Roar of Sky

by Beth Cato

  “I’ll ask the sylphs to muffle our sounds, not hide them completely. That way they won’t exhaust themselves too quickly.”

  “I rather like the idea of baffling some poor sailor with an unexplainable roar of sky,” mused Fenris. “But the sylphs’ health must come first.”

  “The gunships won’t shoot us once we’re docked and visible,” said Cy.

  “Not unless they regard the entire Gaia Project to be expendable at that point,” added Captain Sutcliff. Ingrid didn’t feel the need to repeat that for the others. “There’s something more you must consider. The fox has invested great time and effort in Excalibur, and it’s now in peril. She is almost certain to arrive soon. Her ring would enable her to board without risk of sickness.”

  Ingrid frowned at him. “I can sense her within a few hundred feet. At least, I could soon after she had forcibly healed me.”

  “Would your ward impair that ability?” Cy asked, joining in on the one-sided conversation.

  “No. When I constructed the enchantment, my full intent was to block her from tracking me and to establish myself as superior. I couldn’t undo the effects of her healing magic. Nor did I want to at that point.” She shivered at the memory.

  “I feel,” murmured Mr. Sakaguchi, “that I am painfully ignorant of your tribulations in recent weeks, Ing-chan.”

  “I’m sorry, Ojisan. I want to catch up with you, but we should probably get sleep soon. Tomorrow looks to be a busy day.”

  Fenris waved a hand. “Before you people decide to sleep, I should point out that one important detail has been omitted. How are we going to moor with that thing? I doubt that any of the sick airmen will be so kindly inclined as to tether us.”

  “We’ll figure that out tomorrow,” she said.

  “You say that, and your solutions usually place you in imminent peril.” Cy scowled at her.

  “I suppose that has become a pattern of late,” she said, her arm lightly wrapped around Mr. Sakaguchi. He felt so frail. “Come along, Ojisan. We have food aboard. No tea, unfortunately. They rely on coffee,” she said, making a face of disgust.

  He paused, one foot on the hatch steps, and smiled at her. “I think, with all I’ve endured of late, I will find within me the fortitude to drink some coffee in the morning.”

  Ingrid smiled back as they helped each other up the steps.

  Chapter 21

  Thursday, May 24, 1906

  Ingrid sat on the tatami by the open hatch. Paper bags of pastries surrounded her on all sides. The first-sylphs supervised as the new arrivals flew aboard in small groups for their introduction to the glories of bread. Ingrid thanked the Almighty that she no longer had to eat half of each piece as a show of balanced trade; if that’d been the case, she would have keeled over dead by now. Which would have been a sad way to go, considering all she had survived of late.

  The sylphs operated with assembly-line precision. As soon as one cluster finished—which probably took all of twenty seconds—the next one entered. The sylphs became visible upon entering the security of the Bug. Their emaciated condition broke Ingrid’s heart, and made her wonder how many hadn’t attempted the journey or had died along the way.

  Cy had bought all of the available stock from the two bakeries in town. His haul included doughnuts, amashoku, an-pan, croissants, and cinnamon rolls, and he had promised to return later for more. Better to have too much than not enough.

  She set a jelly doughnut on the tin plate. Sylphs descended with a waft of lavender, their buzzing escalating like a cat’s purr. Footsteps whispered on the tatami mat behind her. She turned.

  “Mind if I join you?” Mr. Sakaguchi asked. At her smile, he lowered himself to the mat. “Where’s your young man?”

  New sylphs entered the cabin. “He’s getting the latest scuttlebutt. He was a bit worried that his massive purchases of pastries might create alarm that he’s intending to feed a garrison of troops or some such.”

  “You are feeding a kind of army, one unlike any other. My, what incredible creatures.” He leaned forward to study the sylphs as they decimated a croissant. His voice sounded hoarse. He hadn’t been allowed to speak much during his captivity, and then he and Ingrid could not stop talking the previous night. Hours had passed. Many words were shared; many others were restrained.

  She couldn’t confront him about her forced sterility. She couldn’t ruin their blessed time together by giving voice to her anger and frustration. There would be a time for that talk, later. If she survived.

  “My flight will leave in a while.” He tapped his chest out of habit, as if he carried a pocket watch, and chuckled at himself for the error. He wore a cheap yet functional Western-style suit that they had optimistically bought for him in Los Angeles. Ingrid had provided Mr. Sakaguchi’s old measurements out of habit; the clothes hung from his frame.

  He had also cleaned up using Cy’s grooming kit. The shaggy beard was gone, but he kept his hair long, tucked into a samurai-style knot. She remembered photographs from his youth when he had styled his hair in a similar fashion.

  “You’re scheduled to leave in about an hour.” She pointed to the clock over the doorway to the control cabin. “We’ll head out soon after.”

  Mr. Sakaguchi nodded as he observed the voracious stream of fae. “We each have our own roles in this opera. I’m glad that I can do my part as you undertake such a dangerous mission.”

  “Roosevelt needs to know about the immunizations. I hate for all of the hidden treasures in that warehouse to be exposed as well, but . . .”

  “I will do what I can to have the belongings cataloged and stored, with the borrowed orichalcum included as well. The only exception, perhaps, will be that poor gorgon’s head. It should somehow be granted peace. I’ll research that.” Of course he would. “That said, our highest priority must be for the government to know about this vaccination so that it can be replicated for public benefit.” Grief shadowed his face. “For Lee to be party to such an act of subtle, devastating violence . . . for him to have known about this plot in San Francisco, to have had the foresight to inoculate you . . .”

  “This is war, Ojisan,” she said softly. “Even more, Lee is not in command. He didn’t unleash this sickness.”

  “I know. It’s illogical for me to grieve over his choice, and selfish for me to debate if I erred in my teaching of him. Dr. Moon certainly thinks so.” He gave a rueful smile.

  “You know Lee. You know the nature of his conscience. Guilt and grief will stay with him.”

  “I hate for him to be haunted by such darkness.”

  “All each of us can hope is that we have a chance, at the end, for redemption.” Captain Sutcliff’s voice was a whisper from where he stood on the far side of the hatch. She acknowledged him with a nod. She had mediated a conversation between him and Mr. Sakaguchi during the night; Sutcliff had been lost in introspection ever since. He acted like a man in constant prayer. She had tried to ignore him, granting him whatever privacy he required.

  “Guilt serves a purpose,” she said, both to the ghost and her ojisan.

  “Yes,” they said, almost simultaneously, their voices alike in softness and regret.

  She set another melon-pan on the plate and was surprised to recognize the distinct presence of her first-sylphs.

  we are last! They promptly inhaled the pastry.

  Ingrid extended her senses to verify an incredible sense of delight and satisfaction radiating from the deck below. The strength of the sylphs’ magic had increased, too. Amazing, what some baked goods could do.

  She looked around, pleased to see many bags remained. Fenris would need those once they moored at Excalibur. She almost giddily laughed aloud at the thought. They were going to Excalibur, to finally search for Lee and for Maggie. All these weeks of wondering how and when they could make their move, and the moment had arrived.

  Faint footsteps clanged on the mooring mast below. Ingrid scooted forward and eased herself down the short stairs to the deck. She hadn�
�t put on her braces yet. Wearing them for so long the previous day had irritated her legs and caused her to bust out in a mild heat rash, too; she wanted her skin to air out as long as possible.

  “Good, I’m glad you’re coming to greet me.” She could see Cy looking up at her through the steel cross-hatching. He was still several flights down. “Vexes me to walk on the deck right now. I’m afraid I might step on something.” His tone was mild, as he was at a point where his voice might carry below.

  “Don’t worry about that.” Already, the invisible fairies shifted to form a path in advance of his arrival.

  Cy reached the top. Sweat sheened his face and created dark crescents at the armpits of his blue-checkered shirt. “My worry is legitimate. I’d never want to disrupt peace accords because I flattened a sylph like a flapjack. G’morning, Mr. Sakaguchi. Thank the Almighty you’re already up. Your flight out’s leaving early.”

  Mr. Sakaguchi came down the steps behind Ingrid. “Why? What’s the matter?”

  “The A-and-A is coming in.” Cy looked grim. “They’ve ordered local docks to clear out as many airships as possible.”

  “Damn them all,” said Ingrid.

  “I wondered when this would happen,” Captain Sutcliff murmured from beside her.

  “Is Fenris up yet?” Cy asked.

  A dull thud echoed from just above. “I’m up. I heard you. What’s the deadline?”

  “Ten o’clock, but most folks aim to go sooner, if they can. The rumor mill’s churning something fierce—that there really is a quarantine aboard Excalibur, or a mutiny, and if it’s the latter, that there may be a battle.”

  “I can be ready to go within minutes,” said Mr. Sakaguchi, his hand sweeping over his hair. “It’s a good thing I’m traveling light.” With a faint smile, he hurried aboard, his socked feet soft on the steps.

  Ingrid turned to Cy. “Did they say who leads the fleet?”

  “No.”

  “It has to be her.” Ingrid swayed in place. She breathed in deeply, as if she could already detect Blum’s awful musk above the stink of dust and the fragrance of happy sylphs. Cy steadied her with a light grip on her shoulder.

  “We’ll deal with her, best as we can,” he said.

  “That means nothing. She’s nigh invincible with that ring. An artifact that powerful can likely only be counteracted with another artifact, likewise powerful. Like the guandao.” Her eyes widened. “We know Lee is aboard Excalibur. This is the time to return the Crescent Blade to him.”

  Bags of pastries still flanked her sitting spot by the hatch. The voices of Fenris and Mr. Sakaguchi carried from the control cabin, but she hurried—as quickly as she could hurry, anyway—the opposite way, to the racks. She stared up at the nest where the guandao lay hidden.

  “You’re not considering a climb up that ladder, are you, Ing-chan?” Mr. Sakaguchi came up behind her, his tone chiding.

  “Actually, no. I figured if I waited, someone would fetch the blade for me.” The confession of weakness didn’t bother her as it might have even a few days ago. My body will never be as it once was, but that doesn’t mean it’s not strong. Nor was she stupid enough to injure herself now, out of sheer pride.

  Mr. Sakaguchi’s eyes widened. “Do you think—would I be allowed to touch it? To bring it down?”

  “If the guandao doesn’t want you to handle it, it’ll let you know.”

  “An important consideration as I will be standing on a ladder at a precarious height.” He slowly climbed up.

  Ingrid glanced back at her cot, where the qilin plaque rested. “Please lend some of your good fortune right now,” she murmured. “He is a good man. Don’t let him be judged by the sins of his government. Please.” She knew what it would mean to Mr. Sakaguchi to handle such a weapon of legend.

  “I have hold of the parcel,” he said, and took careful steps down.

  “Do you feel anything from it?” she asked, even as she sensed the blade’s inherent holy aura.

  “Is giddiness expected?” A bright grin lit his haggard face.

  “Here, we can unwrap it—”

  “No.” He stayed her with a hand on her arm. “I am not worthy to behold its full glory. It’s enough to hold it like this.” Tears filled his eyes as he gazed on the leather bag with awe. “Perhaps it is irreverent, but I’m filled with pride that you’ll carry the Green Dragon Crescent Blade to Lee. I think the guandao chose well.” He bowed, as much as the space allowed, and passed the parcel to her hands. She immediately set it on her bed.

  “I hope I can find Lee and deliver it to him at the right moment. I hope . . . I hope for so many things.”

  “The qilin trusted you to carry the weapon, Ing-chan. Trust that you will find Lee when the moment is right. And keep your hope burning, even if only a spark. You must always keep hope alive.” His words trembled with grief and love.

  “You’re going to your flight now,” she whispered.

  “I must.” Tears swam in his eyes. She and Mr. Sakaguchi embraced. The cloth of his baggy jacket rustled against her.

  “I’ll stay in Southern California as I wait for news. I trust in Mr. Roosevelt’s people to set me up somewhere. I shouldn’t be too difficult to find through his channels.”

  They pulled back, gazing at each other.

  “Sir?” Cy’s voice was soft from where he stood at the hatch.

  “I’m going.” Mr. Sakaguchi pulled away from Ingrid. From his rack, he grabbed a battered hat that Cy had acquired for him. He set it on his head, slightly askew, and walked down the hallway. He and Cy clasped hands. “I’d tell you to take good care of her, Mr. Jennings, but—”

  “We’ll take care of each other, best as we can,” Cy said.

  “Yes, you will.” He faced Ingrid. “Farewell, my beloved daughter.”

  “Good-bye, Ojisan,” she whispered.

  Like that, he was gone.

  She looked away, blinking fast. Cy’s footsteps came up behind her.

  “There’s that song about Federal soldiers in the opera Lincoln,” she said, without turning around. “‘I will gird myself for battle. Squire, kindly fetch my greaves. Today we fight, we fight.’”

  “‘And tonight, tonight, we likely grieve,’” Cy completed the punned verse as his arms wrapped around her tightly, completing her.

  The Bug flew south, direct sunlight glaring through the wide window of the control cabin. They had flown far enough north to transcend the sight and concern of the Pegasus gunships stationed around Excalibur. Now they looped back around. The steep hills below contained full forests of saguaro cacti, an army of spiny green soldiers standing at attention.

  “How close dare we get without the sylphs?” asked Ingrid.

  “We’ll need ’em soon,” said Cy from his copilot’s seat. His gaze was intent on the view ahead. At this distance, Excalibur resembled a strange, squat cloud. Many other airships filled the sky, too, as the docks throughout the valley emptied out.

  Cy had pointed out that Phoenix had no masts to accommodate Behemoth- and Tiamat-class vessels; the newcomers would be small crafts and traveling in formation. Distinct, in other words. No such sight marred the skies yet.

  “Thin bank of cumulus up ahead,” said Cy. “Might provide some scant cover.”

  “Thank you for helpfully stating the obvious, Cy.” Fenris’s arms were tense, his grip on the wheel white-knuckled. They flew toward the clouds. “How close is our fairy mob?”

  Ingrid reached out her awareness. Magic warmed her skin, and she had more filled stones to draw on as necessary. She also carried empty rocks, in case one of Blum’s magical scouts flew near.

  “They’re maintaining our speed just above the envelope.”

  “You made sure they’re aware of the stub wings, right? This trip’ll be over nice and fast if—”

  “Yes. You were right there. I told them, and passed along the graphic imagery you shared about the currents around the stub wings and what would happen if they were sucked in. They understand.�
�� The sylphs had been rendered silent in horror. A spooky thing, to hear them go from happy buzzing to dead quiet. Immediately following that, however, they had mobbed Fenris in a happy, grateful cloud. The safety warning had almost pleased them as much as fresh pastry. Almost.

  “I just want to make sure,” muttered Fenris. Worry creased his brows.

  On the subject of spooky things, Captain Sutcliff had claimed the empty seat across the doorway from Ingrid. He maintained adequate corporeality to sit there, legs crossed, his pleats perfect and shoes shined. Like Ingrid, he had geared himself for battle. His regular belt was gone, replaced by a thick utility version that hosted several laden holsters and a knife of wicked size. A shoulder belt carried a canteen and a thick pouch that she could only assume carried food. All of the equipment was useless. Sutcliff knew that, too. Even so, there was something powerful about being physically ready for battle, even if one was a ghost.

  “Kindly tell the sylphs to encompass the airship once we’re in the clouds,” said Cy.

  “Very well.” Ingrid closed her eyes, and extending her magic, beckoned to the hive. They surged forward as the airship itself slowed, the engine noise changing to a soft purr.

  The heat of the sylphs draped over the airship. Ingrid sucked in a sharp breath, anticipating pain from their magic. To her surprise, she felt nothing. Maybe the orichalcum-plated hull provided a buffer, or maybe it was due to the distance they had to fly in their circuits. Whatever the reason, Ingrid was relieved she could preserve more energy.

  She opened her eyes. “The sylphs are at work. Let’s go.” She gripped the length of the Green Dragon Crescent Blade across her lap. In its leather bag, it was about as long as her forearm. The weapon’s holy aura warmed her lap, not unlike a sprawled cat.

  Fenris glanced back, his face skewed in worry. “Are you sure the sylphs are active? I don’t see anything.”

  “They are blending in with the cloud. You’ll see a kind of gray veil once we’re out.”