Cinnamon Bun - Chapter Five Hundred and Forty-Five

Chapter Five Hundred and Forty-Five

“This must be the place,” I said as I spied a shop down the road and started towards it.

It was a nice, rather large place. The building had rounded walls on the outside that sloped inwards and under the eaves of a roof that was mounted onto some wooden pillars. That left a gap between the top of the walls and the lower ceiling. A space for wind to circulate? I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was to let light in? 

It wasn’t like they needed to insulate against the cold here. At the moment it was swelteringly hot, and we were in mid-winter. That meant that this was as cold as Come Here and Die would get, and I felt like I was about to melt at any moment. 

The shop extended to the back, with a large fenced-off yard. The fence was mostly made of metal plates welded together, but some gaps were left that let me and my friends peek in. 

There were at least five airships back there. All of them in halfway disassembled. Most had been, in their prime, about the size of the Beaver, though a couple seemed even larger. Those were down to what looked like engines and some frame pieces. 

Parts were stacked up in orderly heaps here and there, with room to walk between them, and there were a few sheds that looked like they were overflowing with more.

“I wonder how they obtained so many airships?” Amaryllis asked. She was squinting at the wrecks. “Some of those are only a few years old. Some look like they’re at least a decade old, or older.”

“The desert,” Awen said. “Uncle had a few stories about crashing in the Ostri Desert. A lot of airships pass through the desert instead of flying over the sea to the north, or the ocean. It’s a little bit safer, but only some times.”

“Is this one of the times?” I asked.

Awen nodded. “Yeah. Greenshade was one of the last stops.” That was the city Awen was from, where I’d first met her, even. “Ships would try to cross in winter because the winds are safer. In mid-summer, it’s too hot.”

“The heat would help, if anything. No frozen lines,” Amaryllis said.

“Not when it’s as hot as it gets here,” Awen said with a shake of her head. “You’re thinking of summer around the centre of the continent, which really isn’t too warm. The temperature here rises enough that it can impact the bouyancy of ships, cause engines to overheat, and even start fires. Plus, there are storms in late spring and early fall. No one wants to be on a ship during a sandstorm. Visibility drops to nothing and sometimes the more magical storms interfere with equipment.”

“Sand, it gets everywhere,” I said with a sage nod. My friends would never understand some of my jokes, and that was a little sad, but it was okay too. I walked over to the front of the shop, then slowly opened the door.

The interior was a little darker than outside, but not by too much. A few lamps hung from the higher parts of the ceiling. The kinds of lamps that were fixed to the Beaver for navigation, but in an inclosed space, they were more than enough to make the interior kind of bright.

There were long counters made of recycled materials running along the edges of the room, and shelves all over. Those held parts that I couldn’t figure out the purpose of at a glance, but at Awen’s curious ‘awa?’ I knew that they had to be interesting. The place smelled like rust and metal and oil.

We stepped in, heads in swivels. Awen moved over and started to skim past things, occasionally pulling a doodad or thingamabob from a shelf and looking it over before placing it back. “Lots of parts,” she said.

“Yeah,” I agreed with a grin.

“This might be the only repair shop for airships in the entire city,” Amaryllis said.

“And the best one, too!” someone replied from deeper into the shop. A curtain was shifted aside and a young harpy woman stepped in. I was surprised to see a harpy at all, instead of another ostri. 

She seemed a good bit older than any of my friends and I, with a few feathers gone white and some smile wrinkles in the corners of her eyes. She was wearing overalls whose stains had been there for so long that they were now part of the clothing.

“Welcome to the Shop,” she said. “Not the most original name, but that’s how things are done here.”

“Hi!” I said. “I wasn’t expecting a harpy.”

“Oh? Got a problem with that?” she asked. Her smile never shifted, but she placed a taloned hand on her ship.

“No no, one of my best friends is a harpy,” I said.

“Moron,” Amaryllis grumped before turning to the woman. “I do share her sentiment. I was expecting an ostri. What brings you so far from the Harpy Mountains?”

“Love and work, but not in that order,” the woman said. She gestured around, encompassing the shop. “This is my life’s work now, I suppose. Been here for nearly twenty years. Used to work in the big factories back home, but I was always better at bespoke things than factory work.”

Awen nodded along. “That makes sense. Ah, we’re looking for a few things?”

“I imagine,” she said. “I’m Chloe, by the by.”

“Hi Chloe,” I said. “I’m Broccoli Bunch! I hope we can be friends?”

Chloe Ayka Sparrow

Dream: To live a long life surrounded by loved ones.

Desired Quality: Someone dependable and straightforward.

That seemed like the kind of dream and desired quality that a good person might have! “Awen, you’d know best what we’re looking for!”

“Ah, ah, yes,” Awen said. “We’re looking for fuel for a type six engine, a few quarts of oil, a set of guiding cables, at least three metres worth, and... ah, I have a list. These are all things that would be nice, but they’re not necessary.”

Chloe took the list and looked it over, nodding all the while. “I have about a quarter of these things, and can source about half if you give me a few days.”

“Ah, that’d be okay,” Awen said. “If you have the fuel and oil, that’s what matters most.” She half-turned, looking to Amaryllis.

“We’ll take whatever you have under your wings,” Amaryllis said. “We don’t plan on staying in Come Here and Die for too long. Though we wouldn’t mind some advice while we’re here.”

“How well did you prep before coming?” she asked.

“So-so,” Awen admitted. “I changed the filters out, and removed some of the insulation around some parts that I heard tend to overheat.”

“Smart,” Chloe said. “Well, if you’re just passing through the desert, then you might not be in too bad a shape, especially if your ship’s this young.”

“How do you know if our ship is young?” I asked.

The harpy mechanic blinked. “Because I saw the parts you’re asking about?”

“Oh,” I said. I supposed that made sense, and it left me feeling a smidge silly. “Are there any dangers we need to worry about in the desert?”

“If you’re keeping to the air? Not too many. Where are you heading to from here?” she asked.

“North and west, near a town called Southerfell,” Amaryllis said.

Chloe chewed on her lip. “You’ll want to ride up along the mountains, then. Don’t pass over them. The winds are insane. Shifting every minute, and their temperatures vary a lot. Flying over the jungle is just about the best way to lose an airship. There’s things there that’ll see any smaller craft as nothing more than a snack.”

“Scary,” I said.

She nodded. “If you’re heading due north... you might not have too much to worry about. Some desert wyverns, maybe. They might harass you. There’s a heap of scrap in our yard that was a ship taken down by a flight of those a couple of years back. It’s not common, and you’re not in their mating season, so they’ll be calmer.”

“That’s good,” Awen said.

“Otherwise, keep away from the centre of the desert. You might want to stop by Weakling’s Rest.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Small village, far north. There’s a tower. You can’t miss it. Get in contact with one of the healers there if you’ll be travelling near the jungle. They have magic that’ll keep you alive. There’s things in that jungle that will make you sick. Silverstar fever is a real thing, and it won’t care what level you’re at.”

That seemed especially good to know.

We ended up ordering some fuel, which came in a large wooden barrel atop a small cart that we’d have to escort back, then a heap of odds and ends that Awen needed for some last-minute maintenance, then, finally, we were off.

***