In the Darkness Visible

by Ted Neill

  They fell for a minute longer, and Gabriella, still lightheaded, contemplated the seals sunning themselves on the rocks along the shore. Their pups splashed in and out of a kelp forest bobbing in the waves. How she envied them their leisure, their ignorance of pure terror.

  Ghede broke her out of her reverie: “Hold on!”

  He threw the levers to the left of the wheel forward. Machinery wheeled and groaned. The Elawn changed pitch and direction abruptly. Gabriella was crushed into her seat, then flung backwards so that her head struck the high back of the chair. They were falling, but at an angle, as if they had been scooped out of their fall. Their momentum shot them forward like a rock from a catapult. There was the sound of rippling canvas. Ghede had pulled another lever. This one turned the panel of sails parallel to the deck. The canvass between the joists was taut with the flow of air. The sail had become a wing, and the Elawn a glider—one moving at tremendous speed. The air felt more solid than ever, its flow was holding them aloft. Gabriella wondered if they would be able to escape entirely, but the pursuit was not over yet. The wyvern spread his own wings, executed a tight half loop and flapped quickly to catch up with them.

  “Go, Ghede! He is gaining!”

  “This rig only coasts, darling.” Ghede kicked a pedal and swung the Elawn to starboard as the wyvern took a swipe at the port quarter. “And dodges. I can’t speed her up!”

  Ghede steered them towards the island, where Gabriella could make out the beckoning mouth of a canyon, a delta shimmering in the sunlight. They were close enough to the island that the barks of the seals playing in the kelp and the hiss of sea wash surged up to them. Gabriella could also hear the fwump of the wyvern’s wings snapping greedily, scooping air in as it chased the Elawn. The predator desperately wanted to reach them before they slipped between the canyon walls. Had it arms, it could have grabbed hold of the rear of the ship. The wyvern was so close that Gabriella could see the cracks in its talons and the arteries pumping with blood in the thin membrane of its wings.

  Ghede heard the creature’s wings and pushed the skull-topped lever back into its original place. The Elawn floated as the rock was turned, and the ship shot upwards. For a moment, it seemed to sit in the air motionless. Now the wyvern was below and replaced near the stern by twin descending clouds of black. Ghede jammed the lever forward again. The stone flipped once more, and the Elawn dropped. There was a thud and a screech as the wyvern crashed into the hull. Gabriella prayed that they split its skull, but the spiked tail retaliated, snapping up over the side and striking the deck. Boards splintered as if an axe had fallen. Ghede reacted, spinning the ship on its axis so that they shot out sideways from between their pursuers.

  Then the wyvern and the sylphs collided in a brilliant moment. The sylphs exploded outwards while the wyvern flailed wildly at their substance—they broke into a thousand globules, like oil on water. Gabriella prayed to the gods that the wyvern and sylphs would destroy each other. But the globules coalesced into their full sylph forms and continued their descent, like ink poured from a spout. Clear of the sylphs, the wyvern flapped vigorously to regain his lost position in the race.

  The walls of the canyon rose higher on either side of the Elawn. The seals and their pups let out high-pitched barks of panic as the wyvern neared. The rocks became bare as the animals frantically abandoned their perches for the water as the sylphs rushed into the canyon, their shapes now twisted black ribbons. Panicked petrels flew from the canyon cliffs.

  The Elawn crashed into a tree that clung to the rocks. It snapped free and landed on the deck. A shadow from above covered it—the wyvern, blocking out the sun. Ghede cursed, stomped a pedal. Gears rolled, and the Elawn turned completely sideways and shot off into a narrower gorge. Gabriella was thrown roughly back and forth in her seat. She felt as if she were being tousled by bullies. She had the growing sense that they were losing control and, worse, momentum. They were dropping quickly. Ghede attempted to compensate by turning the stone sideways to keep the Elawn’s weight neutralized. The wyvern snaked between the walls, weaving and dodging with impossible ease. Gabriella felt dizzy and nauseous.

  Sickness seating, she thought wryly.

  The sun burst out around them once more as they shot into a new branch of the river, this one tranquil like a lagoon. Ghede turned the ship sharply. Gabriella and Omanuju were flung across their seats and against their straps. Their last turn had drained the airship’s momentum. Bruised and shaken, Gabriella shrank in her seat as the wyvern tore the stern railing away with its claws. The sound of rushing water made her face forward again. Ahead, the canyon ended abruptly in a wall of white falling water, plummeting into a wide lake encircled by sheer rock walls. Walls made black by the churning shapes of the sylphs. The sylphs reached out, their tendrils making a spider-web to snag the Elawn.

  Ghede steered the ship towards the base of the waterfall. Gabriella tried to comprehend what the skipper was doing. Maybe if they survived the impact, the water would protect them from the sylphs. But would that help with the dragon? The sylphs poured themselves downward onto the deck into pools that surged towards Gabriella and Omanuju. She could feel her life force draining out of her. But the falling water rushed over them, hammering the planks of the ship. The sylphs disappeared like steam swept away by wind. The water passed over Gabriella, slapping her in the face. Her senses returned. Just in time to feel the crash, she thought.

  But the crash did not come. The water moved like a curtain over and behind them. The ship shuddered as it scraped its bottom on stone. The Elawn spun around in a circle and Gabriella watched cavern walls go by in a blur until the ship slowed its spinning and came to a halt in a dark cave.

  To Gabriella’s relief, the opening of the cave was completely concealed by the falling water. She jumped as the waterfall flashed red. A winged shadow passed before it, then disappeared. The wyvern did not seem willing to brave the water either.

  Gabriella lifted her head and looked around them. The floor was flagstone and the walls of the cavern had been shaped neatly into right angles. She could see doorways and iron rings for holding torches. Windows had been cut in the walls, and she caught sight of furniture—tables, stools, benches, and even shelves lined with books.

  “Good thing wyverns and sylphs don’t like water much.”

  “Ghede, once again you have proven yourself invaluable,” Omanuju said, his hair a mess from wind and water.

  “Thank the Elawn … she has done us well.”

  “Gabriella,” Omanuju said in a soft voice. “You can let go your belts now.”

  She realized her hands were still clenched around her own harness, her fingernails gouging small crescent moons into her shoulder straps. It was difficult to make her hands relax—they had been tensed so long.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  Ghede spread his arms wide, his face the picture of satisfaction. “Welcome to Nicomedes’ secret workshop.”

  Chapter 15

  Nicomedes’ Workshop

  Ghede slid down the deck and leapt over the railing. He patted the hull of the ship as a proud owner might a horse. Gabriella was hanging by her straps. She unbuckled herself, then helped Omanuju from his seat. He clambered over the slanted deck to the cabin and yanked at the doors. The ship had settled unevenly, and Gabriella rushed over to help force the doors open.

  The cabin floor was covered with unrolled scrolls. A sextant, a compass, a sewing kit, and all manner of items had fallen from the cupboards. Rivulets of ink dribbled down across the tilted floor from a shattered inkwell.

  Adamantus had anchored himself beneath the navigation table. The elk’s antlers were dug into the underside of the table, and his legs folded around the narrow plinth that held the table up in its center. His fur was splattered with ink and a map was speared on the end of one of his antlers. Gabriella slid the map carefully from his antler, trying to avoid ripping it further.

  “What a terrible mess,” Gabriella said.

  “
I’ll take this over being wyvern food,” Omanuju said.

  After all the rocking, dipping, and other evasive maneuvers the elk was well stuck in place. It took both Omanuju and Gabriella to dislodge his antlers from the table. When they did the elk slid across the floor, his hooves scraping the planks as he tried to stand. He swayed as if drunk until he could clomp towards the open doors and bound out through them. He continued to skitter across the deck, only recovering himself when he leapt the railing and stepped onto level ground.

  Gabriella followed him but hesitated at the rail of the ship. The white wall of water at the mouth of the cave lit up again in reds and oranges, a window of stained glass.

  “The wyvern is still outside. He’s breathing fire at the falls!”

  “He can spit all he wants,” Ghede said next to a yawning gash in the hull where a board had been sheered away. “But he won’t get through. Not unless he uses his mage fire, and I reckon he won’t find us worth that.”

  “Mage fire?” Gabriella repeated. Before she could ask what it was, a second more pertinent question arose in her mind. “And the sylphs?”

  “Spent,” Omanuju said, the relief in his voice clear. “The manifestation they took just outside the falls would have required a great deal of strength for them. Since they did not catch us, it will take them sometime to recover their energies. They are not gone for good, but they are gone for a while.”

  The immediate danger passed, Gabriella climbed out of the Elawn, breathed out a deep sigh, and rolled her shoulders. They were still sore from the harnesses. Her eyes were drawn towards Adamantus, who stood silhouetted by water and fire. In that instant, he seemed as magical and wondrous as the wyvern—two mysterious, magical beasts gazing through a window of falling water, one as gentle as the other was deadly and yet equal in their grandeur. Gabriella had the sense that the solution to some great mystery was in front of her, but like a baby trying to decipher numbers and letters, the meaning was out of her reach. Only the sense of imminence remained.

  “You see it, too?” Omanuju asked.

  “Yes, they’re . . . wondrous.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Ahoy, friends!” Ghede called from the pier as he walked towards a door and opened it. “Stop your gazing and follow your skipper. We have work to do.”

  Inside the room, an eerie green light danced and moved about like the light of a lantern when moths gathered around it, but no lantern Gabriella had ever seen glowed green. If there were lanterns burning, it meant they were not alone. Gabriella was afraid of who or what they might find in this cave and stopped just short of the doorway. Omanuju stepped next to her and said, “Look up.”

  The roof was the source of the light. Although the walls of the room were stone, the ceiling was transparent.

  “It’s made of glass, thick glass,” Omanuju said. “A clever solution to illuminate an underground workshop.”

  “The river runs over it?”

  “Yes, just before it drops over the cliff outside.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Gabriella said, mesmerized by the fluid green light above her until a crash on the worktable in the center of the room startled her. Ghede had lifted a large chest from the floor and deposited it on the table. It was wood, but unlike the wood of the doors, it did not look weathered or old. The box was sealed with a formidable-looking lid that was ringed with gargoyle faces. Each little creature was carved with exquisite detail, but the one thing the gargoyles had in common was wide open mouths, revealing small, numbered dials.

  The room was packed full with benches and tables, the walls lined with sets of hanging tools including wrenches and screwdrivers and other items Gabriella could not name. Shelves of glass drawers held screws, nails, nuts, bolts, and pulleys. There was a clear order to the tools, each arranged according to size in neat rows. The same order guided the smaller items in the drawers. Even the stools under the benches were arranged in sequence of smallest to largest.

  “This was really where Nicomedes worked?” Gabriella asked.

  “Yes,” Omanuju said. “At least in his later life when some of the members of the Dis nobility had grown corrupt and Nicomedes had become suspicious of them. He decided to bring his work here to keep it secret from those who might use it for nefarious ends. All his life, Nicomedes had used his gifts to serve the needs of the people of Dis.”

  Omanuju lifted a screwdriver and blew the dust off it. “He brought clean water to people’s houses, found ways to manage the sanitation needs of Dis and made machines for transporting heavy goods so that men and women would not strain themselves carrying heavy loads. He found ways to improve the navigation of ships and how to make them safer. He designed roads to accommodate heavy traffic safely. He invented new ways to store grains, milk, and corn meal so that they did not spoil. He improved filters so that almost any water could be made safe to drink.”

  “He did so much. And he just gave it away?”

  “Nicomedes believed that technology, like wealth, should be shared by all.” Omanuju looked at Gabriella. “His work made him a hero. He was loved by people all over the kingdom for his generosity and was close friends with the king of Dis.”

  “But what happened, why does this place seem abandoned?”

  “When the king’s son, Silar, took the throne, he fell under the influence of the mages of a cruel and greedy empire. One that used the power of magic to rule its people. The mages guarded the secrets of their magic jealously. They wanted Nicomedes to do the same with his technology. And they wanted him to make weapons for conquest. The mages did not like that he shared his inventions and how he worked with the people. They believed secrecy should veil all power.”

  Omanuju put down the screwdriver and walked over to the drawers, idly opening one and then another. “By the time he reached his twilight, Nicomedes had accumulated a great fortune in books and treasure. The books he had sought out, but the treasure had often been given to him out of thanks. He had always intended to leave his library and his treasure to the people of Dis. But as he aged, he knew that the mages’ influence over Silar had grown, and Nicomedes was afraid that after his own death all he had created would fall into their hands. So he hid everything in his tower over the city, and he surrounded that tower with a labyrinth full of traps, traps that required knowledge to defeat, not magic.”

  Gabriella eyes roved about the room, mezmerized by the green light dancing on the walls. “Ghede mentioned a labyrinth. Is there something here that will help us through, is that why we are here?”

  Ghede patted the chest. “One step ahead of you, lassie! The map to the labyrinth is inside this chest.”

  He rubbed the dust from the gargoyle faces to reveal the numbered dials in their mouths. Each dial could be turned to the numbers zero through nine.

  “You are certain this is the box?” Omanuju asked, running his hand over the lid.

  “Pretty certain,” Ghede said, not looking up as he fiddled with the dials. Gabriella did not bother asking how he knew. It was another thing she was learning to take on faith as far as Ghede was concerned.

  The box was made of a dark cherry-stained wood. The fastenings and corners were a bright white metal that mysteriously had retained its sheen over the centuries, unlike the other trunks and boxes resting on the floor, which looked tarnished and worn. The wood was carved with lifelike sunflowers, pine cones, pineapples, and nautilus shells, a collection of mismatched objects that seemed somehow familiar to Gabriella, but she couldn’t recall where she had seen them paired together before.

  Ghede began clicking the numbers into place. He confidently moved from one dial to the next, making a circuit of the box. When he had clicked each into place, he put his hands on the lid and took a deep breath. Gabriella sensed he was pausing for the sake of drama. With a flourish, he moved to open the chest.

  It remained shut. A wry smile formed at the corner of Ghede’s mouth, and he chuckled. He pushed on the lid harder. It did not budge. He checked the combination, his
exasperation building. He tried the lid again.

  “Blast it!” he cursed. “I thought I had it figured out for sure!”

  Gabriella sat down dejectedly on a stool. Apparently there was a limit to Ghede’s knowledge. He took a second look at the box and suddenly froze. He waved Omanuju over to his side.

  “There is a plate here with writing. It’s runes.”

  Gabriella could not read it, but Omanuju could. “It says ‘The combination, worthy friend, is of numbers that are not of numbers.’”

  “Well that seems singularly unhelpful,” Ghede said. “When are numbers not of numbers?”

  Omanuju squinted at the shapes on the chest, running his fingers over them. He smiled. “Perhaps numbers are not of other numbers when they are in nature. Look at these items, each of them is governed by the sequence of sums.”

  “Sequence of sums?” Gabriella asked.

  Ghede shrugged his shoulders, but Omanuju went to one of the workbenches, rummaging around until he found a quill. “Gabriella, bring me a blank scroll and a well of ink, would you?”

  She ran to the Elawn, clambered over the gunwale and up the listing deck to the cabin doors. She shuffled through the mess of parchments in the cabin for a blank one and retrieved an intact inkwell from one of the stowage cases. When she returned, Omanuju was counting out the seeds in the face of one of the sunflowers on the chest.

  “Each spiral of seeds on the face of the sunflower has the same amount of seeds in them: the first spiral had eight, the next 13, the next, 21, the next 34. This is true of sunflowers in nature as well as on the box. Each number in the sequence is a sum of the two numbers before it—same for the spines of a pinecone and the pattern on a pineapple. Even the nautilus shell . . . if you bisect it and draw a grid over those lines. It’s always the same sequence.”