A dense white mist swirled around Ambrose as he opened his eyes. He stood on some hard surface--maybe stone?--but he couldn’t even see his feet. He looked around, trying to find anything other than the same-ness of the fog. There! A dark spot up ahead, right at about waist height. Was it… a table? Ambrose waved his hand through the fog, trying to disperse it. Yes, a table, with a stool in front of it. He walked over to it and sat down.
A cold metal box sat on the table, its sides flattened into a cross pattern. The inside looked like a mess of springs and gears, with so many parts missing he could see right through it. All across the table, the misplaced parts were mixed with tools and sketches. At the very edge of the mess, a book stuck halfway off the table surface. Ambrose picked it up and opened it to a random page. The paper had been neatly cut and bound, but it had been used long enough that the edges no longer retained their crisp straightness. Scrawled handwriting covered each page, with some pages torn out--probably the pages on the table--and others added in and bearing schematics. The handwriting looked like his own, a familiar swirl at the top or bottom of most of the letters.
The first picture on the first page showed a closed box, inscriptions engraved on every square centimeter and a set of dials sunk into the surface on one side. He had no clue what it did, but clearly it had been crafted by a master Engineer. He turned the page. With each picture, parts of the box opened and were disassembled, notations explaining how things fit together or speculations on the possible purpose of an assembly. All in the same eerily familiar script.
Ambrose set down the book and picked up the charcoal pencil from the table, turning to a new page. While the fog stayed, he might as well do something. And if he wanted to put the box back together, he’d have to finish this job and start reassembly from the beginning. Even one wrong step could spell disaster for something of this refined quality. So every part had to come off and be catalogued before he or anyone else made an attempt to reconnect all the pieces.
He started by drawing a picture of a subassembly in the lower right of the right side, box turned at a forty-five degree angle from his view. The pencil had been sharpened recently, the tip almost cutting through the fine paper as he sketched the assembly. A rough drawing for sure, but it would be enough to figure out what went where when he started his work again.
It seemed that the mist crowded around him, peering over his shoulder, like it wanted him to figure out what exactly the box was and what it did. Like Lillien used to do when he’d find a broken toy or piece of machinery in the trash. He disconnected a roughly cubic section of interlocked gears and began documenting how the teeth fit together before taking it apart and laying the gears out with the others on the table. At least all the parts were roughly organized by type.
The exact center of the cube housed only empty space. As he uncovered more and more of the inner workings, that empty space confused him. It seemed like a pedestal or a partially-open compartment for something. Something went there, and whatever it was, it wasn’t here on the table.
Ambrose set down the book and reached for the expanded cube again, eager to continue his discovery. The mist shifted beneath him, and suddenly the table started moving, inching away from him at first but then slowly picking up speed. He reached for it, trying to stand up and pursue his project, but the ground beneath him gave way and he fell, stool vanishing into the mist. All around him, little wisps of white swirled in his wake as he fell, down, down, down…
From the small village high in the mountains, Mikhel could see everything. The sea shone on the horizon, water glittering in the faint light even from a great distance. The lights of the capital city below also shone, the palace and the temple being the brightest. But the mountains, dark and serene, drew his interest tonight. Not a single fire-light across the whole landscape, just the moonlight on the scrub trees and snow. It looked like the stony points were glazed with a coating of ice, just like the blue-grey needles on the trees at the first frost of the season.
Without warning, a bright light burst into color above the mountains, blue-green rippling waves with highlights of purple and pink. The light outshone the moon, highlighting the whole mountainside and the capital below. Farther down the slope, the goats in Mikhel’s pen started bleating feverishly. He kept his eyes fixed on the sky. There would be time to calm the goats later. His new fence would hold. This though… he’d never seen anything like this. The mountain lights were never this bright, nor were they ever so abrupt. Usually they would fade into being as the sun set, swirling in lazy patterns over the peaks until they decided to disappear again or until the sun overpowered them. Usually.
With one bright flash, the lights turned pure white and drowned out the color of everything else on view. Mikhel shut his eyes and braced himself against the light, as if it had a physical presence that pushed back on him. One step without vision and he’d tumble down past the goat pen and into the crevice. When the light receded, he cracked his eyelids and turned his vision back to the space where the bright lights had been. The usual lights were back, slowly rippling, but no sign indicated that he hadn’t just dreamed the whole thing up. The crazy goat farmer living too high in the mountains with not enough air to make his mind work right.
A shower of sparks crashed through the lights, swirls of shiny colored particles dispersing from the impact sites before twinkling and blinking out. The lights reformed, but the sparks continued to fall, gaining speed and shining brighter. By Yukima’s Crown! The glowing dots grew larger, some of them starting to blink out and others growing in magnitude. Finally, when there were only a handful left, Mikhel started to wonder where they were going to land.
The largest of the balls of fire impacted on the next mountain peak over, slamming into the rock with such incredible force that a cloud of watery mist and dust surged from the rock like a wave. He watched as the few remaining sky-sparks impacted near the first, throwing up similar clouds of dust and hot chunks of rock.
Mikhel stared at the scene for a very long time. The chunks of rock quickly fell down the mountain, but the dust and mist remained, lit from above by the mountain lights. The wind stayed utterly still as the slanted pillar of sky-spark remains drifted and spun, dispersing into the air until only a clear haze hung above the impact site. He stumbled from his stupor, the bleating of the goats the only noise in the otherwise quiet night.
“Mikhel? What was that?” A woman poked her head out the door, her long black hair partially covered by an embroidered white cloth.
“Watch the goats, Aina. I don’t know what it was, but I’m going to find out.” Mikhel picked up his walking stick from its place leaning against a lone tree and pulled his cloak closer around him. Whatever had fallen from the mountain lights, it couldn’t be natural. At best, it was just a bunch of rocks. Maybe he’d even find one to set on the mantle. But at worst… well, perhaps his imagination tended to be just a little bit too active.
Mikhel started to cough long before he could see the impact site. Thick clouds of dust choked the air around the disturbance. When the ground dropped away in front of him, he had to stumble back to avoid falling head over heels into the hole.
A crater the size of his modest cottage sunk into the ground, the bottom far enough down that he feared hurting himself if he jumped. The rock had turned a chalky white, a stark contrast from the dark grey of the surrounding surfaces. Mikhel squinted his eyes, trying to see through the haze to the thing in the center of the crater. It looked a lot smaller than he’d expected. He circled the crater, trying to get a better look. The ground seemed to slope less on this side. And then a break in the dust cloud aligned with him and the sky-thing came into view. His eyes widened as he realized that it was a who, not a what. All thought of falling gone, he rushed down the side of the crater, using his walking stick to keep himself from tumbling forward. Sliding on the chalky dust bank, he reached the bottom and dropped to his knees on the warm ground. A girl lay in the exact center of the crater, limbs sprawled out as though she’d fallen asleep there among the warm rocks. A fine layer of dust covered her clothes.
Mikhel waved his hand over the girl’s face. No response. He tapped her on the shoulder, the fabric of her sweater warm to the touch and colored like the mountain lights. She stayed still, except for the rise and fall of her chest with each breath.
She couldn't very well stay out here in the cold, especially if anyone from the capital came to investigate the lights. And who knew where she’d come from? She needed a place to stay until she could get her feet under her again. He hoisted the girl from the dust and scorched rock and onto his shoulder, fabric warm and scratchy against his cheek. Slowly he climbed out of the crater, boots slipping on the loose gravel and dust. The darkness messed with his sense of direction, trying to turn him around. He pushed his way out of the cloud of dust and looked around. Mountain to the right, capital lights to the left. The moon gave enough light that he’d be able to see any crevices. Even with relative certainty in his path, it would be a long trek home with another to carry.
Hyeon stopped just before the door to the Grand Chamber, hands in fists and eyes closed. Nari looked over at him. “You can do this. Really, you can.”
Hyeon opened his eyes. “I don’t know. This is a lot, and I’m not sure I know enough.”
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Nari put her hands on his shoulders and stared him in the eyes. “None of that. You are going to make a great emperor.” She straightened the crescent medallion around his neck. “It’s okay to let people see a little of yourself. Just make sure they see the best parts of you.”
“Okay.” One deep breath. “Starting today, I make the decisions. And right now, I decide to be confident.” Hyeon unclenched his fists and smoothed the front of his robes. “I’ll see you by the altar?”
“Just keep walking. They’ll take care of the rest.” Nari gave him a quick kiss and walked off to the left. The two attendants stood at attention, opening the doors in sync when he nodded his head.
He hadn’t expected the silence in the room. So many people were staring down, some talking quietly, some shuffling nervously, some staying as silent as possible. And every single one of them had a title or some important reason to be here. He set off down the narrow corridor in the center, a long white rug pointing the way. His boots made no sound as he advanced.
The choral scholars along the walls started a haunting, hopeful melody, filling the silence with subtle chords and harmonies. Hyeon reached the altar at the end of the white runway and bowed to the emperor and the priestess behind it before kneeling down to the right.
The priestess raised her hand and the Grand Chamber fell silent. “We are gathered today to celebrate the accomplishments of our current leadership and to pass that fire to those of a new generation. Those in attendance, please stand.” The scholars raised another refrain, this one slower and lighter. Hyeon looked up to see Nari approaching the altar from the side of the Grand Chamber. She knelt opposite him.
“It is now that we recognize the accomplishments of our Emperor.” The priestess drew a scroll from her waist-sash and opened it. “His first victory was in Altebrath, a triumph against a corrupt Duke.” The priestess continued on, recounting the battle fought and won. Once or twice a loss was mentioned as well, but only if good came of it. Hyeon resisted the urge to tug at his collar. It would be over soon, and then he would have a chance to show the people that their new Emperor cared about those he reigned over. The people were most important.
The priestess finished listing the battles and rolled up the scroll, tying it with a light blue ribbon and procuring a small dagger. She laid both items on the altar, in between the prince and princess. “And now, with a lifetime of success, we give the responsibility of guiding this great empire to another.” The Emperor coughed, the wet sound hard to cover up. The priestess continued as though nothing had happened, although the important visitors no doubt noticed. The emperor’s slowly deteriorated, a little each day. Soon he wouldn’t be fit for leadership. So his son had to take up the mantle before then.
“Prince Hyeon, at this time you stand as first in line to the throne. Do you wish to take this position upon you?”
“I do.”
The priestess nodded. “Place your hands on the dagger and scroll.” Hyeon followed her instructions, Nari’s hands going over his.
“Do you solemnly swear that, in every circumstance and situation, you will strive to uphold this empire, in times of peace and war?”
“I swear it.”
The priestess looked up and out at the audience. “Yukima above, look upon us with mercy. At this time of great change, let us uphold our government and religion. Let us remember the divine power that has carried us through this time of prosperity. Bless this man before me, that he may continue this prosperity and lead with grace and dignity.” She looked down at Hyeon again. “Do you accept the divine mandate held by this position and all the responsibilities connected to it?”
“I do.”
“Do you take this woman, Nari Reinschild, to be your wife and ruling advisor in all things?”
Hyeon looked across the altar at Nari, smiling. “Yes, I do.”
“Then, by the power vested in me by the goddess of the moon and this empire, I seal you to your role as Emperor and Protector of the Realm, and wed you to Princess Nari. Let the empire rejoice!”
The crowd erupted in cheers, strips of colored ribbon tossed into the air. Hyeon smiled at Nari. “I guess there’s no turning back now.”
“Nope. But we won’t need to.”
The priestess turned to the former Emperor and Empress. They both bowed, smiles visible only to the two at the altar. The former emperor coughed quietly, unnoticed to all but those near the altar. The priestess removed the crowns from their heads, pointed pieces of jewelry that didn’t quite wrap all the way around. Hyeon felt as one of them settled on his head. Although it wasn’t exactly heavy in the normal sense, it had a different kind of weight. He hadn’t expected that.
Nari smiled at him, the crown on her head glittering in the lantern-light, spires reaching ceilingward. He let go of the dagger and scroll, taking her hand instead and standing. Emperor and Empress together, ready to face the empire and the isles beyond. Something glimmered inside Hyeon, a flame sparking and lighting. Something had begun. And it promised to be glorious and wonderful.
The skies looked perfect today. Riders generally waited for a clear sky, but a few clouds here and there made it more fun. As long as there weren’t too many, they made good obstacles. Cirris pulled off his leather face mask, the slits for his eyes angled so if he leaned forward the air would go around his head instead of straight into his face. His uniform’s black surface shone in the early morning light, red stripes on the shoulders, leather armor bits adding color in various places. Well, not actually a uniform, just like he wasn’t actually a soldier. But between all the dragon riders, they had agreed; love or fear, people needed to know them and recognize them.
His dragon roared, the sound echoing down from Slantspire across the whole island. He stroked her dark navy scales right around her neck. “You want to go fly today?” Darkcloud nodded her head. She’d been given the name Dark-Cloud-upon-the-Night-Wind-under-the-Moon, but it didn’t take a dragon rider to tell that was a mouthful and then some. When flying, shorter tended to be better.
Cirris replaced his face mask and grabbed onto the front of the saddle. Darkcloud crouched low before launching off the ledge of black rock. He reached his arms out and let the wind rush around him, not quite strong enough to pull him off. The morning had to be the best time to fly, right after moonset. A faint mist hung in the air, the thick fog fading in the early sun but not quite gone. When he flew in the mist, he could see the trail of air coming off his wing and disappearing into the sky.
Cirris and Darkcloud made two circles around Slantspire, falling back into sync before trying anything the other riders would call dangerous. With one side flat and one sloped, only clouds presented a less dangerous obstacle. Well, a rider could fly through a cloud. Maybe Slantspire was the least dangerous.
As they pulled out of the second lap, another dragon launched from the same ledge they’d been on. Cirris dived down and pulled even with the new dragon, this one a deep green with scaly frills around the back of the head and feet. The rider had a mask on, but the red hair that streamed out behind her told him all he needed to know.
“Morning, Astoria!” They generally didn’t talk while riding unless they were high up and the winds were calm enough that they could hear each other, but a few shouted remarks wouldn’t hurt his voice too much.
“Same. Meet you at the top in two.” She and her dragon took off around the Spire, leaving a mist-trail. Darkcloud took him up another few hundred feet to the very tip top of Slantspire. They set down and he dismounted, dropping to the black rock. The top had barely enough space for two dragons, with no way up except to fly. That made it a great place to meet exclusively with other riders.
Astoria joined him on top of Slantspire at the end of her warm-up laps, jumping off her dragon before they’d even landed. “Nice morning for flying.” She looked up at the cloud. “Well, for most of us. Rennick might say otherwise.”
“Let him be a pessimist. It’s perfect.” Cirris looked down at the town to the southeast, squinting to make out the tiny bell tower. “Do you have to go down to town today?”
Astoria’s face fell a little. “Yeah, I’d better. They’ll get suspicious if I don’t go at some point this week, and I’d rather get it over with.”
“Want me to go too? I could make an appearance as well, just to let them know I still exist. Add to the mystique.”
“No, I should go alone. It’s better that way.” Astoria shook her head and smiled. “Enough about that for now. Why waste such a good morning on unpleasant thoughts?”
Cirris looked out over the familiar coastline. “So I’m hearing that we need to go make a few passes on the harbor?”
She smiled. “You know me too well.”
“Let it never be said that I don’t have fun.” He mounted Darkcloud and pulled his mask down. “Race you there!”
He had to give her credit; for the headstart he got, she quickly closed the distance. They raced down from the Spire-top, ground rushing up to meet them. They pulled level with the rushing countryside in the nick of time, a few blue leaves flying off their branches in their wake. He barely noticed as the blue-grey foliage below blurred to clear blue water. Cirris dipped a bit lower, letting Darkcloud’s claw scrape the water’s surface. Astoria dodged out of the way of the spray, yelling something imperceptible. He grinned nonetheless.
They turned back after a minute of gliding above the water. Up until this point it had been smooth flying, most just gliding down. Now came the real reason Cirris flew. When Astoria came even with him, Darkcloud took off across the surface of the water, wings flapping with a fury only a rider can understand. The thrill of flying coursed through him, tingling at his fingertips and heat in his face. The townspeople could hate dragons all they wanted, but they’d never get to feel this.
The harbor came into view much quicker than it had disappeared, white-patterned flags flapping in the light breeze. They bore down on it, shooting as straight as an arrow towards the docks. Darkcloud didn’t even have to drop a claw to make a spray now. The water shook as they passed by, the lone worker on the dock scrambling for cover. At the last moment, he and Astoria pulled out of the crossbow-straight course, rattling the shingles on the roof of the dockmaster’s office as they rose into the sky.
They passed close enough to tap their forearms together as they climbed, spiraling around each other. Cirris closed his eyes and laughed, the sound caught away by the wind. For the moment, they didn’t have to have a care in the world. Life flew free and easy, just like the morning air.
“Hey, didn’t we get closer last run? And I’ve still got the scar from that time Swampmist had to catch me.”
Cirris waved his hands. “Fine, fine. I know I pulled out a little too soon. I’ll go closer on the next one. Shall we go around again?”
Astoria looked up at the sun. “No, I’d better get back.”
Cirris frowned. “That early? I guess I’ll go fly some patrols on the west side. It’s not as much fun alone though.”
“I know. I wish I could.” Astoria spurred her dragon on, back up towards the tall black rock poking up through the ground in front of them. The sky would stay perfect for a while. Maybe he could get in a few high-altitude runs before Rennick actually needed him for something important. Regardless, back to the Spire for now. He spurred Darkcloud on after Swampmist and her rider.
He didn’t back at the horizon, so he missed the armada of ships slowly making their way from the horizon to the island.