by K. M. Tolan
“Those are signals,” Paleen's father broke in.
Owun let out an uneasy breath. “Yes, but nothing like we've ever heard. Nothing any Ipper could even begin to duplicate, let alone understand."
At least not our Ipper, Mikial thought to herself. She studied the intersecting lines of the map. They met on a narrow isthmus situated on Minnera's northeastern coast. A perfect place as any to keep imprisoned Qurls. Her eyes detected the faint erasing of previous marks. They peppered the border between Minnera and the Holding. There was far more to this mystery than the Ipper had revealed. Could this new signal be the harbinger of another attack? If so, her sect needed to know before the Minnerans got into the hills. But how? There wasn't a yhas or carriage made that could get her to the eastern border fast enough to catch another incursion. Mikial's eyes narrowed. There was other means of transportation available ... if she dared use it.
“Signals stopped,” Janeen said, turning in her chair toward Paleen with an amazed shake of her head. “The strangest Keering I've ever seen, but welcome anyway, fellow Signaler!"
“Welcome again,” Paleen replied with a shaky laugh. “May I remove myself?"
Owun nodded. “Certainly, and my apologies for this interruption. Corad, you may take the watch. Janeen, keep listening in case our insects start to buzz anew."
Hoping she was not in violation of any customs, Mikial went over and helped Paleen from her chair. “Congratulations."
Paleen have her an ecstatic hug. “It was wonderful! You should have heard ... I never realized there were so many of us!"
“If I could, then I'd be wearing a blue belt instead of this red one,” Mikial answered. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Paleen, I have to leave. Now. Can you arrange to send Dalen Goss a message?"
Her friend glanced around before whispering back. “You're actually going to do it? Fly to Minnera?"
She nodded. “Something's up to no good, and it's obvious that nobody has any answers. We need a closer look, so I'll get it. Your Dalen gets his big test."
“I'll have him meet you at the hangar."
* * * *
The faint refrains of First Greetings goaded Mikial down the road from Castle Ridge. She sent Kikia into a gallop across Lani's Bridge. The Minnerans had to be behind this. Despite the Kiorannan signals, any real threat would come from the East. If she peered beyond the peaks of the Masar Range, and caught the Minnerans coming, she could warn Gap Watch. The enemy would be caught out in the open, and another Bramble Ravine would be averted.
Dalen arrived at the hangar in tan work clothes that appeared thrown on in haste. Brown tangles swept over his high brow. He regarded her with bleary eyes while helping her pull the hangar curtains aside. “A runner pounded on my door. Said it was an emergency."
“You have anything to drop messages with?” she asked, rummaging around the equipment spread along the walls.
Dalen brushed aside an errant lock of hair and pointed to a satchel. “Bottles, paper, and pens. So you've changed your mind, then?"
“Paleen had her Keering this morning. The Ipper picked up signals from Minnera, and they're not ours.” She jabbed a finger at the cream-colored airsail. “Can it get us over the mountains?"
That seemed to wake him up. “What are we looking for?"
Mikial walked over and picked up the pouch full of leather-wrapped bottles. “You'll know when it starts shooting at us."
“It better not. There's no room for parachutes in this thing. Barely enough room for you.” Dalen swung the bubble canopy up and kicked a small crate alongside the fuselage. “You sit in front. I'll give instructions over your shoulder."
Tossing the satchel to him, Mikial stepped upon the box and carefully eased herself into the narrow leather seat. She felt the airsail settle upon its front wheel as she got in. There was hardly enough room for her arms to move. Mikial pulled on the harness. “Worse than putting on a dress."
“You fit,” he said with relief. The bulbous cockpit bobbed as he swung into the rear seat. “Brass lever on your right controls the engine speed. The stick between your legs ... You ever fly in an airsail?"
“Several times in training. It helped me decide I hated airborne reconnaissance. The stick controls height and direction, if that's what you're expecting me to say.” She looked back along the tapered fuselage that connected the cockpit to the tail fin. Mikial worked the pedals at her feet, observing the rudder movement behind the fin. “I understand how to steer, too."
He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I feel better already. That lever with the notched settings on your left sets the flaps. Place it in the next to last position."
Mikial obeyed. “What else?"
“Ease the throttle forward gently and try not to hit anything on the way out."
She advanced the small brass handle, watching nervously as the two propellers began to rotate in lazy circles. It took only a nudge on the handle for the blades to vanish into a thrumming whirl. The aircraft jerked forward, bouncing across irregularities in the field. Dalen pointed her between a row of barns where the gray prows of airships poked from their enclosures like curious behemoths. Cothra ground crews clustered at the doors to watch them take off. Dalen returned a few waves.
He reached up to bring their canopy down. “Aim between the mooring towers.” The hum of propellers diminished as he latched the composite glass in place. “Advance your power to that orange line on the bar. I'll tell you when to pull back on the stick."
Eyeing the morning sky, Mikial made sure she would not run into any incoming airships. She pushed the brass handle forward. Her hunting eyes sensed the sudden rise in power within the batteries. Any doubts she had about the strength of the engines vanished as they surged ahead with an angry buzz. The cockpit shook. Mikial bared her teeth in a snarl as they leapt across the blurring field.
“Pull up!"
She obeyed. The aircraft made one furtive hop and never came down again. The shaking ceased as the wheels lost contact.
“Just keep the stick pulled back a little,” Dalen assured. “I'll have the wheels cranked in shortly."
“I don't believe I'm doing this,” Mikial said, leaning to the right to watch the ground drop away. They swayed as the wind lifted them, its rush mixed with the soft growl of spinning blades.
“Let's try and clear the top of the orchards ahead if we can,” Dalen suggested.
Eyes wide, Mikial pulled the stick a little more, the air machine rewarding her with a steeper climb. Branches passed well beneath them. Experimentally, she tried the rudder pedals. The air machine slewed left toward the glistening White River.
Under Dalen's direction, she adjusted the flaps and soared above the crest of Signal Point. The airsail cut through wisps of cloud. Mikial eased the power back. They reached the eastern side of the valley, the land wrinkling beneath them like an old dress. Her ears popped. Mikial looked at Dalen with a frown. “It's been some time since I've been in an airsail. Are those wing tips supposed to bend up like that?"
“Airship,” Dalen corrected. “Airsails aren't powered, they just glide on air drafts. And yes, the wings are supposed to do that. They have a tensa spine, remember?” Leaning back in his seat, Dalen gave her a smug expression. “Well, what do you think?"
She scanned below them for a trail to the Minneran frontier. “I think I'm an idiot for getting into an airsail with no room for parachutes."
It took longer than a chime before Mikial could keep her claws retracted. Dalen had actually fallen asleep; worse still, he had a slight snore. The sound of wind outside the canopy helped to mask his slumber. With an eye on the smoky blue ridges that slid beneath them, Mikial wondered just how fast they were flying. No airship had ever traveled with such speed. The propellers were like silver disks sparkling in the sunlight. How long will those batteries last? This can prove to be a marvelous machine, provided it stays airborne. There was no question that Dalen had to be using Taqurl technology. She heard rumors of forbidden libraries, despi
te the Shandi's best attempts to put such things under lock and key. Her mother's sect was more adept at dealing with those foolish enough to read such material.
How deep had she gotten herself into Dalen's mess? Was the trouble she risked greater than a threat she possibly had only imagined? Was ruining her life greater than the risk of eight more Datha lives? Mikial shrugged such worries off. She owed the Holding more than she had given it at Bramble Ravine, despite what the Tasuria thought.
* * * *
Mikial estimated that they were more than halfway to the border when Dalen finally woke up. She could see the dark twists of Bramble Ravine below to her left, bringing its unpleasant memories back to mind. Deflecting those recollections, she let Dalen engage her in small talk.
“Paleen tells me you're a Kiorannan girl,” he said, handing her a piece of dried meat from the bag he had brought.
“An exchange baby, yes,” she replied. What else Paleen had told him? “That's what the Servants get for mixing so much of our blood in with theirs. I was worried about some day giving birth to a Servant child, but the Shandi said that all mixed-blood Qurls produced only Qurls. It's odd that only the Servants have to worry about having the wrong baby."
“Not necessarily. You know that legend says the Servants were created from Taqurl Cothra. Shouldn't be any surprise that the old blood comes back up."
“I'm more surprised that you actually believe that old tale. At least the Kiorannans don't kill their Qurl babies."
“Fortunately for us both,” he said with a laugh. “Most of what I've ever seen of Kioranna was when our airship crossed over it from Kinset Holding. Mostly plains to the southwest, right?"
“Like a sea of green. I used to train a lot along the western frontier. You could see ranches in the distance. It was hard to think of them as the enemy. We've never had a problem with them, unlike Minnera. Just have to chase off their women once in a while.” She turned in her seat. “Why did you leave Kinset?"
He laughed. “They don't like rogue Cothra there."
“You were asked to leave?” She could believe that. As stodgy as the Shandi were here, they were as loose as an Ipper when compared to their Kinset counterparts. Not the sort of place for someone like Dalen.
“I guess it was all the Taqurl influence there,” Dalen explained. “Our cities have a lot of original construction. I started pursuing archeology. I guess I found more than I should, and was too eager to use it. Everyone was just as eager that I leave."
“So now you use it here instead,” she sighed. “I think you picked the wrong Holding to immigrate to, Dalen."
Dalen leaned forward. “You know, one of my uncles married a Dathia. Never saw a male happier."
Mikial raised her eyebrows at his abrupt change of subject. Her nostrils instinctively filled with his pleasant scent. The last thing she needed now was distracting flattery. “Get a message bottle ready to show our identity and intentions. The border's up ahead. I don't want to get shot by my own sect while crossing it."
“Now wouldn't that make the Shandi happy, eh?"
Mikial smiled. It was easy to understand why Paleen liked this Cothra. He certainly was a charmer, even while getting her into trouble. “How long have you known Paleen?"
“Quite some time. My parents are close friends with her mother's family. Paleen's like a distant sister."
“Sister,” Mikial repeated incredulously. “She did it again!"
“Did what?"
“Never mind.” Once more she had fallen victim to Paleen's matchmaking.
What Mikial first assumed was a line of clouds ahead was transformed instead into snow-capped peaks as they closed distance. The Masar Range. “Can you tell how much battery power we have left?"
“I estimate we've used less than half."
She gave him a hard look. “Estimate?"
“Haven't had time to calibrate a meter to these new batteries. If the engines stop, we're out of power. Is that sufficient for you?"
“Perhaps we could lose some excess weight,” she growled as he chuckled. She banked them into a slow turn toward the frontier. “Hope you have that message ready."
The granite cliffs of the Masar Range ran before her like a forbidding wall. A final line of hills marked the end of her Holding as the terrain took an abrupt slide into a narrow valley less then a length wide. The Minneran Gap. It was an uninviting land of rock and scrub brush. Both sides watched it from the end of a barrel. The Minneran Gap extended along the entire southern border. Too much land for her sect to observe all the time, a fact Minneran raiding parties took advantage of. Mikial banked the aircraft to align it with the frontier, the world revolving beneath her right wing tip. She straightened and dipped down toward the border trail.
“Gap Watch is just ahead, if I remember some of my field exercises correctly. Get ready to drop your message."
“I don't see anything."
“You shouldn't. This is strictly a Datha outpost. It's those two hills ahead that look like cones. There's a bare spot behind the crown where airships can land. You can drop it there."
She eased the stick forward. Taking Dalen's advice, Mikial chopped their engine power back to almost nothing. Now they were a true glider, with only the sound of the wind around them as they dropped. Leveling with the hilltops, Mikial caught a flash from the ground below. Signal mirrors. Dalen slid open a small panel along the fuselage and pushed out the message bottle. Mikial pulled back the stick and applied power, twisting back in her seat as they climbed skyward above the clearing. The bottle had hardly finished its first bounce across the field before a figure dashed out from the trees and seized it.
“Now we wait for permission,” she said, turning them in a lazy circle above Gap Watch.
“I've proven my point even if they refuse,” Dalen said with a grin. “We did it, Mikial! We reached the border!"
We've done nothing yet, came her dark thought. Mikial pointed to a series of flashes from behind the hill. “Proceed ... east ... limited."
“Limited?"
Mikial swung the nose of the airship toward the Minneran
Gap. “Limited reconnaissance. They'd like us back in one piece. My guess is that they've yet to tell the Shandi about our little escapade.” She aimed the airship toward a jagged patch of sky that cleaved through the mountains across from the outpost. “That pass is the only one large enough to admit an army through. It's why we keep a permanent Watch here.” She looked down. “Welcome to enemy territory."
“Altitude, please,” Dalen said with a constricting voice.
Her ears popped once more as they climbed. She felt the air thinning and wondered just how high Dalen's airship could reach. “Can you draw?"
“Well enough. Time to start with some maps?"
She nodded, watching as the land rose in rocky upheavals to meet the pass. The engines were a reassuring buzz as she centered herself to fly between the gray mountain walls. The sun disappeared behind the shadows of tall peaks as they flew into the canyon mouth. Training took over as she observed fortifications below to their right. Fashioned from the surrounding rock face, the square building seemed almost part of the cleft upon which it sat. “Mark it. Looks like a garrison outpost. Estimate ... two hundred troops."
“What's all that blue smoke on the roof?"
Mikial banked the aircraft slightly for a look as the mountain pass engulfed them on both sides. “They're shooting. Looks like long rifles in volley fire. Fortunately."
His voice weakened. “Can they hit us?"
“Not with those things.” The fort receded behind them. She peered down the narrow defile, wondering where the real weapons were hidden.
The canyon continued to press in on them until Mikial had only two wingspans of clearance on either side. They flew over a rocky wash contrasting with bursts of green grass. A trail clung tenuously against the southern edge of the cliffs, allowing room for one carriage at best. “Mark the trail as only five spans wide, Dalen. Datha intelligence is w
rong. You'd never get an army through that ravine.” She did not mention the lack of a safe landing place if his batteries gave out.
“We're going to turn back,” she announced, raising the nose for a little more room.
“What's that ahead? Looks like another garrison."
Mikial changed her mind as a new fortification appeared. No, it wasn't a building. Dalen's garrison actually was the supporting bulwark of a landfill. “They've widened the road.” She saw tiny figures seemingly frozen in place along a broad tongue of rock that spilled into the narrows. A few started to run. It became a dusty stampede as she approached. Her trained eyes caught more purposeful movement from tents situated upon the enlarged road. A handful of soldiers made for what appeared to be a covered truck or bunker. It was an olive drab color, which also suggested a gun emplacement.
Something bright orange flashed by, coming from among the tents.
Dalen gave a shout as the airplane rocked. “There's a hole in our wing the size of my fist! Turn. Turn!"
“I think we found what I came for,” she grated, as the hard bank jammed them up against the canopy. More brilliant streaks arced through the air where she had been but a moment before. She plunged the nose into a dive, pushing the power level forward until the cockpit vibrated with the engines’ strain. “We have to get distance,” she said as blood rushed to her head. “I've seen that type of repeater cannon before at Bramble Ravine."
“Ease back,” Dalen gasped as they sank. “My stomach can't handle this anymore than the airship can! Look at the right wing."
She did. As Dalen said, there was a ragged puncture dangerously close to the engine nacelle. Behind her, Mikial saw something else that shot hot energy through her body. “Dalen! That little building! It ... it's rising off the ground!"
He wrenched around. “What?"
Jagged rock and clumps of greenery shot by beneath them as Mikial swooped for the beckoning brightness of the canyon mouth. “I'm seeing things, right?"
His reply was a shocked monotone. “It's coming."
