“Don’t see red tuna ‘round these parts often. Where you comin’ from?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you,” Cira shrugged, counting ten fish on the table, “How much will this get me?”

“Aye.” The old man looked satisfied, hefting three large blocks wrapped in cloth onto the table. “It’s good fish but I can’t go any higher, beef’s just as hard to come by up here.”

Cira didn’t see enough trading posts to have a good idea of how much beef cost, but she had never seen a live cow before if that said anything. Beef was more commonplace as far as delicacies went, so you saw it around often but never for cheap or in large supply.

This merchant seemed honest, and fish were easy to get, so she was inclined to accept the offer. He was a gentle old man in a weathered pair of overalls that seemed happy with his routine life on his little island. Cira empathized with his sentiment greatly. His was, in fact, smaller than the ostensible island Cira called home—she had to just hop over from her yard when she arrived.

Once the old man got over his comprehension of her ‘ship’, they got down to bartering. She failed to take home any boar from her last endeavor, so this trading post came as an oasis.

“Where did you get the beef anyway?” She asked.

“Some hawkers brought it in from Port Gandeux. Ever been?”

“Can’t say that I have. What’s it like?”

“A city of commerce at the tip of a large, thriving island. It’s the main hub in this region with ships coming and going like flies. But it is peaceful there, long as ya’ don’t break any laws. A sorcerer like yourself could find a lot of work I reckon.”

Cira expressed interest and took a map out of her pocket. It wasn’t very complete but it had everywhere she’d been in the last couple months on it—a little further and she’d have to start a new one again.

“Oh, it won’t show up on this map. A bit of a ways, it is, but not far from here you’ll find a big trade route that’ll lead you straight there.” He adjusted his glasses and inspected the map.

As he explained, half a day due east would take her to a trade route known as the Boreal Archipelago. It ran north and south over an incredible distance, dotted with countless islands along the way. He said it would take months to travel the whole length. Further North it led high into the clouds and to the South it ended at the sea.

“An island on the sea, you say? How fascinating. I always thought Dad was joking.” Cira had been to many an island in her day, but none resting atop the ocean. She had heard stories but the concept was so absurd she thought them mere fairytales. Why she believed this random trader so readily was another question.

“That’s right, but if you do travel the Boreal, be careful. It’s fraught with pirates and thieves. I’m sure you can take care of yourself, but it never hurts to be too cautious. You won’t see as many pirates if you go up but go down and they’ll really come out of the woodwork.”

Cira marked up her map and thanked the old merchant before hopping over the fence back home. He adjusted his overalls and waved as Cira opened her front door, smiling and waving back. She felt good about that stop. She got everything she needed and more, back in twenty minutes.

Past the living room and up a set of stairs, she climbed the single tower her home boasted to the very top. She could generally move her island around with a few strong thoughts, but here Cira could set a direction and altitude, as well as make even finer adjustments as she moved. She called it the helm spire.

Cira now stood at the highest point on Breeze Haven, where she had a clear view in every direction as far as the eye could see. A vast cloudscape illuminated by the mid-morning sun stretched on to the horizon unobstructed. The foreground never changed but the world around her didn’t know rest. This was Cira’s favorite view in the world, gazing out into the endless sky. She never knew what awaited her out there, but that was the best part.

A rope hung down from the ceiling with a heavy knot. Cira pulled it down to raise Breeze Haven just above the line of the clouds. It would be clear for a while if she went just a little further up. She gripped a wheel forged from mysterious metal and spun it due East. Once all preparations were complete, she brewed some tea and took a seat at her table in the garden, perusing some old tomes she never got around to.

Travel time was wasted if she just lazed around all day, and she could miss her destination if she took a nap, so Cira always tried to stay occupied as she drifted along. Today’s subject would be ‘Practical Geomancy for the Modern Magician’. Personally, she thought the term magician sounded pretentious but such books were usually quite thorough, if a little dry. The ones that called themselves magicians were real studious types.

After reading this book, Cira could build a house from stone using forty percent less mana than traditional methods. While she didn’t care about building houses, it gave her a few ideas for making her conjured stone more lightweight.

Her father always said studying magic for a specific purpose was for fools, whereas a true sorcerer derived their own truth from another’s spell. Cira will never know that this was his excuse for getting her to read boring books. That said, there was at least a modicum of merit to it.

Sleep bit at her heels and she nodded off a few times, only to jump out of her seat with a start when a distant island came into view.

“Land ho!” She ran over to the fence and pulled out an ornate spyglass. Alas, the island looked devoid of civilization and a tad small. Moreover, it was flanked on all sides by clusters of debris stones. These were floating rocks that didn’t quite make the cut as islands.

You see, all islands have a water source, without fail. Nobody really knows what debris stones are, but her father posited they were underdeveloped islands. They would either grow or merge over millenia, and eventually a water source would appear, making it officially an island. She took the explanation with a grain of salt, but it worked for all intents and purposes.

The key difference between the two was their ability to stay aloft. Islands just floated and weight didn’t seem to matter so long as whatever rock it was made of could withstand the pressure. Debris stones, however, would plummet out of the sky if any more force than a bird landing was applied, though they’re mysteriously immune to wind. She tried jumping on one as a kid and it was a harrowing experience to say the least.

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Closer now, the island was indeed empty. It had some nice grass and a small stream, but that was it. She avoided getting too close but still had to swerve around some debris. Cira couldn’t be sure, but this should mark the entrance to the trade route. Heading back up the spire, she changed course due North and set her altitude to raise gradually. With any luck, she’d find another island within the hour.

And without any luck she found three more islands, each emptier than the last. She took to staying at the helm because of the annoying frequency of debris, allowing her to keep a decent speed on course while safely navigating through. Finally, she spotted a larger island up ahead. It was above her, so she had to go up to get a good look.

A few minutes later she found herself flying over a lake. The whole island was a giant bowl of water with numerous waterfalls dumping into the sky. A group of gray birds took flight and decided to follow, trailing behind and chirping tunes as she floated along.

It was a pleasant trip and Cira was enjoying herself. There was always at least a speck on the horizon to follow to the next island, with debris clusters mainly surrounding the islands. Still, she followed the trail closely so as not to wander through the clouds and crash into something.

Worse yet, if one lost their way to the next landmark for too long up here, they had very little hope of finding their way back. The sky was simply too vast. Any navigator could read the stars, but they couldn’t be relied on at low altitudes. You’d have to wait for hours sometimes to get a good look through the clouds—even then, they don’t tell you to go up or down. If you can’t stay on course, you better hope you can turn around with absolute precision.

Approaching the next island, she slowed down and leisurely wove between the debris. Suddenly a percussive blast broke through from above. Startled, Cira scanned the clouds for any sign of pirates. It was the unmistakable sound of cannon fire. She noticed a spot where the clouds were disrupted, but the enemy ship must have hidden itself in the clouds. Cira planned to keep going until given another reason not to, but just then she saw a shadow growing bigger over her garden.

“What in the world…?” She peaked out the window and looked up, dropping her jaw to the ground. “N-no way! Bastards!”

A large debris stone was falling on a direct course with her island. Her eyes grew to the size of dinnerplates as she looked at it, quickly running out of time to react. As far as debris goes, this was the size of that trading post she stopped at. How it was yet incapable of floating on its own with such great size was a mystery to her but there was no time to think about that.

Drawing out as much mana as possible, she poured everything into a quick strafe to the side. Hurling the wheel with reckless abandon, she tipped the island out of the way and burst forward. The cacophony of cookware and dishes falling out of their cabinets below and shattering caused her to start bubbling over with anger. The air rippled as the massive boulder blew past within mere feet of her yard, disappearing into the cloudy abyss below.

“Damn pirates… You’re going to regret that!” She waved her fist out the window at the ship as it emerged from cover, flying the notorious black flag. The ship was a large galleon with two masts and sails to catch the wind. Like all other ships aside from her own, there were canopy sails jutting out from the sides for lift—these were off limits unless Cira felt like murder today.

She did not. Not quite…

She was taught only to kill when absolutely necessary, and thus far had yet to kill another. She was responsible for defending herself, not punishing pirates. That said, she was pissed about how much time and mana she would have to waste repairing her dishes later. They wouldn’t get off easy.

In full view now, the pirates aimed their main cannon towards Breeze Haven. It was comically large and took up the whole bow, dwarfing the figurehead of an angel that adorned their ship and guided their way. With an ear-piercing boom, they fired on Cira. The impact shook the whole island, but the barrier withstood. Her father said it would take no less than dragon’s fire to penetrate the shield, not that she was eager to test that. She was pretty sure she could add falling islands to that list. Nevertheless, these pirates were powerless.

As Breeze Haven lumbered towards the enemy, Cira walked out to the garden, ignoring the sea of porcelain shards in the kitchen. She could now see people aboard the other ship, and they were notably frazzled, running around like rats. Four men loaded another cannonball, and they tried firing on her again—the best they could come up with.

As she withdrew her staff and started pondering how best to send a warning, one man jumped off his ship and spread his arms, revealing a glider on his back. Like a clumsy bird, he swooped down trying to board. As he descended, Cira could see a crazed look on his face. He wielded two daggers stretched out to the sky with the sun at his back.

The pirate flew close to the barrier with a vicious war cry and held both daggers up as if he were going to catch them in a sail and slide down, but he didn’t think the plan through very well as he crumpled against the stalwart shield. He let out a groan as the glider on his back snapped into pieces and he too fell into the cloudy abyss.

Now, this had happened to her before, but Cira didn’t consider it murder. To avoid it she’d have to rush over and pull off some quick magic to save him from his own folly—not doing so for an enemy was hardly murder, though she felt bad.

She considered conjuring another giant phoenix to ward them off, but that spell was classified as ‘for show’. You know how you can run your hand through the tips of a flame and it won’t hurt? The phoenix, or heron, she conjured the other day was similar. Contact with the ship would make it wisp away. Historically, waving magic around through the air aimlessly did not dissuade pirates, that’s how we got here.

She held her staff aloft and began conjuring a spear of stone. More like a javelin or an arrowhead really. It had three fins that twisted to a point. Stealing a few tricks from the textbook, she hollowed it out removing half the weight, then added supports inside to reinforce the point on impact. This way, it could fly forty percent further and faster than your traditional stone spear.

Cira caught herself smiling proudly and laughed, aiming the spear at her target. Taking out a mast could cause it to fall on the canopy sails, and again she was trying to avoid murder. So, she aimed for their pride, rotated the spear, and charged it with mana.

An explosive burst threw Cira across the yard and knocked the air out of her lungs. She was left reeling, ears ringing and gasping for air, scrambling to get a healing spell out. Little did she know, her spear had broken the sound barrier. That spell would get thrown in a pile to revisit later. Modern magicians sure are something.

The splintering crunch of wood filled the skies for a brief moment and Cira looked back to her target. The angel adorning their bow had been erased from existence entirely, along with a few feet into their ship. The deck began to crack and their giant cannon rolled, tipping their ship over almost completely until it rolled off and straight down, never to be seen again.

Phew, that was a close one. Hopefully there are no islands down there. The men desperately hung onto the railings. They shouted at each other, then looked over at her with disbelief.

When they corrected themselves and evened out, confusion and fear was plain on their faces. They were only a couple hundred feet away and she could see that much clearly. Cira locked eyes with a man wearing a particularly tall hat, who gulped and stared at her, afraid to look away.

Calmly, Cira conjured another stone spear of twice the size. She had no intention of blasting herself to oblivion again, but this spell was about sending a message. The tall-hatted man stumbled backwards and started yelling at his crew, then all the pirates fell into motion, grabbing ropes and swinging stuff around. As a sorcerer, Cira’s knowledge of the intricacies of sailing was lacking, but she could tell they were trying to get away.

Without delay, the pirate ship turned and ascended, hiding themselves back in the clouds within minutes. Cira was happy with that, and dispersed the spear. She repelled the pirates and there were no casualties. Well, there were some…

After a long reluctant sigh, Cira walked back to the kitchen and shed a single tear.