“Now, if we see soldiers, what are you going to do?” Alyus asked.
Pirin and Alyus stood in the Featherflight’s gondola, watching the land slowly shift beneath them. Brealtod had climbed up into the envelope to release a little bit of ballast, but the dragonfolk had already been briefed on the plan plenty.
It was Pirin who hadn’t.
“We’re going to give them the rune-codes and hope they don’t ask questions,” Pirin answered.
“And if they don’t accept it?” Alyus quizzed.
“I let you do the talking.”
“Good.” The ostal lifted a hand from the airship’s rudder wheel and patted Pirin on the shoulder. “And if we have to fight?”
“I’ll help.”
“Also good.” Alyus pinched Pirin’s arm. “Now, elfy…you’re a bit of a twig. At least, your arms are. Scrawny, that is. Just blocking ain’t gonna work for you, ever. No matter which madman trained you to use that sword, I doubt you were ever told to use brute force.”
“No, probably not…”
Footsteps thudded on the thin wood overhead. Brealtod leaned down through the hole between the gondola and the envelope and let out a set of long hisses. Then, he climbed down the ladder and grabbed the airship’s second wheel—the elevator wheel.
“Lake up ahead,” Alyus translated. He put both hands back on the rudder wheel.
Pirin’s eyes widened. He stepped up to the very front of the gondola and peered out the windows, straining his vision as far as he could.
The fields dipped, then abruptly, they ended. The Senflow river widened, split, then fed off into a broad, rocky shoreline. The expanse of ice and snow fell away into a prairie of rippling water. If Pirin hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought they were approaching an ocean. But Tallas-Brannul was a great lake, so wide that Pirin couldn’t see across it even on a good day.
Today wasn’t a good day. Mist hung like massive walls on either side of the airship, obscuring anything more than a mile or two in any direction. It swirled in the wind, but refused to move off.
“Heading to the center of the lake?” Alyus asked. “That’s where the library is, yeah?”
Pirin nodded.
“It’ll be a rough ride,” Alyus said, and Brealtod hissed in agreement.
“I’ll hold on to something,” Pirin said.
They sailed toward the lake for another few minutes, before Alyus finally said, “Alright, time to show his majesty why we’re paid the big bucks.”
Pirin tilted his head. “What do you—”
“Gnatsnappers. A whole patrol of them.” Alyus pointed out the window into the sky. A squadron of specks approached from the east, flying in formation. Pirin adjusted his glasses, pushing them up his nose. The specks had riders.
“We passed over the river checkpoints,” Alyus continued. “They’re just coming to check us out, and we’d best play along. Get to the crew quarters and hide yourself.” He turned to Brealtod and said, “Keep us heading straight, yeah?”
Brealtod hissed a few times. He put his scaly fingers on both wheels, holding them steady.
“Come on,” Alyus beckoned. “I’ll show you the smuggling compartments—we’ll get you through to that library without them even knowing you were aboard.”
They climbed up to the crew quarters. Pirin was expecting that they’d head to the cargo hold, but Alyus chuckled. He must have seen Pirin take a step towards the next ladder, because he said, “Cargo hold would be a little obvious for a smuggling compartment, elfy.”
Pirin stopped, then turned in a circle. He searched for any sign of a hidden compartment and saw nothing. There was no room beneath the floor, and the gasbags pressed tight against the ceiling.
Alyus dragged his knuckles along the fabric wall, humming to himself. When his fingers hit a ridge, he stopped, then pushed inward. A panel of stretched fabric and wood slid an inch back and popped off its frame.
Behind it was an empty hole; an unlit, closet sized room. Its walls were wooden lattice, and its floor was a pair of bars—nothing else to keep him from tearing through the fabric envelope below and plummeting to the ground. Or, as it were now, plummeting into a freezing lake.
Pirin stepped into the compartment, keeping his feet firmly centered on the two bars. On either side, the gasbags, barely contained by the lattice, pressed against his shoulders. He breathed a short sigh, then looked out at Alyus. “What’s to say you won’t give me up?”
“Well,” the ostal began, crossing his arms. “If you’re manipulating my thoughts, you wouldn’t let me. If you’re not, then I want that silver on my own free will.” He grabbed the fabric panel and began to guide it back into place in front of Pirin. “Besides, there’s no bounty on you—yet.”
Alyus sealed the panel back in place, leaving Pirin in near-darkness. A faint light slipped through the fabric, and that was it.
Pirin waited in silence, practicing his breathing patterns. He cycled his Essence in case he needed it.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Before long, he heard the beating of wings. The Aerdian riders would dip low towards the Featherflight, then pull up at the last moment and climb to slow their gnatsnappers. It was a tricky maneuver, but it was the only way that Pirin could think they would land on top of the airship.
When he heard the distant scratching of talons against the wood frame high above, he knew the riders had arrived. The pilots dismounted, then climbed down through the airship’s hull. Their light riding armour clinked with the distinct, crystalline ring of ambersteel. Their boots tromped along the floor and their leather flight suits rumpled.
Alyus led them, it seemed. “Stove, bunks, some extra cargo, the head…” He must have been showing them around. It was a simple inspection. But if there was anything suspicious, the Aerdians would certainly report it. Word would reach the Red Hand.
“What’s your purpose at Tallas-Brannul, sir?” one of the Aerdians asked.
“My daughter got into the Rasis-Ost Academy,” Alyus provided, speaking quickly but confidently. “She needs some extra texts on old elven cultivation strategies for her thesis, and I’ve gotta give her the best shot at success—what kind of father would I be, otherwise?”
“Certainly dedicated,” said one of the soldiers. “Were there no other libraries?”
“None as full of useful knowledge as this one,” Alyus answered. Before they could protest, he said, “Gondola’s just below, if you want to see.”
“If you would please, sir,” said one of the soldiers.
Pirin grimaced. The Aerdian elves were only being so respectful because Alyus was an ostal—he was certain of that. For that, Pirin was thankful. But even they would do their duty. He strained his hearing. The tips of his ears straightened out.
“You have lots of maps in here,” one of the elves said. “What’s your job again? Cargo hauler?”
Alyus cleared his throat. “Fast cargo transport, usually—when I’m not running errands for my little girl.”
“Rune-codes?”
“Varel, Tal, Mhesul, Opell, Khasdal,” Alyus told them confidently.
“Almost expired, but…” The elven soldiers paused and whispered between each other. Finally, the same elf said, “They’re valid.”
“Now, your daughter’s attending an Academy on the Mainland?” another one of the elves asked. Pirin heard his armour clink and he shifted. “All the way across the Adryss Ocean—and she’s in the Dominion capital, nonetheless?”
“Best place to earn a degree in pill refining and elixir alchemy. She ain’t got magic, but she’ll be paid well as a wizard’s employee. Maybe one of the Unbound families will hire her.”
“Hmph.” The elf’s footsteps pounded against the gondola’s floor. “I meant: why’s she over there, and you’re over here?”
Pirin gulped. The elves weren’t buying it.
“No money for a little airship like the Featherflight over there,” Alyus said. “Pardon me if I’m overstepping, but all freight shipping on the Mainland is arbitrated by the Dominion—I’d pay half my wage just to stay certified.”
The elf grumbled, “You are overstepping, and you’d best keep those thoughts to yourself.”
“Apologies.”
The inspectors stayed silent. Pirin didn’t have to look into their minds to know that they were suspicious. He had to do something to help. He placed his hands against the fabric-covered panel and popped it off the wall, then crept out into the crew quarters. It was empty.
Keeping his footsteps light, he walked toward the ladder down to the gondola. He dropped down to his stomach and peered through the hole.
There were three riders—pilots, as they were more commonly called—who had climbed aboard. Two wore plain flight helmets, but the elf who had been speaking had bright red markings on his helmet. He was leading the inspection, and he was the one who Pirin needed to convince.
But Pirin would need a direct line of sight with the elf’s eyes. He needed the elf to turn.
Pirin stood up and crept over to the stove, then grabbed a cold pebble of charcoal. He carried it back to the ladder and flicked it in the direction that he wanted the elf to look.
Sure enough, as soon as it clattered across the gondola’s deck, the elf turned. Pirin caught a glimpse of his eyes, and it was just enough. He held out his hand and braced himself with his other.
His Essence was already cycling. As usual, when he began the technique, it failed, but he didn’t let it fail spectacularly, and he kept his breath tight. Even when pain fired through his hand, he stopped himself from grunting.
On the fifth try, Pirin accessed the elf’s mind. The elf’s will was strong, but not nearly as resistant as Alyus or the Red Hand. Pirin gathered the lump of thoughts in his hand and began sifting through the elf’s thoughts. Sure enough, he was suspicious of Alyus.
If I let him through and he causes trouble at the library, that’ll be my honour on the line, the elf was thinking. What are the chances I’ll be executed? The lords answer to the Dominion now, and they haven’t heard from the king in…nearly a year. They wouldn’t hesitate to hang an elf like me.
More importantly, the elf was afraid. His fears weren’t unwarranted, but Pirin also didn’t plan on causing any trouble. He would slip in and out of the library without so much as making an old woman shush them.
Pirin started sowing seeds of doubt in the elf’s mind. He added, But what if this ostal, this Captain Alyus, is someone important? After all, he has the money to send his daughter to the Rasis-Ost Academy.
The elf inspector tightened his fists.
I should just let him through, Pirin passed to the elf. He won’t cause any trouble.
Instantly, the elf looked around and blinked, nearly severing Pirin’s connection with him. His eyes widened, and most importantly, he looked confused.
Pirin needed to be more subtle. This elf had just strong enough of a will that he’d detect thoughts that weren’t his own—if Pirin pushed too hard.
It’s for the best if I let him go, Pirin nudged. This captain seems kind enough, and he’s just a father trying to help his daughter.
“Barring anything odd in the cargo hold, we’ll let you go,” the elf finally announced.
Anything odd in the cargo hold?
The ladder above creaked. Pirin turned his hand over and stopped breathing, severing the connection. There were more Aerdian pilots aboard the Featherflight! They must have been inspecting the hold.
A distant set of thuds rumbled through the deck above him. Footsteps. The rest of the inspection team was returning. He scrambled to his feet as quietly as he could and picked up the wall panel. As best as he could, he tucked himself back into the smuggling compartment.
Just when a pilot dropped down into the crew quarters, Pirin slid the panel back into place.
“Find anything?” the lead inspector called.
“All legal cargo, though there was a gnatsnapper roosting in the hold,” one of the new pilots replied. “It was friendly enough.”
“She’s my letter bearer,” Alyus explained. “If it’s a quiet day and I need to—”
“I understand,” the inspector replied. “Very well. You may continue, but be warned: the mistfalcons are hunting, and a host of lightning wraiths have joined them. Sail carefully.”