The Five Elements

by Scott Marlowe

  The dwarf said nothing else, though he did not move away. Shanna seized the opportunity.

  "Where did all of your dwarves go?"

  "Home."

  Shanna turned her head in his direction. He was thick as an ox, with calloused, scared hands that looked as if they could crush her with one squeeze. "Why?"

  "Because that is where all honest dwarves should be. Home, with their wives and children, doing honest work. Those I gave leave were such dwarves who no longer need involve themselves in this… deviltry."

  Shanna returned her gaze to the airship, pretending as if she scrutinized it in more detail when she was really trying to sort through what the dwarf had just said. Finally, she asked, "Why didn't you leave with them?"

  This time, the dwarf shifted his gaze from the airship to look at her. They were very nearly the same height—Shanna was taller only by a hand—and she need only turn her head to meet his stare. The dwarf, about to reply, fell silent instead at the sudden appearance of Erlek Abn Nee.

  Following just behind the savant were his sitheri guards. They walked in single file, a litter carried between them by poles resting at each of their shoulders. Though what they carried was hidden beneath a thick wrapping, Shanna had no doubt it was the savant's relic. The small procession made its way directly for the airship, which, still twenty paces from the ground, looked to have descended as far as it was going to. Shanna watched as ropes were lowered from the sides, followed by mates who scurried down with practiced ease. Each airman carried a spike over one shoulder that they pounded into the ground before securing the ropes to them. Then, a more intricate series of ropes was thrown from the dirigible. Grounded crewmen grabbed hold and stretched the length of it, fastening its end to more spikes. As the construct took shape, Shanna saw that it was a sort of rope staircase, with planks set for the steps and even a rope handrail. Erlek led his guard and the Element directly for it. The moment it was fully in place, he started up without delay. He and his procession disappeared onto the ship's deck moments later. The savant hadn't spared a glance for anyone, not even Shanna.

  Seeing that Engus Rul's gaze had returned to the airship and the business going on there, Shanna wondered if their conversation was concluded when, without looking at her, the dwarf said just loud enough so that only she could hear, "You could probably run. Turn around, head for the trees. My dwarves are otherwise occupied and I'd not pursue."

  Shanna's thoughts ground to a halt. Surely she'd heard the dwarf wrong. It took her a moment, but no, she'd heard him quite well. Which only meant the dwarf was playing with her, mocking her. Shanna studied his face, trying to read his true intent, but there was nothing there but stoicism and seriousness. Shanna swept her gaze around, paying particular attention to the dwarves, who were no doubt in on this trick. Engus Rul wanted her to run, so his dwarves could knock her down, tie her up again, and throw her into the cell where they obviously thought she belonged. She'd seen the looks they threw her. Yet, they were all going about their own business, not a one of them even glancing her way. In that moment, she wondered if Engus Rul's offer was sincere. She looked over a shoulder at the trees and hills. Engus Rul's offer was tempting, but it would mean running away, leaving the others behind, and—worst of all—never knowing more about the Element.

  "No," she said. "I'm not going anywhere. Not until the others are freed." It was the only reason he need hear.

  Engus Rul took one look at the defiance in her face and laughed in amusement. "Not until the others are freed, eh? Now just how do you think you're going to accomplish that?"

  Shanna didn't know, but she wasn't going to back down now. "You'll find out when you wake up and we're all gone."

  It was not the answer Engus Rul had been expecting, for his smile died and his brow narrowed. But then the smile returned and he was laughing again. "I like you, girl!"

  Shanna felt the ends of her own lips turning into a smile. She suppressed it, though, and said with mild sternness, "My name isn't 'girl'. It's Shanna Bonnerman."

  The dwarf extended a single, massive hand. "Engus Rul."

  Shanna stared at that gigantic paw for a moment, then she took hold of it. She succeeded in grasping only three of his thick fingers.

  "Good luck to you, Shanna, with your… escape." Engus Rul chuckled one last time, then he walked off to join the others of his kind.

  Shanna watched him for a moment, the way he blended in with his dwarves. Laughing, joking, acting friendly now but she knew what he really was: a savage killer. She must never, ever forget it. He spoke of deviltry as if he was apart from it, but he was as involved as anyone, more so because he led this rabble. She'd have to watch him closely. As closely as she intended to watch the savant. They were both dangerous.

  "Please, mi—" Mirna again. "Please, Shanna, we must board the airship. We mustn't keep Master Nee waiting."

  Shanna let out a deep breath. "No, we mustn't do that."

  With Mirna following close behind, Shanna followed in the savant's footsteps, reaching the base of the rope staircase where a growing number of airmen were regaining their land-legs while casting wary gazes at the dozen or so dwarven raiders who, for now, kept their distance. The airship's complement was mostly male, though Shanna was surprised to spot several women amongst those who had disembarked. They were all dressed in loose sailor's shirts and baggy pantaloons, the latter much like her own but of far lesser quality. Several carried long knives at their belts. A few others, clubs. Some cast glances her way, but none offered her so much as a nod in greeting. As Shanna started up the first of the rope stair steps, one started shouting out orders, organizing the others into foraging groups. Shanna paid no heed to what was said next as she soon found herself swaying to and fro on the unstable staircase. It was an unsettling experience, but she kept herself moving, refusing to look down or to seem like a frightened girl in front of the dwarves, the crewmen, or anyone else. Once, when her foot misstepped slightly, she did look down with immediate regret. It had not seemed so high up from the ground. She only paused a moment, to take a deep breath while tightening her grip on the swaying rope handrails, then she lifted a foot to the next step. When she reached the top, she immediately eased herself onto the ship's deck, never so thankful for something solid beneath her feet. Mirna, who'd ascended whisper quiet just behind her, gained the deck a moment after she did.

  The deck's planking felt strong and sturdy, and the whole of it was immaculately clean: scrubbed, scoured, and sanded until it looked like fresh timber newly laid. She stood on only one deck of many. There was another forward and at least two more aft. But this one—called the waist deck, she later learned—was the largest and, at least presently, claimed the most activity. A select few—air-sergeants, Shanna imagined them—oversaw gangs who busied themselves stacking rope, hauling crates, and running fore and aft for reasons Shanna couldn't guess at. Her eyes followed their back-and-forth movement for a few moments before she looked up to the spider web of ropes crisscrossing from ship to balloon in so many ways Shanna felt dizzy just trying to trace the line of a few of them. The balloon itself was even larger close up than when she'd spied it from the ground, the whole of it a drab cream color and pulled so taut over an interior frame just visible through the thin fabric that Shanna thought for sure it might tear at any moment. The airship had no masts. There were no sails, so none were needed.

  Wondering then just how the airship moved, Shanna, with Mirna still at her side, was distracted by the approach of a boy only a handful of years younger than she was. He had short blonde hair, wore the white breeches and blue shirt of a crewman, and would not have seemed out of the ordinary at all were it not for his complete lack of shoes or socks. The boy came to attention before them in an example of perfect military display. He bowed his head to both of them—Shanna first—then introduced himself.

  "Welcome aboard the Griffin, m'ams. Name's Tom. I'm to see you to Master Nee's cabin." Tom looked directly at Shanna. His expression was cordial. "Don'
t worry, ma'am, you've got a cabin of your own. It's bein' made ready now. I'd show you to it straightaway, but Master Nee gave orders to see you 'fore you settled in. Please, if you'll follow me."

  The moment Shanna took her first few steps to follow she was immediately reminded that she no longer stood on solid ground. It was as if she floated, each step going higher than she intended and taking longer to touch back down on the deck. She realized it was because the ship rose and fell with subtle effect, though it was unsettling enough that Shanna had to stop to still a rising sense of dizziness.

  Tom, noticing, flashed a smile from over one shoulder. "Might take a day or two to get your air legs."

  Mirna seemed no better off, and so Tom kept a slow pace for their benefit, leading them aft along the gunwale and up a short set of steps to the quarterdeck. Just in time, too, for the waist deck was soon inundated with even more activity in the form of dwarves and airmen bringing up crates from the wagons below.

  "Now," Tom said from over one shoulder as they walked, "you can pretty much go wherever you like about ship, but best to stick to the quarterdeck when abovedeck. That's the deck we're on. Most of the time it's the least busy and the safest. Would hate to see you get tangled in some ropes and swept overboard." Tom turned to her and winked. "Belowdeck, mind the engine room. It's off-limits to everyone but the cap'n and ship's officers and engineers." They passed by a series of metal pipes that stuck out from the quarterdeck's flooring to ascend into the great balloon. There were seals to prevent leaks and, as Shanna stepped past, she felt the heat radiating from them. "Hot gas," Tom said, noticing her inspection of the pipes. "It's what gives us lift. Propulsion comes from aft propellers." Past the pipes was a companionway leading down into the ship's belly. They had to wait a moment as a procession of four mates appeared one at a time carrying casks over one shoulder. Once the way was clear, Tom hurried them down. At the bottom, they found themselves at a sort of square junction, with open doorways at each side. Tom chose one, leading them through a short hall to a ladder leading down again. At this next lower level, they followed a passage where several times they had to scrunch against the wall as others passed in the opposite direction. Tom used one such opportunity to relate some tidbits about the airship. The decking, ribs, and hull, where the most strength was needed, were constructed of hardwoods—oak mostly—while most of the interior spaces were walled off with softer, lighter woods. Though space was at a premium on any ship, on an airship, Shanna was told, weight, or lack thereof, was paramount above all else. Curious, Shanna asked how the Griffin was able to fly, or rather, what produced the hot gases. "Inflation engine, ma'am," Tom said. The inflation engine, Tom explained with unexpected passion, was located at the center and bottommost point of the hull. Fed by pumice, which he described as something like black glass, the engine was akin to a blacksmith's bellows except that the resulting gases were cleansed then routed through shafts and into the balloon. It was these gases that lifted the balloon—and the ship—heavenward. Tom went on to describe more about the gases—how the inflation rate correlated directly to the amount of lift—but most of it sounded like so much of the gibberish she too often heard from Aaron that Shanna readily tuned the details out. She remained polite, though, nodding when expected, but seized the opportunity to change the subject the moment Tom paused for breath.

  "What do you do on the ship, Tom?"

  "Cabin boy, ma'am. But only for now. I'm working my way up to engineer." That explained his fervency with regard to the engine. "Been serving onboard the Griffin for three years now. I still have a lot to learn, but I'm getting there. So far, I’ve only been allowed to tinker with the gyros. Oh, you may not have seen those. There’s a pair of them docked aft. Think of them as ‘personal transports’. They can only carry one or two at a time, so we don’t use them often."

  As the latest round of airmen for whom they’d stood aside moved past them, Tom took the lead once more.

  Shanna, again noticing that Tom wore no shoes, took the opportunity to ask him about their absence.

  "Cap'n's punishment, ma'am," Tom said without stopping.

  "The captain took away your shoes as punishment?"

  Tom glanced at her and smiled. "No, ma'am. Lost my shoes in a game of crutchit."

  Shanna knew the game well. In Norwynne, she'd had a lucky hand with the dice more often than not.

  "I'd already won'em back, but when the cap'n found out we'd been gamblin' and what I'd wagered, he decided to make me walk around without my shoes as punishment. Didn't want me putting holes in my socks, so ain't got those either. Don't worry, ma'am, cap'n just wants to teach me a lesson. I'll get'em back soon enough."

  Then they were at their destination: a door dark lacquered and elegant. Tom grabbed hold of its brass knob and said, "Master Nee isn't here. He's off talkin' to the cap'n. If he were here, I'd knock first." He winked at them both, then led them into a room whose luxury instantly impressed Shanna. Wainscoting wrapped the walls, moldings accentuated the crevices and corners, and plush carpeting was laid at their feet. It was well furnished, too, with a small divan, a hardwood writing desk, a padded hammock, and a pair of high-backed chairs. Most notable of all was a low table set at one side, for upon it was the Element. Still hidden away beneath its covering, Shanna nonetheless knew—no, felt—it was there. No sooner had Shanna's gaze locked onto it when Erlek Abn Nee entered right behind them. His sitheri guards were thankfully absent.

  "Leave us," the savant said as he strode directly through the group of Shanna, Mirna, and Tom.

  Tom obeyed instantly, though he managed to slip Shanna a wink before he vacated the room. Mirna took a moment to whisper to Shanna. "I'll see that your belongings are delivered to your room, Sh—milady." Then she was gone as well.

  Erlek removed his robe, paying her no attention at all until he asked, "Did you have a nice conversation with our good clan lord?" Beneath the robe he wore a simple, drab pair of cotton pants and a tight shirt buttoned from the neck, where a scarf was wrapped, down to frilled cuffs at the wrists. The robe did much to hide the man's skeleton-like frame. Without it, he was downright cadaverous. Despite this, there was vigor in his limbs and the spark of life in his eyes. "I imagine he told you all sorts of things about me, did he not?"

  Shanna pulled her gaze from his gaunt form and met his stare. "We didn't talk about you."

  Erlek considered her answer, then, satisfied, changed the subject. "You no doubt wondered why I allowed you to walk freely just now."

  "You said your sitheri were overzealous," Shanna said, "that they might kill me if given reason. You also said you wouldn't harm the others as long as—"

  "Yes, yes, both true. But my guards were occupied. The dwarves have no love for me. You must have learned at least that much from Engus Rul. I would not be surprised at all if he offered to turn a blind eye while you fled." Seeing right away the denials forming on Shanna's lips, Erlek waved his hand in dismissal. "It matters not. There are, however, reasons I offered you such liberty. First, to show you that you are not a prisoner—not in the truest sense of the word, leastwise—and second, because you know, just as I do, that our paths have been linked by the inexplicable flows and eddies of Fate. I think we both knew it the moment you invoked the power of the Element."

  Shanna's gaze went to the hidden object. "Invoked?"

  Erlek took a seat in the chair at the opposite side of the desk. A soft knock at the door interrupted him before he could say more.

  The door opened, admitting a boy perhaps a year or two older than Tom who wore the same ship's attire—though this boy wore shoes—and who carried a tray of hot tea and ship's biscuits. Erlek's expression became one of amusement as the boy's face drained of color and his hands shook so that the tea cups rattled on the tray. He somehow managed to place the tray on the desk without dropping it or spilling, whereupon he clumsily sloshed tea into two cups. He withdrew with a hasty bow and nary a word spoken.

  Erlek lifted one of the cups and sipped fro
m it. A gesture invited Shanna to sit and take the other. She did, though she sat on the divan, which was further from Erlek than the opposing chair. He didn't seem to notice. Erlek took another sip of his tea, then he spoke. His voice was low and he spoke slowly, as if he meant to add emphasis to each word.

  "I found Tool—I don't recall his true name—in a seaside village, far to the south, along the coast of Kallendor." Kallendor, Land of the Horse Lords. It was a mythical place to Shanna. "Like you, he was gifted. Unique, you might say, in that he was able to elicit a response from the Element. You can imagine my dismay when you killed him."

  Shanna gulped down the tea she'd just sipped, causing herself some discomfort as she coughed. She wasn't sure if the savant expected her to say something. Erlek went on before she had a chance and especially before the unpleasant memories of that act of murder played themselves over in her mind. She'd never killed—never really hurt—someone before. But Erlek's boy had gotten what he deserved. She'd no doubt about that.

  "It took years to mold him into my Tool. At first, I offered him friendship, until he looked upon me as a brother. Then, I offered compassion as only a parent could. Last, when he was thoroughly enamored with me, I broke him. I will spare you the methodology. It was not pleasant. When he was nothing more than a whimpering, quivering, sobbing boy, who pulled away at the mere lift of my finger—when he was irrevocably mine—I brought him back, lifting him up as my apprentice. If he seemed impetuous or cruel," Erlek said, shrugging, "he had learned pain and fear, and wished to expunge himself of the memories by visiting the like upon others. It is a common enough thing amongst the abused."