After a full day of passing over seemingly endless greenery, Amelia calculated they’d put almost seven-hundred miles between themselves and the Burning Slopes.
She’d hardly slept, having thrown herself into work, to avoid the same catastrophe happening ever again. To that end, she’d been working on the deflation system, which would pump the hydrogen out of the gas bag, for later reuse.
In retrospect, she wished she’d put the manual release valve on the underside, but had been concerned it might puncture the bag as it unfolded.
Iris shouted without much enthusiasm, “I think I see a village!”
Amelia emerged from the dim interior of the ship, picked up the telescope from the little bracket she’d recently installed in the helm to hold it and took a look. The rest of the helm had also been finished, with new panels installed around the sides, to block the mechanisms from harm and give the helmswitch a bit of a wind break.
It was little more than a large clearing with a few small, wooden buildings and a stone tower that just barely reached over the top of the rather large trees. The tower looked far older than the other buildings, because it was covered in moss and lichen.
Amelia lowered the telescope and shrugged, “Let’s see how they react. Try the handle for the gas pump, since I think I’ve got it working, and when we get close, I’ll tether us.”
“Okay.” Iris nodded and pushed a small lever mounted into the helm forward.
The engine for the pump Amelia had finished installing in the past day whirred to life and within a few minutes, Airwitch was slowly drifting downward. Iris hauled back on the lever to prevent them from falling like a stone and the whirring stopped after a few seconds to use up the existing head of steam.
Iris reduced throttle and turned the ship around, to face into the wind, because it blew fairly constantly to the south, at a fair speed. By the time they were near the village, she’d completed the turn and worked to adjust the throttle to prevent them from continuing to drift.
Meanwhile, Amelia briefly went inside, returning with a rope and grappling hook, which she tied to one of the sturdiest forward-facing railings, then tossed the hook into a tree. It caught on the branches and held, stopping them from drifting away.
“We’re tethered,” Amelia called out, “so you can cut the engines!”
Iris reduced the throttle to minimum, shutting down the engine.
Amelia headed to the back railing and looked over the edge, where a number of people in robes of undyed cloth looked up at them with surprise. The overall impression of the place was a bunch of black-haired people in drab clothes walking among drab, wooden buildings with slightly slanted roofs covered in sod that added a little color by growing some tall grass. One of them featured a permanent ladder that provided access to the roof, which was covered in careful rows of flowers, rather than grass. The center of the village was the stone tower, which was in relatively good repair, despite the fact it was covered in moss and lichen. Running alongside what must have been the main street was a little stream, which was easy to cross, because there were several bridges going over it. Many of the people were pulling two-wheeled handcarts, which featured strangely bouncy wheels of an unfamiliar black material.
“Hello!” Amelia called down to them and waved.
The people waved back, though a little nervously.
“Are you a witch?” One of the men of the village called up.
Amelia shook her head and shouted back, “No, I’m an engineer!”
“Then what’s that thing you’re on?” The man shouted another question.
“An airship! A flying machine!” Amelia put great emphasis on that last word.
After a short, quiet discussion with the woman beside the man, she pointed out, “It’s okay if you’re a witch! We like witches!”
“Really? Why?” Amelia asked.
Despite recent events, the woman’s words had grabbed Amelia by the curiosity.
The man answered, “Witches make us feel safe! No one with any brains attacks a village with a witch in it!”
“So, are you a witch?” The woman asked.
By that point, Iris had managed to wake Marta and the two of them joined Amelia by the railing.
Amelia looked over at her sisters and whispered, “What do you think? Should we tell the truth?”
Iris nodded, “I’m sick of hiding what I am.”
“I don’t think we should.” Marta voted.
Seeing she held the tie-breaking vote, Amelia sighed and shouted back down, “Yeah, we’re witches!”
Everyone down below reacted in the strangest and most unexpected way: they relaxed, smiled and got back to whatever business the arrival of Airwitch had interrupted, aside from the couple that had been shouting.
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“Would you like to join us for lunch?” The woman called out.
Amelia again looked at her sisters, who both nodded. She briefly went inside and returned with the rope ladder she’d used for making final adjustments on the tail fins. They tied it off and tossed it overboard.
When they were on the ground, Amelia got a decent look at the couple. They were relatively young and dressed identically, aside from some small details: the man wore a necklace of large, carved, wooden beads, mixed with carved, colorful stones, while the woman wore a flat pair of wooden earrings, which looked like a pair of fish had clamped their jaws to her ears and wouldn’t let go. The robes they wore were securely tied off with cloth belts. Their skin was a little darker than that of the Blackwell sisters, but not to an unusual degree. Like the rest of the village, they had brown eyes and black hair.
The man smiled broadly, the couple deeply bowed and the man spoke, “Welcome, honored witches!” They rose and he continued, “I am Davit Ironrock, the local blacksmith and administrator for the village of Smallrock.” He gestured to the woman, “This is my wife, Havisa.”
“If you desire to rest from your journey, you would be most welcome in our home.” Havisa smiled at the sisters.
“I’m Amelia Blackwell.” Amelia bowed her head to them, then pointed to each of her sisters, at the appropriate time, “These are my sisters, Marta and Iris.”
“Come,” Davit beckoned them to follow, “join us for lunch.”
They followed the man to his home, which was the one with the flowers on the roof.
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After a rather delicious meal of fish and some leafy greens that tasted almost like spinach, they relaxed in the home of the Ironrocks, who eschewed chairs in favor of cushions and used a rather short table. It was a one-room affair with a small fireplace to one side, which was clearly used both for warmth and cooking. Beyond the dining area was a cramped corner with a couple of little mats and blankets on the floor, for sleeping.
Amelia wondered where the Ironrocks would expect the sisters to sleep if they took them up on their offer of hospitality. Compared to the stacked bunk beds of the quarters on Airwitch, it was far too small, even for two people, let alone five, and the group filled every inch that wasn’t for sleeping or cooking.
“Where are you from and what brings you so far, via such amazing means?” Davit finally asked the obvious question politeness had so far kept him from.
Marta answered, “We came from far to the north, from a small village named Daleshade, though we spent half a year in a city named Macclesfield.”
“Ah, I see.” Davit nodded, “You were discovered as witches and sought refuge in Dugaria?”
“Yes, actually.” Amelia nodded.
“Well, you’re now in Dugaria.” Havisa supplied, “You would be most welcome to settle in this village if you like. There’s a home specifically set aside for witches. It’s the very best we can offer.”
The sisters looked into each other’s eyes with surprise, because they’d never been welcomed in such an open way.
Amelia looked back at their hosts, speaking with politeness and great care, because she didn’t want to offend them, “That’s a generous offer, but I’m not sure we want to live here, specifically. I think we should travel Dugaria for a time, so we can choose the most suitable place to settle.”
Havisa’s warm smile left Amelia relieved that she hadn’t given offense as the woman nodded, “Of course. That is a very wise and enlightened perspective. Davit and I would be happy if you chose our village, however, because we’ve been without the protection of a witch for a number of years.”
“Would you honor this village by allowing us to at least show you the house we’ve kept ready for a witch?” Davit asked, “It would give you some perspective as you travel and should you decide to come back, you would be most welcome to settle here.”
Amelia gave her sisters a questioning look and they both nodded, so Amelia answered, “We’d be happy to. Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome.” Havisa bowed her head.
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“Wow!” Amelia commented as she stepped around a bend in the village’s main street and Davit gestured expansively, toward a particular plot of land, with a house.
Having seen the sod and wood houses of the villagers, Amelia had been expecting more of the same, little more than a hovel, but the house the locals had built for their future witch was a mansion by comparison, a structure of stone, with an arched patio surrounding it and a carefully-maintained ornamental garden to one side that included a little pond with beautiful, white and red fish swimming around in it.
Not only that, but the house was about three times the size of the home the Blackwell sisters had grown up in and absolutely massive compared to Davit’s little, one-room home.
Davit smiled, “My village has worked hard to make this the best we can. Would you like to see the interior?”
The sisters nodded and Davit led the way.
As he opened the front door, he rapped on the wood of it, saying, “It was the very devil to shape, but this door is ironwood, capable of withstanding most siege weaponry.”
Amelia entered the house, looking on a scene that brought a tear to her eye: to one side was a fully-stocked combination of kitchen and alchemic laboratory, with every herb imaginable, all carefully arranged on shelves, with little labels. In addition, there was fine glassware of every sort an alchemist could desire, all hanging on purpose-built hooks. The kitchen table was large enough for twelve and it included chairs.
Iris stepped over to the alchemical supplies, whistling as she examined them, because she was impressed and that didn’t happen easily. Marta eyed the pots and pans, which were all professional-grade and made of copper, rather than cast-iron.
Davit gestured the opposite direction, where a hallway led to a number of rooms, “Would you like to see the sleeping quarters?”
“Yes.” Amelia nodded.
He led them to the first room, the furniture of which was decorated in green, including a bed with a soft, feather mattress, a huge wardrobe, a dresser with four drawers and best of all, a desk stocked with pencils, pens, inkwells of multiple colors and paper in seven different sizes!
The other bedrooms were nearly identical, varying only by the color motif.
“What do you think of our humble best?” Davit asked, “I know it isn’t much, but it is all we can afford. We live as paupers, for now, but someday, we will have a witch of our own.”
Iris sputtered, “You call this humble? This is amazing!”
“You honor me with praise I do not deserve.” Davit smiled warmly, a tear coming to his eye, “There are better homes for witches, but this offering is all we can afford.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” Marta suggested, “This is far better than both of the homes we left behind.”
“I don’t understand the generosity. Why do so much for witches?” Amelia asked.
“When a witch is needed, but there isn’t one available, people suffer. Witches heal and brew potions. They help others, because that’s what witches do.” Davit bowed his head, “With a witch in the village, we would prosper and know great peace. Witches are a blessing from the Gods.”
“Thank you for showing us this, Davit.”
“You’re most welcome.”
The sisters took a few days to relax in the village and mourn their father, before they thoughtfully moved on, with a detailed map of Dugaria to guide their travels, a parting gift from Davit.