Architects of Ether

by Ryan Muree

  Grier did as he was instructed, put his foot in the stirrup, and hoisted himself on fairly easily. The bird barely wobbled.

  “Hah! I did it!”

  “Yup, you did it,” Mack said, barely amused.

  Grier cheered and raised his arms just as the apterick spasmed beneath him and tossed him off. He slammed into the pasture and a pile of dung with a hard thud and a grunt. A bruise must have been forming already on his right butt cheek.

  “Well, you were up,” Mack said. “Ready to ‘keep trying’?”

  He rolled over, stood, and grabbed the reins again. “Yes.”

  Chapter 30

  Barren Ranch — Ingini

  Clove fell back into some hay in the shade of the barn with a sigh.

  Her feet hurt. Her hands hurt, but most of all her head hurt. It throbbed just behind her eyes.

  The sun had set, and the cool breeze caught between the two open doors of the barn were a spiritsend. It cooled her skin and thoughts, replenished her.

  One day. She’d only been training with Emeryss for one day, and already she was improving. She could go into a trance almost instantly and without burning her eyes. The techniques from Emeryss’s library were truly helpful in getting her mind to connect with the other realm, closing out the physical world around her, and immersing herself in the beyond.

  And she loved it. She hated that she loved it, hated they’d kept it from her people, but she loved everything about it.

  She’d even managed to make a few sigils just like regular Scribes. She’d never considered it conversing with the universe before, but after some time with Emeryss, it was easy to see why she and the Revelians despised mining raw ether and preferred this way instead.

  It was like opening another world, and she was even getting used to the whispers, which had frightened her the most.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  She opened her eyes and found Mack standing in the open doorway. She smiled at him. “Yeah, just tired.”

  He held out a cup to her, but when she brought it to her mouth, it stank like day-old hol-milk.

  “What is this?”

  “Lana said it would help the headache. I think it’s root milk of some kind. I’m not sure.” He planted himself in the haystack beside her, their hips touching like they used to sit when they sneaked off to the topside of Dimmur or the roof of one of the cloudscrapers to watch the bustle of Ethrecity. “Is it terrible?”

  She hadn’t taken a sip. “I don’t know yet—”

  “No, I mean the training.”

  This wouldn’t make him happy. “Actually, no. It’s hard, but it’s a different sort of hard. Like when you study for your piloting license or you’re trying to figure out how to fix the ether-fuel lines on a compound engine bridge—”

  He shook his head, and she smiled. He was never one for airship talk, though he’d listened to her for hours.

  “I actually do like it,” she said. “It makes me feel like I have control, unlike in the mines. It’s like everything is possible. I’m able to scribe basic things for Emeryss to use and test. I nearly have the Teleport sigil down. I feel useful, actually worth something and useful for once.”

  “You were always worth everything.” He’d just said it, plainly. He wasn’t even dancing around it.

  She grinned to herself, thumbing the rim of the cup. To him, yes. He’d never let her feel anything less than that.

  “I’m not going to lie,” he started softly. “I’m worried about what these people might do, but I won’t stand in your way.”

  “Good. You couldn’t anyway.” She smiled and brought the cup to her lips, squeezed her eyes shut, and took a sip. It tasted as bad as it smelled and lingered on her tongue for far too long. She winced and shook her head, sticking her tongue out like a child. “Ugh… That was terrible.”

  He took the cup from her and smelled it, then dumped it out on the ground. “Is Emeryss being… okay?”

  Clove laughed at him. “Yeah, she’s nice, mom. I promise to let you know when she starts bullying me.”

  He grinned. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “Isn’t it, though? Because it sounded like it, and quite frankly, your being all motherly is…” She gagged to the side.

  “Enough of that.” He knocked his shoulder against hers. “I think you like hearing about how much I care about you—”

  “Acting like a mom is totally different—”

  “And I know when you’re completely full of shit.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “You said you wanted to be alone…”

  “Still true.”

  “You said you just wanted some money to take care of yourself…”

  “Still true.”

  “You said you weren’t impressed by me…”

  “Still very true.”

  He shook his head and chuckled. “You’re lying. I know you.”

  She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. He knew parts of her, but he’d never know everything. He’d never understand that getting close to him, committing, risking losing him just like everyone else wasn’t an option.

  “I’m not just some miner boy with his head all stuffed up with ether, Clove. I know how things work, and I know how you work.”

  “Tell me how the world works, then, Mack,” she muttered, chin on her knees.

  “You’re going after your brother because you love him—”

  “That’s easy—”

  “But also, because you’re scared. You’re scared you have nothing else.”

  She swallowed. “He’s family. That’s a given.”

  “You’re actually scared of being alone in the world, you’re scared of having no one, but you’re also scared of having others in your life. Scared of losing them like you lost your parents, like I lost mine, scared of having nothing. You push everyone and everything away, even great things like me. That’s the real Clove.”

  She shook her head. “There it is. You really cracked the case,” she teased.

  “I’m being serious.” His eyes were a field of green staring back at her. “You only say you want to be alone because you’re scared of losing people. I’m not leaving you, Clove. Not ever. I’m as stubborn as those damn rocks in that mine, except I don’t break. Not for anyone but you.”

  She heard what he was saying, that he would always be there for her, but she couldn’t rely on that. No one could promise that. She could only rely on herself.

  “You don’t understand—”

  “Then tell me, Clove. Tell me, because I want to understand. Why can’t you accept that I’m here for you?”

  She shook her head and looked away.

  “You’re walking right back into the den of the beast to take out this ship for someone else—”

  “For me! I’m doing it for me!” She sniffled. Must have been the hay. “I’m being selfish. I can’t let this thing go over there and possibly kill Cayn. I want him back, and I want to scribe or ingineer or whatever. I like it, like really like it. It’s the first time I feel there’s a point to my life instead of living from job to job. I want to do so much more; be useful and have a purpose. Emeryss believes in destiny, and she changed hers. I’m not so keen on destiny, but I want a purpose, Mack. I’m doing this to stop the war, yes, but I’m also being incredibly selfish by it.”

  “That’s hardly true.” He pulled a piece of hay from her hair. “Finding your purpose and saving others is not selfish.”

  “Still, I have to focus on it because—”

  “You don’t want to focus on what you might lose,” he whispered. “Well, if you’re being selfish, then I’m selfish, too. I want to have every second of my life with you.”

  She swallowed. “I’ve told you before that I can’t do that—”

  “I know, but why? Why is it so hard to see me that way?” Mack shrugged. “You really think I’d be a terrible husband? A shitty father? A lazy partner? What is it?”

  He thought it was about
him, and it wasn’t. It was about what she wanted, what she needed.

  “Why do you only see me one way?” she asked.

  His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

  “You’re upset I don’t want the picture-perfect life with you right now, maybe not ever, but why is that the only way you want me? Why isn’t what we have right now good enough? I love you, but I can’t love you like you want me to, Mack.”

  “You used to.”

  “Yes, and we were kids.”

  “We weren’t kids. We were older than that—”

  “We were naïve.”

  “Naïve to love each other?”

  “No, naïve to think it could always stay that way. And then the world fell apart.” She rose to get distance from him, her hands at her head. “What do you want from me, Mack? Do you want me to tell you that I want the war to end so I can buy that house in Nilkham and live with you forever? Make a hundred of your little babies?”

  He sat there staring at her, chest and shoulders rising with each breath.

  That’s exactly what he wanted, and it felt like a noose. A dead end. A distraction from what had to be faced.

  “I can’t do that, Mack. I’ve told you a million times, and you don’t seem to get it. And you really should, especially now. I’ve lost my brother, possibly forever. The war is insane. I was captured, I’ve been sneaking around my own country, learning something forbidden. I don’t have the energy to have dreams like that.”

  He shook his head and dropped his chin. “So, you want me to just sit around and wait for you?”

  “No!” She thumbed her aching temples. “No, I want you to live your life, and whatever happens happens. I want you to be happy.”

  “You make me happy, Clove. We’re meant to be together—”

  “You don’t get it—”

  “You love me enough to bring me on this mission, to threaten the crew, to protect me—”

  “Because I don’t want to see you hurt. I can care about you and love you, and not want to be committed.”

  “Ever?”

  She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. But don’t wait for me. Live, screw around, make love, find people—”

  “Is that what you’re doing?” He stood squarely in front of her across the barn.

  She lifted her chin. “Yes.”

  When he’d said nothing else and the silence was too great, she asked, “Does that anger you?”

  “No. Of course, not. I don’t want to control you, Clove. That’s not love. I just...” His shoulders and eyes drooped. He took a deep breath. “You’ve said you can’t be what I need, but what is it you need from me? What am I here for?”

  She inhaled. “Because I don’t want you to die. I can’t lose you, too, and I need your support in this.”

  He ran his hands over his face.

  “Do you support me? Really?” she asked.

  He kept his eyes closed and nodded. “I’ll support you if this is truly what you want to do. I’ll support you if it matters—”

  “Cayn matters that much to me.”

  “Then, I support you.” He walked back to the hay and plopped down into it. “I just need some time to think.”

  He’d meant he needed to be away from her. He needed to mourn the loss of whatever future he’d built up in his head.

  “Are you going to stay out here tonight?” she asked. “Won’t it get cold?”

  He patted the mound beside him, nestled in, and nodded. “I’ll be fine. I just need… some time.”

  She wished it hadn’t taken him so long to understand, but hopefully this time it’d finally sunk in.

  Her head still ached, her arms were exhausted.

  She left him for the airship, and as she entered, Grier and Emeryss passed by, giggling with blankets and a few snacks. “You’re sleeping outside, too?”

  Grier looked around. “Who else is going to be outside?”

  She pointed behind her. “Mack’s in the barn.”

  Grier shrugged and smiled. “That’s far enough. Don’t come looking for us until sunrise.”

  She passed Kimpert snoring in the corner of her cage, closed the door to the cargo hold, and found Jahree on the bridge looking over the controls.

  “Hey.” He looked up and smiled at her. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  She shrugged. “I have a killer headache, and Mack… Just, you know what, never mind. I’m going to try to forget it all for a few minutes.” She headed for her bunk.

  “Wait a second.” He patted the copilot’s chair.

  “Nah, I don’t really want to talk—”

  “Just sit. I promise.”

  She meandered over and dropped into the chair.

  His hands worked at her shoulders, neck, and upper back, kneading out the tension, the stress, the ache. It had all evaporated.

  She moaned slightly and closed her eyes.

  “Careful with that.”

  She scoffed. “The moaning?”

  His hands kept at it, and the ache in her head slowly eased. “It brings back good memories…”

  She laughed a little. “Memories? It was a few days ago.”

  He shrugged. “I take it Mack is not a fan of friends with brief benefits?”

  She shook her head. “He does not agree with that belief, no. He’s a love until you die kind of guy.”

  “Ah.”

  “It’s a bit too much sometimes.” She opened her eyes. “Thank you, that’s much better.”

  He left her chair and rested against Pigyll’s front panel across from her. He’d folded his arms and crossed one foot in front of the other, relaxed and comfortable. “That sucks. For him.”

  “Yeah.” She leaned back. “Assuming I can figure this scribing thing out, I’m about to jump into an airship, destroy it, kill tons of people, and he wants me to promise forever. And then manages to make me feel guilty over living life.” She gestured at him.

  “You only let yourself feel guilty over it if you want to.” He glanced down at his boots. “It’s only wrong if you think it’s wrong.”

  Was he referring to Mack’s opinion? Or what they’d done?

  “Wait, are you talking about us? Because I don’t regret what we did at all.”

  His eyes lifted. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Do you?”

  He shook his head. “Not in the least. I really enjoyed it. I’m just a little embarrassed you got such a lame experience. Sand everywhere, pretty traditional… But with Mack, I figure… you know…”

  He clearly didn’t know the guys she’d dated.

  But was he hinting at wanting more? Did he want more, but wasn’t sure with Mack there she’d want to?

  “Are you wanting to—”

  He shrugged. “If it wasn’t wrong, and you enjoyed it, and I enjoyed it, would it be terrible to consider?”

  No.

  That’d come to mind entirely too fast. Maybe it was the stress of what was to come, maybe it was Mack, maybe it was the fact she’d liked it so damn much…

  “Everyone else is gone for the night,” she said.

  He nodded. “It’s actually a pretty good cure for a headache.”

  She smiled. “I mean, but we said one time, right? Twice is like… too much, right?”

  “Eh, we also said… brief benefits. What’s the definition of brief? Once? Twice?”

  Twice wouldn’t be bad. She’d feel better for sure, and Jahree got it. Again, he’d understood what she needed, and this time it might help her shake off Mack for a short while.

  “And we’re still friends,” she added. “So…”

  “We’re safe in that department. No forever’s.”

  She scanned the ship around them. The bunks would be impossible to do anything in. They’d freeze their asses off on the cold metal floor.

  She looked back up at him.

  He eyed the chair she was in.

  “This? Here?�
�

  He shrugged. “But you have to make the first move.”

  “Why’s that?” She smiled.

  “I did last time. Balance is key. Also, I’m terrified of Scuffle and really don’t want to have to fight Mack if he catches—”

  She jumped into his arms and kissed him.

  As fevered as the first time, their mouths were forceful, messy, hungry.

  She pulled him back toward the copilot’s seat and shoved him into it. “First move made, and it’s not a beach. Let’s see what you can do,” she teased.

  He smiled and pulled her down onto his lap.

  Chapter 31

  Barren Ranch — Ingini

  Emeryss yawned and tried to keep her eyes on Clove.

  Two days of training from morning to night, skipping meals and standing for hours. She thought she’d been a dedicated student, but Clove showed no signs of wearing down.

  “You okay?” Clove asked.

  Emeryss’s cheeks grew a little hot remembering her and Grier’s activities while sleeping outside the night before.

  With everyone able to stay safely in different places, it had given them a lot more wiggle room in the sound department. Though, she had to admit, sleeping around with Grier and trying to be absolutely quiet had been damn near impossible… and incredible. “Yeah, I’m fine. You okay?”

  Clove nodded.

  “Your headache gone?”

  Clove nodded again and wouldn’t make eye contact.

  It seemed everyone got some much-needed rest.

  Lana smiled and clicked her tongue. Emeryss looked back at her and smiled, too.

  “I’m so close to getting Teleport right it’s pissing me off,” Clove muttered.

  “You’ve got Blink. You’re halfway there.”

  “We don’t have time, though,”

  Lana signed to practice scribing in strokes, that she’d memorized her strokes and how they were connected and would reuse them.

  Emeryss narrowed her eyebrows. “What does that mean? You created a language?”

  Lana nodded.

  “Not many people knew sign language, and she figured the ether was the closest thing to helping her communicate with others,” Clove said. “She made up her own sigils.”