by J M D Reid
As his mother marched to death above.
Upon the everdark plain, amid the everfall rain,
The Song was sung, the Eye was born.
His mother was bond in chains of light,
To ride above the veil of clouds,
To end the Storm, to end the Night.
The Eye did fly into the sky,
And Agerz set out upon the plain,
To scavenge through ruin and wreck.
For all who rise must surely fall,
And bring a new rain.
Agerz hunted for suit and plate,
Scavenging the Storm-swept plain,
Hoping to find his mother fair,
And bring her body to cold barrow.
The brave raiders fell, as all raiders fall,
But to Agerz great surprise,
More than armored kin did rain,
A heap of wood, a ship had crashed.
Grief forgotten, curiosity ignited,
Agerz crept forth to scavenge,
and there did find a marvelous sight,
a book of pictures of the light.
Agerz witnessed the world Above.
Yearning to dance beneath the sun,
Agerz chose a different fate.
Why go to die in the world Above?
He vowed to live and lead
His sons to a future bright,
A heaven glimpsed in frozen time.
Her song died.
Estan swallowed. “His mother was a . . . Stormrider?”
Esty nodded sadly.
“It reminds me of a poem, one that is forbidden by the Church.”
A smile touched her lips. “Please, share it with me.”
He cleared his throat then recited:
Riding tempest
Storming steeds
Howling madness
Gleaming blades
Riding tempest
Galloping fury
Rising death
Freedom gamble
Riding tempest
Staining sky
Armored martyrs
Cutting chains
Riding tempest
Storming steeds
Bringing death
Saving life
“The duty Agerz and my ancestors betrayed,” she whispered. “We left our kin to rot in the murk beneath the Storm.” A tear trickled down her cheek.
Estan brushed it away, the emotion growing thick in the room, almost strangling him. His mind felt off-balance, overstuffed with knowledge. He had to process it, to record it while it still burned bright. “This has been the most fascinating conversation. But . . .”
“You have to go?”
“I have my duty. I am not a free man. Chains of law and obligation bind me. My ship sails in the morning. I don’t expect us back for weeks, but . . .” Estan swallowed, his stomach tightening. “I would like to converse with you again.”
“That would be nice.”
Estan stood, straightening his coat. “It has been a great pleasure to meet you, Esty.”
Esty swallowed, then her hand darted beneath her skirt. Estan blushed as her pale thigh flashed. He made a study of the ceiling, staring at the rough-hewn rafters.
She giggled, the bed shifting. “I’m properly decent, so you can look.”
Esty held a white garter before her, the ring of linen cloth dangling from her fingers.
“What?” he asked.
She stood and pressed it into his hand, saying. “A memento of what you could have had instead of being a gentleman.”
She kissed him.
Estan floated back to the Dauntless. He found himself unable to wipe the smile from his face no matter how hard Guts laughed, his hand clutching the garter in his pocket. The memory of her lips wouldn’t leave his, but kept them warm even as he lay in his bunk that night and struggled to sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Isamoa 30th, 399 VF (1960 SR)
“Where is Estan?” Ary growled, studying his assembled marines. The crew was mustering before the barracks in the grayish dawn light to board the Dauntless.
“Went to mail a letter,” Guts said. “He’ll be here.”
Corporal Huson’s face tightened, her hand twitching. Ary witnessed urge rising in her to mete out punishment. Part of him wanted to let her. He didn’t want to dress down his friend. Anger snorted from him. He stopped before Zeirie. Her face paled and her back straightened. He scrutinized her gig line, all her seams perfectly straight and aligned. Boots polished. Coat brushed.
“Adequate.”
“Sergeant,” she said, voice tight.
He inspected Guts next. The big man stood as rigid but lacked any of the tension. A gleam twinkled in his scarlet eyes. The man’s amusement almost dented Ary’s irritation. Almost. He moved to Vay, scrutinizing for a misaligned seam, a scoffed boot, wrinkled britches.
Nothing.
Estan jogged up to the formation with no hint of pain flicking across his face from mending ribs. “Sorry, Sergeant,” Estan said, back straight. “Had to mail a letter to my mentor.”
“Bragging about the girl you met?” Guts asked, a grin breaking the discipline of his face.
“Quiet in the ranks!” barked Corporal Huson. The stern young woman glanced at Ary, her eyes questioning.
Ary nodded.
“Private Bthoovzigk!” It impressed Ary that the woman could speak Estan’s Vaarckthian family name without stumbling over the constants. His jaw unhinged whenever he said a Vaarckthian name.
“Corporal?” Estan asked.
“What were your orders, Private?”
“To report for muster a quarter hour after revelry,” Estan answered, back rigid.
“And is mailing a letter an excuse to miss muster?”
Estan’s jaw clenched. His gray eyes flicked to Ary.
Ary kept his gaze level. He felt Zeirie, Vay, and Messiench watching him. He couldn’t afford to give special treatment to his friends. His marines must follow his orders without question. It would keep them alive in the maelstrom.
“Private Bthoovzigk.” Ary stumbled over the name. “Once aboard the Dauntless, you will service all the thunderbusses. The Dauntless is sailing into action, and you will make sure they are in perfect condition.”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
Ary studied Estan. Instead of anger, he read understanding and acceptance. Ary was grateful for his friend’s support.
“The Dauntless will be attacking the Agerzak port of Offnrieth and others in the coming days,” Ary announced. “If we fail to find the pirates’ ships, we will rope down and fire the pier while the auxiliaries provide a rearguard. Once we’ve done that, we’ll climb back up to the Dauntless and stand ready to provide supporting fire from the gunwale.”
Zeirie swallowed, her tan cheeks paling as white as a full-blooded Agerzak. Guts clenched his fists, the leather cap he wore over his cut-off nose twitching. Corporal Huson nodded her head. Vay actually had a grin curling the corner of his lips. Messiench’s jaw tightened.
“We’ve all seen combat. We know what to expect. But we won’t be fighting Stormriders. Instead, we’ll hit the port at night. We’ll be in and out without encountering resistance. I want no civilian casualties. Only use lethal force if you feel threatened.”
“Sergeant,” they nodded.
“We’ll split into two teams. I’ll lead Guts, Estan, and Zeirie to fire the eastern half of the docks, while Corporal Huson will lead her team to burn the west. We’ll each be carrying pitches and matches in addition to our normal kit. If there is resistance, Guts and Zeirie will focus on firing, while Estan and I provide support. Corporal, assign your team as you see fit.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.” she glanced at the other three marines. “Private Sharech and I will provide support.”
Vay nodded his head.
“The scouts will do a recon before the assault. We’ll finalize the plans after. I want this to be fast and clean. We’ll descend like a pack of sharks and
tear apart the port. It’s a haven for their pirates that prey on our countrymen.”
“Stormwall, Sergeant,” Guts grunted.
“Stormwall,” Ary answered. Then he straightened his back and bellowed: “Parade formation, at the half-step!”
His men fell in line behind him. A nervous thrill ran through Ary. This was different from racing to the Dauntless to face the Cyclone. This threat wasn’t immediate. It lurked out beyond the horizon, a presence that, though threatening, felt nebulous. More the possibility of a storm than a certainty.
“March!” Ary ordered and stepped forward.
*
“Do you want me to fall into parade formation, Warrant Officer?” Velegrin asked, an annoying smirk gracing his lips.
Chaylene groaned. “Are you still playing that game?”
“Just making sure, Warrant Officer.”
“If you keep calling me Warrant Officer, I’ll make you march like a marine.”
Velegrin laughed. “I’d hate to shove a stick up my backside to achieve their gait.”
She couldn’t stop the giggle from escaping her lips as her husband and his marines trooped past, backs as rigid as broom handles. “Come on. We need to load the pegasi.”
“So what are we doing?” Velegrin asked as they strolled towards the stables. “We attacking Offnrieth?”
“Yes,” Chaylene nodded. “Captain Dhar approved my plan. It’ll be a night raid. Me and you will scout out the town first. You do remember how to fly at night?”
“I’ll try. It’ll be hard.” He grinned. “But can you do it without Zori holding your hand?”
Chaylene smacked his shoulder. “You’re the one that gets lost.”
“One time!” he grumbled. “Bad enough Zori always remembers that.”
Chaylene sighed, thinking about her short friend. She would probably arrive any day. When the Dauntless returned to port in a few weeks, her friend should be fit for duty. She desperately needed to talk to Zori. Every day, it felt like more and more of the men had knowing smiles.
“That weasel, Vel, is spreading rumors about you,” Velegrin said when they reached the stables. “A pair of sailors asked if me and you had . . .” He arched his eyebrows. “Since we spend so much time together.”
She ached to box Vel’s ears. It surprised her to learn she could loathe him even more. “What did you say?”
“That I tried, but you were too in love with that big oaf. I then reminded them just how big your husband is and how dangerous he can be. But the replacement crew, well, they ain’t as intimidated by Ary. They didn’t see him leading the charge to save the Windwarden during the Cyclone.”
“And you know Vel is saying things?” Chaylene demanded.
“Yeah. Everyone is talking about how easy you surrendered your, uh, virtue to him.”
“That piece of hog’s dung!” she hissed. “Do you believe him?”
Something changed in Velegrin’s expression, becoming almost . . . eager. “I can see why a girl might spread her thighs for that pretty boy, but I know you didn’t. You’re not that type of girl.”
Impulsively, Chaylene hugged him. “Thanks for being my friend.”
“Hey, now, Warrant Officer! Fraternizing with your subordinate is against regulations.”
“We’re scouts,” Chaylene said with a shrug. “The rules are only a suggestion for us.”
*
Estan’s thoughts drifted to Esty as he inspected the thunderbusses in the Dauntless’s armory, a small room on the first deck adjacent to the menagerie and the galley. He’d propped the door, normally kept locked by the master-at-arms, open to allow the stuffy air to circulate. Barrels of crossbows, bolts, and bone sabres filled the room.
Across his lap rested the next weapon to inspect. Estan disassembled the thunderbuss with a hammer and awl. The weapon had three main components: the ceramic barrel, a single-cast tube that channeled the lightning blast in the direction the marine pointed; the wooden stock; and the engine. He tapped on the awl to work free the bone pegs holding the weapon together. Hidden inside, where the barrel’s base was seated against the stock, lay a small smoky quartz. Different gems were used with different woods. On the Dauntless, all were made of apple wood, so all the gems were smoky quartzes.
Estan removed the gem and examined the facets for any flaws or cracks. A damaged engine could shatter, possibly injuring the user. Noting no defects, he reinserted the quartz, seated the barrel, and hammered back in the bone pegs. His skin tingled, his Blessing reacting to the engine. With a thought, he could discharge his Lightning through it.
Esty’s words stayed with him as he worked on the next. It confirmed that the Agerzaks were the outliers to Stormrider behavior. They had betrayed Theisseg. Their first settlement was by a Sky Tower. I need to ask Esty how they broke their connection to the Eye, and if it required the Sky Tower. Was it a coincidence Agerz appeared by one? How much do the Stormriders know about the skies? Their Cyclones appear random . . .
So many questions bubbled through Estan. Esty’s quick tongue had offered so many tantalizing clues. It made writing to his mentor imperative before the Dauntless sailed in case . . . He’d meant to last night, but Esty had consumed his thoughts, driving the necessity out of his mind until he’d bolted upright from sleep an hour before dawn.
That smile . . . His hand drifted down to his coat pocket, patting the garter tucked in there.
“Hey, Estan,” a voice said, snapping him out of his reverie. Ary loomed over him.
“Sergeant,” Estan said. He pushed down the slight irritation that his friend had punished him with the tedious task. “The inspection is proceeding. The first three are in perfect condition.”
“Good.” Ary leaned against the door frame. “Thanks for not trying to defy my authority. Sorry I had to discipline you.”
“But you cannot show favoritism. You are my superior, and I broke regulations. Leadership is a hard burden to bear. It can wear at a man, aging him faster than normal. Cares and hardships are the millstones that grind the grain of men. I saw no need to add to it.”
Ary nodded then asked, “So who were you writing? That girl you met yesterday?”
Why didn’t I send her a message? He squeezed his pocket again. “It was to my tutor, continuing our correspondence. I am endeavoring to further my studies by discussing with him what I have learned in the Navy.”
“Oh, such as?”
“Rather remarkable things.” Estan looked Ary in the face. His stomach tightened. Fear could not hold back discovery. “Why did you and Chaylene land and inspect the Sky Tower?”
“Sky Tower?” Ary frowned. “Oh, you mean the Dawnspire?”
Estan nodded.
“Well, um . . .” Ary swallowed. Estan’s friend was not a great liar. “It’s luck, right, to touch one? I needed luck.”
Estan quoted the first stanza of Lightning Flashed by Nzuuth sze Hyesk:
“Lightning flashed
Goddess in pain
Betrayed, imprisoned,
Sacrificed to hold aloft
A crime obscured
The sun a lie
Sky Towers her bonds,
Freedom’s cost,
Sacrifice.”
Ary gave him a hard look, swallowing hard. “That’s pretty,” he said, shrugging. “You recited that once, right?”
Estan nodded. He fought the itch attacking his guts. He could see it in Ary’s face, the way his friend pursed his lips. Come on, Ary. Open up to me. Ask me about it. Let us understand what Theisseg wants with you.
Despite the urge to be courageous in pursuit of the truth, unease held Estan from blurting out what he suspected. Estan trusted Ary with his life, but his tutor had pressed him with the dangers of cornering any beast, even a man. “Fear drives men to heinous acts,” Master Rlarim once said during a lecture. “Things long believed to be taboo become acceptable when terror billows a man’s sails.” Estan needed Ary to take the step on his own. If he rushed and spooked him . . .
“So tell me about this girl.”
“She’s amazing,” Estan said before he could stop himself. He’s trying to change the subject. I need to guide him back to it. But Estan kept speaking, a smile growing across his lips. “Esty has a such a zest, and the way her mind works . . . She is unschooled, and yet her wit is honed.”
Ary laughed. “You like her mind, huh? Did you even pay attention to what she looks like?”
“There’s more to a person than their appearance. But she did have a nice pair of . . . fruit. Rather large, in fact.”
It was Ary’s turn to smile. He leaned against the doorway. “So, what attracted your attention? Her mind, or those round fruits?”
Estan’s cheeks warmed. “I must confess it was the superficial attraction to her attributes. They were dangling in her low-cut bodice, and, well, I couldn’t help but walk over to her and inquire after her behavior.”
“I know what you mean. I remember when I first noticed Chaylene’s developing.” His grin broadened. “She was teasing me, trying to keep my attention on her instead of fishing. I always knew she was pretty in a . . . general sort of way. But I never knew knew it until that moment. She was lying on her side with her dress pulled tight across her bodice, and suddenly fishing didn’t really matter.”
Estan chuckled. “Yes, that is always a remarkable discovery.”
Ary’s grin faded as he sighed. “I hope everything goes well tomorrow. We have four years of this tour to survive. Why couldn’t we have been assigned to a skyland defense fleet? Why the Theisseg-damned most dangerous tour in the entire Navy? She doesn’t deserve this, you know. She deserves to be Storming safe and happy.”
“Chaylene?”
“Yes, Chaylene!” Ary erupted. “She doesn’t deserve to have the entire ship thinking she’s a hussy because she made one bad decision and gave that piece of dung her time.”
Estan frowned. “Are you saying she did . . .?”
“They just talked. But . . . but . . . she found him . . . dammit. Every woman finds Vel’s cursed smile gorgeous. That’s how it was back home. Even a few of the married women shone too much sunlight on him. It’s just everything, all piling on top of everything. It’s all tangled up into this snarling mess. I don’t understand half of it. Why did She choose me?”
