Storm Riders

by Margaret Weis

  “Gythe!” said Miri. “We have to go back to the boat!”

  Gythe shook her head. “They want my help.”

  She kept her hands pressed tightly over her ears. Miri gently touched Gythe’s cheek and Gythe slowly lowered her hands.

  “Are the Bottom Dwellers calling out to you?” Miri asked. “Like they did at Westfirth?”

  Gythe nodded. Her face was strained. She made the sign for the Cloud Hopper. “They’ve come to find us.”

  Miri gazed at her in bewilderment. “That doesn’t make sense. How do they know we’re here?”

  “She told them.”

  “She? What she?”

  Gythe spread her hands. “Someone called ‘Eiddwen.’”

  “Never heard of her,” Miri said, rising. “We have to warn Stephano.”

  Gythe pulled her sister back down.

  “They’ll see us. We have to stay here!” she signed.

  Miri spent an agonized moment deliberating. The Bottom Dwellers had spoken to Gythe before. She claimed she could hear their voices in her head. They said terrible things to her, accusing her of having left them to die, telling her they were coming to take their revenge on those who had tried to destroy them. One of the Bottom Dwellers had actually boarded the Cloud Hopper to try to abduct her. Rodrigo theorized that perhaps the Bottom Dwellers targeted Gythe because she was a savant.

  “The same way they targeted Father Jacob,” Rodrigo had said. “He is also a savant and he said they came for him, as well.”

  These thoughts ran through Miri’s mind. If the Bottom Dwellers had come looking for the Cloud Hopper seeking Gythe then the last place she and Gythe should be was with the Hopper. As she was trying to decide what to do, Doctor Ellington appeared, looking irate, under the impression he’d been abandoned. Gythe grabbed hold of the startled cat and held him close.

  Miri made up her mind.

  “We will stay here. We should keep out of sight.”

  Miri reached for her pistol, only to remember she had removed the gun so as not to get the powder wet, and placed it on a boulder. Hunkering down in the shadows of the trees, she peered through the branches. The bat riders were flying past, heading in the general direction of the Cloud Hopper. Miri decided to make a run for it. She dashed out into the open, grabbed the pistol, and ran back to Gythe and the Doctor.

  “They flew north. I don’t think they saw us,” Miri reported. “But we need to go deeper into the woods.”

  Gythe rose to her feet, still holding on to the cat, who was always content to allow someone to carry him. Miri led the way, her pistol drawn. Gythe suddenly stopped and turned, pointing.

  Miri fearfully raised the pistol. Gythe shook her head and indicated the field where she and Stephano went every day to meet the dragons. Although Stephano had told the dragons he would not be back, the three dragons had apparently not understood him. They were there, waiting for them.

  At that moment the dragons saw the bat riders. Their heads tilted, their necks stretched. They sniffed the air. One spoke, the female, and the other two responded. They sounded angry, but not shocked or surprised. Their manes bristled, their wings flicked. Their tails thumped the ground.

  Dragons were extremely territorial. Even among their own kind, dragons would follow strict protocols when one dragon ventured into the territory claimed by another. These dragons were definitely not pleased to see interlopers flying over their island.

  Miri hoped the wild dragons would either attack the bat riders or at least drive them away. The dragons kept an eye on the Bottom Dwellers, but when the bat riders did not bother them, the dragons appeared content to let them fly off. The three dragons settled down to wait for the songs and stories.

  The bat riders were no longer in sight. Miri waited tensely. She didn’t hear anything and she began to relax.

  “They’ve gone—”

  The sound of gunfire cut her off.

  Gythe held fast to the cat. Miri looked around. They were still in the shadows of the trees, probably as good a place as any to hide. She checked to make certain the pistol was loaded, though she knew very well that it would be. Dag loaded the pistols every morning. Miri rested the pistol on the ground and drew the stowaway gun from her corset. She made certain it, too, was loaded and then tucked it away.

  She had two shots and that was all, for she hadn’t brought any ammunition or gunpowder. She carried the weapons to protect against an attack by a wild beast—a wolf or a mountain lion. A single shot would frighten away a predator, but a single shot wouldn’t stop one of the Bottom Dwellers.

  Miri looked back at the dragons. At the sound of gunfire, the three reared up, coming to their full height. They were staring in the direction of the Cloud Hopper, which was only a short distance away. They must be watching the fight, for they appeared interested, intrigued.

  “Do something to help, you stupid beasts,” Miri told them.

  Gythe grabbed hold of her sister, warning, “Keep silent!”

  “Are the bat riders looking for you?” Miri asked, trying to still the quiver in her voice.

  Gythe nodded.

  “How can they hear you?”

  Gythe touched her head. “My thoughts.”

  The sound of an explosion from the direction of the Cloud Hopper made Miri flinch. Her beloved boat was under attack, her sister was in danger, and she had only two shots.

  “How can anyone hear your thoughts?” Miri asked softly, crouching down beside Gythe.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I do, Gythe!” Miri protested. “It’s just so … It doesn’t make sense.”

  Gythe put her hand over her sister’s mouth, entreating her to keep quiet.

  “You have no magic,” said Gythe. She stared into the shadows, then made a small sign. “And I have too much.”

  Smoke drifted among the trees. Miri could see the flames. Her boat was on fire. She grasped the pistol in one hand, the stowaway gun in the other, and waited.

  5

  Supposition: Magic and contramagic are opposing primal forces that exist throughout the world. Question: How can someone use a primal force such as magic to contain and control a second primal force such as contramagic, when the two negate each other at contact? How do the Bottom Dwellers use contramagic in their weapons without the contramagic devouring the steel? They may well destroy us before we find the answers.

  —Journal of Rodrigo de Villeneuve

  Dag was a deeply religious man, and he did not approve of Rodrigo’s licentious lifestyle. Rodrigo’s moral standards made the tomcat Doctor Ellington seem a model of virtue. Dag considered Rodrigo to be a fop, a dandy, a coward who had never bothered to learn to use pistol or sword because he knew someone else would always protect him. Dag had never been able to understand how Stephano—a man of honor, a courageous soldier—could be friends with the dissolute Rodrigo, who mocked Dag’s beliefs and always seemed to be looking down that long aristocratic nose of his.

  Dag was therefore amazed and grudgingly impressed to see Rodrigo risking his life by rushing into a throng of demons to save the pewter tankard.

  “He has more guts than I expected,” Dag said to himself, grabbing his blunderbuss and two pistols. “More guts and less brains.”

  Some of the bats were landing; their riders dismounting to launch a ground assault against the Cloud Hopper while their bats harassed the boat’s defenders from the air. One of the bat riders came straight at Dag as he was running down the gangplank. He fired the blunderbuss and the bat rider seemed to disintegrate. Dag threw the blunderbuss into the grass and drew his pistol.

  A second bat landed on the ground near Rodrigo and began hobbling toward him. The bats were lethally graceful in the air, awkward and ungainly on the ground. The bat used both its feet and wings to walk, pulling itself along by digging the tips of its wings into the ground. The grotesque sight turned Dag’s stomach.

  The bat already perched on Rodrigo’s back was pecking at his neck, tearing his flesh
. Blood covered Rodrigo’s coat. He’d lost consciousness. Dag lifted his pistol, aimed, and fired. The bat flapped, screamed, and toppled over. The second bat flew away.

  Dag stuffed the spent pistol into his belt and drew the second. Green fire flared behind him. He could feel the heat. Stephano kept up near continuous fire with the swivel gun. Judging by the sounds of screams and screeching, he was doing some damage.

  The bat riders were converging on the Cloud Hopper and for the moment, Dag was in the clear. He grabbed Rodrigo and turned him gently over. Rodrigo’s face was covered with blood from a gash on his forehead. His hair was singed, as were his eyebrows. The dandy’s beloved lavender coat was ruined, the fine fabric torn, black with soot, red with blood. Parts of it were still smoldering.

  Dag took hold of Rodrigo by the shoulders, glanced behind him to get his bearings, then began to drag Rodrigo toward the Cloud Hopper.

  Green light seemed to flare constantly now. Smoke filled the air, making it difficult for Dag to see. He had gone only a few feet when a bat rider emerged from the smoke almost directly in front of him. The Bottom Dweller was so close Dag could see the man’s eyes in a hideous helm made to look like the face of a fiend from hell. The bat rider seemed as startled to see Dag as Dag was to see him. The demon raised his cannonlike weapon.

  Dag dropped Rodrigo, grabbed his pistol, and fired before the bat rider could bring his long gun to his shoulder. The bullet hit the Bottom Dweller in the mouth. The man flung up his arms and went over backward.

  Dag took hold of Rodrigo again and once more started to drag him along, heading for the Cloud Hopper. Stephano shouted a warning and Dag ducked as a bat dove for him. The swivel gun banged and the bat was gone. Dag didn’t look to see what happened to it.

  He had almost reached the Cloud Hopper when Stephano shouted urgently, “Down! Get down!” Dag hurled himself on top of Rodrigo. The green fire struck the cuirass, hitting him in the small of the back. The last time he’d been hit by the green fire, the blast had destroyed the magical constructs on his cuirass, nearly roasting him alive. This time, the new magic on the cuirass saved him. He felt like he’d been kicked in the back by a wyvern, but at least he wouldn’t spend a week lying on his stomach covered in Miri’s yellow goo.

  “Guess you’re of some use after all,” Dag grunted, once more grabbing hold of Rodrigo.

  Stephano left the swivel gun and, armed with two pistols, ran down to cover his friends. Two bat riders were trying to run up the gangplank. Stephano shot at one. The bat rider collapsed and rolled on the ground in pain. The second had his weapon aimed and ready to fire.

  “Drop the pistol, sir!” Dag yelled.

  Stephano let go of the pistol just as a ball of green flame burst from the demonic gun, enveloping the pistol. Constructs on the pistol crackled and sparked. The pistol exploded in midair. The bat rider retreated to reload.

  Dag scrambled up the gangplank, hauling Rodrigo with him. Behind him, he could hear Stephano swearing—a good sign. At least the captain was alive. Dag hauled Rodrigo to the helm, which was protected by a windscreen and would offer some protection. Dag bundled him underneath the brass plate control panel.

  “How is he?” Stephano shouted, running back to the swivel gun.

  “He’ll live,” Dag yelled back. “He won’t be quite as pretty—”

  Rodrigo tried to sit up. “The tankard…”

  Dag pushed Rodrigo back down. “Stay there and don’t move.”

  Rodrigo groaned and closed his eyes.

  Dag returned to his swivel gun as three bat riders flew down from the sky, targeting the boat. Green fire from their cannons struck the wing and the exposed portion of the lift tank. Snaking trails of blue light from Gythe’s spells flared, protecting the tank from the contramagic.

  Another blast struck the lift tank, a direct hit. This time no comforting blue light flared. Dag and Stephano exchanged grim glances. The protection spells had been breached.

  The bat riders soared into the air and came around for another pass. Dag braced himself, but this time the Bottom Dwellers didn’t aim at the Cloud Hopper. They fired at the bodies of their wounded and dead, causing them to burst into flame. The demon Stephano had shot in the leg died in the fire, writhing until the flames ended his agony.

  Dag watched dispassionately, wrinkling his nose at the stench of burning flesh. The bat riders flew off. He and Stephano both stayed at their guns, scanning the skies. They waited several moments, but no more Bottom Dwellers appeared.

  “That’s damn odd,” Dag stated, staring into the gray clouds. “They could have finished us off.”

  “They might be back,” said Stephano. “I’ll stay here with Rigo. Reload your weapons and then go fetch Miri and Gythe.”

  Dag flushed at the recollection of his angry outburst. “I’m sorry about that, sir. You were right. Miri and Gythe were safe, seemingly, and we did manage to save Miri’s boat.”

  “You were right to worry about them,” said Stephano. He reached out his hand to Dag. “All forgotten.”

  Dag started to shake, then stopped.

  “Your hand’s bleeding, sir,” said Dag.

  Stephano looked down. His hand was burned and bloody from the blast that had destroyed his pistol.

  “Thanks to you I still have a hand,” he said ruefully. “I’d forgotten that contramagic and gunpowder don’t mix. We’ll shake on it later.”

  Stephano knelt down on the deck beside Rodrigo. Dag hurried down the gangplank to see what had become of his favorite weapon, his blunderbuss.

  “How are you feeling?” Stephano asked Rodrigo.

  “Never mind me. What happened to the tankard?”

  “Dag’s checking on it,” said Stephano evasively.

  Dag was relieved to find his blunderbuss had escaped the assault unscathed. Picking it up, he looked over at the large patch of blackened grass and the smoldering ashes of what had once been their dining table. When he was back on board he caught Stephano’s eye and shook his head. He began to reload his weapons. Rodrigo saw the expression on his friend’s face.

  “The tankard’s destroyed, isn’t it?”

  “We don’t know—” Stephano began. He stopped, then whispered, “Hush!”

  Dag looked up, alarmed, to see Stephano staring at the lift tank.

  “What’s the matter?” Rodrigo asked groggily.

  “Keep quiet! Listen!”

  Dag froze in place. Rodrigo propped himself up on his elbow. No one spoke. They all could hear quite clearly the sound of hissing. Dag laid the blunderbuss carefully on the deck and hurried to the tank. Stephano was there before him. Rodrigo limped over to join them, peering over their shoulders.

  The brass tank was dented and ruptured and in some places the metal looked as if it had melted, as though it had been splashed with acid.

  “That hissing noise means the gas is escaping!” Rodrigo said, his voice rising in panic.

  “We know,” said Stephano grimly.

  In its natural state, the Breath of God provided a small amount of lift. Once the Breath was refined and “cleaned” as the refiners termed it, the gas was pumped into a lift tank where it could be magically charged to provide the lift needed to sail the ships of the world of Aeronne. Without lift gas, a boat as heavy as the Cloud Hopper would never leave the ground.

  “Then do something!” Rodrigo shook his friend by the shoulder. “We can’t fly without the gas. You have to stop it! Plug up the crack! Put your hand over it! Do something!”

  Stephano looked at Dag, who shook his head.

  “Maybe a crafter skilled in metallurgy—”

  “Oh, God!” Rodrigo groaned. He sank to the deck, his head in his arms.

  Dag went back to reloading his weapons.

  The sound of pistol shot echoed through the trees.

  * * *

  Miri could hear the battle raging around the Cloud Hopper. She was in agony, afraid for her friends, afraid for her boat, afraid for her sister. Gythe pressed her f
ace into Doctor Ellington’s fur. The cat was quiet, his eyes golden slits. His ears twitched. Flashes of green light and orange flame flared from the direction of their boat. Miri could hear the swivel gun firing, bats screeching.

  Then, abruptly, silence.

  Miri caught her breath. “The firing’s stopped.”

  That could be good or bad. Either her friends had driven off the foe or they were all dead.

  Gythe looked up. Her eyes widened. “They’re coming!”

  Sticks snapped, branches creaked, weeds rustled—the sounds of men moving through the heavy underbrush.

  “It might be Stephano,” said Miri.

  Gythe shook her head. “They’re coming for me.”

  Doctor Ellington hissed and leaped from Gythe’s arms, scratching her. His tail furred out, he ran into the forest.

  “Leave him!” Miri ordered, catching hold of Gythe. “Stay quiet.”

  Gythe crouched beside her sister. Miri gripped the gun and tried to keep her hands from shaking.

  The Bottom Dwellers were coming closer, the sounds growing louder. Miri knelt in the brush, in the shadows of the trees. Whoever was out there was almost on them. Miri raised the gun.

  Five bat riders came into view, moving through the trees. They had fanned out, walking in a line like a search party hunting the woods for a lost child.

  Miri picked out a bat rider moving slightly ahead of the others. Miri judged he was the commander. He motioned to the others, telling them to spread out. She aimed the pistol at his chest, the largest target. She wasn’t a particularly good shot, but at this range she could hardly miss.

  The commander drew closer. He walked with his head cocked, listening, again motioning the others to alter course. They were converging on Miri’s location, drawn to Gythe as iron to a lodestone.

  The commander was not expecting trouble. He carried the long gun slung over his shoulder. Perhaps he could sense Gythe’s terror and assumed his quarry was helpless, unarmed.

  He wants to take Gythe alive, Miri realized.

  Her fear almost suffocated her. She had to force herself to draw in deep breaths. She had only two shots and five bat riders. Her plan was to drop the commander. Dag and Stephano said you always aimed for the commander. His death would leave the others rattled, confused. They would have to stop, try to figure out what to do. Hopefully that would give Miri time to escape with Gythe, make a run for the Cloud Hopper.