Among the smokestacks of the industrial district in Dragon's Landing, Shane found a single high mast with two anchored airships. The factory below was constructed like a northern villa, a rectangular wall-like factory surrounding an empty yard, within which there was another airship under construction. Shane flew over the site three times, passing low over the factory, bathing the yard in the center with reflected azure light. He twisted his long neck upward and breathed fire into the sky before he sembled into his human form and used storm sorcery to float over the factory. The factory workers were standing around in the yard, staring up at him.
"Who owns this factory? Where can I find them?" Shane said, amplifying his voice.
The workers began to point up toward the high mast just above the factory. A mess of wooden planks crisscrossing in some arcane manner that only engineers would understand, the high mast rose about fifty feet into the air. A series of sails caught the wind, and through a network of cables and pulleys, they worked to stabilize the airships that were docked at the top. Shane floated up to the top of the mast to get a better look. One of the airships was empty, and the other contained a few workers and some managers. The door to the gondola was open, so Shane floated through.
A man with a fine suit and a dark hat watched the work being done with a checklist and a pencil. Beside him there was a woman wearing tight trousers, a brown leather jacket, and a matching helmet with brass-rimmed goggles.
"Yes, what is it?" the well-dressed man asked. He did not turn to face Shane, but continued to focus on his checklist.
"I need your factory," Shane said. "Quaria has invented a new type of flying machine that is very fast and very dangerous. I need you to retool your factory to produce the same craft."
The man continued to ignore him.
"What manner of flying machine?" the woman asked.
Shane offered the leather-bound schematics. She took the book, then began to browse through the pages. Her eyes went wide with recognition.
"I have personally seen a single such craft destroy a hundred airships and half as many drakes in a single night," Shane said. "The pilot was a man named Felix of Quaria. The armies of the Four Clans were smashed to pieces."
"Dearest?" the woman said. "I think you should take a look at this." She handed the man the schematics.
Reluctantly the man took the book. He slowly turned through the pages. "The text will need to be translated," he said. "Otherwise the schematics are extremely detailed." He returned the book to the woman, then resumed perusing his checklist. "Do you work for the All-Island Flying Machine Society?"
"They are charlatans," Shane said. "I saw their craft break apart when they tried to test it in Black River. But to answer your question, no, I do not work for them."
The man waved them away dismissively. "Figure out who he works for."
"Yes, dear," the woman said. "Outlander, follow me."
She offered the book, walked past Shane out onto the gantry connecting the gondola to the high mast, and then snapped the goggles in place over her eyes. As Shane stuffed the book in his pack, he began to feel the woman establish familiar connections. With a burst of sorcerous power, she floated up off the gantry and descended down toward the city. Crackling with lightning, Shane hopped off the gantry himself and followed her.
Eventually she landed on the upper balcony of an upscale restaurant. Servants wearing dark suits and white gloves shuffled out with glasses and bottles. They pulled the chairs out and the woman took a seat. Shane sat across from her, and the servants silently busied themselves pouring glasses of wine.
"I gather that you are a frequent customer," Shane observed.
"I own this venue," the woman corrected. "Outlander, who are you working for?"
"A Purple Dragon named Astrid, and also her sister Elvira."
"Like the Spirit Elvira?" she asked with a skeptical look. "The same Elvira that they worship in the Church of the Lady Ghost?"
"The very same."
"So these Purple Dragons want you to retool a factory to mass-produce flying machines? For what purpose?"
"I gave up trying to understand the creatures a long time ago."
The woman sighed. "Forgive me, I never introduced myself. My name is Lady Maeve. Your name is Shane, is that correct, outlander? You caused quite a stir down there, burning the government buildings to the ground. I saw everything from the top of the high mast."
"Lady Maeve, it is a pleasure. Yes, I am called Shane. In my hometown of Needlewood I am known as Shane the Doomsayer."
The woman named Lady Maeve unbuckled her helmet and then set it on the table, releasing her long blue hair to tumble down her shoulders. She regarded him for a moment with bright, pale blue eyes.
"A pleasure, indeed," she took a sip of wine. "Shane, I have a story to tell. Could you spare a moment to hear it?"
Shane took a sip of the wine himself. It was strong, with a deep alcoholic burn, and an equally deep sweetness. It was the type of complex and expensive wine that Shane had once stolen from the Viscount's palace. After that incident, Shane recalled with a slight grin, the Viscount added round-the-clock guards to his wine cellars.
"There is a great need for haste," Shane said, "but I will hear your story. Please, carry on."
"When I was a young woman I was married off to a Knight. He was not a very good Knight, but I envied him. I always wanted to fly through the sky like he did. The early years of our marriage were an unhappy time, and I will not dwell on it. Eventually I stabbed him through the hand and then I needed to go into hiding. I ended up in a city far to the south, hiding in an underground temple to the Lady Ghost, a religion which is banned in this nation. After a few years of living there, I challenged a woman to a duel. With a few witnesses, we took off our blouses and fought each other using fencing foils. I won the duel, of course, but unfortunately the story spread, and my identity became well known."
"It is difficult to hide something so remarkable," Shane said.
She nodded. "In the meantime, my first husband had lost a great deal of respect among the Knights. He joined an adventure in the north, where he and his fellow Knights challenged the Draconic Paladins to dogfights. I learned that Felix of Quaria, the Flameraker, decapitated my husband with a plume of red fire. I shed no tears for the man. After my first husband died I gained a great deal of confidence. So I stole an airship and I became a sky pirate for a few years."
"As one does."
"Indeed," Lady Maeve said with a chuckle. "So one day I was scouring the skies, searching for my next capture, when I came across a prototype airship, fresh from the factory. It was very fast, but I was able to use my storm sorcery to catch up to the craft and take control. When I learned that the owner of the factory was flying on board as a test pilot, I proposed marriage to him."
"The logical thing to do."
"So now we are married, and I am no longer a sky pirate, but I still love flying."
"And you hope that my story is true."
"I do, outlander."
"Because you want to fly the airplane yourself."
She nodded. "I'll build one prototype. You demonstrate that it can fly, and then I will believe your story. And then we can talk about retooling the factory."
"I find this arrangement agreeable," Shane said.
"Then all that is left for us is to find a translator," Lady Maeve said. "I know that there is a priest in town named Ionathan who deals in foreign currencies and copies Quarian texts using a lightbox. He is a secret member of the Church of the Lady Ghost. I can send for him immediately. I am guessing you did not have anyone specific in mind yourself."
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
"I do not, please send for him."
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The factory workers were both skilled and adaptable, though it came as no surprise to Shane that the resident geomancers were slow to produce an engine. They locked themselves in a small workshop and could be heard arguing with each other for several hours. By nightfall, the carpenters had created a perfect propeller, and the airship riggers had created all the cables and pulleys required by the various control surfaces. Shane watched the progress up until the shift ended and the workers began to leave.
That night Lady Maeve set Shane up in a room at a fancy local hotel. The old, ornate clay building was two stories tall, with elaborate marble columns built into the facade. The interior was decorated with paisley rugs, potted plants, and golden sconces. Shane's room was on the second floor. Comfortably furnished and large, it featured its own private restroom with a heated shower and a balcony overlooking the ocean.
It was after Shane had showered and dressed in fresh clothes the following morning that he heard a knocking at the door. Two men stood outside. One wore the sharp uniform of a constabulary, and the other wore a solid black overcoat and a black wide-brimmed hat. His face was shrouded behind an extraordinarily high collar. Shane opened the door.
"Can I help you?"
"Is this your man?" the constabulary asked.
"Yes, thank you," the second man said. "Please leave us."
The constabulary twisted on his heel and marched down the hallway.
"Shane, will you walk with me? I would like to speak in private."
"As you wish," Shane replied, "though I would know your intentions first."
"I have something that belongs to you," the man replied. "I wish to return it, and discuss recent events involving the Blue Dragon."
"Lead the way, sir."
Shane followed the strange man through the hallways to a small conservatory filled with exotic jungle plants. It smelled somewhat sweet, unlike the acrid smell of jungle fruits that Shane had encountered while flying. He assumed that the plants must be quite rare. The black-clad man closed the door after they entered.
"I am called Special Agent Elaborate Spear by my associates in the Blue Dragon Intelligence Agency. I have copies of your secret records on my person. I believe that what you said is true, the Blue Dragon is dead. Me and my associates have known this for several days."
The man named Elaborate Spear produced a folder filled with papers and offered it to Shane. Within, Shane found artistic renditions of his own face as a baby, as a youth, and as an adult. One file was titled "Project Northern Born," which Shane scanned eagerly.
The purpose of this project is to determine if the Red Dragon has indeed been killed. Rilnese workers living north of the border are still unable to conceive children, however the Blue Dragon believes that this might be the result of necromancy. If so, if a pregnant woman were to be smuggled north of the border, there is a chance that the child might develop normally.
"Are my parents alive?" Shane asked.
"They are living in the city of Azure Dawn," the spy said. "It lies on the south-west coast. The exact address is recorded on one of the last documents."
"You said that you had questions about the Blue Dragon."
"How did he die?"
Shane recounted the tale of how Elvira killed the Blue Dragon. The spy took detailed notes, nodding periodically. When Shane was finished, the spy slipped his notebook into his black cloak.
"Shane, is there anything you would have me do?"
"Why do you ask?"
The man pulled away the tall collar that covered his face, and then he removed his hat. This revealed a weathered face, thinning blue hair, and intense blue eyes. "I have served the Blue Dragon directly my entire life. Not the police, not the local mayors, not the Clan Chiefs, not the Knights. Direct service to a Dragon. This is also the case for my associates."
"And you need a new Dragon to serve?" Shane asked.
"Directly or indirectly," the spy replied.
"Tell me, Elaborate Spear, who did the Blue Dragon worship?"
"If our god worshiped some higher power, he did not inform us. There was some speculation that, given historical patterns, the Blue Dragon may have served a being that originates outside of our world. This being is mentioned in the holy book of the Church of the Lady Ghost. Her name is Ashe, and she is associated with blood, madness, and darkness."
"And how did you come by this information?"
"I was sent to kill the scholar who penned these speculations. That was many decades ago."
"And do you worship Ashe yourself?"
"I can't say that I do," the spy said with a degree of hesitation in his voice. "Should I worship her?"
"Absolutely not," Shane said. "I do not know if she is an ally, and even if she is, she is an unreliable ally at best. For now, stay close to me, and record what you see. I will be flying in an airplane soon, and I want you to report my flight to your associates. Also, keep an eye out for anyone who worships Ashe and report their names to me directly."
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The city pier extended hundreds of feet out over the ocean. Flat, smooth, and wide, it provided the ideal surface for takeoff and landing. Lady Maeve and her workers hauled the aircraft onto the pier using a horse-drawn carriage and a crane. The air was mostly clear, but high up the sky was gloomy and gray. That uncanny, unseasonably cold desert wind blew away from the land, out into the ocean. Workers therefore needed to drag the aircraft to the every end of the pier and orient it to face the land.
Shane climbed inside, slid his legs over the rudder pedals, and buckled himself in using the chick cloth harness. Lady Maeve stood beside the craft, regarding him.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked.
"I've seen Felix fly these things a hundred times by now," Shane said. "I've listened in as dozens of pilots were trained. I know the basics. And if something goes wrong, I can always just use storm sorcery to destroy the craft and float down to safety."
"Don't fuss now," she said. Then the woman took off her leather helmet, revealing her long blue hair, and placed it over Shane's head. It seemed to fit well enough, and then when she snapped the brass-rimmed goggles down over his eyes, the tension pulled the helmet tight against his skull. Then she walked away, clearing the area.
"Clear propeller!" Shane bellowed, with a little help from wind magic to emphasize the warning. Then he pulled the glass canopy down and locked it in place using the latch. The sound of the wind beat against the glass, and rocked the wings slightly.
Shane rotated the stick, looking behind to see the changes to the elevators and to the ailerons. Then he kicked the pedals, checking for the correct motion of the rudders. It was a familiar ritual that Felix always did. Apparently the Draconic Paladins sometimes needed to tie the control surfaces in place because of strong winds, otherwise they would oscillate with enough force to break the cables or the joints. They tested the controls to make sure that they had been untied before each flight.
This can't be too hard, right?
Shane reached out and connected to the three realms. He focused blue draconic flame within the engine. Twin azure lines of flame burst out of the two exhaust ports, blowing over the heat-resistant metal plates on the wings. The engine spooled, then the propeller began to fan, faster and faster until it became a cloying hum. A quick barrier of wind blocked out the worst of the noise. The craft started to lurch forward over the pier, clicking slightly as the wheels passed over the tiny gaps between the wooden planks below. Shane punched the throttle fully open, and the engine roared.
The torque of the engine caused the craft to list to one side as it picked up speed. A few rapid kicks to the rudder helped correct this, but the wind was so intense that it didn't really matter. The pier dropped away and the ocean on either side became a perfect blur. It tended to get jostled around often, even as it ascended above the tops of the adobe buildings. Shane focused on keeping the nose straight, holding the stick to one side to prevent a roll, rapidly pushing forward and back on the stick to feel out the change of pitch, pushing hard on the rudder to counteract the direction of the wind. He was moving fast. Very fast. The five blue spires rushed by and then he cleared the edge of the city, out over the jungle.
Forward, ever forward.
It was not like flying as a drake, Shane realized. It was more like flying using storm sorcery. The ground rushed past as if he had been flying a few inches above the forest floor, as he had done for many years. A quick twist of the neck revealed the long streams of blue flame that trailed behind him, giving visible shape to the path he had just taken. He turned the stick hard, rolling over to one side, and the nose began to drop. He corrected this drop by pulling back slightly, and then the whole world rotated around him, as if he was the needle in a compass, and that compass was jungle. Red rocks rushed by below, and familiar sights took on a new color on either side, rushing past, visible through the blue flames.
It did not take long to grow accustomed to the controls. Shane flew over the city in huge circles, drawing huge crowds into the streets with the sound of the propeller. He made a show of it, rolling the aircraft completely upside down in a full aileron roll. He flew very high, appearing now doubt as a tiny dot in the sky, dumping airspeed to gain altitude. With the throttle set to idle, he dumped altitude in an angular dive toward the ocean. Another turn brought the pier into view.
Like Felix had, it took more than one attempt to land. Felix had accomplished the feat in three laps, but it took Shane seven attempts. Finally he got fed up and used storm sorcery to blast himself backwards into his seat. This caused the aircraft to stall just after crossing the edge of the pier, and the whole thing dropped down a foot or so. The wheels struck the ground, and while the wings had stalled, the rudder had not yet stalled, and a few kicks kept the nose straight.
The craft slowly rolled. Workers sprinted out to intercept. They caught the wings and the tail, dragging it to a halt. Shane unstrapped himself while the workers opened the glass canopy. They hauled him out of the craft and hoisted him up into the air, tossing him high up like a trampoline made from human arms. And they sang, the upbeat and somewhat inappropriate songs of factory workers. The man named Elaborate Spear stalked out onto the pier with a notebook, scribbling away with blistering movements of his pencil.
Lady Maeve cried out. The workers lowered Shane to the ground. The feeling of something solid under his feet felt strange.
"You need to teach me!" Lady Maeve said. "You need to teach me to fly like that!"
"Very well," Shane rasped. "I warn you though, the sky isn't exactly safe. If you fly, you will need to fight as well."
"I will fight, and I will show them all that daughters are useful too," she said. Her pale blue eyes seemed to light up. "Maybe they'll stop drowning them in the harbor, if I can just show them."
"Lady Maeve, there are no women in the Knights, are there?"
"Of course not."
Shane nodded. "Then you shall be the first. Come, I shall lead you to the Realm of Fire. I imagine that the Elemental there has some very interesting things to say."