We made a steady descent. The reefed sails scarce fluttered as our Priests ladened the ballonets’ air. Even now carpenters and engravers repaired the hull. It was only patchwork, and no serious mending would be made until we dock at a shipyard. Yet it would be weeks ere that time came, and we could ill afford to leave gaping holes in the hull.
The leviathan had been slain, but our job was far from done. For we did not hunt for sport or heroic conquest, but for bones, leather, and many precious materials that would be sold for the highest price or straightway enrich the captain’s hoard. Artifacts they were, extracted from a leviathan – first of its kind slain in living memory. But what the captain sought besides we did not know. Only whatever it was, it had to be worth the dear cost we had paid.
Layers of clouds we passed. And as the skybed of this realm approached, the Anemones and deckhands alike drew outside for the spectacle. Few airships are built to brave the descent to the Underland, fewer had ever attempted the deed. Though we dread that land and curse in its name, it is a sailor’s disposition to take joy in seeing it. Months we often spend in the open sky, far from land, while ever conscious we are of the solid land far, far beneath. It is said also that hell lurked beneath this vast earth, where sinful souls are condemned for eternity. But even to the most superstitious mind, the novelty of such descents that few alive have ever made provided a morbid curiosity and, regardless, anticipation. Ere long we would brave this land, plundering its only booty, that which the Father Sky had cast off.
The last layer of clouds was thicker than those we were well acquainted with, the clumps lay flat with few bumps to break evenness. The ship sank into it as though cushioned. They swallowed us whole, and for a while, we could scarce see beyond our noses. All activities ceased on the deck. I felt the searching touch of someone’s hand on my side. I let it take hold of mine, and basked in Litzia’s sweet scent.
In that gray of uneasiness, I thought of my relationship with the wyverness. Nothing was ever clear between us. And I knew little of her origin, save little chips in what she had confessed with a crazed mind. But whatever it had been, I made the bold step and allowed my fate to be intertwined with her. Whatever deeper motive she possessed I could but follow and await instruction. It is serving two mistresses at odds with each other. A rivalry that could only lead to certain peril, and I had gone and got myself tangled in the mess.
An oppressing hand pressed on the layered fabric of the envelope, and the ship groaned all the way in her main timbers. And yet all creatures on the ship were unharmed, unaffected, save for the blinding effect of the thick fog. Then abruptly, as though a barrier was lifted, the sky became clear, and we entered the realm under. The transitioning layer lay flat upon our head, while below us, a great land stretched as far as the eye could see. Clouds too were there, but of lighter shades, and sparser than the ones we had just passed. Everything else was gray.
A scarred and broken land it was. Cragged heights pierced this lower sky and dark crevices sundered its barren surface. Near to where we were descending, a mountain range ran south to east. They wore caps of snow, but did not glitter, for the sun’s greatest brilliance does not reach here. Here and there, a stream sped down from high then twisted forlornly across the land, its water dirty, dark, and foul. No greenery grew on the arid soil. The Underland is not for the living.
There was a rustle midship, then two alae took off. They were the search party for the leviathan’s corpse. It would not be an easy flight, for a strange pressure in the air rose the lower we descended. One that albeit lighter than within the layer of flat clouds, was a fell thing, as though hidden demons beheld us in their deadly gazes.
“What do you think?” I asked Litzia. She had been peering anxiously at the land.
“I do not like it. It is no dwelling place, and what I have heard about it is true: hell lurks here.”
“Well,” I shrugged, “I don’t hate it much. It feels… grand, I suppose. This land stretches to infinity, you know, not like ours. I believe the words of the followers of Raisers: this was where it all began. But I also fancy that one day, people will reclaim it, and make it a living place.”
“I do not see how that could be possible. But you are strange today, pledge-sister, does this place affect you?”
I turned to her, searching for usual mockery, but I had not seen much trace of it of late. Then I thought over it briefly.
“I did not like it the first time I was here either,” was all I could say. “Thea also dislikes it.”
“Even as anyone else,” said the person in question, “‘Tis queer to take a liking to a place of death.”
Thea came up behind us, in her hand was my runestaff. It need not be repeated countless times that I regarded that girl with much respect, and with an awe reserved for her lineage more than she ever cared to. And still, it was natural how she fit in the polite garb, neatly trimmed, ironed, and perfumed unlike the unattended rags we both were used to. No more was her exceedingly long hair tied crudely to a belt of rope. The one treasure she never gave up, though all else was taken and her skin blemished, now fell freely over the dark and white of the Daybright’s servant uniform, high-collared and long-sleeved, completely in the fashion of noble households. Still, it was a cumbersome affair, despite one that my friend took to with ease and grace.
Litzia’s proposal to make her our maid had met no objection from the steward, and from then on, she had tended to Litzia’s and my well-being. One, oddly, she had taken to with an astute solemnity.
“Is something the matter?” asked Litzia.
“Gladiola sends for you two,” said Thea, “Ala Estival is to accompany the captain to the harvest site.”
Whatever it was she sought, she wanted it with no delay. Though few in this sky, or in this Under, would fain steal what the Dragon had set her sight on.
Suddenly Thea drew close. Snappily and Smartly, she tucked the staff under her arm and promptly brushed my hair, though ever messy it was, while the other hand fixed my skewed collar. ‘Twas she who picked my fresh clothes from those issued by the steward, at the present a clean tunic, and an ox-hide jacket. Nothing fancy. For unlike her, doubtless I would look a fool in pretty garb, if she had thought otherwise at least my vehement protest was heard. Natheless, Thea had gone to great lengths to straighten and wax them to a pristine state. Surprising how she fell easily into the duties of a maid after long exerting years under the sunny deck. Our might was to pull lines not ironing delicate fabrics, and far more accustomed were we to the marlinespike than the slender needle. Funnily, I had no mother, not even a proper birth for that matter, but I could only see her attentiveness like that of one instead of a servant.
“There, do take care of your appearance when you stand before the captain, you hear?”
“Aurora would not lose her mind over a knight’s way of dress,” said Litzia as she pulled me away, almost too spirited as she did, “make haste now, we shan’t leave our ala-sisters waiting.”
By the time Litzia and I rendezvoused with Ala Estival at the Hall of Wreaths. Others had returned from outside, but three ala only stood at the ready. Rosa Alba was exchanging words with the chief mate at the forefront of our formation. Ala Vernal was pretty and brimming with might as ever, while nearby Ala Hiemal awaited the captain with a grave air. They were her royal guards, and moved only as she moved.
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Ere long, chief mate Justitia bad us to go down the hold. Many levels below the Hall was a great space at the bottom of the waist deck. There, goods were stored and a small vessel made her sunless berth. Situated within the Daybright like a ready offspring was an airship the size of a small merchant ship. By tracks it had been moved to the side hatch, and three masts erected on its deck. Shiphands had already been brought aboard as well as supplies. For a beast the size of our mark, it would take a fortnight at least to extract all the valuables.
Owing to her size, there was no gondola under the envelope, but a poop deck was raised astern where the helm was located. There, I caught a glimpse of a Priest. As we got to the deck he was sitting low behind the helm, and rose only when the captain and her officers arrived. They exchanged a couple of words. A strange creature the Priest was, clad entirely in so thick a cassock that there was no way to tell the gender. Even her hands were covered in wrappings, and the face under the low hood unseen behind a rune-engraved mask.
When news arrived from the searching party, which did not take long, the small ship was pushed along the tracks again. I had never taken part in an extraction trip before, but this number of alares seemed unusual. Not one or two, but three Seasonal Alae was to accompany the captain. One was the mightiest of her force, the other her personal guards, and us.
Among Ala Vernal, one girl of fluffy pinkish hair caught my rather intense gawking. They were the subjects of legends, of course. Even I would be curious about their presence so near. Noticing my hair color perhaps, she returned my gaze with equal scrutiny.
“Aster,” my new name was called and my side nudged. Hortensia threw a hand over my shoulder. “All the pretty flowers yet only the loveliest of all caught your attention, eh? That would be Rosa Noisette if you are meaning to ask. But, setting aside your lecherous, courageous spirit to aim for our commandant’s sworn sister on your first day, do refrain from flirting when your pledge-sister is right next to you, my dear. It is not meet!”
“I don’t quite follow, Hortensia.”
“She’s saying,” Litzia explained as a matter of fact, “that you were eyeing a Rosa from Ala Vernal quite brazenly for a new knight. And that you’re of the same species as herself.”
“Species? But…”
With the arm still over my shoulder, Hortensia poked my pledge-sister, ignoring me, “And now the azure is playing innocence, but what say you, generous sister Litzia dear, don’t you know what an A-ha moment that was for me when I first laid eyes on the maid your knight fancies: a stunning beauty flawed only by the chained torch, sweetheart imported for your own dearest sister. Now that’s something new. Something enviable. Gladiola would never…”
“Take caution, Hortensia,” Valerian spoke from nearby, “and reign in your sport. You speak to the wyvern who challenged even our captain. I would not think she so far from snapping your horns with her limits thus pushed.”
“Oh, don’t you stop now,” Acis chimed in with a protest, “She may not be Hortensia’s fellow-creature, but do you doubt her trait of one? Hortensia skylarks, and still in her lies there is sometimes truth!”
“And what trait and truth might that be?” I asked.
“Two-timing,” next to Acis, Galanthis pressed the words curtly, gravely.
I was at a loss. Is that how they perceive our relationship? But perhaps that was expected and common among alares. It is the love between the two who understand each other more than most, who spend all their waking and sleeping time together. It would be a lie to say I had not discerned the somewhat unusual affection some alares had for their pair. Between Acis and Galanthis, it was obvious, oftentimes too overbearing. For Gladiola and Hortensia, it was less so, but our leader was too uptight a woman, and her wyverness too, well, open.
I glanced at Valerian also. The woman had lost her pledge-sister recently, same as her wyverness. While Marigold rarely participated in our conversation, but kept to herself and her partner's side. They were as freshly made a pair as us. So it must not be all very unusual.
“It is not so,” I said. “I know not what is common here, but I treat Litzia as a close friend, and Thea is a long-time fellow.”
“Not friends, but sisters. Think you the title is mere cutesy sweet speech for the mouth?” Hortensia drew closer, “And still who says it must needs be aught more than that.” As she said a cool touch ran on my skin. It crept along the base of my neck, so gentle and yet hinting at a savage strangling, but she was not so. The exotic wyverness caressed the way down. I shivered.
It ended abruptly, forcefully. Litzia seized the blue wyvern’s hand. “Behave, ala-sister. You are making Aster uncomfortable.” Simply. So quietly yet swiftly was her movement to seize Hortensia’s wrist.
“So long as she is fine with it then?” Hortensia drew away with an undaunted look.
My wyverness did not answer.
“And now even she looks at me warily,” the playful woman shook her head at me with an exaggerated sigh, “But I wonder if the time will not come…”
“My apologies,” my voice was hoarse. “I would rather you… don’t do that again.” I was a bit shaky. No one had ever touched me so sensationally. Not even Thea. That woman, that wyverness, was dangerous. Even one so limited in experience as I could tell. I felt myself instinctively backing away.
“You heard her,” at last Gladiola spoke. “Don’t bother the girl if she likes it not.”
And she said naught more. Litzia, on the other hand, moved her lips, as though seeking to converse something to our leader, but then refrained.
She coughed. Then drew closer to me, so close that I could feel her familiar scent.
What would Thea think of the conversation just now? I did not know the way of this strange community, and for that I was ever wary. She probably would have laughed it off. Or perhaps she would have thought about it deeply. That girl had a habit of reading into things, but not of being intimidated, as I easily am.
After a small and awkward eternity, the time for departure came. All hands rallied on deck to greet the growing light from the lifting hatch to port. Fresh air surged in, beating back the stuffy interior of the hold. Not long after they were swept away by our Art wind, and the envelope rose, dragging taut the shrouds and lifting the flat bottom off the floor. Now the spirited ahoy resounded the enclosed space, and in unison the three sails were unfurled. Their bellies grew and gradually we moved. Harsh winds drove us swiftly outside, but so controlled that the top of the envelope maintained a mere ten feet from the threshold.
Now outside the Priest steered on Justitia’s direction; the alares took off. Again my hands joined with Litzia, and we muttered the needful words. This time, the open sky welcomed us with little perils in kind, though the view might be no less bleak.
As with the second assault on the leviathan, Ala Estival flew in two wings with Gladiola and Hortensia in the lead. After them went Valerian and Marigold, while Litzia and I trailed behind Galanthis and Acis. Though there was no way to discern its elements, the air in this world was not as fresh or liberating as in ours. We flew almost unaided, as though the blessing from our pledge did not accompany us here. Still, there was no reason to frighten one’s wit. The captain and her guards were near, Ala Vernal on our rear, and no enemy at hand, save for that one already perished.
The ship descended towards the mountain range with the Alae scouting ahead. Large as the thing was, it did not take long to confirm its location. Sprawling at the foot of the tallest peak, the leviathan lay like one charred mass, black and dead. That mountainside had been ravaged, and the aftermath of an avalanche buried many of the lifeless tentacles. It must have collided at the top and slid down to its permanent grave here.
Our destination was the gaping hole on the corpse’s back, one that we had worked hard and sacrificed much to break. The airship drew near to that place, or as much as permitted by the dome of tentacles the thing had wrought in its last stand. Most of those had been scorched black by Rosa Mundi’s sorcerous flame while she led the escape from within. Ala Vernal and my ala were the first to enter that place again, while behind us ala Hiemal carried the captain and her officers.
A black abyss, beyond which the source of infinite darkness that had almost conquered us. Then I saw what must have given the strongest of our alares on our frontline that day the intense fright, beckoning us to come in and be swallowed: a yawning gate intricately carved by some ancient craftsman in the white bones.