Hope surged in his chest. Light meant people. He could reach them faster than he could get to the surface, he was sure.

Following on the heels of his hope came an icy feeling running down the back of his neck. The only people likely to be under the city were the people placing the Aetheric Infusers.

Excitement and trepidation thrummed through him. He might find a way to put a face on them. If he could find out who was responsible for the attacks, he wouldn’t need to explore the undercity like this again.

Dellen stared at the light, then down at the supports.

The light didn’t look like it was moving; it was ahead of him and to the left. He looked at the supports again. There were two options heading in directions close to where the light was coming from; one was the support beam that was ‘only’ thirty feet down.

Not giving himself time to think, Dellen flexed his legs and leaped.

Dellen’s feet made contact with the lower support, and a jarring wave of force surged up his legs. The impact was forceful, like a punch that started at his soles and went up inside him. His knees buckled slightly under the force, and he tried to transition into a roll forward.

His roll turned into a graceless tumble that ended with one hand dangling over the edge.

Heart pounding, Dellen scrambled back from the drop.

He took a moment to reorient himself and look for the light. It still shone in the dark, hanging there like a lure.

Dellen made sure both of his lamps were attached to his belt, then he ran.

He sprinted along the beam, feeling the cold of the metal with each stride. Despite his pace, the light was only growing slightly larger. He worried that they would cover their light if he tarried too long or move on before he reached them.

Ahead, another support beam jutted out from the depths of the darkness; it was closer to his destination but a good fifteen feet lower than the beam was on. This time, he didn’t hesitate.

Dellen leapt.

There was an instant of weightlessness as he sailed through the dark.

His torn boots hit the lower beam. This time, his landing was better, his legs absorbing more of the impact, though it still ran up his spine to click his teeth. Momentum kept him moving forward, tumbling him into a roll closer to the centre of his path.

Dellen returned to his feet, ignored the feeling of metal through his ruined boots, and returned to his sprint. Each footstep was a quiet thud against the copper beam. His run took him forward, but the path ahead intersected a beam traveling directly toward the light.

Unfortunately, the beam was above him. He would have to launch himself thirty feet into the air to reach it.

Dellen didn’t allow himself to think. He circulated Electrical Aether in his feet, building up the intensity. Aether surged beneath him, launching him five feet, ten feet, fifteen feet.

His face slammed into the side of the support beam.

Dellen’s nose crunched.

He fell backward and slammed into the support below, hitting shoulders first.

Blood gushed down his face, running over his chin and puddling on his shirt. Both of his hands were on his nose, fingers just brushing.

He groaned.

His nose was a throbbing mass of pain.

He felt at it some more, wincing with each contact but unable to stop. His nose was twisted sideways.

Dellen groaned again before staggering to his feet.

The light was still off in the distance; it seemed brighter.

He looked down. One of his lamps was cracked, housing ruined, glass shattered.

Dellen frowned. He couldn’t afford to lose his second lamp, but he also needed to get up the support above him.

What he needed was a place and time to practice; he looked over at the light in the distance; what he had was an unknown deadline.

Pain flared in his nose as Dellen rubbed his face in frustration.

He took a breath and tried to calm himself down; he needed to stick with the plan. He could launch himself up from further back at a steeper angle.

He flinched at the mere thought, his face and body aching in protest.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

There had to be another way he could use his Aether to achieve the same goal. A thought flashed through his mind; he was using his Aether to push away from the supports, but what if, instead, he used it to pull himself towards the metal supports?

A memory flashed in his mind, crisp for just a moment. Magnetism.

He could use his Electrical Aether to create and manipulate magnetic fields. Immediately, embarrassment surged through him. That should have been his first thought when he found himself trapped. Grinding his teeth, he pushed the emotion down.

Dellen crouched down and focused Aether in the palms of his hands. He tried to imagine it latching onto the metal beneath him.

Copper, he remembered, was not affected by magnetic fields.

He frowned; the metal in the bottom of the copper divots had been a different color, it was a different metal.

Dellen tried again, pushing his Aether deeper.

He could feel the iron under the copper coating.

His hands flattened against the copper.

A grin pulled up one side of Dellen’s mouth.

The bottom of the support bar was only ten or so feet above him.

Arm stretched straight up, Dellen jumped as high as he could. His fingertips brushed the support column, and he fell back to the column below.

He tried again, summoning Aether to his palm, trying to form a connection with the iron within. Dellen jumped, his fingers brushed copper, and his palm slapped into the metal.

He hung from the support beam by one arm. His left hand reached over the side of the support and adhered to the copper. Dellen released the Aether in his right hand and swung over to hang from his left hand. He hung from the side of the support bar rather than the underside of the support bar.

Hand over hand, he pulled himself up the twenty feet to the top. He felt the strain of using his Aether, there was no way that he could have managed the climb prior to forging copper into his Spark Core. His hands went over the edge, and he brought himself up onto the flat surface of the beam.

Light waited for him in the distance.

Dellen let out a fierce grin, then he ran.

A few minutes later, he saw the light getting closer. Dellen’s path came to an end; he had to get to a lower support again. This time, he didn’t jump; he lowered himself hand over hand.

It was slower but less painful, and if he was getting closer to the light, he needed to think about being quieter. Soon, he would have to think about shutting off his lamp if he didn’t want to be seen. He’d been trusting that their light was so much brighter than his that they hadn’t been able to see him coming, but now that he was closer, he felt the need for caution.

He ran for a few minutes and had to change supports again, jumping and clinging to the side, making his way up, one handhold at a time.

It would have been excruciatingly slow before he’d forged both of his arms. Now, he could pull up his body weight with ease. Dellen approached the edge, reached down to his waist, and turned off his lamp. Then he pulled himself up and over the edge.

The area around him was dark.

Uncomfortably so.

Dellen ran down the center of the support beam, watching the light grow. Finally, he was close enough that the light illuminated what he’d been running towards.

There it was, an airship; on the support next to it were two women working on the central axis of the cog above them.

The ship was a striking silhouette against the city’s underbelly, floating nearby but not tied into place in any way. It was an imposing mid-sized vessel reminiscent of a whale gliding through the ocean depths. Its sturdy hull, sleek and aerodynamic, was built for speed. Constructed from robust steel plates, it was coated in a layer of matte black paint that would have made it nearly invisible against the night sky.

Perfect for slinking beneath the city at night.

The glow he’d followed came from floodlights mounted on the hull. The lights were harsh and white. The bulbs were protected under glass and metal.

A cool, gusting breeze accompanied a constant whirr of air from the ship’s engines. Engines running on Kinematic Aether didn’t have the same heat output as Tristan’s frame.

Dellen turned his attention to the women bathed in the glow from the floodlights.

The two saboteurs’ coordinated movements revealed a familiarity with working together. They were like two cogs in a machine.

The first saboteur, a tall, lean woman, held a bulky welding tool, a blue flame dancing at its tip, and worked its way across the metal of the infuser and the column. Her companion was shorter, more compact, and muscular, with her hair pulled back in a bun. She held the infuser with the help of a pair of metal struts. Both women wore goggles across their faces.

“Hold it steady,” the tall one said to her shorter companion.

From what Dellen saw, they were on their last weld; they’d be stopping soon, and leaving. He had seconds, perhaps a minute before they finished their task and noticed him lurking nearby.

His gaze returned to the airship.

Streamlined, its bow shaped like a blunted arrowhead, engines generated lift by the prow, stern, and midsection, with additional engines on the sides dedicated to providing forward momentum and maneuverability.

Dellen had to try to either board or attack the woman welding the infuser onto the city.

His fingers tapped over his sides while he tried to make a decision. He didn’t like the look of the tall woman’s blowtorch.

Dellen bolted forward, focusing on the airship, every muscle dedicated to propelling him out, over the chasm and to the ship. He built up Aether in his feet, willing them to release it in a repulsive blast that sent him flying.

The airship filled his vision, and Dellen went over it. His arms scrabbling in the air, he desperately sought purchase for anything he could touch.

Completing his passage over the top, Dellen plummeted over the far edge of the airship. His hand brushed against the hull.

With a surge of magnetism, both palms thudded against the hull. He dangled from the ship, tilting it slightly to the side.

“What was that?” He heard a shocked voice say.

Dellen waited for his heart to slow. He had to think. From their point of view, there would have been a loud noise and a flash of light behind them, then nothing.

His hands had hit the side of the hull, but the sounds of the engines could have easily covered that. He kept his breathing slow and level. A few hours ago, he had been alone under the city with no real prospects of escape; now, he just had to steal an airship from two women comfortable with destroying the city, one of whom held a blowtorch.

It was a distinct improvement.

He just needed to figure out what to do next.

“Captain,” one of the women yelled, “What’s going on over there?”

“Who the hell did that?” A rougher voice growled.

Worry laced its way over Dellen’s self-imposed calm. They had to be speaking to a third saboteur. He could stay where he was and hope they didn’t find him, despite his weight causing the ship to list to one side, or he could move and try to find the captain before the captain found him.

His right hand was moving up before he knew he’d made a decision. Dellen climbed up and over the side of the hull and came face to face with a grizzled woman with a chiseled face. Her eyes narrowed on Dellen. “Who the hell, are you?” She snarled. “We have a stowaway!”

“Kill them!” Yelled one of the women.