"Another prison was constructed using the most valuable object in the entire ancient world: the Noonspire," Brother Vaughn continued, not wanting to make the people wait longer than needed. "This was said to be a noonstone crystal pulled from the depths of the Endless Sea. It towered above the people, and in the hands of a powerful sorcerer, could shatter the foundations of the world. The ancients built a fortress around the Noonspire in the middle of the Jaga under the pretense of keeping the towering crystal out of the triumvirate's hands."
Mention of the Jaga sent another ripple of discomfit through the assemblage, and Brother Vaughn swallowed. Kenward watched him intently, doing his best to select his words with care. "The less powerful sorcerers expended all their power, skill, and arcana to convert the massive energy source into a prison. The story said any who accessed the Noonspire's magic would become trapped within the black crystal for all time."
Brother Vaughn could not overlook the strangeness of reciting mythology, now believing it was real. It made him wonder how many of the other things he'd written off as fantasies were actually historical fact. As time passed, more and more of the things he thought he knew proved to be false. It was a fairly humiliating experience, but he did his best to be strong for those who needed him. Looking out across a sea of faces, he knew that to be a large number of people.
"The story ends when the triumvirate attacks the Jaga hold, defeating the substantial yet intentionally insufficient defenses erected around the Noonspire. Aggrezjhon tapped the Noonspire's power first and was hopelessly snared. Within seconds, they say Murden was also pulled bodily into the giant crystal."
"You said these were people," Jessub said. "But Mael's a dragon, right?"
"And that is the final part of the story," Brother Vaughn said. "Seeing his brethren imprisoned within the crystal and feeling its pull on his very humanity, it's said Mael changed physical form on instinct. It goes to show just how powerful these sorcerers were. At the very least, it appears Mael really did turn himself into a dragon and somehow escaped to Dragonhold."
"There's a keystone within the Jaga," Kenward said, though he looked as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud.
"What do you mean?" Brother Vaughn asked.
"How else would Mael have gotten into Dragonhold if not through the keystone," Kenward said. "We all know they also served as portals . . . before they were broken, that is."
"It's for the best," Brother Vaughn said. "I'm sure."
Kenward hesitated. His curiosity about the Black Queen had already generated a few tall tales, and Brother Vaughn couldn't blame the good captain for falling silent.
"It would stand to reason that Mael could have used the keystones to escape to Dragonhold," Brother Vaughn said, "only to have the Fifth Magic sprung on him."
"You think the Fifth Magic had been used before?" Strom asked, appearing unconvinced.
"It's purely speculation," Brother Vaughn admitted. "I know I don't have rock-solid facts for you today, but I wanted to tell you what I knew nonetheless. If nothing else, be aware the Noonspire might really exist, and it could have as much or more power to corrupt the world as Mael."
"It would explain a great many things," Kenward said.
"Does the ancient one still live?" Arakhan asked.
Brother Vaughn held out his palms. "We don't know." It was the only honest answer he could give.
"We must get word to Catrin about this," Osbourne said. "It seems like something she should know."
A prolonged silence followed this statement.
"We never did find out if messages could be reliably sent in and out of Dragonhold using the river," Strom said.
Standing near Sinjin, Kendra visibly tensed, and Brother Vaughn felt compassion. Having the death of another on your hands was not something anyone should have to experience.
No one else got the chance to speak. The light in the hold dimmed, and the air pressure shifted. Blotting out far more of the entrance than the regal dragons did when coming in for a landing, Kyrien made the opening appear far less generous in size. When he did land, his forward-facing wing flaps buffeted them.
Bringing his enormous head in close, he looked at Brother Vaughn and all who had assembled. Then he stared at Strom.
"The message will be delivered," the smith said a moment later. "Kyrien says he has done what he can to help, but now we must complete the work on our own. He says, if we need him, I can call for him." The well-muscled smith still appeared uncomfortable in his communications with the last of the regent dragons.
Kyrien was a remarkable beast, indeed, Brother Vaughn thought, wishing once again that the species had not been effectively wiped out. Kyrien's lineage would live on in the regal dragons, but Brother Vaughn doubted there would ever be another to match him.
With a parting roar, Kyrien spread his wings and let the prevailing wind carry him from the hold. Within moments, he disappeared into the clouds.
* * *
A light breeze and blue skies dotted with occasional clouds presented ideal conditions for launch. Kenward looked out over the horizon, noting the absence of whitecaps. A good sailor knew the wind might blow in one direction in one place but in a completely different direction a league away. The wind was, indeed, a fickle mistress. Kenward didn't mind. He'd danced with the air currents many times and had come to enjoy the challenge.
"Some of the things you've done in the past have been ill advised," Fasha said, "but this might just be more risk than even you can survive."
Kenward nodded. "I know."
Fasha pursed her lips and nodded in return. "You should have only those aboard who know the risks and believe in you anyway."
"I can't do it all by myself," Kenward said with a rueful grin.
Raising one eyebrow, Fasha put her hands on her hips. "I'm going with you."
Looking surprised, he said, "Thank you," his voice thicker than he'd intended.
Fasha took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "I believe in you."
"Forgive me for eavesdropping," Farsy said from not far away where he'd been coiling rope, "but you ain't leaving without me."
"I dare you to try leaving me behind," Bryn said, and Kenward grinned.
Gwen cleared her throat. "And you're going to need someone who knows how to use these thrust tubes."
Kenward braced himself.
"I want all the Drakon in the air, flying support," Fasha said, "and no funny business." The last part was said with a wag of her finger at Valterius. The dragon had the good sense to appear cowed.
"What are you going to name this brick?" Fasha asked with a gleam in her eye. "The barge of the skies?"
In truth, her jibe wasn't far from the mark. Kenward had built this ship to transport goods, among other things, between the Godfist and the Firstland. The design had weaknesses, such as being highly indefensible from dragons and other airships. Though his family was the first to create successful airships, experience taught him there would be others soon; best to prepare now. It was the kind of thinking that had kept him alive this long. Provided these test flights didn't go terribly, the reward should be worth the risk. At least he hoped so.
"Keep it low and slow until you have a feel for how that thing flies. If it flies," Fasha said. "I believe in you, but that thing scares me. And those things on your deck terrify me. Leave them strapped to the deck. How about testing one radical design at a time?"
Kenward grinned. The "things" on his deck were two roughly bird-shaped single-person aircraft, each its own distinct design. The more attractive of the two Kenward called a howler. Carved from hardwood, it bore a lustrous sheen. Seat and harness were recessed into the body along with pedals connected to wing flaps. Thrust tubes hung underneath, straddling the sleek body and a pair of waxed skis. Strom had taken pride in the springs he'd made to connect the skis, and Kenward hoped those who could fly them would have soft landings.
Only a thrustmaster could fly a howler, but he firmly believed the talent could be cultivated
. Catrin and Gwen had both learned to do it and so would others. The comet storm's power grew still and would continue for many years to come. The goddess would touch people, and Kenward would find them. Never would he have dared ask Gwen, but his niece had simply insisted. If the howler fell from his deck with her on it, what was he to do? At the very least, she would test the ship moving under thrust. That alone gave Kenward a thrill.
Nothing like his other creation, though, was the one he called a bumblebee. Firmly secured, it waited for him at middeck. This aircraft Kenward would test himself. It wasn't as pretty as the howler, but the bumblebee was an entirely different creature. Made from the lightest materials possible, it resembled something one might find on a shipwreck. Canvas and line connected to a stalkweed frame with lightwood joints and sub frame. Though crude and limited, it could change the world. Having more nimble aircraft that did not require the use of Istra's powers could allow Kenward to protect his fleet, thrustmasters or not.
The thought of employing a flightmaster and thrustmaster as his sister did was not altogether unappealing. However, Kenward detested relying solely on skills he did not himself possess. It had been a source of trouble for him over the years. In the end, he had decided it wise to use Istra's power when possible and supplement with perhaps more mundane but equally advanced design and innovation.
Benjin burst from the boiler house. "That's a lot of heat, Kenward. I'm not sure the boiler walls are thick enough to handle that kind of pressure."
"I need the steam and compressed air," Kenward said with a shrug. "It should hold."
Benjin shook his head and turned to his wife. "Stay away from the boiler house." He didn't say anything about Gwen. He'd not said a word to his daughter since she insisted on going. "Perhaps you should test the big ship first," he said after a moment, "and then test the . . . other . . . things on a subsequent voyage once you've worked out any kinks."
It was sound advice he'd already been given, and Kenward acknowledged it. Benjin stepped off the deck as the main windsocks inflated. Smaller, round windsocks, tethered to each corner of the ship, filled quickly, and soon timbers creaked.
"Are you going to name this vessel before she leaves dock?" Fasha asked.
"I dub this ship the Portly Dragon."
His sister shook her head in disbelief. Kenward grinned, and no one suggested a more fitting name for the blocky ship. If not for the skillfully crafted masthead, one might say the Portly Dragon was ugly and would have no way to know which end was the bow and which the stern. Kenward had recognized this problem early on and had port and starboard painted on the decks to make sure there was never any confusion over his orders. He'd also had danger zones clearly marked, such as the area in front of the thrust tubes.
Largely unobstructed, the deck was surrounded by ropes attached to iron rings at the corners and along the edges. Boiler house and deckhouse stood opposite one another for the sake of balance, hugging the outer edges of the ship to keep the center of the deck clear from one end to the other.
Black smoke poured from the chimstack, and a loud whistling warned the pressure might, indeed, be too much. "Everyone keep clear of the boiler house!" Kenward shouted. "Don't all crowd the other side, either. Mind the distribution of weight."
"I told you," Benjin said just as the ship left the dry dock's timbers, caught the breeze, and glided out toward the sea. Dragons filled the air around them, ready to assist if needed. Kenward sincerely hoped their presence proved unnecessary; still, he was glad they were there.
The fires had been stoked and would continue to burn on their own. Kenward did not plan to add more fuel for this flight. A safe cruising altitude was his first goal, immediately followed by testing the howler and bumblebee. As excited as he was about the Portly Dragon's maiden flight, the other craft had filled his dreams for weeks, and he couldn't wait to see his vision made real. Not many got the chance to see their ideas through to fruition. This day would change the rest of his life, one way or another.
Sitting between the thrust tubes mounted on a rotating platform at the stern, Gwen applied her will, and the Portly Dragon moved faster for a brief time. To Kenward's delight, the ship possessed greater stability than the Serpent had ever achieved. Outfitted as she was, cargo would be limited. On the Godfist he'd have access to materials for sturdier boilers. After that, his cargo capacity would be five times that of the Dragon's Wing. The steam-powered propeller with its sharp whistle generated far less thrust than Gwen, but it did move the ship forward. The Portly Dragon could not match the Wing's speed or maneuverability, but it could fly under its own power, and that meant something to Kenward.
It was for that reason the bumblebee existed. The howler required someone with the skills of a thrustmaster and, to a lesser extent, a flightmaster. Kenward hoped the bumblebee would allow him the same type of freedom he expected the howler to give Gwen. The anticipation was almost too much for him, but they had agreed not to take off until shallow, rocky waters had been left behind. The Dragon's Wing moved under wind and sail alone, heading for the deeps.
Kenward had argued the aircraft would be easier to recover if they crashed in shallow seas, but Benjin insisted deeper water meant less chance of his daughter hitting the bottom. This logic was difficult to ignore, and Kenward paced the deck until they reached dark water.
Farsy and Jessub inspected ropes and anchors, checking for any weakness in the ship's construction. Already, Farsy had expressed concern over a number of the cleats where the ropes were secured, but he didn't seem overly alarmed. Kenward pretended not to notice.
When the Dragon's Wing and the Portly Dragon reached water deep enough to suit Benjin, Kenward grinned at Gwen and gestured toward the howler. The girl practically ran to the experimental aircraft and strapped herself in. Walking across the deck, which barely moved under his boots, Kenward felt as if he walked on solid ground. Sinjin on Valterius and Kendra on Gerhonda flying in escort, watching their every move, made this strange experience even more surreal.
After one final check, Kenward patted Gwen on the back, reminded her to secure her goggles, and wished her the luck of the gods.
The world stood still for Kenward in that moment; Gwen wore a grin to match his own. Waxed skis glided over polished hardwood. Making good on its name, the howler issued an earsplitting report. For a moment Kenward worried the small aircraft wouldn't have enough speed at runway's end, but then Gwen pushed forward the pedals controlling the wing flaps, and the spring-loaded skis left the deck. With runway to spare, the howler took flight. If the driving force hadn't made it worthy of its namesake, the sound Gwen made riding it would have.
Few things rendered Kenward Trell speechless, but seeing the howler screeching through the air did the job. He stood with his mouth hanging open as Gwen outran the regal dragons flying in support. After a graceful, easy turn, she passed the Dragon and gave Kenward an enthusiastic thumbs-up. After two more passes, Gwen sent the howler straight up--a maneuver no airship could replicate. Then the air went silent. Losing speed, the howler fell over backward and raced back toward the seas below. In a move that made Kenward more proud of Gwen than he'd ever been before, she turned up the thrust. The Portly Dragon and Dragon's Wing swayed as she cleaved the air between them. It was the most the deck had moved under Kenward's feet since they had taken off.
Even with the wind and the howler's report filling the air, Benjin's shouting could be heard coming from the Dragon's Wing. Gwen ignored him for two more passes before making a slower pass over the runway. This was the part Kenward feared most. Taking off from the deck of a moving airship was one thing, but landing on that same deck was something entirely different. They had planned for Gwen to make two practice approaches before deciding to attempt the landing or to ditch the howler in the water. Valterius waited, ready to pluck Gwen from the howler if she chose to bail out.
Much slower on her second approach, Kenward worried it was too slow. If she lost any more momentum, there would be no pulling up
. She was already committed by the time Kenward and others tried to wave her off. Nothing anyone could have said would change the situation beyond that moment. Kenward's crazy ideas would be tested here and now. If Gwen got hurt in the process, he'd never forgive himself. He'd probably also spend the rest of his life running from his brother-in-law.
Despite having lined the howler up perfectly with the runway, Gwen did not have time to correct when a sudden gust twisted the howler sideways. The left ski hit the deck first, the angle sending the aircraft spinning back in the other direction. The second ski touched down but missed the polished hardwood runway, encountering drag instead as it slid across the much rougher lightwood.
Gwen held on as best she could but was slapped back and forth three times before the howler stabilized, still carrying too much speed. Kenward thought she might have to abandon the landing, but then she did something he'd never considered. Reversing the air flow, Gwen used the thrust tubes as brakes. Skidding to a halt mere hand widths from the edge, she raised her hands and cheered in triumph.
Benjin's cursing could be heard for some time to come.
Chapter 14
What is grotesque to one is art to another.
--Matteo Dersinger, mad prophet
* * *
Watching the ancient dragon sleep, Pelivor told himself the mighty beast was truly unconscious and not just waiting for him to make the wrong move. The giant jaws could engulf him in a single bite, and Pelivor tried his best to keep that image from his mind. Catrin needed him, and the rest of Godsland would suffer if Mael escaped. The energy stored in the massive green crystals was largely dissipated, and his form still vibrated from the release of it.
"We're going to have to do that again, aren't we?" Pelivor asked.
"In time the charge will build back up, yes," she said. "For now, we've left it far lower than it was when we arrived. Mael had not yet been able to escape even with that energy at his disposal, so I think we'll have some time."
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