Port Isteel was easily one of the busiest places Kit had ever seen, and they had spent a summer in New York City once. The streets were both narrower and more densely packed with pedestrians than Grandrest had been. Vendors hocked their wares from open counters built into their shop fronts, allowing customers to simply approach the windows to purchase. To Kit, it looked like banks of food trucks ready for orders. The air smelled briny and vaguely fishy, and some donkey-like animals brayed loudly a few streets over.

Just as he had done in the dark forest and in Grandrest, Jamil instructed Kit to hold onto the back of his coat. They did, feeling like a baby elephant, and with Arte close behind them the group slowly worked their way down to the docks. Sandwiched between their friends, all Kit could do was take tiny shuffling steps and crane their neck to see as much of Port Isteel as possible. The buildings all looked alike, none taller than three stories, all constructed of a bluish brushed metal and kind of shaped like leafless pineapples. Colorful seabirds in a wide array of hues soared overhead, equipped with short necks but very long beaks that looked great for snatching morsels off the ground. One screeched as it swooped by, and Kit thought it sounded like a train whistle. If they squinted hard past the bustling crowd, they could see the ocean shining like an enormous pool of wine in the distance.

“The ocean’s not really red, is it?” They had to yell to be heard over the din of traffic, and Jamil shook his head in response.

“Kit, when have you ever seen red water here?” He teased, his chuckle rumbling through his back right into their chest. He had a point.

The pressure of the crowd began to lessen as the avenue opened out onto the cobblestoned docks. Now Kit could get a good look at the tied ships, and they involuntarily shrieked in amazement. The ships all looked like dragons, huge winged dragons in a gorgeous rainbow of jewel-tones. Each one sported a highly detailed head and tail, sculpted with scales and horns and teeth. The great carved heads all had open mouths, and as they drew closer Kit could see some kind of turbine nestled inside the jaws, metal tubing running in carefully crafted ridges down the sides toward the tail. Massive wings with dyed-leather membranes stood upright like sails, and they could see one in the distance, sailing with its wings down as if flying through the water. Porthole windows dotted the cabin-body and each ship had a matching ramp hooked onto the dock.

“Do we get to ride on one of those?!” Kit exclaimed, releasing their hold on Jamil’s coat and running out of the crowd to get a closer look.

“Kit, wait!” Jamil called after them but they ignored him, picking their way through the people to meet the metal railing. They hadn’t gone far, after all.

One particular ship’s dazzling reds and oranges caught Kit’s attention and they ran to it, eyes wide in awe. It looked carved out of gemstones, flame-shaped scales glittering in the light. High above their head, sunset orange leather membranes stretched between the tines of the wing-sails. Bold black hash marks decorated the sides and neck.

“Cool…” Kit breathed, inching closer until they bumped into the railing.

“Like what ya see, lad?” A burly man with deeply tanned skin and a cotton-candy-pink beard emerged from the cabin and strolled down the ramp, grinning broadly at Kit. They nodded emphatically.

“Yeah, I do! I’m not a lad, though.” Kit laughed, and the man shrugged.

“Aye, but I reckon yer not a lass, either. Don’t matter to me none, ol’ Bilal’ll ferry anyone with the coin!”

“Are you Bilal?”

“Aye, that I am, young’n! Ye a seafarer?” Bilal’s boisterous personality was doing wonders to put Kit at ease, and they stepped closer to the railing.

“I'm not, we’re actually here to charter a boat and your boat is the coolest one! I mean, all these boats are so cool but yours is definitely the coolest!” Kit talked fast and their hands flailed, bubbling over with excitement. Bilal seemed to appreciate the enthusiasm, laughing heartily and slapping his knee.

“Slow down an’ breathe, young’n! Why, ya make it sound like ya never seen a Vorran Drako before!”

“I haven’t! They’re called Vorran Drakos?”

“Aye, they are! One o’ the finest examples of Vorran technology since the cyclars!” Bilal brought a short-stemmed pipe out of the pocket of his wooly coat and stuck the end in his mouth, not lighting it but holding it between his teeth. Kit thought it looked like a tiny fish bowl on a glass stem, complete with colorful gravel inside the bowl and some kind of clear liquid sloshing around. They stared at it, fascinated.

“I don’t reckon yer from here, are ya, young’n?” As he spoke, little puffs of bright green smoke floated up from his pipe in rings. Kit couldn’t take their eyes off them. Realizing the sailor was talking to them, they jumped slightly and shook their head.

“I’m not, no.” Reddening, Kit looked at the ground. Bilal only laughed.

“Well, we were all new at some time, right? Nothing’ to be ashamed of!” Glancing around for a moment, he leaned in as though he wanted to tell Kit a secret. “Would ya care to know how the ships work?” Like a dog catching sight of its leash, Kit got excited all over again and nodded eagerly.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Yes, I would!” Their voice rose in pitch and Bilal laughed more.

“Aye, well, ya see the turbine up in ‘er mouth there? That sucks in air and pumps it through them pipes and out the backside, see? That’s ‘er propulsion. The wings, them’s the sails, they come out to the sides for steerin’.”

“You mean it’s wind-powered? But, like, by suction?”

“Aye, that’s it!” Amazed, Kit stared out at the Drako, its crimson scales gleaming. It was genuinely the coolest thing they had ever seen. By now, Jamil and Arte had caught up to Kit, and they both approached looking rather annoyed. Jamil reached them first, scowling so hard it was almost comical.

“Kit, why did you run off like that?!” He demanded, glaring like a disappointed parent. They smiled sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, but these ships are just too cool! I had to get a closer look! Here, check this one out! Doesn’t she look fast? She’s perfect!” Practically vibrating with excitement, Kit pointed enthusiastically with both hands, unable to take their eyes off the ship. Bilal, however, had his eyes glued to Jamil, his expression no longer jovial but cold and stony. Jamil’s eyes darted around nervously.

“Kit…” He whispered, reaching for them; they took his hand without even looking, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The gesture was becoming like a secret handshake between the two of them.

“I don’t like the look o’ what’s got its claws in ya, lad,” Bilal said gravely, and Jamil barked out a nervous laugh.

“Neither do I, old man,” he replied bitterly, and then Bilal burst into guffawing laughter. Kit and Jamil exchanged curious looks.

“Aye, lad, I don’t reckon ya do! Now, if I let ya on my ship, ya ain’t gonna smash ‘er up, are ya?” He raised his bushy eyebrows, both serious and playful. Jamil shifted uncomfortably.

“I-I’ll try not to,” he said softly, sounding very much like the dejected child he’d once been. Kit squeezed his hand again and he squeezed back. Bilal seemed to accept Jamil’s answer, though, because he allowed the three of them to book passage to Mystibel on his ship, whom he lovingly referred to as Seafire Sally.

“We ship off soon as Astra apexes, so ya better be sure yer on time! Miss Sally don’t wait for no one!”

“Yes, we’ll be here! Thank you, Mr. Bilal!” Kit called, waving to the old sailor as they and their friends left the docks to obtain food and supplies for the trip. They split up, Kit going with Arte to get provisions while Jamil went the opposite direction in search of a swordsmith to rebalance the sword he’d picked up in Grandrest. Arte had to ask for directions from three different locals but they eventually found the fresh markets two streets down from the docks.

“I was really worried Mr. Bilal would turn us away!” Kit said, picking up a fruit that resembled a large, striped lemon and rolled it around in their hands. It smelled like citrus and mint, making them thirsty.

“Because of Jamil?” Arte glanced at Kit while she filled the provided basket with little heart-shaped nuts and bumpy brown tubers that could have been potatoes if not for their warty skin.

“Yeah, were you worried, too?”

“A bit. That dark aura of his is hard to ignore.”

“You can see it?” Kit remembered Arte had said something while they were in the woods about Jamil’s aura. Did she see what he’d described? Arte shook her head.

“No, not anymore. Not since you calmed it and it disappeared.” She took the fruit from Kit and dropped it into her basket. While Arte picked through the rows of unfamiliar produce, Kit followed along behind and touched everything they saw. Something was weighing heavily on their mind, something they had wanted to ask about since their riverside chat with Jamil.

“Hey, Arte…?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t…you don’t think bad of him…do you?” Kit quickly walked around Arte to stand in front of her; she blinked at them curiously.

“Of who? Jamil?” Kit nodded vigorously. Arte shrugged. “I guess not. I will admit, I did at first. I didn’t know what to think when I saw that aura, and then to find out he’s not only the person I've been looking for but also the one responsible for the tower collapsing and separating me from Kattrin…” She trailed off, looking down at her boots.

“But that wasn’t his fault!” A whine was beginning to creep into Kit’s voice. They cleared their throat self-consciously.

“I know that now, calm down!” Arte laughed nervously, turning her attention to the vendor in order to pay. Feeling foolish for getting so defensive, Kit hugged their arms beneath their cloak and now it was their turn to stare at their boots. Arte finished paying for their provisions and turned back to Kit, a mesh bag in each hand.

“This should last us to Mystibel. Ready to go find Jamil?” She tilted her head; Kit glanced up and nodded.

“Yeah, let’s go.” As they doubled back the way they came, Kit thought about what Arte had said, about Jamil’s aura being hard to ignore. Was it really so visible to others? If so, why weren’t people running in terror? They wondered if it was circumstantial and if so, what was the trigger? Did certain people see it a certain way?

An idea came to them then, stopping them in their tracks. Jamil had said no one besides Kit could calm his beast, not even Master Jesper. Surely that meant something! Maybe they actually were the key to helping Jamil control his affliction. Maybe they could rid him of it entirely! It was worth a shot, right? Kit chewed absently on their thumbnail, so deep in thought they didn’t hear Arte calling them until she was right in front of them.

“Kit? Are you okay?” She asked. Blinking back to attention, Kit felt their cheeks redden and nodded quickly.

“Y-yes! Sorry!” They waved their hands awkwardly, earning a soft chuckle from Arte.

“Well, come on, then. Jamil is already waiting for us by the ship.”

“O-okay!” Taking one of the bags, Kit followed Arte back through the crowds to the docks, but their thoughts remained on Jamil. Their mind was made up now, and they felt more determined than ever. They were going to help him, in any way they could.

~