Morgan Mackenzie was having a good day. She had been having several good days, in fact. There were people in her valley now! Being alone in the wilderness had been bothering her more than she cared to admit. She still felt awkward around so many strangers, although she was constantly -- and pleasantly -- surprised by how little of an issue her lack of clothing had been. The beastkin weren’t phased in the slightest; they only wore the bare minimum themselves. The dwarves, Dana had informed her, weren’t really interested in a tall, pale surface-dweller, and the gnomes saw everything and everyone as a potential science experiment. Most surprisingly, Terisa privately admitted to her that most of her fellow humans were simply jealous of her metabolism. They just haven’t seen the downsides to starving yourself through spellcasting, she thought ruefully.
Thankfully, this was less of a problem in the mana-suffused region surrounding her spire; Dana’s skyship was proving to be incredibly magic-intensive to construct, and Morgan had spent the past several days helping the engineer assemble a geodesic sphere to sit at its heart. Steel would have been a better material than stone, but between its lack, Morgan’s skill with [Terrakinesis] to craft the various rods and joints, as well as enchantments to reinforce the structure, the resulting arrangement didn’t give up much.
“So,” Morgan called, setting the last stone rod into position and melding it with its fellows, “explain this to me again.” She reached up to grab the structure and swing herself inside, clambering onto the internal scaffolding and making her way towards Dana, who hung upside down, legs hooked over part of the sphere’s structure as she double-checked Morgan’s work. “We’ve basically got a buckyball here, right?”
“This is the prototype for our lift mechanics, yeah,” Dana replied, letting her arms dangle and turning to look at the sorceress. “Your spatial magic and runes gave me the idea, and if we can get it to work, it’ll solve a major problem for building a functional flying ship.”
Morgan shook her head, bemused. “I don’t see how you can stay upside down so much! Don’t you get dizzy?”
Dana shrugged, her tools folding themselves back into her gauntlets. She rocked herself forward, latching onto the sphere and dropping back to the scaffolding. “You spend as much time as I do contorted into a pretzel, you get used to it. But to get back to the point?
“If we had less people, and less supplies, just basically less to lift?” Dana gestured through the stone bars to the Expedition encampment farther down the valley, where extensive scaffolding had already been assembled and a vague shape that may have at some point thought about possibly being a ship was beginning to form. “If we didn’t need so much lift, we could use a regular round balloon or one of those big sausage-shaped blimps. But we’ve got over five hundred people, hundreds of tons of supplies, pack animals, and mounts.” She shakes her head. “Any traditional dirigible would put the Hindenburg to shame for sheer size, and be stupidly slow. We’d never make it out of the Wildlands this year, let alone before the worst of winter.
“Not only that, but a lift bag that big would leave us at the mercy of the wind, no matter what sort of engine we strapped to it.” She gestured at the skeleton in which they stood. “This, though? Two hundred feet across. With your help, I’m hoping we can get triple that in interior--”
“I can do triple,” Morgan interrupted, catching on. “But you’ll want seven, instead. If I used a three-point array, it’d need to be constantly supplied with mana. My spatial folding works on a seven-pointed array that bites into itself,” she continued, lacing her knuckles together as if to demonstrate. “It feeds into its own mana and sustains itself.”
Dana blinked. After a moment’s pause, she flipped out a small pad of parchment from her forearm and started hastily scribbling on it. “Man,” she groaned. “That changes all my math. Everything I’d worked off of said that threes were best for enchantments. If you can actually make a seven-point array…? And if it scales linearly…” She trailed off, pencil dancing across the parchment. Eventually, she grunted, apparently satisfied. “Seven times the radius means way more than seven times the volume. We’ve got a hell of a safety margin now, and we can use four of these instead of six.”
It was Morgan’s turn to shrug. “Threes aren’t best for enchantments; they’re useful if you don’t have a lot of mana all at once to work with. They take less power to make, but need upkeep. What we’ll do instead is a seven-point spatial expansion lattice at the bottom,” she explained, pointing down, “and then six more spaced around the sphere. Seven of seven, see?” Dana opened her mouth to reply, but Morgan raised a finger to cut her off. “But that’s not enough,” she warned, a day of rain and broken clay returning to her mind. “We’ll need to offset the spatial expansion with spatial reinforcement; if we don’t, internal stress will tear the structure apart. Another set of seven sevens, opposing the first.”
Dana had been writing and sketching the entire time as Morgan spoke. She made a few more quick lines with her pencil, looking back up at the [Skyclad Sorceress]. “If my figuring is right, it would be extremely unstable to hold together until it was finished, and then it all snaps together around itself like shrink wrap or a spatial bubble? What about heat?”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “That’s almost exactly what happens. I busted hundreds of clay pots trying to get it to work before I figured out I needed to reinforce the space itself, and not just the clay. Thankfully, I’ve got all the juice I need for this as long as we’re in the valley. For heating, I can weave conductive enchantments into the inner scaffolding here. There may be more effective or efficient ways of doing it, but that’s what I know how to do right now.”
“Hah!” laughed Dana. “It took some getting used to for the rest of us. Biggles is amazed you didn’t lock down your spire so that only you can use it. Apparently, ley line nodes like this are a big deal, and all the known ones in the lowlands are controlled by Guilds or by agreements between nations. Meadowspire is the largest Mage Tower I’ve read about on the mainland, although there’s supposedly an island province with the largest one in the world built into it.”
“I’m not sure how I would even go about doing that,” replied the Sorceress. “I built it more like a magical radar or echolocation sort of thing. I didn’t realize at first just how much extra magic bubbles up from the ley lines. But, being able to eat like a normal person is really nice. You have no idea how hungry I can get…”
Dana grinned. “I haven’t forgotten seeing you eat more than a dwarf and two full grown bear-men in one sitting. I have a pretty good idea.”
A sudden cool breeze trailed through the valley, causing Morgan to shiver in surprise and bringing with it a wurbled greeting as Lulu floated near the dome. More scrubbies had shown up as they had travelled from Castra Pristis to her valley, which most of the Expedition had simply taken to calling the Spire in honor of its most prominent feature. Many Expeditioners had adopted the poofy offspring of the Matriarch, a fact which brought Morgan more than a little amusement and satisfaction.
“Hey there, pretty thing,” cooed Morgan as the scrubby descended with a pop of its soapy bubble to land on her shoulder. “I thought you were hanging out with Wuffle and Biggles, while they work on the air bags.”
“I actually need to go check on them, now,” said Dana, picking her way down the inner side of the dome. “They think they’re making a bag only twice the size of this sphere, but if your spatial magics can make the inside bigger, then we can use an even bigger bag and get much more efficient lift…”
Morgan followed, swinging down from span to span as she revelled in the simple satisfaction of having something to do. Something besides fight for survival or scrounge up enough food to power her voracious appetite. As happy as she was to have company, however, she still felt the pressing urge to move on with her own goals before winter arrived. I’ve wanted wings since I got here, and the old witch said I wasn’t strong enough then, she thought to herself. Not that she couldn’t help me get them!
“Have you thought about how you’re gonna deal with the whole naked shtick when we get back to civilization?” asked Dana as they navigated the short walk to where the scaffolding had been erected to facilitate framing out the skyship. “We’re roughing it out here so there’s bigger things to worry about, and nobody who saw you turn into the Human Torch is brave enough to make a scene. That won’t last forever, though,” Dana warned.
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“Does fire bikini armor count?” asked the Sorceress, her [Runic Armor] flaring to life, projecting her inner fire into a contoured layer less than a hair’s width away from her skin. “I can’t keep it up forever, at least not outside the valley, and it’ll be hell on any furniture that’s not fireproof…”
Dana gaped for a moment, nearly stumbling. “You really take that whole idea of skimpy armor being better to the absolute extreme! And you can still see through it, just blurry.”
“Yeah, I’m no good with illusions, though. The fire I can control without even thinking; bending light is a whole different ball game.” She stopped, weaving Mana around a small shrub. It blurred, but didn’t quite vanish completely. “If it’s not moving, I can sorta cloak it. My [Fade Presence] skill does something similar for me, and I’ve just been more focused on more direct magics myself.”
Dana had stopped as well, a thin visor folding down from within her helmet as she observed Morgan’s partially-effective illusion spell. “I don’t think I’ll be able to put something like stealth systems into the skyship, but the idea tickles my fancy. Shields would be more useful for the Mark One,” she said as they resumed their trek.
“The Mark One?”
“That’s the designation for the original design, yes,” grinned Dana. “You’ll have to wait for the actual christening before I announce its real name.”
“Shields are actually pretty simple in concept,” continued the Sorceress. “I learned mine from a shellipede monster.” She ignored Dana’s shocked and curious stare. “Your own barrier emitted by the Crawler isn’t weak in any way that I could tell, but you won’t be able to power it continuously, will you?”
Dana stepped across a muddy rut where wagons had been used to haul supplies repeatedly from the lower valley encampment to the construction site of the future skyship. “Not even close to continuous. We’ll have the Mana-Bolters for point defense from smaller flying critters, and Terisa and the big guns for everything else. Shields will be more for emergencies because the drain on the Crawler’s core is immense. What happened to the centipede?”
“Shellipede, actually, and I ate it.”
The engineer made a hurrk sound, pantomiming a disgusted dry heave.
“Tasted a lot like shrimp or lobster, actually; wasn’t bad at all,” Morgan continued with a grin.
They were interrupted by an earthshaking rumble and a massive thud, followed by the indistinct shouting of several dwarves as they finished levering a massive piece of timber into position by means of a block and tackle and raw dwarven might. The slowly-forming skyship didn’t exactly look like anything she’d call a ship, but she allowed that she’d never seen what this world called a skyship. The primary section of Dana’s workshop had been disconnected, and a framework of lumber and pulleys was being constructed around it. Witchwood, as the Expedition called it, was the predominant species of tree in the Wildlands and with just a little coaxing, it took extremely well to being worked.
“This will be the most expensive thing ever built in the history of Anfealt, or close to it,” quipped Dana as they approached. “The witchwood alone would empty national treasuries. It takes special storage precautions in order to preserve its magical properties; otherwise it loses its ability to take in magic and becomes regular wood like any other tree. Add in the crystals we’ll be using to power it, and the wealth we’re just throwing into one pot here is mind-boggling.”
“I’m sorry you have to give up your crawler for parts,” Morgan said, looking at the now-stilled and partially dismantled machine. “It looked so badass--”
“Hold! Shim that support timber, Targan, yer off level on this end!” Kojeg’s shout was loud enough to interrupt the women even through the continuous cacophony of construction work. Grumbling ensued, but it was as good-natured as Morgan might have heard from any tight-knit work crew on Earth. The boisterous dwarves certainly knew teamwork, and shims were soon hammered into place with heavy thuds of wooden mallets to the beaming approval of the foreman.
Morgan wasn’t exactly sure how, but the dwarf in charge seemed to work for Dana. He’d certainly been a boon for getting the construction of the skyship started, and the Cannoneers had set aside their gunpowder, picked up tools and set to work along with him. The brief glance Morgan had taken at his schematics only served to reinforce the idea that this looked nothing like a ship. Her studies in architecture had not been without a heavy serving of structural engineering, however, and she could tell Dana had opted for function supreme with no regard to form.
“She’ll come in at just over seven hundred feet long. The lift bags will overhang that by a bit both fore and aft,” said the armored woman, handing a few sheets of parchment with the new scribbles on them to a passing dwarf and pointing at Kojeg with a nod. “We’re gonna run into one big problem though…” She trailed off as the pair made their way past the construction site to a low clearing where Biggles and several beastkin were stretching out the vibrant green witchwood leaves on the ground.
“I can’t help with the Life magic stuff,” replied Morgan sullenly. “I’ve tried several times, I just don’t have the knack for working with living tissues, either plants or animals. I couldn’t grow house plants back on Earth either.”
Biggles dusted off his hands and stood at their approach, having heard the last bit of their conversation. “We should have the bags worked out without your help; or, more precisely, your Spire’s Mana field is all the help we need.” He nodded at two Ma’akan as they passed. “Gamar and Chnarl here are Druids. Chnarl isn’t actually his name, but it’s the closest I can come to making the sound--”
“Better’n most of the clawless,” growled Chnarl without looking up as he sewed two leafy segments together into one larger piece. Morgan could sense the magics weaving between his claw-tipped fingers, and as he stitched the two leaves together the seam glowed green briefly before fading to leave one contiguous piece. “We ken coax the leaves together; witchwood has no equal for this purpose...‘sides mebbe a few of the magical forms of spider silk. That en’t the problem…”
“We can’t use steel cables to keep the bags from lifting away from the vessel,” finished Biggles. “Even if Miss Dana had enough on hand, the worked steel would slowly absorb the magic from the leaves, fraying their natural magical properties and eventually separating the leaves.”
“We think we have a solution,” said Dana, hesitantly. “But none of the workers are brave enough to ask the Titan. He’s already doing more than we have any right to ask, dragging up the giant timbers from lower down the mountains for us. But his vines would be perfect, if he can weave us a net for each lift bag once they’re done.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem, but you’ll need to get the bags woven and sewn around the sphere-frames soon if you want his help with that.” She looked at the northern mountain ridge, where wispy clouds had grown to ominous autumn storms on the heights. “He’s drawn to follow the ley lines, and we’ll both be heading east within another couple of weeks. I have to get to First Raven’s Roost before winter really takes off, and he’ll be with me for most of that trip.”
“Will you be able to find us? Terisa told me about the winter storms. If we don’t leave before they get here we’ll be stuck in the valley till spring…”
“I honestly don’t know. I’m pretty fast on the ground, so flying should be way faster. If this thing is as slow as you think it will be, catching up shouldn’t be a big deal. Especially if you’re heading for the pass you guys used to get here.”
Dana shook her head. “Not the pass. This time of year, the winds are all blowing down from the peaks. We’ll have to head east, then turn south. Either Thun’Kadrass, or Eastharbor in Far Kosala.” The engineer gave a soft laugh. “I bet Andi would freak out if I flew a skyship right into my shop!”
“We’ll have to figure something out for staying in contact and finding each other once I finish up with the old witch,” said Morgan. “Maybe Terisa will have some ideas…”
“I’ve been working on a simple form of radio that uses a mana field as a receiver,” Dana replied, frowning, “but that won’t help you, since you can’t equip anything.”
“We can work on that then, there might be a way to adapt my sight rune--” Morgan tapped her temple for punctuation -- “to help with picking up radio transmissions, or even make a new rune. I don’t have any more freebies that I can see when I dig into my skill points, so I’m betting I’ll have to design my own from now on…”
The two women continued their walk, leaving Biggles and the druids to their work. Morgan had built several stone bunk-houses to accomodate all of her new guests, and the fire pit in the center of that loose ring of buildings was their destination. Delectable scents had begun carrying on the wind, spurring her appetite as Foz applied his talents with cooking to feed the rest of the Expedition as they worked on the ship.
“I’m actually getting a little nervous,” Morgan told Dana as they threaded their way through the sparse bushes and small trees dotting the slope of the valley. “Things have been going so smoothly for the past week…”
“You’re used to one crisis after the other, aren’t you?” Dana asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You could say that!” she laughed.
“Well, hopefully the next one will keep until after lunch,” said Dana with a grin, waving at Terisa’s husband as they came in sight of the cookfire.
As if to taunt Morgan, a flare went up on the south end of the valley, briefly swallowing the midday sun with its magnesium-bright glare. A signal from Terisa and the hunting party!?
“And I think I spoke too soon,” Dana sighed, as a shadowy form stepped out of the brush to one side of the path. It seemed almost like the echo of a man, only partially visible, that faded if she looked directly at him. It spoke in a hushed voice barely on the edge of human hearing, but Morgan heard the words well enough.
“Lady Sorceress, Miss Dana,” said the form with a respectful nod that was almost a bow. “The Lady Terisa requests your assistance; the hunting party encountered a large cat of some kind, and there are wounded.”
“We’re on our way!” answered Dana at the same time Morgan voiced her own exclamation.
“What kind of cat!? They better not have hurt my kitty!”