As he had done on many previous flights, Bok gazed longingly across the plain that separated him from Skawful. He had often probed for ascendals along the nearest ridges, but they were never enough to enable him to soar across the entirety of the plain. Skawful dominated the scene, yet seemed forever out of reach.
Then he noticed that the cloud cover was thinner over the plain. Shafts of sunlight were breaking through and warming the land below. The air over those sunlit areas would become warm from the transfer of heat, thereby forming ascendals.
Bok raised his eyes and saw that the spots of sunlight upon the plain stretched toward Skawful like stepping stones. He glanced down at the hill. Archimedes was waving his staff in the 'return now' signal. But Archimedes was on the wrong side of the hill to see the opportunity. Geth was standing alongside the old man, silently waiting for whatever Bok would do.
Geth, the father of Lady Carrot. Perhaps no man's opinion, not even that of the Wizard, weighed more with the Lady Carrot than that of her own father. If he, Bok, could impress Geth . . . .
With little hesitation, Bok broke across the plain, heading over fields and villages toward the nearest bright spot. As he passed the distance from which he could not return without an ascendal's lift, he felt a resurgence of the fear that he had vowed never to show the world.
The cool air was dense and sustained his altitude. He reached the bright spot and the invisible column of the ascendal made itself known by twitching his wings. He sliced into it at an angle and began a slow upward corkscrew path, staying within the perimeter of the splotch of sunlight below so that the hot air being generated would take him all the higher. When his gain in altitude leveled, he broke toward the next spot, kilometers closer to Skawful.
He glided to that one, ascended again, glided to the next, ascended again. The fourth was problematic.
When he was halfway there, the bright spot on the landscape started to shrink and fade. In alarm, he looked up. The sun break in the clouds was closing. When he looked back down, the spot had vanished entirely. It didn't matter that the other stepping stones remained. To miss even one put his goal beyond hope.
Bok growled and swore. He turned the craft westward again, to return to the launching hill. After a few seconds, he realized that he had been undone by confidence. So sure of making his goal, he had failed to consider that if he had to turn back, the breeze that had speeded him over the plain would impede his return. He was descending too fast.
He eyed the adjacent ridge. He had never found ascendals there before but maybe today he would get lucky. If he could gain any kind of altitude, then he could fly back to the hill and Archimedes would blast at him but it would be all right, no harm done. Otherwise, he would have to land in unfamiliar territory. He would be stranded and the craft might be lost and Archimedes would be disappointed and Bok knew it would be all his fault.
Bok grimly set for the ridge. The pointed tops of the evergreens rushed below his dangling feet, closer and closer as he lost altitude. He made it over but there was no ascendal to greet him. And with the failure, he was coming down fast over rough terrain.
He pulled hard on the cables and lifted the nose higher. Suddenly the aircraft shuddered and began to descend ever more rapidly. He yanked on the cables, but the nose wouldn't rise any higher. He had lost control completely. He knew he was going to die.
Not now. He would meet his parents in the next life, if there was one. But he couldn't allow himself to die; Britan needed him. Not now!
He had been raised to believe that when you die, your life passes in front of you. Instead, at that moment he pictured himself in a mist, writing on a tablet, and Archimedes was speaking to him in a calm tutor's voice.
Events have causes, Archimedes said. Why don't the controls work?
Bok verged on fainting, but the answer flashed: The control surfaces need air to pass over them.
What can you do about that?
The answer burst: Counter-intuitively, Bok pushed the nose down. The glider hurled toward the ground. With air rushing from fore to aft over the wings and tail, the controls became responsive. Careful not to stall again, he raised the nose and broke the dive and leveled.
It seemed for an instant that he had avoided catastrophe, but by then he was only meters above a field and there was a stupid lone tree in front of him and he couldn't dodge in time and he clipped the trunk with his wing and the aircraft dipped and hit the ground hard and bounced and bucked and the impact snapped his harness and tossed him from his seat. His arms flailed and protected his head from concussion but he felt a sharp pain in his wrist and then he landed on his side and tumbled.
It took a moment to shake off grogginess. He became aware of the pains in his thigh and wrist, but he was gladdened that his spine seemed okay. Bruises would heal without the help of the Wizard, and it seemed that all he had was bruises.
He removed the flight glasses from his eyes. He was sprawled on the field, staring at the ceiling of unbroken gray. He propped onto his elbows and saw a village nearby, Mount Skawful so close yet so far. Bok slumped flat and rested. At the moment, even the prospect of Archimedes scolding didn't matter. He was alive!
From the nearby village approached a group of men carrying rakes and hoes. Bok quivered at the look in their eyes. He flopped for the largest stick in reach. Limping, he stood between them and the craft and waved the stick menacingly.
“Stay away!” he shouted. “This craft is property of the Leaf! You will not harm it or you will have penalty of death!”
They eyed him mutely, muttered among themselves, laughed and walked off. Bok slunk against the rumpled skin of the aircraft and, since there was no one around, allowed himself a moan.
When he had mustered the strength, he inventoried the damage to the aircraft: a wing all but ripped away, the sides badly gashed, the wheelbase broken. He moaned again and closed his eyes. Once fully rested, he would have to find his way back and tell Archimedes. He would rather face another disaster in the air.
With that, exhaustion both physical and emotional overwhelmed him . . . .
He felt a jab on his shoulder. He opened his eyes. The sun was lower, it was late afternoon. He must have slept. A saddled horse was grazing nearby, tied to the stupid tree. Kneeling in front of Bok was Geth.
“Bok! Are you all right?”
Bok knew he was still groggy, but replied, “Just tired. Archimedes is going to be angry at me.”
“Archimedes is very worried about you, young man. We saw where you landed and he wanted to come, but I told him he was too old. He's not angry, he's worried sick. He'll be very happy that you're alive.”
“I was trying to reach Skawful.“
“Yes, Archimedes explained about that. He says he should have told you that he has been working on another idea for ascending the aircraft.” Geth helped Bok stand. “Let's get you home, son.”
“The glider – “
“Ral has a wagon, we'll come with it tomorrow and retrieve the craft. It should be fine here overnight.”
“Yes. The farmers won't touch it. I lied and said it belonged to the Leaf.”
“Well, that may turn out to be truth soon enough. I've heard rumor that the Inner Circle is having Krobart replaced. The new commander has fighting experience. That makes me want to trust him already.”
“I don't care who runs the Leaf, so long as I am to be a pilot.”
Bok took a step. His leg crumpled with a wince.
Disregarding protests, Geth scooped the proud airman. “Up you go, boy!”
As Bok was ignominiously carried to the horse, his only consolation was that the Lady Carrot was not there to see.
END OF THE WITCHES OF NE'ARTH, MIDDLE BOOK OF THE STAR WIZARDS TRILOGY.
STORY TO BE CONCLUDED IN THE FINAL BOOK OF THE STAR WIZARDS TRILOGY:
THE WIZARD FROM TIAN.
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The Witches of Ne'arth (The Star Wizards Trilogy Book 2) Page 39