Bliss

by Daniel Lawley

  “Pull her up now Captain!” He heard a sailor panic as they emerged from the cloud cover. He'd already engaged the wheel in an upward tilt to even her sailing. They kept the speed momentarily. Pushing forward more quickly. At this low altitude the sky was a strange and alien creature to him. The air thicker, more resistant to the charms of his movements as he danced the ship along in the escape.

  “Land” called the sailor upon the crow’s nest. He was right. Barely visible to the eye being almost blinded by the rain there stood two mountain tops. He gripped the wheel and jolted her to portside then to starboard. With the violence of his motion the ship rocked, narrowly avoiding collision with the twin peaks. Menacing and unforgiving in their placement.

  Then it happened all at once. The earth below shook violently. Burning and screaming against itself with a force unseen each piece grinding against the others then they crumbled and gave way to burning magma. Orange firelight pushed and burned against the shaking and angry earth. The lightning struck the lava causing it to ride upward with the force of the blow and harden momentarily before cascading down again, melted by the intense heat of the burning world below.

  “Captain! We must climb” came another panicked voice.

  “Nay we stay” he ordered. He did not know what had come over him yet he felt more alive than he ever had before, every sinew burned inside him with the light of the twin suns, now invisible behind the clouds. Around them the mountains crumbled striking several naval vessels whose crew had the misfortune to follow through the tumult. Their men would be lost forever. He could hear the momentary burning screams of terror before a resounding silence. They had been close enough that he could see their features, close enough to smell their ship and their flesh cook.

  He steered her left and right, avoiding tumbling rocks with ease. They made incredible haste, yet with enough caution to pull back if needed. They rushed onward between life and death. Caught in the pull between two worlds equally intent upon their end. He looked to the ground below. It whirled and swirled as if an ocean of burning liquid earth. It burned and billowed toward them. A rampaging, angry planet roiled below, its fury unfettered with the temper of broken natural order. The world screamed in protest with what was happening. Now it would taste the flesh of men, its revenge unconcerned with whom deserved to live and die. The two members of the Order continued to pray, their divine light a beacon in the dark as the twin suns set upon their cycle. The Bliss was upon them, yet below them despair reigned supreme.

  Orochi found himself pulled back to the moment as a mountain range rushed to meet them. He dodged it narrowly as the deft ship remained in his control. She turned and twisted a dance of her own within the air. Her great balloon keeping them afloat the whole time.

  “Crow’s nest report?” He called.

  “The world is a mess Captain, if it can be called that any more, it burns and twists, molten for miles around. It shall not settle” came the voice of the sky-sailor above.

  “Thank you, and the report on the forces following?” He screamed above the fracas.

  “A small force follows at a distance and to the portside a small fleet prepares a rush toward us” he reported back.

  “Man the portside guns” he ordered resolutely. He understood the men had already done so yet men on edge often feared for their lives, that tension could break even the most steadfast of souls. They needed to feel somebody was in control in order to perform their best. He would see to it that they were well governed. They would do their best work, of that he was sure. It was no man's fault that the odds were so heavily against them. To the starboard the mountains shook and collapsed with a force unanticipated, if any of this could have been. The sails had the wind, all they could do was push onward and hope for the best when it came to their pursuers. They were outnumbered and outgunned, perhaps outclassed. The priests continued their silent worship of the Three. One thing remained in their favour, he only hoped the light of the divine might shine upon them and not the admiral.

  The mountain shook again. Her violent billowing became a cloud as the earth within her screamed to be free, to the starboard rocks and magma spewed from her. They would destroy this vessel. One touch would send her to flames igniting the balloon and finishing them. The end would be quick if undesired. He steered her quickly to the portside, further into the path of waiting vessels. They were out of range of the guns, that was a small blessing. He understood the trap was closing around them and without intervention, it would be too late.

  ~The Stolen Airship~

  ~ Sixth of the Crop, Song of Sorrow~

  The fire roiled,

  The sky burned,

  The air turned to smoke and ash.

  All around the horror of the day screamed to be heard.

  One dared to fly against the tide of destiny

  - Ancient prophecy, considered historical

  Orochi had never known fear like it. It flowed from his skin and formed an aura around them, thick with the lost hope of expected tomorrows. He'd tried hiding it, his bravado built on pride, too strong to succumb to the chase of a military force he could outrun on a good day. Outrun in his own ship, outrun if he'd been half the man he'd been in his youth. Yet while age had taken him gracefully, the essence of the younger man inside screamed out to be heard.

  Below, the earth whirled, the magma of a forgotten world thick and red, angry it burned, the heat of its fury prickling his skin as the cold ice of the storm battered him. The elements had betrayed them. Around them, cyclones swirled as they sped through the onslaught. Some became caught in the storm and ice filled their wind. Others swirled up the magma into heated rocks. Sure to explode on impact he shuddered at the thought of their caress against the hull of this stolen ship.

  “Captain, the guns!” Came the voice of Tyde. Panicked with the situation. None among them had witnessed anything of the like and they found themselves tested to the limits of their capability.

  “Load them!” He ordered, unable to fathom as to why this had not been a priority.

  “Already done, I mean the guns, shall we point them?” She stretched her arm to the portside horizon. He followed her gaze with horror as he witnessed a pair of fleet galleons had crept upon them from the side. Flanking them against the crumbling mountainside as it spewed the contents of its eruption. They would be finished in an instant if they got this wrong. They could fight a battle outgunned or they could dodge the leavings of nature as they escaped or they could do neither. He looked again at the warships.

  “Are they in range?” He asked.

  “Yes!” She screamed jubilantly. The new guns she had not fired yet she knew them well having fought against one of these vessels.

  “Then hold them off, if they are in range of us, likelihood is we are in range of them, I wouldn't want to provoke any reaction that might blight our chances, this is an escape, the war is lost and we can't fight it ourselves.”

  “But Captain, can we not take one out?” She asked eagerly.

  “The weather is unpredictable to say the least, if by chance the blasts were not blown off course, or melted away and we do manage to strike home and finish one of them, the other could easily take up arms while we reload. It seems like a reckless path. We must draw them in, hope to the gods that whatever is going on up there had the good sense to take them out and even out the odds. Then we can think more closely about combat should we need to make a more aggressive escape.” His words made sense he knew despite her disappointment. He drove the vessel closer to the mountainside. Their stalkers pulled themselves into the fray drawn inwards but cautious. He silently raised a salute to their navigators. It was a foolhardy man who played dangerously with the safety of his ship. These had done none of that and for that they had earned the respect of the old pirate captain.

  “We must draw them in closer!” Screamed Tyde above the fray. He knew her words to be true, at this distance he surmised they maintained an equilibrium where neither could advance against the other, no
w they had fallen into line there needed to be an action that gave them advantage. Suddenly the wind picked up again. At the ships’s fore the old priest began to glow with the light of the twin suns, as if all his prayers were answered a holy intervention took them forward. As the sails filled he steered her into the wind of the storm. Her pace quickened almost instantly, he was glad of the wheel to hold or he may well have been pushed over the railing at the edge. The planks and beams of the great battleship creaked below him. Their loud protest a worry in his mind as he wondered if they would maintain their form against this sudden new force. He steered past burning rocks and flaming boulders, men stood at the ready with whatever water could be collected from the storm to put out fires should they arise. As they were taken at a quicker pace so too were the enemy vessels. Through the scope he spied their pursuers, in fear of losing their quarry, had burned their engines faster in order to accelerate. They meant to take them down by force now they had shown themselves to be quicker than anticipated. To the portside the naval fleet had become a speck in the distance. The priest continued to burn the eyes of all those who glanced his direction with the might of his divine light. Then it happened, all too quickly, yet he could sense each small event leading to the larger as they occurred almost as if time had decelerated itself with the intensity of his power and the might of the magic surrounding him.

  The great mountain spewed and belched loudly, exploding its highest point with all the burning force of the inner core of the world. It screamed and bellowed its anger. From it rose pillars of smoke and the mightiest of shadows. It covered all behind them, as if blanketed by some great cloud. Then it fell. The peak of the mountain burst downward as quickly as it had sprung upwards with velocity unheralded. They sped forward caught in the wind, then too did their first assailant able to catch the tide of the sky to a safer place. The second, not so lucky, became crushed beneath the burning rubble as it cascaded upon them. There was no time to witness properly. No time to feel, no time to hear the screams. The sight of hundreds of men, in an instant burned to nothing as the flash from the sudden heat vaporised them.

  Then the shockwave came. Strong and hot, it felt as if it were more than they could take, the heat burned the rain, turning it to steam as it mingled with the ash from the blast, the sudden displacement in the atmosphere caused the clouds to part with calamitous force, pushed ever outward by the onslaught. The hot wind caught the sails. He feared it would set them ablaze, he thanked the Three as they held firm. Yet they were pushed with force beyond their control, faster than they had ever travelled, with more velocity than either vessel had been designed to withstand. Around him men hit the decks, flat on their bellies or their backs, determined to survive the push and eager to remain on board. He heard the roaring churn of the whirling earth below as it crumbled and crunched itself to mulch and nothingness. Any man unfortunate enough to lose his footing would perish, crushed in the burning earth.

  He held firm at the wheel yet it was useless against the force, if they were to be dashed against the side of the burning mountain that would be their fate, there was nothing he could do, powerless he marveled as the old priest continued to glow, was this the will of the old man or the will of the ancient deities he worshipped? He could not be sure, of that he knew nothing and would always remain ignorant. He was no coward. If the gods deigned him worthy to retain his life he would lead these men to salvation. He no desire to learn of them or their ways, he'd spent his life at odds with them, he saw no need to enter the fold now.

  The velocity slowed and he was able to regain control. Pulling the small scope from the pocket of his coat he looked toward where he supposed he might find the naval vessel. It was there, although in worse shape than they were. They had been closer to the blast and their mast had fallen, disabling the mainsail. They were running solely on engine power, yet their disciplined crew were already back about their business and the vessel made a speedy approach toward them. On their tails the naval fleet had caught up, clearly they too had been close enough to this side of the blast circumference to be aided in their approach by the shockwave. He cursed loudly, he'd hoped they would have been pushed back at least, perhaps even destroyed. So much for the will of the gods he mused. They were no better off and would have to survive under their own power.

  “Power the engines and brace the mainsail” he ordered loudly. “This is gonna be a fight for our lives!” Silently he thanked the stars they had been fortunate enough to preload the cannons. He'd seen first hand, many times, the slaughter due to those who did not prepare ahead of a skirmish. The makeshift crew of ex-naval officers and pirates followed his commands, yelled over the fray of the storm, he felt more like a captain than he'd done in a long time. As he watched them spring to work he found it odd that only hours before they had stood side by side upon the gallows before the boy had taken his chance to rescue them, for honour or loyalty he'd no clue. Looking at him now, the way he followed his duties yet remained protective of the girl, he suspected something else drove him. He'd been young once, he remembered.

  Forward they lurched, their vessel pushed by its great engines and the sudden push of the wind. Below decks the men were working hard but it was not enough. Soon they were gained upon. There was nothing else for it.

  “Man the guns” he yelled. There was a sudden rumbling below and across her main deck. The captain of the vessel in pursuit had ordered the same thing from what he witnessed was occurring there. They were close now, close enough to smell the sweat upon those who chased, to taste the fear in the air, to smell the dread among them all. Today they would see action fiercer than any they had experienced so far. There was a good chance they would die. He quenched the thought, there was too much to do to be afraid. The men looked to him, the anger on his brow transfiguring his face to the twisted mirror of rage he needed to show them. “Gentlemen” he half crooned, half yelled “I need inform you not of the stakes in this game, I need inform you not of the snapping jaws of desolation at our heels, I need inform you not that indeed there is a great chance that everyone of us will be dead before the suns rise again upon this angry Neta. Today is the day you leave your mark! Today is the day that you reject all notion of giving in, today is the day you reject all fear of the underworld, of the Three, of the death that has been awaiting you every day of your lives. Today is the day you rise! Today is the day you fight and scream to the fates that no more will you be accosted and hunted and murdered, that you are worthy of the breath of life within your lungs, that you are the son of your father and his father before him and your legacy is worthy of protection and continuation. Gentlemen, I give you war, fire the cannons!” Fury burned within him and fire grew in his soul. The ringing echoed out as they shot and the enemy returned fire. Smoke billowed and filled the air, Tyde screamed her orders but they were already to action. Satisfaction reigned true inside.

  The deck shook as they took a blast. The hull had been breached in clear contravention to his wishes. Quietly he swore to himself. He looked over the brink, through the clearing smoke of cannon fire. On the other side of the mist and clamour he witnessed the carnage they had wrought upon their attackers and their own hull. It had cracked, splitting vertically along half the ship in the middle. Its dark paintwork cracked with the wood of her body smashed to splinters.

  “Fire!” He heard Tyde order over the yells of panicked men, their wills burning in bloodlust and fury. The world churned below, whosoever would destroy the vessel of their opposing force would so condemn the men aboard to the worst of fates.

  Cannon fire shook the deck as his guns rained carriage down on the waiting vessel. They too were shot at, he took the wheel, feeling the thrust of the engines upon the steering mechanism as he controlled the will of the sky. He brought her around to the other side allowing the starboard facing hull to the enemy, and the starboard side guns. It was a risky manoeuvre but one he was willing to take, nothing about the situation was ideal, he'd take their chances where he could. Tyde’s gun
men did not need to wait for orders. As soon as they judged the guns in range they let rip with a roaring blast, the deafening ricochet screamed in his ears as the scent of blood, spent gunpowder and burning filled the air. They managed to avoid the retaliatory blasts. The enemy, too slow to fire as they recovered had taken enough time and he'd been able to steer her out of harm‘s way. They hit the mountainside and tumbled harmlessly to the crumbling earth below.

  He'd gotten used to her now. This juggernaut of a sky ship. He stole a glance at the pair of priests. Silently they remained praying, the light of devout majesty shining from within. All this had been their doing, all this their will. He wondered what wicked schemes the Three had brought upon him. He turned the vessel. Now the wind had died he found her more responsive to his touch. It had only been the force upon her inner mechanisms that had made her difficult. Her size had no bearing upon the handling of her flight.

  The enemy had taken heavy damage but they had one more trick up their sleeve, he'd allowed himself to become too entranced in the battle to notice the distance, he'd gotten too close in his desire to send them cascading from the sky. Silently she powered her engines. The naval captain gave a shout and the crew threw hooks, tearing over the side of the vessel and pulling her in. Ladders and rope and rigging were used to bridge the gap between the two, pulling them together with the power of the engines. He tried to steer away but too late. Cannons would be useless, if he shot her down while connected the weight of the debris attached to the vessel would topple her over, just like his beloved Stormkite, they would all fall to their deaths. Men began to emerge over the lip of her hull.