Aethersmith (Book 2)

by J. S. Morin

  The shop was nothing but a burnt-out foundation when he found it. The low stone wall that kept the ground floor above the level of rainwater came only to his knee. He peered down into the refuse pit the basement had become, looking for signs of occupation, had Anzik’s claim about Aelon been more than fanciful imaginings. There were heavy structural beams that had survived somewhat, charred and cracked, but still largely whole. They made a number of little sheltered areas that rats would no doubt take over in time, should the place remain abandoned. Faolen saw no signs of a human about, but he had no intention of letting the paltry moonlight be his only means of searching.

  Into the aether Faolen sent his vision, losing the details of their former hideout as everything faded into a blue-white haze—his aether-vision had never been among his greatest assets. He had been prepared to scan about for a Source that could have been Aelon’s, but was startled immediately upon his switch in vision by a Source right behind him!

  “Hello,” Anzik Fehr said to him. It was the simple, casual greeting he might have offered to one of his father’s dinner guests. A jolt of panic shot through Faolen. He checked immediately in the light to see if he had turned visible, but found himself perfectly transparent to his own eyes.

  “Hello, Anzik. It is I, Faolen. I am invisible. You need to hide; people can see you,” Faolen whispered to the boy.

  “I thought we were going to go in an airship now.”

  “We have to wait. It has to get here. I am looking for my friend Aelon, and the three of us will wait together for the airship.”

  “He is right there,” Anzik said, pointing down into a corner of the basement.

  Faolen turned to follow the boy’s gaze, which was rather unfocused, but clearly directed along the way he was pointing.

  “Anzik, are the voices still bothering you?” Faolen asked. It was the most lucid he could recall either Anzik or Jadon being. Anzik frowned a bit.

  “It is better but I still hear yours too much.”

  “Let us help Aelon out of that basement, and find a place to hide, shall we?”

  Faolen was liking their odds of getting safely away much better if Anzik was aware enough to use any part of his magic to help them. Even without the Staff of Gehlen, the boy had to have had some useful talent.

  * * * * * * * *

  Arm in arm, Brannis walked the streets of Scar Harbor with Soria. It was a long way from The Little Manor to the part of the city where Kyrus had dwelt, but Soria had insisted on seeing the sights on foot to better get a feel for the place. Brannis showed her the courthouse where he had been tried for witchcraft, the clock tower that rang out the hour of eight o’clock even as they passed by it, the Brown Elk Tavern where he had bought the scriveners’ shop from Davin on the night he announced he had been hired by the king.

  They were making their way to Greuder’s Pastries for a late breakfast. Brannis wanted her to try some of the spiced crescents that he had always preferred. There was some incongruous worry in Brannis’s head when he realized that the crescents were Kyrus’s favorite, and not his own; he had never had one before, might not even like them. Kyrus was certainly unused to the finer fare of Veydrus, and had taken poorly to it.

  “Well, that is good news at least, I suppose,” Brannis said. They had been discussing Juliana’s capture and interrogation of a pair of Megrenn officers. There was something private about a walking conversation that he could just not pin down. Had they been seated at a table in a noisy tavern, he would have kept his voice down when discussing otherworldly military affairs. At best, it made them sound quite mad; at worst, some twinborn would pick up on the information. Ambling along looking at the notable places of Scar Harbor, they talked openly of Kadrin news, subduing their conversation when they passed close to other pedestrians, but otherwise making no concessions to secrecy.

  “I plan to let them go in the morning. For now, we’re all sleeping with the ship floating up above cloud level. You’re sure that thing has enough aether to be idling away the night up there, right?”

  “Of course,” Brannis replied. “You know me, expert on all things magical.”

  Soria elbowed him in the ribs, or at least tried to. She had overlooked the fact that he was wearing armor beneath his tabard, though its bulk was obvious when she was paying attention. Soria had to admit, he cut a dashing figure in the gold-and-silver regalia, with Avalanche swinging from his hip.

  “Hey, if it starts drifting down, recharge the runes yourself. It is not like doing it the first time, overcoming the resistance of new, inert runes. Your Source should be plenty strong … I think.”

  They spoke of Juliana’s opinions about the controls of the Daggerstrike, and how Kyrus and he were both idiots when it came to making things easy to use.

  “Fine, fine. It was my first try at building a ship to run on aether alone; of course it is a bit clumsy. More importantly, though, how does it feel to fly?” Brannis asked.

  “You know that feeling you get when out riding, with the wind blowing through your hair?” Soria asked. Brannis nodded. “Well, even that trip we made with the runed horseshoes can’t compare to the rush of wind among the clouds. My cloak snapped about like a pennant in a storm, the air tore at my clothes, but nothing could stop me; it was all according to my whim as the deck swayed, and the Daggerstrike banked. When I did that loop in the air, I could see the whole world up above my head, played out like someone had made one of your little illusion maps, but life sized.”

  “Less use as a map at that scale,” Brannis noted.

  “And nothing to tell you the names of the mountains and rivers,” Soria agreed. “And I imagine that the soldiers of the full-sized map aren’t perched atop the cities and fields, taller than mountains, either. Maybe that map of yours could use some improvements.”

  “Well, I could try—” Brannis stopped short. With her arm looped through his, and a dozen or more gallons lighter, Soria jerked to a stop as well.

  “What?” Soria asked.

  Brannis blinked his eyes hard, and slow several times, as it trying to work something out of them. “Kyrus is still awake. It is … unsettling … being aware of it. I am sure we have both been awake at the same time before—neither of us sleeps half the day—but I cannot recall. I can see Varnus if I close my eyes. Kyrus is talking to him right now.”

  “Say ‘hello’ to Zell for me then, would you?” Soria asked, smiling.

  “Stop that,” Brannis chided her, trying to concentrate on Veydrus. Kyrus was trying to convey something to him. He knew it more than he heard or saw anything that told him.

  * * * * * * * *

  “She agreed to take the Daggerstrike, and head to Zorren. This is not what I had in mind when I sent her away from Kadris, but I cannot deny that Faolen sounds like he needs rescuing,” Kyrus said. “I had to let her be the one to decide, or she would never have let me forget it if she found out.”

  I wonder if I ought to have defied Rashan, and sent her to Munne straightaway, to retrieve Iridan first.

  “Good. Should I tell Wendell anything?”

  “Try to find out where they will be. I have no way to calculate the travel time for the ship. Everything is new, and I do not even know quite where Juliana and her ship are. She does not even know herself. If possible, convince them to get outside the city. I do not relish the thought of them being on the ground in Zorren. Even with the element of surprise, they might get in trouble.”

  “Will do. You going to be able to keep relaying messages to Soria?”

  “We can send for some tea to keep awake as long as this takes. Soria and Brannis will find a place to settle in to wait for instructions,” Kyrus said. He shook his head, fighting the onset of fatigue already. “I need to cross-reference some maps one day, and find where Krangan is in Veydrus … see if they make tea there.”

  * * * * * * * *

  “Well, if we do not get eaten by stripe-cats, I will see if I can oblige you. For now, we are going to see what we can do about livi
ng long enough to see a rescue at all,” Wendell said upon hearing of Kyrus’s request.

  “Hey, just passing it along,” Zell said. “Get angry at Kyrus if anyone; just keep in mind it’s him sending Juliana to fetch you. She’s got the newest ship, and Kyrus says it’s the best one yet. No way to tell how long it will be, but it’s the quickest rescue you’re likely to get.”

  “I would be willing to chance a transference spell, if it comes to it.”

  “Kyrus missed Tellurak entirely the last time he tried one, mind you. I think I’d take my chances waiting for a flying boat, myself, and I’m not keen on trusting my life in the hands of runes that just got carved a couple days ago.”

  “Well, let him know that I have fewer qualms about the nature of my rescue. If there ends up being two of me in Tellurak, I will learn to adapt.”

  * * * * * * * *

  “Wake up everyone!” Juliana’s voice echoed through the ship. The crew and their guests felt a momentary queasiness in their stomachs, and felt the floor press less strongly against them as the ship began a sudden descent. “Get those horses ready to ride. Sorry, but we have new orders, and you are on your own the rest of your way home. Just remember: fearsome warlock on the loose, surrender is always a nice option. Tell everyone you meet.”

  Juliana set the ship down in a small clearing. The two Megrenn prisoners were shooed off the ship with all practical haste, even giving them back their weapons to forestall objections to being abandoned unarmed in the wilderness. The Daggerstrike then took to the air once more, a sleek steel blade catching the moonlight as it rose.

  “Everyone strap into those harnesses. We are heading for Zorren for a rescue mission,” Juliana’s voice sounded in the hold. “You have about a ten-count before I find out how fast this thing goes.”

  There were frantic sounds of jostling and thumps of men dropping to the deck to get hold of the ends of the harness straps that would keep them from being thrown about the interior of the ship.

  Comfortably above tree height, and hearing the sounds below die down, Juliana rechecked that her own harness was secure. Finding everything to her liking, she flooded the rune responsible for accelerating the ship with aether. She held tight as she could to the ship’s wheel as the Daggerstrike sprang forward, her grip and the leather harness all that kept her from tumbling off the ship as it tried to speed out from beneath her.

  It was time for Captain Juliana to figure out how to find Zorren.

  * * * * * * * *

  Brannis blinked his eyes several times until they were able to focus in Tellurak again. He sat across the table from Soria in a small restaurant they had found on the way to Greuder’s, a trip that would be delayed now due to more pressing concerns.

  “There is a lighthouse, yes. Just follow the Cloud Wall north, then turn west when you reach the sea. It should not be hard to find. Only a handful of Kadrin cities are larger than Zorren. It is no Kadris, but I doubt anywhere in Veydrus or Tellurak has a city quite the size of Kadris.”

  “Probably not. Kadris uses magic to keep the sewage from overflowing the place. Khesh has enough people to support a city that size, but they have more cities, and spread them more widely. How is Kyrus holding up? Juliana and I are always keeping odd hours, but I imagine like the dual awareness, you’re probably not used to being off your sleep routine. It’s harder for our kind usually.”

  “I think he will be okay. He and Varnus just got a hot pot of tea sent up.”

  “Oh, tea. I am sure you are all sorts of endearing yourself to Varnus,” Soria said, teasing Brannis about the choice of beverage for the hard-drinking guard captain.

  “I will allow him free rein of the emperor’s wine cellar if he stays awake with me long enough to get this done.”

  “I’ll tell him you said that,” Soria promised, still smiling.

  * * * * * * * *

  “I never expected I would be seeing you again alive, let alone finding both you and the boy, with a rescue on the way,” Aelon said, his voice echoing from the stone ceiling overhead. Three sloshing sets of footsteps kept him from attempting to whisper; if the noises they made were heard from above, at least they had the advantage of an expert guide if it became a game of hide-from-his-lordship in the sewers.

  “Well, let us just say that this plan is little more than optimism and running at the moment. Anzik, where are we right now?” Faolen asked, following close behind Councilor Fehr’s evasive child.

  The boy had taken the lead without being asked. Faolen had trusted the instincts that had kept Anzik ahead of half the city’s efforts to find and capture him. Of course, the boy had not gone unnoticed. With the Staff of Gehlen, he had solved his problems with force when cornered.

  “Up there is a stable with a door that is easy to open. The horse in the third stall died eighteen days ago, and they have not gotten a new one to replace her yet. The stable boy came once right before dusk, and then not again until morning. The hay was—”

  “That is good enough, Anzik. Thank you. Which way will get us outside the city fastest, either to the east or south?” Faolen asked.

  “None. The sewers do not go outside the city at all.”

  “Well, I mean what will get us closest to outside the city? We can go up to the streets before we actually leave the walls of Zorren.”

  Anzik’s gaze went glassy, staring at nothing in particular a moment as Faolen and Aelon watched the boy by the magical light emanating from Faolen’s finger, which was all the light they had with them.

  “This way.” Anzik pointed down a side passageway.

  “Lead on,” Faolen told him.

  * * * * * * * *

  The night sky was darker than Juliana had expected when the Daggerstrike entered a passing rainstorm. The moonlight that had showed the snow-capped peaks of the Cloud Wall as Juliana steered her ship by them was blocked by a wall of actual clouds—well, more of a ceiling than a wall, but its opacity was of more concern than its orientation.

  She tried taking the ship above the clouds. The view was breathtaking, a three-quarter moon nestled among a dazzling array of stars, with the moonlight making the clouds below them glow with a ghostly light. It was as if there was an ocean of luminescence that they sailed. It was all very poetic, and in less pressing times, she hoped to see such sights again. In the meantime, it blocked her view of the ground. It was a significant detriment to her ability to navigate by following Koriah’s geography.

  With some reluctance, she dropped the ship back below the clouds, cursing Brannis, Kyrus and whoever else he might be for not providing some shelter against the weather for the poor sorceress forced to stand out on the exposed deck to operate the controls. Figuring she could afford a momentary lapse, she unfocused her attention.

  Somewhere in Tellurak, Soria kicked Brannis under the table where they were sharing an early luncheon. Juliana blinked back to her present situation, content to let Soria explain what he had done to warrant the kick.

  Resigned that she could see as little beneath the clouds as above, she took the Daggerstrike up once more, hoping that they would pass the storm before reaching the sea. At least above, she would not be getting wet.

  * * * * * * * *

  Anzik jogged along, panting for breath with the mild exertion. Despite being a young boy, and despite being out on his own for more than a tenday, he was unused to long exertion. The sounds of pursuit in the tunnels had prompted Faolen to prod the boy along. Anzik had gamely complied, understanding that whoever was behind them was going to take him back to his father if they were caught.

  “Soon enough, they will get ahead of us on the surface, you know,” Aelon said.

  Aside from having to duck a little in spots where the sewer grew shorter, Aelon was faring by far the best of all of them. As little demand as the life of a merchant placed on the body, it seemed he was in better condition than either of the sorcerers, younger or older.

  “What do you suggest?” Faolen asked. “I do not think our chances
of outrunning them are any better above.”

  “They know we are down here. There are only so many passages to take, especially if they guess we are trying to get outside the city. We have more directions to travel above ground.”

  “And more eyes seeking us out,” Faolen countered.

  “Eyes are your specialty, are they not?” Aelon argued. “Hide us from view with your illusions.”

  “I do not know that I trust my magic to keep three of us safe. I am still quite weakened.”

  “I have an idea,” Anzik said, stopping and turning to look at the two adults. “Why not go back to the middle of the city?”

  “Anzik, we are trying to escape the city, not keep hiding in it. Hiding one small boy is impressive. Hiding two grown men along with him is asking too much.”

  “I thought it was an airship that was coming to rescue us. Can it not just come over the city to get us?”

  Faolen and Aelon looked to one another. Aelon shrugged. Faolen spread his hands, inviting an argument against the idea but there was none to be had.

  * * * * * * * *

  “No. Tell them to find a way to sneak outside the city walls.”

  “Brannis, they are desperate,” Varnus said, his voice soft.

  “I gave Juliana that ship to get her safely away from Kadris and all the daggerwork the Circle is planning. You make it sound as if they have alerted the whole city with their escape thus far. I am not sending her into a mess like that. Picking them up outside the city is risky enough,” Kyrus argued. He stifled a yawn, taking another sip of tea while still angry, and burning his mouth on it.

  “Juliana is Soria. Soria has been in and out of tighter places than that a hundred times. If you want her to be yours, you are going to have to let her be herself. She’s a warrior, skinny thing that she is. Juliana, same as Soria. It’s in the heart more than the muscles or the Source. Besides, if you do not tell her, she will search the city for them when she doesn’t find them waiting outside.” Varnus locked gazes with Kyrus, who sat fuming until he satisfied himself that he had no proper argument to turn against Varnus’s final thrust.