Authors: Patrick Weekes
“Damn straight.” Kail clapped him on the shoulder. “Listen, I’m sorry about that. It’s been a long six months. Not your fault someone told you to take a break, and I apologize for taking it out on you.” He passed the man a coin. “How about you go grab another kahva?”
The guard took the coin. “Yes, sir. Not a problem, sir. We’re all in this together.” He started to toss Kail a salute, then caught himself and tucked his hand back down, and sheepishly headed back into the kahva shop.
Kail pulled the pouch with the
actual
charm in it from his pants and started walking toward the port. “We’re good,” he said quietly, pulling the charm out. “I’ve got one.”
“That should be all we need,” Hessler’s illusionary voice said in his ear. “Meet you at the port.” It wasn’t
actual
magical communication, which needed message crystals. Hessler was making an illusion of his voice near Kail’s ear, and doing something Kail didn’t understand that would take anything he said and create an illusion of those words near
Hessler’s
ear. Apparently the spell only worked via line of sight and was crude and magically wasteful and a lot of other things that meant Hessler didn’t like it.
Kail kept his pace at a steady amble, nothing a watcher would peg as out of the ordinary. He fastened the charm to his lapel as he walked, and in a few minutes, the port came into view.
Kail had seen Ros-Oanki’s port once before. It had been the second time Loch had tried to sneak up to Heaven’s Spire, and they had gotten an old enemy arrested and tagged along with the guards. They’d reached the port in the hours before dawn, though, so he hadn’t had a great chance to look at the place.
The main port was lavish, with business airships and personal transports lined up in a festive grid. Young men in pilots’ suits directed traffic with glowing sticks. Heaven’s Spire was a glittering purple gem in the sky overhead, and looking up and squinting, Kail could see airships en route to the floating city or descending back down to earth in a safe and orderly line. The ticket office was bustling with activity, and well-dressed merchants and nobles ate expensive snacks and waited for their flights in an on-site kahva house or a restaurant that Kail understood had a really overpriced wine selection.
The secured port, by contrast, looked like the military facility it was. It was fenced off by high walls with spikes at the top, and guards stood ready with truncheons and blades at the main gate, uniforms pristine in the bright morning light. Over the fence, Kail could see the great fat balloons of the warships and troop transports, and the smaller, leaner balloons of special-purpose ships.
There were no on-site kahva houses or restaurants, but somewhere in there was Kail’s mother.
Kail reached the corner, and as he turned onto the road toward the gate, Dairy fell into step beside him. The kid had gotten a uniform and wore it well. Gold buttons gleamed against the dark-blue fabric, a short blade rode at his hip, and the insignia at his lapel showed an eagle carrying a burning torch in one talon and a crystal in the other.
“You know what division that is?” Kail asked without looking over.
“Flamecannon technician,” Dairy said. “I
did
serve in the military for a bit, Mister Kail.”
“Oh, that’s right. When you joined the Knights of Gedesar and tried to kill us.”
“Yes.” Dairy adjusted his collar slightly. “I would have stolen a scout’s uniform, but the sword was just for decoration, and the soles of the boots were all worn down from running away so often.”
Kail laughed despite himself. “Good to see you growing up, kid.”
“Thanks, Mister Kail.”
“You okay with the Dragon?”
“I love him,” Dairy said, and Kail swallowed whatever sarcastic thing he would have said back. “We’re going to find him, and we’re going to get him back.”
“In the scouts,” Kail said, “they taught us to keep our minds clear. When you’re worried, you’re not thinking straight.”
“If I pretend not to miss him,” Dairy said, “that’s a lie, and I’m not a very good liar. Aren’t you worried about your mother, Mister Kail?”
“You know, kid, that’s a fair point.” Kail nodded. “How about if we just punch anyone who gets in our way?”
Dairy nodded. “I think I can do that.”
A pair of guards watched as Kail and Dairy approached the gate, Dairy in his crisp uniform and Kail in simple traveling leathers. Kail reached up to his lapel and lifted the charm up as he passed through the gate. The guards nodded, and Kail stepped inside.
Dairy came through after him, without a pause. Kail turned to watch, his body language displaying a little agitation.
Dairy crossed into the secure area. No alarm sounded.
Internally, Kail breathed a tiny sigh of relief that Hessler’s theory about Dairy’s immunity to just about everything magical extended to security wards.
Externally, he waited until one of the guards looked at Dairy in confusion then shouted, “Byn-kodar’s hell! The wards are compromised!”
Both guards flinched. “What are you talking about?” one of them demanded.
Kail reached out and grabbed Dairy’s lapel. “You see an entry charm on him, soldier?”
“No. In fact, I was about to ask—”
“Oh, you were about to ask, oh, all right,” Kail said, bulling right over the guard. “I mean, we installed a security ward to restrict access, but as long as
you were about to ask
, I’m sure we’re fine. My associate here was a test, and he just waltzed right in without an entry charm!”
“I was going to—” the guard started.
“I want the wards checked to see whether they’re compromised or faulty,” Kail said, “and I want them cycled back up either way. We take them down now, how long are we out?”
“Just a few minutes, sir,” said the other guard.
Kail glared. “All right. Get it done, and pull people from the package to the gate while the wards are cycling back up. I’m checking the package myself. I want a report in five. Where are we on illusion-wards?”
“They’re still down, per orders, until the prisoner and escorts have left,” said the first guard, looking a little confused at the question.
“Good!” Kail snapped. “At least one thing is going right.”
The other guard was looking at Dairy. “I should still see his entry—”
“Airman,” Kail cut in, “how much time to align the flamecannons for rapid short-range fire?”
“It’s at least an hour, sir,” Dairy said promptly. “I looked yesterday, and I would have gotten it done, but they didn’t—”
“Damn it, airman,” Kail growled, stepping in close to Dairy, “if we get blood-gargoyles swarming the airship and those flamecannons aren’t ready, I swear to Io-fergajar, I will put ‘He Would Have Gotten it Done, But—’ on your damn headstone. Am I perfectly clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Dairy said, looking at the floor.
“Go.” Kail waved, glared at everyone, and stalked off as Dairy headed in a different direction.
A few moments later, a faint snapping hiss in Kail’s ears signified the security wards deactivating. He walked around a large warship, glaring at it thoughtfully, and in a short while, Hessler’s voice quietly said in his ear, “I made it inside. Sorry for the delay, but the guards were standing close together, and I had to shuffle to avoid bumping into any of them.”
“Not a problem,” Kail murmured, and nodded as Dairy came his way, looking official and clean and generally military.
“The security ward only checked the perimeter,” Hessler said, “so now that I’m in, I doubt I’ll be detected until the illusion-wards are reactivated.”
“There aren’t any.” Kail looked at the warship and kept his voice low. “Something about the special guards they have here, the ogre and . . . what did Tern say?”
“Scorpion-folk and troll,” Dairy said quietly.
“Sure. Any reason why they wouldn’t want illusions turned off?”
“Icy said that the scorpion was using an illusion to disguise itself. That could be it.” Hessler hmm’d thoughtfully. “The Dragon’s studies said that those races were created by the Glimmering Folk, who are, as far I can tell, originally from a world whose basic matter comprises the figmentary magic I use to
create
illusions, so—”
“Right, don’t care.” Kail turned. “Dairy, where’s my mom?”
“The small airship over at the end. They’re getting it ready to lift off now.”
“Crew?”
“Five that I saw,” Dairy said. “Captain, lieutenant, gunner, and two on the rigging, plus the three special guards.”
“Right.” Kail rolled out his shoulders. “Too many to fight straight-up. I’ll pull guards and circle, Dairy hits the ogre, Hessler creates duplicates, I get my mother out of there.”
“That sounds significantly underthought as plans go,” Hessler said.
“How are you going to pull the guards?” Dairy asked.
“Guys . . .” Kail smiled. “It’ll be fine. Go.”
They went. It was possible that something in his smile made them more worried instead of less so, but neither of them said anything.
Kail walked up the gangplank of the great warship. A single guard was standing at the top, eyeing him warily as he approached.
“Problem?” the guard asked. He was an Urujar man a little younger than Kail.
“Sorry to bother you,” Kail said. “You hear about the special prisoner down there in the little runner at the end?”
“Heard I shouldn’t ask questions about it,” the guard said dryly.
“Speaking of questions,” Kail said as he reached the top of the gangplank, “if some asshole tried to get you by going after your mother, what would you do?”
As the guard opened his mouth, Kail hit him. The guard stumbled but didn’t fall, and Kail hit him again, and
this
time the man went down.
“Like I said, sorry to bother you.” Kail walked to the control console and keyed in commands. “Hey, flamecannon overrides, there we go. Yes, I’m sure, yes I
absolutely
have clearance, code still works, yay, and we’re good.”
Whistling, he walked over to the gangplank, lifted it with a grunt of effort, and shoved the edge over the side. It scraped along the hull of the warship as it fell, and Kail heard confused cries from soldiers and guards on the ground.
“Whoops,” he said, and walked to the nearest of the starboard flamecannons. He charged it, confirmed, aimed carefully, and fired.
A blast of liquid flame seared the morning sky as fire ripped into the airship docked next door.
“Sorry,” Kail said, and walked to the next flamecannon as the cries started. He charged that one, confirmed, and fired again. Another bolt of flame ripped into the airship, setting rigging ablaze and leaving the hull smoldering.
“This kind of thing happens,” Kail said, walking to the third flamecannon, “when you mess with my mom.”
“Hey!” came a cry from down the deck as Kail fired again. “What the hell are you—hey!” Another guard ran at him. Down on the ground below, Kail heard people yelling and fumbling with the fallen gangplank.
“Should probably check the safeties, hunh?” Kail called as the guard closed, and for just a moment, the man’s face showed uncertainty. “That thing went off easier than your mother.” Kail kicked him in the crotch, punched the guard as he staggered, kicked him in the crotch
again
, and slammed an elbow into the back of his head as he folded.
The airship next door was fully aflame from the third shot, and Kail walked back toward the first flamecannon, which ought to have charged by then. He had almost reached it when the gangplank slammed back into place.
As footsteps clattered on the ramp, Kail yanked a safety pin free from the flamecannon’s housing, tossed it aside, did the same with another pin, and pulled the weapon’s main system back from the hull with a grunt of effort. Pivoting on his heel, he turned it around so that it was aimed at the gangplank.
A flamecannon wasn’t
meant
to fire when removed from its housing. The crystals that powered the cannon were even built into the housing itself, so that removal rendered the flamecannon useless, unless some idiot had already charged the flamecannon before removing it, still live, from the housing.
“Clear,” Kail said in a completely normal voice, and fired.
The gangplank, along with a lot of the railing and a fair portion of the hull around it, exploded into roiling flame. The flamecannon kicked back and slammed Kail to the deck, and he rolled with it, got back to his feet, and walked over to the control console. Down on the ground, people yelled and shouted, something exploded with a good solid whump and a lot of crashing wood, and a giant squealing alarm started up.
“Had to get the ancients’ attention, Kail,” he said, kicking the bottom of the console and knocking a plate loose. “Needed to send them a message, Kail.” He wrenched the plate free, dropped to his knees, and looked through the crystals inside.
A year ago, he wouldn’t have known what any of the maze of glowing crystals did. Now, he looked at the array, saw what he needed, and reached in to pull them free.
They burned as he touched them, because only an idiot would handle crystals from the control console while the console was active, and Kail grimaced, tucked his fingers into his jacket, and used that to yank the crystals out. It was still hot, but it was “ow, damn it, put your fingers in cold water later” hot as opposed to “instantaneous flinch away,” and Kail was motivated.
“Everyone except the trackers has left the airship,” Hessler’s voice said in his ear. “Everyone at the port seems to be headed your way, in fact. I’m not sure if that was your plan—”
“Enh.” Kail pulled out another crystal and tossed it aside. The console beeped a warning. Kail sat up and overrode it. Grappling hooks sailed up over the railing, caught, and went taut.
“—but Dairy is ready. The trackers are using the control console. It looks like they’re going to take off themselves. How soon can you be here?”
Kail stood up, flexed his burned fingers, and walked to the nearest still-functional flamecannon. “I will be there,” he said, “in ninety-one seconds.”
“That’s an oddly specific . . . Oh,” Hessler’s voice said as Kail yanked the safety pins out, wincing at the pressure on his burned fingers. “Do you think that maybe you’ve distracted them enough already?”