Visions: Knights of Salucia - Book 1

by C. D. Espeseth

Wayran took a deep breath. Matoh was right, things would be fine. He’d complete this run and then Wayran would have a permanent place on the crew.

  “Alright. I’m going to go check on my glider.” Wayran nodded to Matoh and set off to give his glider another inspection. He needed to do something to take his mind off the impending run, and he could practically feel the electric charge in the air.

  Uncle Aaron had predicted accurately. Today they were going to see a big one.

  * * *

  Wayran felt the wind rushing past him as he let his bodyweight shift in the glider harness. The right wing tipped up, and Wayran turned to fly straight into the edge of the approaching sandstorm.

  He smiled as lightning jumped through the massive cloud of churning sand particles, and just then he couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

  “Wow! This is great!” Matoh said a few dozen feet to his left. “Uncle Aaron was right, it’s huge!”

  Wayran sighed inwardly. Matoh being this excited usually presaged them getting into some sort of misadventure. “Just stick to the plan, alright?!” Wayran called over to his brother.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Matoh give a sarcastic shake of his head. Wayran ground his teeth but said nothing. He didn’t have time to worry about his brother’s lack of commitment right now. Matoh already had a plan at the end of the summer, and it had nothing to do with flying gliders out over the Wastes.

  Just before the sun was completely blocked out by the wall of oncoming dust and sand, Wayran saw something flash in the dunes below. He traced it and saw the buried edge of an enormous building, and felt a quick thrill.

  The building was undoubtedly Jendar.

  His mind wandered for a moment, wondering what treasures, or better yet, what answers might be hidden inside the enormous structure; but then all light faded as they flew under the edge of the storm and wind-whipped sand began biting into his face.

  “Here we go!” Wayran yelled over at Matoh.

  Matoh waved back at Wayran, signalling he was ready.

  Please don’t let him be an idiot. Wayran prayed to any god which might be listening as he secured his mask, adjusted his specially made goggles, and then attacked the storm.

  Thunder boomed from somewhere within the dust cloud and jolted his mind into focus. He checked his position and could just make out Matoh’s shadow on his left and the flight lead in front of him, as another blast of wind hit their group of gliders.

  Don’t fight it, Wayran reminded himself, feeling the force of the air and how it wanted to move the glider. Use it instead.

  He shifted his weight and angled the wide triangular wing above him to catch part of the gust. It jerked the glider back and upwards, and Wayran gasped slightly at the sudden change in altitude, but he regained control quickly and steadied himself.

  His skin tingled on his left, which told him which part of the cloud to head towards. He could just make out the shadowy outline of the lead glider, and saw their flight lead’s hand drop low, which told the rest of the team to prepare themselves.

  Wayran let himself smile. This next part was great.

  The flight lead’s hand rose and dropped twice in quick succession. They were in position; it was the signal to start harnessing the energy around them.

  Wayran closed his eyes, concentrated, and began to siphon.

  Siphoning was why he had been allowed to even entertain the idea of flying with his Uncle’s crew. Few people could siphon in the latent energy of the environment around them, but both Wayran and Matoh had been born with the ability, inherited from their parents.

  Chaotic energy in the air around Wayran’s body began to order itself as he focused on pulling it into his skin. He felt the air temperature drop as all the energy immediately around him was pulled into his body. He blocked out all other thoughts, as holding the energy for too long inside of him was dangerous. He focused on moving the numbing, tingling sensation into a cohesive ball in his chest. The tingling sensation built almost to the point of pain.

  Wayran felt the thin metal wires woven into the bodysuit he wore, called a trisk, begin to warm. His trisk was specifically rigged for this job and had several large copper conduit discs sewn into the fabric down the length of his back.

  Finally, he couldn’t pull any more energy into himself, and the tingling pain intensified suddenly as a lightning strike flashed in a distant cloud.

  Now! The energy numbed Wayran for the briefest of moments as he snapped it through the lines of his trisk and into the conduit points on his back. He felt the copper discs warm against his skin, telling him the push had been successful.

  He sucked in a breath as his body recovered from the first round of siphoning.

  He could see the faint glow of santsi globes atop each of the gliders flying in the storm around him. They looked like giant fireflies floating within a hazy sky.

  The globes were a wonder of this age. Able to hold siphoned energy for long periods of time, santsi globes had become the most sought-after commodity in the Salucian Union. Out here in the Wastes, Uncle Aaron’s crew were able to fill the biggest and best globes to full capacity.

  Wayran grinned and swung forward in his harness, making its nose drop. He felt his stomach fill with butterflies as he experienced the moment of weightlessness and dived back into position behind the flight lead. Wayran opened himself up to the potent energy within the sandstorm and began collecting energy for his next push.

  Each time he pushed more energy into the santsi globe, it would become increasingly difficult to push again. More and more energy was used up trying to force the next bit in, a bit like trying to pack more and more things into a rucksack. Each new item in the sack impeded the next item you tried to stuff in. All this meant Wayran had to save a lot of his strength for those final siphoning pushes into the globes: the santsi globes on top of his glider were the biggest and best money could buy. He had to pace himself.

  This was what it meant to be a Storm Chaser. Pushing yourself to your siphoning limit while literally chasing storms to collect the awesome amount of latent energy within those storms, and it was all to fill up the biggest santsi globes available to then sell the storm charged globes to the highest bidder.

  It was possibly one of the stupidest ways to make money ever conceived, but what a rush!

  Lightning lit the sky just in front of them, and Wayran saw the flight lead waving for them to swing left and get back to the edge of the storm. They were getting pulled too far in and were way too close to that last lightning strike.

  As crazy as the Storm Chasers were, they still weren’t stupid enough to try and take on the full power of a sandstorm. They had to stay right on the edge of the storm, or they risked being sucked in and killed. They exited the spitting sand cloud once again, and lightning struck once more as if trying to snap at their heels.

  Wayran’s head whipped to the side. In the sudden light of the flash he saw two enormous metal rods sticking out of the sand like the antennae of some great insect.

  No way! They were just like the ones he had seen in his dream.

  Heavier sand began to hit him and he lost sight of the metal rods, chastising himself for not paying attention to the storm. You always had to respect the storm. As soon as you lost that respect, the storm would kill you.

  He circled his glider back and got behind two other gliders to ensure he was far enough out. He kept looking towards where the metal rods had been, but he couldn’t see any hint they had been there.

  Had he imagined them?

  The flight lead signalled for them to wrap it up quickly. Wayran shook himself and focused on preparing to siphon again.

  Wayran opened up to the energy once more and gasped as the magnitude of the force slammed into him like a fist. His entire body felt like it had been rung like a giant bell. Immediately the tingling pain set in and he forced the torrent of energy through the conduit point on his back. His body throbbed from the attack.

  “Wow,”
he managed to choke out as his body stopped buzzing. This storm was a big one! He had heard some of the other glider pilots talking about the big ones, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

  “Lady take me!” Wayran heard Matoh’s curse from beside him. “You alright Wayran? That was something else!”

  Matoh looked concerned but he wore a smile and Wayran could see the wild look in his brother’s eyes even behind the goggles. He was enjoying this even more than Wayran was.

  Wayran gave Matoh a thumbs-up to show he was alright. “That was big! Won’t take long to fill our globes with a storm like this!” he called, although he didn’t know if Matoh could hear him.

  Lightning flashed again, and Wayran felt the charge of its proximity slash through him, making his body freeze solid for a moment. Thank the gods he hadn’t been siphoning when that blast ripped through the air. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, and he was more than a little glad when he saw the flight lead’s signal to pull back another two hundred yards. The wind increased yet again.

  “Did you see that?!” Matoh called over to him, pointing to something below them.

  Wayran looked down and saw the two metal rods again.

  “The metal rods!” Matoh yelled over the noise of the howling wind, “Just like you said! Look! The lightning keeps hitting them. They’re absorbing the lightning!”

  Wayran saw the flight lead turn sharply to the left and saw the lead’s outstretched arm rotating in a wide arc. It was the signal to get into a climbing circle formation: they were to finish filling their globes as they rode the thermal up, and then get the hells out of there.

  “It’s too dangerous!” Wayran yelled at Matoh, “We have to go!” Wayran’s body tensed as his glider’s wing bounced with a gust of wind. He moved into position and repeated the flight lead’s arm signal for those behind him.

  The metal rods would have to wait; the storm was growing too large. They had to get back to their grounded airship so they could ride out the rest of the storm as it blew over.

  As his glider arced away from the storm, Wayran thankfully felt a slight drop in the energy field around him. There had been so much energy in the storm, it had been like having your entire body covered with pins and needles.

  In his peripheral vision, he saw other gliders fly in behind him, mirroring his slow climb up and away from the storm.

  Then someone veered out of position and flew away from the group.

  Wayran's heart sank in dread; he knew who it was.

  “I’m going to check it out!” Matoh yelled.

  No! Wayran’s eyes widened, and he screamed, “Matoh, get back here!”

  Thunder boomed and drowned out any chance of Matoh hearing him.

  Wayran lurched in his harness as he tried to look over his shoulder to where he had last seen Matoh.

  Sand belted his face mask as a gust of wind slammed into the glider’s wing and threw Wayran’s craft about as if an angry god had decided to slap him. He tried to compensate and found himself rising sharply in the middle of the thermal. He tilted the glider’s wings and arced back around so he could see where Matoh had gone.

  He turned just in time to see Matoh’s glider sailing straight back into the churning cloud of sand and lightning.

  Two bolts of lightning flashed directly in front of his brother’s position, and Wayran saw the shadows of the giant metal rods in the lightning’s afterimage.

  “Damn it, Matoh,” Wayran cursed. The other Storm Chasers hadn't seen Matoh veer off. It was up to Wayran to bail out his stupid brother.

  “Get back here, Matoh!” Wayran yelled, and tipped the nose of his glider down, swooping towards the disappearing shadow of his brother and gaining speed. He’s going to get himself killed.

  Another bolt of lightning struck. In the flash, he saw Matoh's tiny glider silhouetted against the giant bolt.

  Then Matoh was gone. Hidden behind a wall of billowing sand.

  Wayran's heart pounded in his chest as he tipped his body up and dived forward, trying to catch up with Matoh.

  A gust of wind smashed into him, and heavy sand pounded against his bodysuit. They delivered such force that even through the suit it felt like thousands of biting ants.

  Another gust and Wayran lost his grip on the steering bar. He grabbed for it in panic as his glider’s nose pitched upwards and he was thrown back. He fought for control and grabbed the bar just as the top of a dune came rushing towards him from out of the blowing sand.

  He strained with everything he had to push the glider back up into the air. His feet clipped the top of the dune, and as the glider’s wing cleared the other side, hot air shot him back up into the sky. His stomach lurched as the ropes on his harness groaned in protest.

  A metal rod appeared in front of him, he veered to avoid it, and saw Matoh circling around the rod above him.

  Lightning struck, hitting one of the metal rods, and the bolt of plasma jumped from one rod back to the other, rippling down into the sand between them.

  Thunder ripped through the air and knocked the breath from Wayran's lungs.

  He rode the up thrust of warm air so he could get above Matoh. He couldn’t ignore how spooked he was about seeing the metal rods from his dream, but he had no time to dwell on it as they were about to be vaporised at any moment. Wayran pushed the nose of his glider up as he felt the thermal push up against the glider’s wing. He had to get Matoh out of here.

  Their impending doom was apparently lost on his thrill-seeking brother as Wayran heard the words that had always made his heart jump.

  “Watch this!” Matoh yelled.

  It was then Wayran saw the three dark globes atop his brother’s glider and Wayran knew what was going to happen.

  “Don’t!” He stretched his hand out.

  An enormous lightning bolt split the sky as it slammed into Matoh’s glider and the world went white.

  Wayran was blind, and all he heard was a sharp whining in his ears.

  After three long heartbeats, his vision cleared. Where Matoh had once been, now spun a smoking glider. Matoh’s body hung limp in the harness, and Wayran watched in terror as his brother plummeted towards the dunes far below.

  Wayran’s guts twisted into knots and the blood in his veins seemed to freeze. Time slowed as he watched Matoh falling to his death.

  It was then Wayran felt himself siphoning, almost unconsciously. The energy felt different and all at once events began to unfold before his eyes. A ghost image of Matoh hitting the dune made his mind snap back to reality. I have to save him.

  Dozens of possibilities and choices began to play out in his mind. He saw himself try to intercept and grab Matoh's glider wing, saw himself jump out of his harness and try to gain control of the caterwauling glider.

  Then Wayran saw the possible future he wanted. He grabbed hold of that vision and executed what he had seen in his mind’s eye.

  Wind rushed up to meet his craft as he pointed his glider’s nose straight down. He put all of his weight onto the palms of his hands and held himself straight up in the harness as if he were doing a handstand on the steering bar. The air began to hiss off the fabric of his glider’s wings, but he kept his mind focused on what he had to do, on what he had seen happen.

  Momentum was the issue, and the glider’s frame would only take so much strain, especially from a sharp impact. The faster he went, the more stress on the frame when he needed to bank out of the speed and change direction. Yet Wayran had seen the solution.

  Like an arrow fired straight down, he watched as he flew past Matoh’s prone form spinning in the drunkenly listing glider. He was below Matoh’s position now. He had to follow the dune and had to time this just right.

  Now.

  He pushed himself back in the harness, and his arms shook with the effort to stay in control.

  The glider’s wings flexed, and then Wayran felt it begin to turn.

  The turn couldn’t be too sharp, or else the wood of the frame would snap. Not enough
and – well, he couldn’t think about that.

  The weight of his body pushed against the harness as he felt the wings begin to flex under his weight. The edge of the dune swept beneath him, and Wayran dived down just above its slope, his stomach brushing the sand. He clenched his body tight and pushed back to lift the nose ever so slightly.

  His speed was incredible. Sand lifted from the air in his wake, hissing behind him.

  Wayran inched the nose of the glider up again, and the wings groaned but held.

  It had to be now. He forced the nose back up towards the sky. Ropes creaked, wood flexed, and Wayran felt the full momentum of his speed pulling him into the face of the dune.

  His feet touched the sand, and then the glider snapped back skywards. He saw Matoh as Wayran’s glider shot straight up at him from below.

  Wood splintered around him as finally the wings had taken too much. In a flash of clarity, his mind’s eye blurred through various scenarios and he found the one to latch onto.

  He siphoned with everything he had, but not from the air. He pulled everything he could from the charged santsi globes still connected to the conduit point on his back. Wayran had never been trained to siphon in this way, but somehow he had seen what to do. He pushed everything he had into the silver lines running through his trisk.

  Flame flashed around him, and suddenly he was free of the broken glider. Pain crisscrossed his skin, but the harness burned away, freeing him to fly upwards with the speed of a falcon.

  Wayran braced and slammed into the wing of Matoh’s glider. Together they spun, but sideways, not down. Santsi atop Matoh’s glider were flung away, exploding with the stored energy as they smashed against the sand around them.

  The brothers skipped across a dune’s crest, were airborne once again, and then slammed into the second dune in a tangle of bodies and broken glider wings.

  Wayran tasted blood as the air left his body from the impact.

  He tried to suck air in, but it wouldn’t come to him. He lay gasping in the strange silence atop the dune. Thunder boomed in the distance, and finally he pulled in a breath.

  Don’t be dead, don’t be dead. Wayran rolled and fought through the fabric that was covering his brother, which had once been a glider wing. Don’t be dead.