“We won’t have long,” Alyus said. “Even the edge of the Stormwall will shred the poor Featherflight in a matter of hours.”

All five of the passengers stood in the gondola, watching the dark clouds approach. They filled the entire view of the gondola’s front windows now, and specks of rain pattered against the glass.

Pirin kept his eyes fixed on the patch of torchlight near the wall’s base—what they were aiming for.

“I reckon Lady Neria will have guards and defenses in place,” Nomad said. “Beyond that? There’s a high chance you’ll have to face the two Blazes. What were their names, again? Ethelnir…?”

“Ethelvaed,” Pirin said. “He’s your nephew.”

“And Khara,” Myraden provided.

“Yes, them.” Nomad shrugged. “He might be my nephew, but he was born long after I was cast out from the Aremir Family.”

“How old are you?” Pirin asked.

“Sixty, seventy…the years all start to go by pretty quick.”

Pirin wouldn’t have guessed it by looking. He’d have said late thirties, at the oldest. “I…thought you were younger.”

“The higher you climb, the stronger your lifebase becomes.” Nomad reached up and rubbed his Familiar between the ears. “You age slower and slower, until you stop aging at all. The elves of old were best at it, hence the myth of their immortality.” He snorted. “Though, probably not the best idea to walk around asking wizards their age.”

Alyus snapped his fingers. “Don’t mean to break it up, but we need a plan.”

“What I was going to say,” Nomad continued, glaring at Alyus, “was that there will be defenses and countermeasures to stop us from stealing the army. I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire place is rigged to explode if someone tries to leave with the army who isn’t supposed to.”

Pirin sighed. It wouldn’t have been just as easy as walking in, showing the control dagger, and walking out again.

“The local guards and facility workers won’t know who we are,” Pirin said. “We can bluff our way in—we’re wizards. Myraden and I go to take the army, and Nomad disables whatever security and countermeasures there are?”

“And if we do not advance to Blaze in time?” Myraden asked.

“You will,” Nomad said. “Sometimes, your body just needs a push. Your spirit just needs stress and an impetus, and you’ll have what you need. As long as the crazy seafolk girl doesn’t kill you first, I reckon. I believe in you, and I believe you have been trained well enough. Wait. That’s just complimenting myself? Look, what I mean to say is that you’re ready.”

Myraden and Pirin both looked at him skeptically.

“Unless you both want me to come with you for a safety net…and then the facility self-destructs because we didn’t disable some security measure.” Nomad shrugged again.

“No,” Pirin said. “We need you to do your job. We’ll handle our part. But we will need to move the army, and if we have enemies on our tail, we might not make it.”

“Lady Neria would’ve needed a way to move her army, too,” Myraden said. “She will have ships there already, and we can steal them. As long as the Weavelings can figure out how to sail.”

“And the Featherflight?” Alyus asked. “What do we do with it?”

Pirin ran to the front of the gondola and pressed his face against the glass. He peered through the smear of rain. The facility ahead was a cluster of round wooden platforms standing above the surface of the ocean on stilts. They had shingled roofs and tall spires that glimmered with torchlight, and walkways joined them together. Each platform was about a mile in diameter, and a few spires reached up high enough to touch the bottoms of the storm clouds.

Lightning flashed in the distance, silhouetting the facility and turning everything monochrome for a few seconds. It highlighted ballistae and catapults on the edges of the platform.

The northernmost platform had a few smaller offshoots. They were thin, round platforms of titanwood. Rope rigging and thick trellises bound them to the main platform. Glowing lines of Lumawhale oil had been painted around the edges, giving the platforms shape even in the dark of the storm.

“Those platforms should be large enough to put the Featherflight on, right?” Pirin asked. He had to raise his voice. The rain struck the windows harder and harder, and wind battered the ship from behind, then from the side, then from the front. Everything creaked and groaned. “If we can get through the air defences.”

Brealtod hissed skeptically, and Alyus tilted his head. “Can’t say I like the sound of that, elfy.”

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“I wouldn’t worry about those,” said Nomad. “They’re expecting Lady Neria to arrive in an airship. They wouldn’t shoot her down on the spot. By the time they get wise of us, I’ll have them disabled.”

The last rays of sunlight faded behind them. The Featherflight passed under the edge of the Stormwall. Wind blasted the ship’s flank, and Alyus grunted, leaning against the wheel to keep it steady. A seafaring ship would last longer in the storm, but even then, it would only have a few hours.

“We can set down on that landing platform,” Alyus grunted. “But if you aren’t back in a few hours, we’ll have to take off, or you won’t have a ship to get back to the Mainland on, let alone to the Elven Continent.”

“I understand,” Pirin said.

“Then I’m in,” Alyus said, and Brealtod hissed in agreement.

“I will fight alongside you,” Myraden said. “I will be there.”

“We have our plan!” Nomad exclaimed. “To the landing platform!”

The Featherflight dipped down toward the platform, wind swirling around its bow. Mist rolled over the envelope and water streaked off the gondola in waterfalls. When Pirin looked out the gondola’s stern windows, he could barely see the edge of the Stormwall.

Nomad and Pirin ran up to the upper platform and knelt, then flooded the sails with wind. They couldn’t eliminate all the crosswinds, but they could keep the air flowing steadily into the sails. When they reached the landing platform, they threw down ropes and grapples, then helped Alyus, Brealtod, and Myraden furl the sails.

Once the airship was secure, they all returned to the gondola. Pirin blasted waves of wind over himself to dry off, so at least he would look a little presentable.

“Alyus, Brealtod, you to wait with the ship,” Pirin said. “Keep it ready to fly in case we need to make a quick escape.”

Nomad pushed the gondola’s door open. “I’ll be off now,” he said. “I’ll keep any of the defences inactive and make sure there’s no self-destruct function.” He stepped out into the rain, but he created a bubble of air around himself, deflecting the raindrops and all but the strongest gusts of wind.

“If we are impersonating someone important from the Neria company, then I must be a servant,” Myraden said. “A northern sprite would not hold any sort of rank in a powerful Dominion company.”

Pirin nodded. “Alyus…being a smuggler, you wouldn’t happen to have any…slightly more fancy clothes. Just in case?”

Alyus snorted. “I’m not that kind of smuggler, elfy.” But he tilted his head out the gondola. A trio of facility workers marched out across the bridge. They were all ostal, and they all wore white coats. “Think I’ve got something for you, though.”

Pretty much everyone from the company, barring the mortal guards, wore white coats. That was the best they would get.

Pirin nodded. He shared a glance with Myraden, and they both stepped back to the far corner of the gondola. The three facility workers approached and stepped inside the gondola. Immediately, they looked at Alyus and Brealtod. The ostal in the lead, who wore a green sash, demanded, “What is the purpose of your…visit?”

He had probably been expecting someone in Neria company attire. Pirin used a Winged Fist and flung the three mortals into the wooden side wall of the Featherflight’s gondola. They collapsed, unmoving. Though their uniforms had rain-stains, the fabric was still intact. Perfect.

Pirin pulled off the lead worker’s coat and tugged it on over his regular coat. Then, he ran his fingers through his hair and pulled the longest locks over his pointed ears. He’d look no different than a man with his hair over his ears—and if they didn’t look too closely at the runic tattoos on his skin. He took off his mask; no worker would wear that, and stole the gloves of a different worker to hide his reforging markings.

Myraden took a different worker’s coat and pulled it on over her armour and gambeson. It was a little bulkier than normal, but the hope was that no one would be looking too closely.

“Tie these guys up,” Pirin instructed Alyus and Brealtod. “If they fight you when they wake up, do whatever you need to keep yourselves safe and alive. We’ll be back in a few hours, and hopefully, with an army.”

He and Myraden stepped back out of the gondola, coats fluttering in the wind. Rain pelted them and the wind tried to push Pirin sideways. He and Myraden marched to the airship’s stern and opened the cargo hold, then retrieved Gray and Kythen. Both Familiars hopped down onto the platform.

“You heard the plan, Gray?” Pirin asked.

I got it! Gray said. They set off across the thin bridge between the landing platform and the main facility. As they walked, Gray asked, How’re you going to explain the Familiars to everyone, though?

“I have an idea.” For both Gray and Myraden’s purposes, he added, “Follow my lead. I think I can get us in. If not, I can always fall back on a Whisper Hitch.”

“Not without your mask,” Myraden said.

He patted his haversack. “Got it. But I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

She pulled aside the lapel of her coat, revealing her spear—in its unwound form, wrapped around her shoulder like a sash.

They reached the side of the facility. A walkway ran around the outside of the circular building. It was taller than he thought, especially up close, and without someone to show them around, they’d be searching for days.

He and Myraden pushed the doors apart. The gate swung inward on sticky hinges, and the doors crashed against the inner walls.

He’d pushed a little too hard, especially with his enhanced body.

As soon as he, Myraden, Gray, and Kythen stepped through the doors, the wind slammed them shut again. The hallways were windowless and smokey, but candle sconces kept the gloom at bay. The roof was high enough that he could reach up without hitting the titanwood beams.

But even though the place’s walls and roof was titanwood, it still shook and shuddered with each gust of wind. The constant lightning and thunder made the whole place rumble, and the floor was always vibrating.

A pair of armoured company guards stared at Pirin and Myraden suspiciously.

It was time to start. Now or never. Pirin tightened his hands behind his back to stop himself from shuddering, then approached the guards and said, “How disgraceful! No one even set foot outside to greet us?” He adjusted his green sash. It had no detail nor insignias, so it wouldn’t immediately identify him as one of the incapacitated workers. “We are here on the orders of Lady Neria. She asked her two wizards to inspect this facility, and at the moment, I’m finding it sorely lacking! What do you have to say about this?”