by Terry Brooks
The Behemoth was a twenty-ton airship, but she rocked and shook within the maw of the storm as if a cork set upon churning rapids. Everyone save the pilots, who were forced to remain standing while they worked to control the huge vessel, was hunched over and pressed up against whatever support they could find, fighting to keep from being torn loose from their anchors, eyes shut and hands pressed hard against their ears.
So it was a shock when Shea felt Rocan’s hands grip his shoulder and pull him to his feet.
“We’re losing altitude!” Even though he was bending close, the Rover was practically screaming. “Something is wrong with the parse tubes aft! I have to take a look!”
“Can’t we use Annabelle to help change the weather?” Shea asked impulsively, shouting back at him.
“Not in the middle of a storm like this!” He clapped one hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Lend a hand here until I get back!”
He shoved the boy toward Sartren and the heavy wheel he was struggling to hold steady, and then deftly slipped his tether. Hauling the unfastened end coiled about one arm, he vaulted the walls of the pilot box without bothering to open the door, scrambled across the open decking to the aft port railing, and hooked himself up anew. Down the railing he crept, clinging to whatever support he could find, the wind and rain whipping at him. After a short distance, he stopped moving and peered over. Apparently finding what he wanted, he went over the side without a moment’s hesitation and was gone.
The boy held his breath. The tethering rope pulled taut, which indicated that Rocan was still attached. But it was swinging wildly with the violent lurching of the airship, and it didn’t seem as if it would take much to wrench its fastenings loose and send the Rover plunging to his death. Even while he was fighting the wheel with Sartren, Shea kept looking over his shoulder, fearing the worst.
But eventually Rocan reappeared, pulling himself back up and dropping exhausted on the deck, where he lay prone and unmoving for several long minutes. The boy started to go to him, but Sartren grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, shaking his head.
The minutes dragged by.
Finally Rocan stirred, dragged himself to his feet, unclipped the tether, and lurched back across the deck to the pilot box.
“Something crimped the exhaust on the upper parse tube…likely one of those spars…so the power was…cut off and the tube exploded.” He was gasping for breath, his words yanked away by the wind the moment they were spoken. “We lost all the crystals…and the explosion put a hole in the hull…maybe ten feet below the railing. We have to get it repaired.”
“Not until we make landfall!” Sartren shouted back. “Sit down, will you? Before you fall down!”
The Rover hooked himself up to a fresh line, glanced at the expression on Shea’s face, and grinned. “What? You thought you’d lost me? To a storm? Not likely, my young friend. Storms and I, we have an understanding!”
“Must have something to do with insanity!” Sartren waved impatiently. “Shea and I are fighting a losing battle here. We need someone else to take this on for a bit!”
Rocan was up at once, off his tether and scrambling over the decking to summon help.
“Crazy, that one,” his cousin said, almost too softly to be heard. “Just like this storm. Can’t tell which way he might blow next.”
But Shea’s thoughts were elsewhere. To have Rocan call him “friend” again—after he had worried that their friendship was beyond repair because of what he had revealed about Annabelle to Drisker—was heartening. It was worth all the worry and uncertainty he had weathered just to hear that one word.
Other Rovers appeared to take control of the wheel, giving Shea and Sartren a chance to rest. But there was little rest to be had as the storm raged on for several hours more, driving the Behemoth where it chose and likely, Shea thought, far off course. But he was too exhausted to contemplate how far, and eventually he fell asleep.
When he woke again, the storm’s power was diminishing as its leading edge finally moved on, leaving them only the tail end. The sky was brightening and the rainfall diminishing, and the crew were beginning to untether themselves in order to resume their duties. Even sitting propped up as he was at the rear of the pilot box, Shea could feel the Behemoth lurching unevenly while she struggled to maintain altitude and power. It was apparent she was experiencing a problem.
Rocan, appearing out of nowhere, knelt next to him. “How are you holding up?”
Shea nodded. “The ship doesn’t feel right.”
“You can tell that, can you? Sartren’s lessons must be doing you some good. We’ve lost parse tubes and diapson crystals on both sides of the ship, but more port than starboard. We’ve put up sails again, but there’s only so much solar power you can draw down when you’re working with half the number of crystals required to absorb it. So we need to make repairs, and we have to set down to do so. We’re searching for land that will allow it.”
“How long do we have?”
“Hard to tell. I don’t know exactly where we are.”
“No,” the boy interrupted, his face serious. “How long until we can’t stay aloft?”
Rocan started to answer and then stopped himself. “Okay, young Shea. You deserve the truth. You’re all grown up; you’re one of us now. So, best guess? Maybe a couple more hours. Then it’s down to the waters of the Tiderace and a very slow sail until we can get the ship repaired and back under way.”
Brecon Elessedil appeared in time to hear these last few words. “How far off course are we?”
Rocan shrugged. “The princess says we’ve been blown a long way south. Hundreds of miles, maybe. I wish I knew. She seems pretty certain, though.”
The Elven prince’s features tightened. “We can find out more than that. Come with me. Where is our princess prognosticator?”
Together, the three of them walked to the stern railing, where Ajin d’Amphere was deep in conversation with Dar Leah. Shea still didn’t know where they had been during the storm, but he noticed that the two were spending more time together than they had at the start of their voyage.
“Ajin!” Brecon called, bringing them both about. “Rocan tells me we’re way off course, but you don’t know how far. What if I were to help you with that? Can you describe a few defining features of your city or your homeland?”
“The Elfstones?” Dar asked at once. “Can they measure distance as well as direction?”
Shea wasn’t exactly sure what the Blade was talking about, but he was excited the moment he saw Brecon produce the Elfstones and hold them out in his palm. They were a deep cerulean in color and as bright and depthless as a cloudless autumn sky.
When Brecon looked questioningly at Ajin, she began describing geographic features of her homeland and iconic buildings and architectural features of her city. The images were clear and precise, even in Shea’s mind. Skaarsland was a place he knew virtually nothing about and had never visited, but a clear picture began to form in his mind of a great city in a wild and formidable land.
“That’s enough,” Brecon said finally.
He turned to look north, his hand outstretched with the Elfstones gripped firmly in his fist, his eyes closing as he disappeared somewhere inside himself. Shea exchanged an unexpected glance with Rocan, who gave a small shrug of confusion and shook his head. The princess also seemed confused, looking from one face to another. Only Dar Leah was excited, clearly anticipating whatever was supposed to happen.
Long seconds passed before anything did.
Then a brilliant streamer of blue light exploded out of the Elven prince’s hand and shot away into the distance, covering what appeared to be miles and miles of open water, an endless expanse that came and went without the horizon yielding anything new. The distance covered, however, never seemed to change the end point of the light, which remained fixed and unmoving—as if the watchers
were being drawn toward something rather than standing unmoving on the decks of the Behemoth.
Finally, landfall arrived, and a short farther distance brought them to a walled, tower-studded city of white stone so brilliant it seemed to be a reflection of the sun. There it stalled, the image of the city brightening further for a moment, and then everything disappeared.
Brecon Elessedil lowered his arm and looked at Ajin. “Is that your home?”
Ajin nodded in disbelief. “How did you do that?”
“Never mind that,” Rocan interrupted. “Can you do it again? Only this time to find us land close by where we can set down?”
“Wait! How far do the Stones tell us we have to go before we reach Skaarsland?” Dar Leah wanted to know.
A flurry of sharp exchanges ensued, everyone trying to talk over everyone else until finally the Elven prince shouted them down. “One question at a time, please!”
Everyone went silent, and he continued. “Dar, we are miles from where we need to go. Rocan, the Elfstones only work when you have a clear image of what it is you are looking for. A general vision of land won’t take us anywhere. And Princess, you just witnessed a bit of Elven magic. The Elfstones are a part of my people’s legacy from a much older time, and these particular Elfstones allow us to search out what we can’t see so that we may find it.”
He might have said more, but at just that moment a shout went up from one of the Rovers who was stationed on lookout port side forward. “Land! Land ahead!”
“About time,” Rocan muttered, and all of them scattered forward to see for themselves what had been discovered.
Below and off to the starboard side of the airship, still several miles ahead, a broad-based, mountainous island appeared through a screen of mist and low-hanging clouds. Swatches of green forest appeared on the slopes of foothills fronting a trio of towering peaks that were flattened off instead of pointed, their shapes indicating they were volcanic formations. Thin strips of sandy beach glimmered white here and there where the island met the ocean, suggesting a tropical climate and vegetation.
But something was a little off. Shea, standing with the others, stared at the island as they drew steadily nearer, trying to decide what it was. Finally, when they were within a few hundred yards, he figured it out.
There were no birds flying anywhere, high or low. Not a one. Nor was there any sign at all of small animals. Nothing running or crawling on the beaches, nothing darting in and out of the forests, nothing on the trunks or limbs of the trees—nothing anywhere.
“Where is everything?” he said softly.
But no one heard him.
* * *
—
The day had not been a good one up until now, and it was already closing in on midafternoon when the call was given. But spirits rose considerably at the thought of being able to step off their craft and walk on solid ground again, even if for only a short time. Repairs to a lost parse tube and a hole in the side of their vessel did not of themselves demand a lot of time, but certain materials might well be needed, and the complexity of setting diapson crystals to draw down maximum power through the light radian draws was a different matter.
Darcon Leah decided to have a look around. Because Rocan had informed them they were likely to be on the island for a day or so, there was good reason for the Blade to make sure they would be safe from any predators or other dangers. He also saw it as a chance to go off by himself for a bit, to contemplate the troubling nature of his situation.
He had not wanted to come on this voyage in the first place. He had done so because Drisker Arc had requested it, and he had always believed that when the Druid asked something of him, he should try to comply. This was because he greatly respected the other man, but also because he fully understood the importance of what they were attempting. He was not sure he believed it was in any way possible, or that Tindall was anything more than another inventor of a failed machine. But Drisker seemed convinced that the attempt was necessary, and that meant traveling to Skaarsland.
With Ajin.
Which was the real source of the problem.
Traveling anywhere with the Skaar princess presented more than a few challenges. She was a key member of an invasion force that meant to establish a new home in the Four Lands by whatever means necessary. That by itself made her presence troubling. But because of the series of encounters the two of them had undergone, she no longer saw herself as his enemy—even when he made it clear to her that he was somewhat ambivalent about how he saw her. She was only there because he had found her entangled in the wreckage of her aircraft on the slopes of the Dragon’s Teeth and had chosen not to let her die. It was Drisker who had decided she might prove useful when they reached Skaarsland, and so had insisted she come with them.
All of which reinforced her belief that she and Dar were destined for each other. So what he saw as a coincidence, she saw as proof of a fate that was drawing them ever closer. And now, in spite of his previous conviction that any further connection between them was doomed, he was beginning to wonder.
Such equivocation was not helped by the frequency with which she was creeping in to sleep with him at night. While all she did was cuddle up against him and all he did was hold himself rigid, he was beginning to find the arrangement pleasant.
Her unexpected appearance, coming up suddenly from behind him now, was startling. “Darcon! Hold up a moment. I’m coming with you.”
She rushed to catch him as he turned, and then fell into step beside him. He shook his head in dismay. “Ajin…”
“Not glad to see me? I thought you might like some company. Besides, I’ve nothing to do back there but sit around. Here, I might be of some use. I’ve done a fair amount of exploring in strange lands.”
He shook his head. “I can manage well enough on my own.”
“That’s a given. But an extra pair of eyes—especially when they’re experienced eyes—doesn’t hurt.”
“I suppose not.”
She gave him a long, steady look. “You were thinking about me, weren’t you? Just now, before I got here.”
It was an inexplicably correct guess, but coming so randomly it caught him completely off guard. Don’t look at her, he warned himself, already feeling a smile trying to break through his mask of indifference.
“Don’t bother trying to deny it,” she continued, her confidence galling. “I can feel it in the way you refuse to look at me. You’re trying too hard.”
Can she actually read my mind? Shades, what an unsettling possibility. He forced himself to glance over, working hard to keep his expression neutral. “You can’t tell anything just by looking at me.”
Her smile was dazzling, and he turned away quickly as she laughed. “Have it your way. You’re being stubborn, but don’t tell me you don’t feel it. The attraction is there, and it’s strong. You and I, Darcon Leah, are meant to be together. And sooner or later we will be.”
“We’re not meant to be together, Princess.”
“It didn’t feel that way last night. Not a bit of it.”
“Nothing happened. You just slept next to me.”
“You weren’t paying close enough attention if you believe that. There are all sorts of ways to be together, you know. Are you that new to all this? I thought you were partnered with that Druid who was killed.”
He wheeled on her angrily. “Don’t talk about Zia! Not another word.”
She held up her hands defensively and took a step back, her eyes locked on his. The look on her face made him want to apologize for his abruptness, but instead he just shoved the matter aside and turned away.
They started walking again, neither speaking. They were entering a shallow valley that was rugged and heavily forested. Slopes and ravines slowed their progress, and mountains rose not too far in the distance. So far, they had seen no animals or birds, just the thic
k vegetation. Dar was beginning to wonder if anything at all lived here, or if the island was entirely devoid of life.
Overhead, the sun was inching toward the horizon, on its way to setting. The shadows about them were lengthening, and the whole of the forest they were passing through was growing darker.
“We’re in the Nambizi,” Ajin said suddenly.
“What?” He stopped and turned to her. “How do you know? Do you recognize this island?”
“Islands. There are nine of them. I know them from the stories told by Skaar explorers. I wasn’t sure before, but I am sure now. That’s where we are.”
Dar glanced around. “What do you know about this particular island? Is it dangerous? What lives here?”
She held up her hands. “Settle down. I don’t know much more than what I’ve just told you. Nine islands, off the coast of Nambia. That’s about it. If I ever knew anything else, I’ve forgotten it. Except for one thing. We are a couple hundred miles south of where we should be.”
“A couple hundred?”
“Give or take. What difference does it make? The point is, we’re way off course.”
“What difference?” he muttered, walking over to a fallen tree and seating himself. “Think about it. Shades!”
She came over to sit down beside him. “I know it’s disappointing, but at least we’re still able to get there. The repairs won’t take that long. Will they?”
He shook his head, staring off into the distance.
“So we just need to complete repairs on the airship and keep going. That storm was a freak of nature—much stronger than we usually see in this part of the world. Things should improve once we fly out again.”