by William King
"How does this work again?" he asked.
"It is simplicity itself," said Benjario. "As Benjario has explained to the Lady Asea several times."
"Indulge my protege," she said. "He has a curious mind."
Benjario's sniff said that as a genius he had better things to do than explain his work to lackeys but that he would do so as a favour to her. He twisted the corner of his moustache for a moment as he collected his thoughts and then said, "The athenor is powered by marsh gas that feeds a trapped fire elemental. It heats the ambient air. The heated air is collected in the great sack, which Benjario has called a balloon. The hot air is lighter than the cold air that surrounds it, and it is this that lifts the sack skyward."
"You are saying that we will be lifted into the air by the air itself," said Rik, unable to quite keep the disbelief from his voice. Benjario looked affronted by this.
"By the excitation of the air elementals by the fire element. It will work. Benjario made trials before, back in his native Mazarea. And you have seen how a paper bag rises up a chimney."
"There is a difference between floating a paper bag up a chimney and lifting the weight of three adults and this basket," said Rik.
"Only in scale."
"It will work, Rik," said Asea with absolute certainty. "I have studied Benjario's figures and I agree with his conclusions if not the language he has couched them in."
"Did your trials involve lifting people?" Rik asked in a last frantic effort to dissuade her.
Benjario sucked his lips for a minute, tugged his moustache agitatedly and admitted, "No. Only rocks."
"So we shall be the first people to fly using your method," said Rik.
"As far as I know."
"Perhaps we should allow Mr Benjario to make his trial flight alone," said Rik. "Until we see how well it works."
"Benjario is ready," said Benjario.
"I wish to do this, Rik. I wish to fly on this machine. I am forbidden to fly dragons but I will fly."
"What if it goes wrong," said Rik.
"I am willing to take that risk. You do not have to go with me, although I would appreciate your presence."
"Why, Milady?" he asked her, one last time. He was certain there had to be more to this than vague ideas about doing something new.
"Because flying here on Gaeia has been a dream of mine, and how often does one get a chance to live out one's dreams. Even in a life as long as mine, such chances do not come often."
Rik could see she was not to be swayed from her plan. She was determined to go ahead with it and as he considered it, he thought he understood why. Only the Dragon Lords knew what it was like to soar through the upper air of Gaeia. No one in history had ever climbed into a wicker chariot drawn by elementals and headed for the sky before. By doing this Asea would be writing her name in the history books yet again, and adding to her own legend. Did she crave fame so much that she was willing to risk her life for it, he wondered? Or did she have some other motive. She smiled at him.
"On Al’Terra we rode the skies on great ships. There is not sufficient magical energy in this world to allow that, but this — this is a way to give us back the sky again, if it works. I have seen great schools of magic develop over the centuries from the simplest of experiments. Perhaps this will be the beginning of something new. Perhaps someday centuries hence, there will be flying engines once more. Ones that do not need the old magic to keep them aloft. And if that happens I will be able to fly in them."
He responded to the excitement in her voice. The idea began to grip his imagination and do battle with his fear. Another thought struck him. "How do we get down?"
Benjario said: "We slowly kill the supply of hot air to the balloon. It will bring us back to the ground."
"Won't we fall?"
"No. The hot air will dissipate gently and we will be wafted back towards the ground. Shall we go, Milady? The day is getting no younger. And we must get aloft when conditions are propitious."
Asea nodded. Benjario opened a small gate in the side of the wicker basket to allow them to board and then tied it closed again. Once inside he ignited the athenor and twisted a knob to feed it the trapped elemental gas. A strange sickly smell filled the air and made Rik quite light headed. A jet of flame, like dragon's breath, belched forth. The crowd shrieked and drew back, at once appalled and thrilled.
Servants held the mouth of the balloon open and Rik could see that it was indeed slowly starting to fill up, like a paper sack into which someone breathed. He only hoped it would not pop with a bang. Slowly the balloon began to stand erect as hot air filled it.
"Reminds me of something," the Barbarian bellowed from nearby. "Although it’s not quite big enough."
The crowd jeered and groaned.
"He was talking about his head," shouted Weasel. "It's just as swollen and just as empty."
"Everyone is a jester," muttered Benjario. "Benjario is about to make history and they make a joke. Well soon we shall see who the joke is upon. "
Rik's stomach lurched as the basket trembled and shifted and the balloon bobbed skywards. He looked at Asea; she surveyed the crowd with a calm look upon her face, but her eyes looked huge and her nostrils flared. By the Light, Rik thought, this thing might just work.
He looked up. The balloon was impossibly huge above them, swollen with hot air, the fabric rippling slightly in the wind. What if it ripped, he wondered, but was afraid to ask. Benjario must have thought about that too, he told himself, and if he hadn't Asea would have.
"Let go of the ropes," Benjario shouted, lifting his wide-brimmed hat with a showman's flourish. The brawny servants holding the ropes anchoring the balloon let go. Some of them stumbled and fell. More of the crowd shrieked. The balloon lifted off. The basket followed it. Before he had quite realised it, with a sensation something akin to being in a dream, Rik was airborne. He could see people looking up at him. Some waved, some stood open mouthed. Weasel and the Barbarian made obscene gestures and roared their enthusiasm. The basket lurched again, and so did Rik's stomach. He knew there was now just a thin layer of woven straw beneath his feet. He measured the distance. They were only about ten feet in the air. He could still jump if he wanted to. Their height doubled. He noticed they were moving, blown by the wind. The crowd rolled by beneath them even as the ground dropped away.
They were as high as a bridgeback's head now. Rik knew this exactly since they had just passed one. The massive creature stared at them in seeming astonishment, then opened its mouth in a great bellow. Asea's laughter held as much excitement as merriment. Benjario waved his hat at the thing as if shooing away an inquisitive dog. Rik held the side of the basket and wondered at his fear and excitement.
He had a head for heights. No one could be a successful burglar in Sorrow without one. He had fled over the roofs of tenements while armed guards pursued him and slates broke off and slid away under his feet. He had leapt the distance between two buildings over alleys where the drop would have killed him if he had missed his step. He had hung from his sweat slippery fingers from windowsills while the householders prowled inside. Nothing had ever made his heart race the way this did. He tried to work out why, concentrating on the sensations of flight as he did so.
He could feel hot air rising from the athenor behind him, even as the cold breeze stroked his cheeks and stirred his hair. The prickly wickerwork bit into his fingers where he clutched it, and the whole basket swayed gently in motion. He could hear the crackle of flame and the shifting fabric of the balloon.
Perhaps it was the novelty of the sensation, he thought, or perhaps it was that so much could go wrong. Whatever else had happened the buildings had always been solid beneath his feet — even if he fell, they would still be there. On the balloon there was the appalling sensation of having nothing beneath him but empty air. If the ropes gave way or the floating mountain of fabric above them caught fire, they would fall to their deaths. He did some swift calculations. If the wicker basket looked as if it was a
bout to fall he would leap up and grab the ropes. Perhaps he could hold onto them for long enough to let the balloon reach the earth again. That would be a slim chance, he thought, and then it struck him exactly what was wrong.
His fate was out of his hands. There was almost nothing he could do if something went wrong. He could not save himself by skill, or speed of reflex or by main strength. Up here he was entirely in the hands of God. It was not a sensation he enjoyed, but there was no way he could alter the facts. As that struck him, he began to relax slightly and pay more attention to what lay below them.
They were high up now. People were tiny and the outlines of fields were visible. Trees looked small and strange seen from this odd angle. Ahead of them lay the spires and rooftops of the town. Asea pointed out the Temple and Parliament Square and the Royal Palace. He could see the layout of the Imperial City as clearly as on a map, the great radial roads that ran like the spokes of a great wheel from Parliament Square to the gates, and the buildings that lined them. This city had been built to a plan, and it was an awesome one.
He saw the river running south from the western docks. He felt that if they got high enough he could follow its progress all the way to the Sea of Dragons. As it was, the gigantic trading barges and the great wyrms that towed them looked like child’s toys in the distance.
People looked up as they passed overhead. Some of them waved. Some of them ran indoors as if they had seen a huge demon pass by and were afraid it would swoop down and devour them. A few soldiers even raised their rifles and appeared about to take a shot at them.
"Idiots! Idiots! Idiots!" cursed Benjario, turning the knob and feeding the fire elemental more marsh gas.
As they did so Asea muttered a charm. Rik felt a tingling sensation pass over him. Whether because of the range or Asea's magic the shooters missed. Rik was glad that Weasel was not among the marksmen firing at them. He would have put a hole in the balloon.
Soon they were so high that was no longer a problem. The town stretched below them. Now the streets were filled as they passed overhead, and Rik thought he heard the shrieks and shouts of the crowds, all blending together like the roar of the sea or water passing over a fall.
"…artillery spotting," he heard Benjario say, and it hit him then that this was not entirely a pleasure vehicle they were riding in, whatever Asea might claim. It could be used to spot for armies and artillery batteries and draw maps of the insides of cities under siege. The alchemist looked almost demonic, so filled with triumph was he. A lifetime's work was being vindicated. Asea looked scarcely less thrilled.
Of course, he thought, there were weaknesses in the scheme. The balloons would be vulnerable to sorcery and dragons. There appeared to be no way you could control their flight, although he supposed they could be anchored with ropes. Of course, they could be used in the winter when dragons were dormant and most likely they could be protected from magic by wards. But who fought wars in the winter? As far as Rik could tell their utility would be limited.
They kept rising and Rik noticed it was getting colder. He moved closer to the athenor to get some heat, and then looked back. Wisps of cloud surrounded them now and he could see nothing. Water condensed on his face.
"I think we should go down now," he heard Asea say, although she was now just a ghostly outline in the cloud mist.
"Benjario is your servant," the alchemist replied. Rik heard him fiddling with the athenor and slowly the balloon began to descend. They emerged from the clouds and he saw fields and the river below them, and the city behind. A troop of cavalry raced along the roads below, apparently determined to keep pace, and intercept them when they reached the ground. Rik was very glad that Asea was with them. She was a Lady of the First and a friend of the Queen. He would have hated to have had to explain to a Terrarch cavalry captain exactly what he and Benjario had been up to if they had been on their own.
A glance over his shoulder showed him something else. There was a rapidly expanding dot on the horizon, and even at this distance he could see it was far too large to be a bird. It closed the distance rapidly, greenish red scales and the polished silver armour of its rider glittering in the sun.
"A dragon," he said, praying to God that its rider did not take them for an enemy. With one burst of its breath a dragon could set fire to the balloon, with a slash of its claws it could knock them from the sky. As he watched it came ever closer.
“We are lucky to see one,” said Asea. “They normally begin to hibernate at this time of year.”
Even as dread filled it, Rik knew this was a sight he would never forget. How many mortals ever got this close to a dragon in flight and lived? On the ground the great beasts were beautiful but here they were as much in their element as birds or devilwings. With its great pinions outstretched and its long tail snaking out behind it, the dragon was larger than their balloon and far more graceful. It swept past them so close Rik could see the rider's crystalline goggles glittering in the sunlight, and see the patterns of scales along its flanks. As he swept by the Dragon Rider raised his fist in salute, and it came to Rik then that all of this had been planned, that of course Asea would have notified the proper authorities of what they were up to, and that the dragon and the cavalrymen below were most likely present to ensure her safety or to recover her body in case of accident. Rik looked at Benjario. In the unlikely event of the Mazarean having any plans of kidnapping them, they were safe, and he knew it.
The dragon swept around them now almost playfully, and Rik once more wondered at its beauty and grace. What would it be like to ride atop that mountain of muscle and power, he wondered? Certainly far more thrilling than riding within this rickety contraption. In this race Asea was putting money on the wrong horse. In a world that had dragons what need had anyone of balloons?
Almost as soon as he thought it, the answer came to him. Anyone could ride in a balloon. Flying on dragon-back was limited to the very few who had the immense wealth to own one, and the training and the skill to mount the great beasts. Ballooning was a form of flight that was open to all. In some ways it was the sign of a newer, more democratic society. Asea would be aware of that of course and, like a true Scarlet, she was making sure she was associated with it.
As the balloon descended his respect for her intelligence and courage increased proportionately. She looked over at him and winked.
The balloon drifted closer to the earth. As it did so, Rik detected a new threat. Hedges surrounded many of the fields. Stone walls surrounded others. If they crashed into one of those while they landed, he doubted it would do them a great deal of good. Now that the flight was coming to an end he found that he was starting to regret it. There had been something strangely satisfying about sweeping near silently over the land, and looking down at the Kharadrean earth from the sort of perspective that only God, birds and dragons enjoyed.
They were at treetop height now, and swinging towards a hedge. As soon as he realized this Benjario fed the elemental in the athenor some marsh gas and they rose slightly. Rik could see they were going to miss the obstruction. It looked like they were going to make a soft and easy landing. The dragon swept over as if in salute.
The harshness of the impact caught Rik by surprise. Suddenly the wicker-basket was banging through a field, seemingly hitting ever stone. The basket juddered and bounced with the impact and all three of them were thrown about within it. It seemed ludicrous that there was the possibility of an accident now, in this field, when they had cruised through the sky without mishap, but it was all too easy to imagine a fall. Or hitting the red hot side of the athenor. Or having it tip and hit one of them.
Suddenly the flight was all over. The basket lay on its side and the balloon deflated beside them. Slowly they clambered from the basket and surveyed their surroundings.
"That could have gone better," said Rik, but relief was flooding through him. He was back on the ground. The earth was firm beneath his feet. He was still alive and so were the others. He had flown through the
air. He was among the first humans ever to have done so and lived.
A farmer and his family peered timidly at them from a nearby stone croft house. The dragon wheeled overhead. The cavalry troop thundered towards them, drawing up in line and presenting their blades in salute to Asea. Their faces were smiling and at their officer’s command they broke into cheers. She accepted this tribute with the grace of one who had had centuries of practice doing so. Benjario took a bow as well and no one seemed to mind. They even applauded Rik. It looked like the three of them were heroes.
An hour later as they rode in a newly summoned coach back to the city, the sensation of triumph still had not left Rik.
Chapter Nine
Rik followed Asea down the stairwell. It was warm and dark in the cellars below the Palace. He had to stoop. His head brushed the ceiling as the stairs wound downward.
Excitement made his heart beat faster. Today, they were going to practise his first real sorcery. Yesterday's balloon flight had taken them across some sort of threshold. Asea had decided that he was ready to be initiated into the first of the great mysteries of her craft. He was not sure what she intended, but it was something that needed darkness and secrecy. A whole section of the cellars beneath the Palace had been cleared.
A massive door barred the entrance to the cellar. Karim waited beside it, a naked sword in his hand, his face blank and expressionless. They entered the chamber. Asea slipped the heavy bolt into place. Rik considered the metal-bound entrance and the massive bar and realised that they would be secure against a small army. The ritual must involve making them very vulnerable if it needed this level of precaution. The security was for Asea. No one cared whether he died or not.
The place was prepared for their arrival. Complex patterns of Elder Signs and alchemical runes had been inscribed in chalk upon the floor. Patterns of coloured salt swirled around the edges. In the centre of the largest circle in the middle of the chamber was a small brazier on which steamed a bowl. More braziers were placed at intersections of the patterns.
