggested.

  The captain nodded. ‘We will be of no help to Mister Clemens if we arrive exhausted.’

  Missy translated for Heidi, and then everyone sat where they had stood. There was nothing to distinguish this stretch of hallway from any of the others they had trodden through, though now that Missy was closer to the ground she saw they had been climbing a slight incline. I must be tired if I didn’t notice that before, she thought. Her stomach growled; she hadn’t brought anything to eat.

  Yami reached into his robe and silently offered her something wrapped in a leaf. She recognised it as one of the balls of rice that had become a staple of her diet ever since she had joined the Hiryū’s crew. It had been warmed by Yami’s body heat, but she was too hungry to care. She bit into it, not even bothering to unwrap the leaf, which turned out to be pretty sour but edible all the same.

  Yami took out another rice ball and handed it to Heidi. The Heiliglander eyed the ball suspiciously and sniffed at it before biting into the rice. Her face scrunched up at the taste, but she chewed and swallowed and took another bite. Missy washed down the rice with some water from her canteen. There wasn’t much left, but she offered it around anyway. Both the captain and Yami drank but neither ate. Missy thought about asking them if they were hungry but couldn’t find the energy to form the
words. Her mind felt fuzzy. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, and fell instantly asleep.

  She came to as someone shook her shoulder. Her eyes opened so slowly it felt as though she was dragging them up. Then she had to blink a couple of times as white light blinded her. Eventually her vision cleared, and the blurry outlines of her companions solidified.

  Missy brought both hands up to rub her face. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to nod off.’

  The captain offered Missy her own canteen. She swallowed the last mouthful it contained. ‘I am afraid we must keep moving, Miss Clemens. I fear your brother may need us.’

  The captain’s words brought Missy more fully awake, and she accepted his hand to help her stand. ‘How long was I asleep?’

  ‘Not long,’ Yami told her. ‘Less than half an hour.’

  Missy sighed. I suppose that’s more than I should have taken.

  Yami bent in close and whispered, ‘Short sleeps are best. If you sleep any longer your mind sinks deeper into your dreams, which makes it harder to wake. It is an old swordsman’s trick.’

  Missy was only half-listening to his advice. She really had to pee, but where was she supposed to go? She looked around in vain. They were in yet another corridor, like any of the others they had passed through so far. There were no rooms on either side, not even an alcove. But if she didn’t go soon she was going to burst.

  ‘Um … which way are we going?’ she asked, hoping the others didn’t hear how desperate she was.

  ‘This way.’ The captain pointed off in one direction.

  ‘Could you … ah … excuse me for a moment.’ Missy turned and went the other way, hurrying to get beyond Lucis’s light and, she hoped, the range of everyone’s hearing.