(Dylan)

“Aaaaaah!” Dylan screamed as he plummeted toward the deck. Snap, crack, and plop were the sounds he made on impact. He was getting better at understanding how far he could push himself before running out of energy, or mana. He still needed to get used to calling it that. Which meant he was falling less from being too weak to pull himself up. This time, he overestimated his co-ordination and just lost his footing.

The height of the rigging that Wedge had him training on wasn’t enough to be fatal if he fell, unless he landed on his head. Luckily, that hadn’t happened to him yet, but as Dylan stopped injuring himself, Wedge put him in more precarious situations. Like the one he’d just fallen from.

The pain didn’t hurt any less, but knowing it was only temporary helped a lot. Runemist was never far from their more dangerous training sessions. Usually, he’d try to breathe through the pain, but this time there was a rib piercing his lung.

Runemist wasted no time coming to his rescue and teleported. She appeared in his shadow, pressed her hand against his back, and activated a restoration ability. Dylan’s shoulder and knee relocated, fractured bones mended, and his punctured lung re-inflated. In a matter of seconds, he went from needing an ICU and months of physical therapy to sitting up and brushing himself off.

“Aw, man,” Dylan said as he held out the hem of his soiled tunic. Another red bloodstain had appeared where his rib stubbornly refused to stay inside of his chest. “I just had this cleaned.”

The novelty of a vampire machine wore off quickly with how often he used it. They called it a deathwash machine. It worked similar to the washing machines he used back on Earth. It was an agitator device infused with water, air, and death enchantments. Apparently, it was fairly popular on Mother of Dragons.

He’d put in a load of laundry, stick his hand into the feeder slot, and it would drink a nip of his health. Barely a percentage point, if what Deck Crew Echo told him was true. There was a strong static shock, and for some reason he always expected a pin prick that never came. It was suspiciously good at getting out bloodstains, too. An all-in-one laundry machine; after a wash cycle, it would dry the clothes. The entire process ran without soap, electricity, or waste.

“You’re done,” Runemist told him. “Go see Ostello, and then get changed. We’ve arrived at our destination.”

“Yes, Sir.” Dylan gave a quick salute as he got to his feet.

Ever since discovering the all-important reason why she was so grumpy and mean, he’d started to view her as a drill instructor. Her purpose was to provide the friction that would toughen him up, better preparing him for the challenges ahead. Plus, “Sir” was easier to say than “Runemist.”

His dreams of joining the military were dashed due to poor eyesight, lack of mechanical aptitude, a robust waistline, and his ADHD diagnosis. His irrational and crippling fear of sharks and the terrifying depths of the ocean also ruled out joining the Navy or the Coast Guard.

He went below deck to find someone had left a load in the deathwash machine. It was probably Eury; this wasn’t the first time she’d done it. She was still adjusting to doing her own laundry. Dylan swung by her cabin and noticed the door was already open. He still knocked on the door frame while standing directly in her line of sight.

Eury looked up from the book she was reading. “Yes?”

“Did you leave—” Dylan didn’t get to finish his sentence. She cursed, rolled off her hammock, and stood up inches from his face, smelling faintly of spearmint.

“Are you going to let me out or…?” Eury raised her eyebrows at him.

“Sorry.” He stepped back into the hallway, and she dashed past him.

The stone speaker in Eury’s room played the voice of First Mate Echo. “Passengers have been requested to gather for an immediate meeting in the Captain’s Quarters.” The message repeated and then the stone went silent.

Laundry would have to wait for another day. Dylan quickly went to his tiny room and put on a fresh tunic, leaving the soiled one on the floor in his cabin.

He spotted Ostello across the room in the Captain’s Quarters, dressed in his usual suit—vest, jacket, and all. Dylan made his way over to the impeccably dressed elf.

“Hey bud, you mind topping off my mana again?” Dylan asked.

“Sure.” The corner of Ostello’s mouth lifted into a half grin.

Dylan sighed. Ostello found humor in using the ability on him. It combined arc and presence magic to invigorate a target, restoring mana. It also had an unusual side effect that Dylan found particularly distracting. The side effects were different for each race.

Ostello unfolded his arms and cast his ability on Dylan, gently touching his shoulder. For a moment, the room grew dim as the natural light from the stained-glass windows waned. A single rumble of thunder echoed in the gathering clouds above them, and then, as quickly as it started, the sun returned, restoring the room’s illumination.

The rush was better than an espresso or any energy drink he’d ever had. His entire body reacted to the surge of energy. He shifted uncomfortably in his pants. It was a hard problem to ignore, but experience told him it would go away on its own in about ten minutes. He was deeply embarrassed the first time it happened, and glad it didn’t last for more than four hours.

The doors opened and Runemist appeared, carrying a case of healing potions. She put the box down on the table.

“Grab a pair,” she said.

Dylan’s eyes darted around the room until he realized she was talking about the healing potions. Runemist continued reviewing the plan with the entire group as they each took two potions.

“We’ve got six days to get our hands on that package. I don’t want you to give me a reason to pull out early.” She looked at Dylan. Her usual accusatory glare made him feel uncomfortable in a different kind of way.

“And be careful getting off,” she added.

Surprised, Dylan swallowed wrong and coughed. “Excuse me?”

“Yes, I’m talking to you Dylan. When descending the rope ladder—”

His shoulders relaxed and he thought, ‘Oh, thank God. I—'

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She continued, “Go slow. You’ll need your stamina. I don’t want you to blow it all and make me come after you. You won’t survive that tumble.”

Dylan glanced down, wondering if the problem in his pants was influencing his perception of this meeting.

“After you go down, you’ll need to help the team unload. They’ll be dropping one load after another until the job is done. Expect them to come fast—you don’t want to catch a stray load in the face. I’ve seen it happen before. It’s not pretty,” she said. Dylan winced every time she mentioned the L-word.

“Once we’ve all finished unloading, I’ll join Wedge and the initiates. We’ll keep going until we hit the spot, right here.” She tapped a claw to a pinned position on the map.

Dylan blinked and thought, ‘Yep, I’ve definitely got a case of Horny Brain. He sighed, shifting his stance again. ‘It hears what it wants to hear.’

“This will double as our forward base camp and fallback position in case we need to mount anything, defensively or offensively. You’ll need to work hard and fast to erect it quickly,” she said. Dylan was desperately trying to pay attention, but all he was hearing was filth.

“Do you think you can handle it?” she asked, looking in his direction.

Dylan’s jaw dropped. He raised a finger and cautiously pointed to himself, “You want me to—”

Runemist ignored him, which was her usual response to his shenanigans.

“The rest of my team will spread out and make their way deep into the bush. We’ll be doubling up in the tents. It’ll be a tight fit, but you’ll survive. Eury, you’ll come with me. The twins will pair up and the boys can sort out who’s sleeping together,” she said.

Dylan didn’t know if she was doing it on purpose, or if she always spoke like this and he never picked up on it until now.

“The infernal jungle climate means it’ll be hot and sticky. Be glad you’re not as furry as I am,” she said, as Athrax grunted in solidarity.

Dylan glanced down at his predicament again and wondered, ‘You’re going to take a lot longer than ten minutes this time, aren’t you?’ Runemist continued talking, but Dylan was having a tough time paying attention.

“Don’t even think about touching it, Dylan,” she said.

His head snapped up after hearing his name. “What? I’m not touching anything!” He checked himself, raising both of his hands.

“Keep it that way,” she said.

‘She knows, they all know,’ he thought, glancing around the room as he adjusted himself again.

“I want to be clear. No one let Dylan touch the skill book,” she said.

‘Oh, she means the book…’ he thought, smiling sheepishly to no one. ‘That makes much more sense.’

“Initiates, if one of you gets stuck, give them a helping hand. And if you find yourself in a really tight spot, hang on and ride it out—Tome & Key will come for you,” she said.

‘Holy shit,’ he thought. ‘Go directly to Horny Jail. Do not pass GO, do not collect two-hundred bucks.’

The meeting concluded, and he was getting looks from the twins. Dylan practically ran out of the Captain’s Quarters and back to his cabin. This had been a lot easier to deal with during training, when his primary focus was trying not to die. He locked himself in his cabin until his predicament went away.

Half an hour later…

Dylan tried to open his cabin door, but something solid was blocking it. Initially, he was going to try to apply more force, but he was glad he didn’t act on that intrusive thought. That something was Wedge. He was just about to knock on Dylan’s door when he opened it.

“You and I will be bunking together,” Wedge said.

Wedge also stopped to help Dylan with his trunk. It was far too large for Dylan to carry. Wedge simply reached down and hefted it under one arm. It was impressive to watch him make his way down the hallway without getting stuck. Also, the ship was made of some resilient materials. It was similar to the purple wood he’d seen elsewhere but didn’t even creak as Wedge carried on.

Once they were up on the deck, Wedge placed the trunk on an empty pallet. He then walked over to the side railing and tossed over the extraordinarily long bundle of rope ladder. Dylan made the mistake of leaning over to watch it tumble down into the canopy below them.

He gripped the railing as vertigo spun him around. Managing to push himself away from the edge of the ship, he landed hard on his ass. The ship didn’t feel like a ship. He’d completely forgotten how high up they’d been traveling. It had been a very smooth trip and his brain had been tricked into thinking he was grounded the entire time.

“You have trained for this. Do not be afraid,” Wedge said.

He was right. Dylan really worked hard over the past few days. He formed a fist and squeezed; his grip strength had improved. Even his belly felt a bit softer. He wished he had a scale to track his weight loss. Between the training and living on flak, he was sure to have dropped a few pounds. There was something about seeing numbers go up—or down in his case—that felt extremely satisfying.

“I will see you on the ground.” Wedge reached behind himself to equip both shields, one on each arm. They were diamond-shaped, flared out at the back end, and tapered to a blunted point just past his fists. He put his foot up on the railing and gave Dylan a nod before leaping up and over it. Dylan got up and hurried to look over the edge.

The large stone man held out his arms and legs as if he were skydiving, except without the parachute. A moment later, he disappeared into the tree canopy. A sonic boom echoed, and the canopy directly under them opened in a circle as the trees fell away from the epicenter. The sound attracted W’itney, Hay’len, and Eury. They all rushed to Dylan’s side to see what the noise was.

“What was that?” W’itney appeared beside Dylan, leaning over the railing for a closer look.

Dylan’s mouth hung open. “I think Wedge just blocked… fall damage?”

Athrax stepped up behind them. “And he’s made a drop zone for the pallets.” Dylan was thankful he didn’t use the L-word.

The old soldier stepped up and over the railing, taking hold of the rope ladder. He paused. “I wouldn’t want to be the last initiate on the ground. I heard Runemist puts them on latrine duty.” Then he continued his descent down the ladder.

Concern spread across all their faces.

“Wait, that’s a real thing?” Dylan asked.

Eury wasted no time getting to the ladder first, followed by W’itney and then Hay’len. Dylan leaned over the railing and called after them, “We didn’t bring any magic buckets?”

None of them wasted effort to respond, focusing solely on climbing down.

“Shit.”

Dylan squinted at the rope ladder. Training for the better part of four days for this, he was ready. Checking, rechecking, and quadruple-checking, he touched the fabric of the orange cloak around his neck. Unconsciously, he patted the mace stowed through a loop on his belt; everything seemed to be in order. Even if he fell, the cloak was enchanted, and he’d be able to glide to the ground.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” He shrugged, took a deep breath, and swung a leg over the railing, then the other. He took hold of the ladder; this time, he knew better than to look down. He felt for the next rung with his foot and tested his weight—it held.

The ladder swayed a bit more with each additional person climbing down, but that would be more of an issue for Athrax than him. Nothing seemed to faze the members of Tome & Key; they were fearless. He was halfway down the rope ladder before his thoughts started wandering.

‘I wonder if I’ll get a cool superhero ability like flying.’

With his feet firmly on the ground, he was able to relax. He’d made it down without dying, falling, or even slipping. Proud of himself, he shook the tension from his limbs—then he heard a distant humming.

It was like standing too close to a powerful electrical field. The humming intensified, turning to crackling as the ambient pressure around him continued to rise. His ears adjusted to the shifting pressure, and the world around him fell silent. The hairs on his arms stood on end, reacting to the growing static buildup.

The mounting air pressure suddenly dropped, and he winced as his ears popped painfully. An intense explosion echoed through the jungle. Disoriented, he spun around, trying to pinpoint where it came from.

Sudden movement—the elven princess—caught his attention. He froze for a second, narrowing his eyes. ‘Why’s Eury running at me?’ he wondered.

She was fast, a determined expression on her face as she dove at a very confused Dylan. She struck him high on the torso, knocking him off his feet, and they both tumbled backward. She released him and rolled to her feet as he landed on his back.

Dylan winced as a full pallet crashed into the ground where he’d just been standing, scattering supplies everywhere. Those stray loads were no fucking joke.

“Holy shit, that could’ve killed me.” Unable to look away, he stared at the shattered pallet.

“Run!” Eury yelled at him.

Dylan looked up; his shock hadn’t worn off. “What?”

The shadows at his feet were moving. No, they were growing. Dylan looked up and saw the airship as it plummeted toward him, trailing plumes of dark smoke.