I’ve had some ask me what it was like, you know to be alone in the vast skymarches of Endaria.   To some the idea of being free and aloft all on my own is something I’ve seen them get all dreamy-eyed looks over as if the idea of that sort of freedom was something that appealed to them, and others just don’t downright believe me when I tell them about it.  

I’d have to say it was a time that was both terrifying and exhilarating, but one of deep loneliness.   A tiny skiff against the mighty tempest winds of the marches is dangerous enough when you have a full crew.   When my journey began, I had no crew and the only thing I had was my own wandering spirit.   

On your own, there is no margin for error, one tiny mistake and you disappear without a trace swallowed by the expanse.  I had to be very careful.  In my case there was only one person to charge the crystal, the beating heart of my beloved airship.   There were many times my little darling had trouble staying in the air.  The best part of my time was spent coasting on my sails as I used my zephyrscope, tracking the shifting winds at different altitudes.  My fingers were on the pulse of the sky, and I rose and fell with the heartbeat of the world.  To people like myself, there is a highway up there, some winds fickle, but most well known and mapped even as I watch them shift with the seasons and carry my hopes and dreams into faraway lands.  

In those days I made coin as a courier. I can still remember it, even after all these years.   On my little mast, several banners streamed like ribbons of fire.  One was my own personal sigil that identified me as one of the many freelance operators.  Beside it was my rating streamer.  At that time, it was only a bronze one, something I had to bootstrap my way up from with sweat and blood. I had defied all of propriety and expectation that a single lone captain could. 

Above both of the banners flew the standard of the Endarian Messenger’s Guild.   There were many types of messengers, but airborne ones like myself were the most prized, though most of us took to the sky on various airborne creatures rather then an airship. 

Airships, even my little skiff were expensive to both operate and maintain.  In those days, only the wealthy, the masters of kingdoms and experienced skyfarer’s like my family every attempted to own and operate them. I had grown up working on my little vessel, and was taught how to repair and maintain every warding, enchantment, lashline and sail aboard.  Still, there are times when I wonder even now how I managed in those days as they seem so very far away now.   It’s almost like a dream as I try and look back into time and imagine those unspeakable first years on my own, with only my grief as company. 

My father had invented the name of our skiff, Sweetwind after my mom’s pet name they used, but everyone in my family had always called her “Sweetie” for as long as I could remember.  It was a very old, of a truly ancient design and had probably gone through many names through its long life.  Sweetwind had been well cared for by our family and treasured even more than my father’s harvest ship when he used to follow the great sky whales and collect their shed scales.  

Every inch of the airship was a work of art bound in polished ironwood with conductive channels etched into the hull along the keel in an ancient technique that had been discontinued countless centuries ago.  Unlike modern airships of the time, Sweetwind wasn’t built in the typical donut shape with the ballast exposed in the center, but looked more like a predator of the skies then a lumbering giant. 

My little Sweetwind had the ballast in the interior of the ship, and used enchanted conduits to channel the force of the ballast along the hull.  This had the effect of making the skiff very fast in the air, but sometimes tricky to control, as it took an expert at the helm to ride the winds with such a design.  

I had spent my entire life aboard ships like her, but truly found my calling in helping my mom who had used the Sweetwind to scout out pods of the giant sky wales and mark them for father when she wasn’t running for the guild.   She had taught me how to pilot the little skiff just as father had taught my sister how to help him onboard Harmony, his harvesting ship.

Sweetwind was seventy-three feet in length and had a beam of twenty-three feet.   Although only a skiff, she’s was not much smaller than many kingdom gunboats or courier craft.  Her sleek prowl was carved into the body of a winged horse, with its wings folder over the bowsprit.   Each part of her had been enhanced as it passed through my mother’s family, who had often added more intricate enchantment and adornments, with such an eye-catching result that it always got remarks when I stopped in port. If I recall correctly, more than one artist had asked me to let him render its visage onto canvas or slate.  All of the sky folk decorated their ships like mine, but very few of us had such a truly ancient vessel.  

There were two large winches on Sweetwind for grappling onto sky whales, something that I did whenever I could, in order to leave my magemark.   Mage marking aerial objects or creatures were good way to make a bit of gold on the side, and it was an excellent way to kill time between my deliveries, or just to take a break when I need it.  The skiff’s primary armament consisted of a single bow lance, so old its make was lost in the fog of time.   My mother had installed a couple of deck swivel lances, but luckily, we had never needed to use them.

 Keeping Sweetwind’s hungry crystals charged was taxing work and tired me out quickly when constantly pushing at forward ballast and using up energy to gain speed for a delivery.  I preferred to coast on the comforting envelope of the planet’s life force and save my energy, but I was a messenger and there was a premium paid for a quick delivery.   Back then, in the early days I needed every scrap of pay I could squeeze out of my clients to keep Sweetwind in good working order and to support my nomadic lifestyle.  

On that fateful day I was on course for Mageos, with a bundle of messages and a small delivery for one of their outposts.  There was thankfully no real time constraint as it was a set of merchant ledgers and some supplies of some sort that one of the large shipping houses needed at the port city of Bagliona.   I was also carrying a few packages from the guild that were stamped and bound to the same city, and in all it was light work.   I had been taking it easy for the last couple of weeks as I had just finished my last major job and was still trying to recuperate.  

I soared upon the merry southwester at around four thousand feet up.  Lashed to the helm station, I was sipping Kava from a waterskin and leaning back in Sweetie’s forward helm chair, my harness holding me in place along the spinal lashways. My little skiff had several helms, and were used differently depending on what task I was about.  The spinal prowl helm is typically where I pilot the vessel from, just below the bow.  It’s a glass bubble that extends out and under the ship just under the winged horse’s defiant head.  

Sometimes I liked to pilot Sweetwind from one of the other helms, especially since I’d passed into a warmer climate recently and was at such a low altitude.  The day I spied the island where my destiny was truly set in motion, I was truly exhausted with a bone-aching weariness, and it really wasn’t in me to prance around the deck or climb up into the rigging.  As it was, it was the Kava that was keeping me alert more than any sort of decent rest.  Even on an easy run, decent sleep was more a luxury for myself then a certainty.

The skysails were out and the small spans that Sweetie could boast were riding a lazy current as I was soaring over vast ocean, my mind wandering even as my bleary eyes adjusted my zephyrscope as I tracked the winds, and kept my tiny vessel on a steady bearing.  

Far below me, the glare of the noon sun was almost blinding even through my tinted goggles as it reflected off the azure waters of the sea.  As distant as the eye could see, there was nothing but white caps on the rough tropical seas. My course tracked a path that was far off from any shipping routes on the ocean below.    I was more than a bit distant off the normal routes as I followed the winds, riding along the edges of a developing storm in the distance.  

The massive wall of clouds went thousands of feet in the air and I could see the grey haze of distant rain and the occasional shuddering flash of thunder.  I rode the outer edge of the storm with the ease of familiar practice, following the twisting breeze as the storm slowly started to form in to a late season typhoon.  

Scanning the horizon, I saw a small chain of islands far below and picked up my map slate and rolled it to the right position manipulating small dials in it as the slate molded and reformed into the shape of the surrounding area as I worked the enchanted device.  

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Horsehair islands, yes right on track.” I yawned as I spoke to thin air, my voice coming out in a gravely croak from the dry air of the small helm cabin, my throat dry.    I blinked and lifted my goggles and rubbed eyes that felt dry and sore.   I knew for a fact wouldn’t be able to make it all the way to the mainland at this rate.   I had to land somewhere and a deserted island out in the middle of nowhere seemed to be a better prospect than a sea landing in the heavy swells that surrounded the massive storm.    My skiff could float like most wooden built airships, but it wasn’t very stable in rough seas and could capsize even if I extended the outriggers.   

Besides, my delivery wasn’t due for nearly three days, and the miserly early delivery bonus from those penny-pinching merchants just wasn’t enough to lose sleep over. 

Pulling levers on my control panel, I looked up and out the enchanted crystal glass and watched as the sails fanned back into the masts, then the masts folded back into the ship, leaving just the deck mainmast, bare of any cloth.  Grunting with the pleasure of a stowing well done, and without any jams I grinned, my body yearning for what was next. 

Grasping the helm tightly, I placed my hands on the crystal conduit that was a link directly to the ballast and prepared myself to shunt power out of the ballast and cycle it down into lower output ranges.   The crystal around my neck glowed and my hand tingled from the rush of power, slowly pulling me out of my fatigue.   I stopped pulling power into myself and shifted the rest into the storage banks with a flick of a control. 

Kava was good for waking up, but nothing beat that rush of power I could get from reclaiming my energy.   My entire body hummed and tingled, power filling my core.   Occasionally there was the crackle of a leak as I grasped for control of my gift after the sudden surge.  Small static charges ground out into my harness and were absorbed by the conduit crystal. My head spun from the sheer rush and my eyes watered from the feeling of power as my altitude indicators spun wildly with the plummet. 

The Sweetwind plunged first straight down, then I leveled out a few hundred feet above the churning waves as my heart pounded with excitement.  I gave a whoop of glee as Sweetwind became a thundering streak as it roared over the waves at its full speed, the reverberations of the pushing ballast throwing up a wake that broke whitecaps below me with contemptuous ease.   In the distance the specks blossomed into a series of tiny forested islands surrounded by golden beaches and tidewater swamp that were being pounded by the surf of the storm.   

Scanning over the prospects, I decided on a large one that had a small stunted hill on it, surrounded by sporadic swampy jungle and the occasional flat rock plateau.   Pulling up on my helm and twisting my body harness sideways and manipulating the rudder, I banked Sweetwind in a wide arc, gaining a bit of altitude briefly while I studied a likely spot to land.   I needed fresh water, and it wouldn’t hurt to get some hunting in.  I saw a small valley between two rocky plateaus and grinned when I spotted a flat strip of turf that would fit my little vessel nicely.    I flared the ship, coming close to a stall as I reversed the ballast thrust causing the entire ship to creak and groan as it pivoted.  

Gritting my teeth, I popped the outrigger controls and wooden pontoon landing legs descended from the sides of the Sweetwind then popped and hissed as I settled onto the ground, the pistons in the legs of the pontoons absorbing the impact, then carrying the weight of the Sweetwind down until its keel settled onto the rocky ground and the entire vessel shuddered with resounding creaks and bangs.   

I wiped streaks of stinging sweat out of my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.   Landings were always the worst, but I had managed this one well enough.  What would be even more terrifying was what would come next.  

I eyed the release catch around my waist, and my stomach clenched as I released and my feet settled onto the deck.   My heart pounded and I automatically tried to feel the rhythm of the winds and ride the ship but everything seemed to just spin as nothing moved, the ship stayed still and the only wind was the howl from the storm far away.   Bile started to form in the back of my throat and I gripped the railing next to the helm and tried not to throw up.    I hated the land, it wasn’t where I belonged.

Stumbling, and trying to stay upright I staggered along the connecting hallway, using the railings to steady myself as my body kept trying to find the windsong and kept failing.    My fingers slipped on one railing and I wind milled my arms and gave a squeak before my harness tugged and I realized I had unconsciously clipped it to the railing out of reflex.

Unclipping the harness snap, I sagged to the floor and covered my eyes.   Tears started to flow and I just sat there and cried for a few seconds as my world spun around me.  It wasn’t being on land that had me depressed.  It was being so tired, so very tired and just wanting to sleep for a few days.   

I couldn’t sleep until I warded the landing area, and concealed the ship.   This ship would stick out like a beacon to anyone with any drop of power in them, and I wanted to make sure I was undisturbed.   Also, the wards would cause the ungifted to not notice the ship, and monsters would hopefully avoid the warding.

Using the railing I pulled myself to my feet, my legs feeling like quivering jelly as I moved down through the Sweetwind to it’s aft cargo hatch.  Around the compartment, boxes were strapped to the deck with ropes and clamps. This was the delivery I was making, mostly contained on a small wooden pallet at the top of the hatch ramp.    I pushed around it, scraping myself on a rough crate in the small confined space and made it to the hatch where I turned a ward stone.  The hatch hissed open, two watertight shutters folding into the hull of the Sweetwind.   Pulling a second ward stone, a ramp unfolded from the keel of the ship and crunched into the gravel not eight feet below.  

I squeezed around the box and adjusted the hood on my flight jacket as a mildly chilly breeze thundered into the cargo hold.   Twigs, grass and leaves carried on the gust blew in and I felt my goggles deflect the dust out of my eyes as I blinked and peered around for my casting kit.  

I spotted it on a clip rack on one side of the hatchway and unfastened the small leather roll-out pouch and threw it over my shoulder.   

As my shaky legs carried me out into the thick, heavy air of the island I gasped and licked my dry and nearly chapped lips.  The smells and sounds around me were intense.  The creak and groan of nearby trees as gusts tossed branches and the screech and hoots of local wildlife almost made me run back up the ramp.   I took a deep breath of the rich air, the swiftly approaching storm filling my lungs as I tried to calm my pounding heart.   

There was so much humidity in the air I felt like I was smothering.   The rumble of the distant storm drowned out the cacophony around as I clutched my casting kit and darted my eyes around the ground.   It was perfect for a warding circle.  

Reaching inside the pouch on the end of the roll I flicked out a small metal dowel and clenched it in my hands as I focused on it.   Power washed into the dowel and the faint glowing lines of a circle began to extend outwards, covered in the script and runes I would have to imprint onto the ground.   Once the circle was set, I quickly pulled out a metal tracing rod and went to work, racing the possibility of rain washing out my circle before I could contain the warding with my imprint.

It felt like an eternity before I finally finished. Once the tracing was complete, I carefully walked the imprint and poured in a faint dusting of powdered crystal into the circle’s power channels.   I sighed, knowing what trial came next, and placed my hands on the incomplete working, thrusting my gift into it forcing my ward structure into its prison.

My arms burned as power poured from my body into my work, rushing through the imprinted grooves and channels.  The powdered crystal glowed and the wind around me solidified into a thick dome for an instant as the barrier snapped into place.  I bit back a scream of pain and swayed, nearly doing a faceplant into the damp earth around me.   It was always difficult setting a warding alone, with no one else to share the charging with.    Groaning I toppled over onto my side, the warding finished as the sounds of the world around the Sweetwind faded and were muted slightly by the wards.   

I lay there with my entire body feeling wrung out before I finally mustered myself up off the damp ground.  Collecting my kit, and quickly stowing the tools, I stumbled back up the ramp and clipped the kit back into place above it.    My head throbbed with every step and I had to stop and catch my breath as I choked on the humid air that hung like a mist in the hold.    Eventually I managed to stumble back down the spine of the Sweetwind and crash into my cabin in the stern.  

Entering the captain’s cabin, I first knelt at the altar of Zeus, lord of the sky and thanked him for safe landings.   Lighting a stick of sky pine incense at the altar, I nodded as I kissed two fingers and tapped them to my forehead, then to the figurines of each of the winds.   

I felt the comforting surge of power from the altar in return, as my energy reflected back through it and I smiled as I murmured a thankful praise to my patron.   My headache eased and I sighed as I pulled off my flight harness, then my aviators’ suit.   It felt good to be out of the garment.   It was already into sunset but this was not a climate suited to heavy clothing despite the chilly breezes from the storm.  I was a child of the sky and I longed for the burn of the cold on my face rather then the sweat that was trickling down it.   I mopped it off with a cloth and climbed up to my top bunk, looking down at the neatly made bunk below me with mom’s picture frame on it.  

“Good night mom!” I said and pulled a light sheet over my aching body after setting out the mosquito net and secured the sleep straps to hold me in place without even remembering that I was on land.