Fyre Fly: Chapter 45 – Scouting Party

With Attiru’s compass, it only takes three weeks to reach the Drifting Isles, but in that time I notice a decline in Sandro’s mental health. His Sanity Stat is at 77% now, and it was about when he crossed the 80% threshold that the effects became more noticeable. He’s twitchy and jumpy—though that’s nothing new—and has taken to rubbing a temple when he thinks no one is looking. Even when I use Emotional Radiance to give him a reprieve from the Shuddering Shroud’s influence, he still acts jittery and nervous. We need to resolve his Role Requirement sooner rather than later.

So when we finally reach the Ruins, I decide to bring him along on our initial scouting mission.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Mirzayael asks as we wind through the lower streets of the city, making our way to the dock.

An enormous storm engulfs the sky before us. The cloud must stretch for dozens of miles, and is twice as tall as it is wide. Occasional lightning flashes in the clouds, and thunder rumbles through the air. Apart from its impressive size, there’s nothing that would tell us this is the Drifting Isles. But according to the tracker, we’ve reached our destination.

“Don’t tell me Sandro can’t be trusted,” I reply. “You’re the one who gave his sword back and offered to train him with the guards.”

“So I can keep an eye on him,” she objects, then grimaces. “Though, you’re right—I don’t think he means us any harm. It’s his mind I’m worried about.”

“Which is why he should come,” I say. “We need to satisfy his Role Requirement as soon as possible.”

We climb the final steps up to the city’s wall, which looks out over the dock. Hundreds of other citizens are already here, looking up at the cloud in awe. They should have been able to see it clearly from anywhere in the city at this distance, but I admit there’s something magnetic about its presence. The knowledge that there’s the remains of an ancient civilization just before us—that we’ll soon be diving into—elicits an electric anticipation within me. I’m not sure if I’m more excited or nervous.

“And by satisfying his Role Requirement, you mean killing a dragon,” Mirzayael says.

I grimace. “I’d hoped to find some work-around before now.” Though I am by no means a vegetarian, I still hate the idea of killing a creature just to satisfy some arbitrary demand. It seems like such a callous waste.

Maybe there’s still something… I shake my head. I can’t keep dodging this inevitability.

Mirzayael pats my shoulder. “Not everything is a puzzle to be solved. Sometimes things are just exactly what they appear to be.”

“True enough,” I sigh. A muted wind brushes against us. It must be strong to reach this far into our atmospheric spell. “Then you understand why we should bring him on this mission.”

“Best to clean the wound before it festers,” Mirzayael reluctantly agrees. “Though the mission will be dangerous enough as it is; keeping an eye on Sandro is a distraction we don’t need.”

“Zakaiya and Rei are still assigned to him, aren’t they?” I ask. “They could keep watch.”

Mirzayael hesitates. “Those two are low on mana reserves currently.”

Ah, right. The proto-soul they’re tending to. “One of your other guards, then?” I suggest.

“My lords, if I may.”

I turn to find Salvia—and by extension, Gardi—have approached us. Salvia dips their head in a respectful bow as Gardi meets my gaze and quickly glances away. But they incline their head, just the slightest fraction.

“I would like to accompany you,” Salvia says. “I could watch Sandro if need be. I am one of our best guards; I won’t be a hindrance to you on this mission.”

Mirzayael regards them. “You already have a ward. If we reassign you from Gardi, we’ll need to find someone else to escort them.”

Gardi stirs, like they want to say something.

“Gardi?” I prompt.

They sheepishly scratch one of their ears, looking anywhere but at us. “I could come along. If that simplifies things.”

Mirzayael and I exchange a surprised glance.

“You won’t have to worry about my well-being either,” they say. “So I won’t slow you down.”

“Gardi, of course we care about your well-being,” I say, exasperated.

Salvia snorts. “See?”

Gardi shoots them a glare, but there’s no anger behind it. Salvia’s mouth twitches with the threat of a smile.

“I can also take care of myself,” Gardi adds, turning away from Salvia’s mocking look. “You’ve seen my ice. I won’t get in anyone’s way.”

“I believe it,” I say. “What little I saw was quite the impressive display. But I have to ask, why do you want to come? It can’t just be because Salvia volunteered.” …Could it?

“I’d like to see the Ruins,” Gardi admits. “I’ve only heard stories. Seeing it in person would be like a children’s tale come to life.”

They’ll be seeing it regardless, as our city will be headed there as soon as it’s safe to do so. But instead of arguing the point, I raise a questioning eyebrow at Mirzayael.

“They’re Jorrian,” Mirzayael mentally says.

“Yes.”

“They’re still technically a captive,” she adds.

“They are.”

She hesitates. “That’s it. That’s all I’ve got.”

I grin. “What, you’re not going to add ‘I don’t trust them?’”

Mirzayael exhales through her nose. “Just tell them they can come already. I’m not going to do it.”

“Alright,” I say aloud, holding back a laugh. “You both can come, so long as you understand you’ll need to take care of yourselves, as we might not be able to protect you, if things get hairy.”

Salvia stands up straight. “Of course! Thank you, Lord Fyre.”

Gardi also nods their head, and mumbles something that sounds like thanks under their breath.

“Hurry up and prepare,” Mirzayael says. “We’ll be departing within the hour. If you’re not present we’ll leave without you.”

I doubt that’s true, but it does light a fire under their heels.

“Thank you,” Salvia calls back, already hurrying away. “We’ll be quick!”

We head over to Ollie next. Dizzi and Sora are in the process of finalizing the makeshift saddle that’s strapped to his back. It’s one of Dizzi’s cloudstone transports, adapted to carry people instead of supplies. Meritis is helpfully flitting around and pulling on whatever lines Ollie thinks are too tight or loose.

“Just finishing our safety checks,” Dizzi calls down when she catches sight of us.

“We might need some last-minute adjustments,” I say. “Plan on enough restraints for five.”

Dizzi sighs, long and dramatic. “Wish you would have told me that last week. Or yesterday. Or an hour ago.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” I ask.

“For me?” Dizzi grins. “Nah. Oy! Chert!” She leans over the other side. “Go grab some more of that spider silk, would you?”

Ollie swings his head around to nuzzle me, nearly knocking me off my feet. I give his snout a squeeze, as much as I can get my arms around.

“THIS IS EXCITING,” his speech stone says. “I CAN’T WAIT TO EXPLORE AN OLD CITY! JUST LIKE INDIANA JONES. I LOVE THAT MOVIE. EXCEPT FOR THE KISSING PART. AND THE PART WHERE MOM COVERED MY EYES. FYRE, WHAT HAPPENED AT THAT PART?”

“Er,” I hesitate. “I’m not sure. It depends on when she did it.”

I’m saved from diving down that rabbit hole when Sora calls for his attention, asking him to give the ‘saddle’ a good shake.

Before long, everything’s declared in working order and ready for our flight. Mirzayael straps her spear to the floor of the transport, along with Salvia and Sandro’s swords. Neither Gardi or I have weapons, but we’ve all at least changed into more practical attire—no loose pieces of cloth to get caught in the wind.

Or a claw.

“Good luck,” Nek says, clasping Mirzayael’s arms. “Be safe. If you need more soldiers…”

“It’s just a scouting mission,” Mirzayael says. “Ideally, we’ll be gone for less than an hour, and return with a more concrete understanding of the cloud’s interior. You’ll be the first I call upon on when we begin hunting missions.”

Nek nods, not pressing the subject. As Sora wanders over and hooks her arm in her husband’s, it’s not hard to understand why.

“Ready?” I ask our motley crew. Two harpies, an elf, an arachnoid, and a felis get on a dragon: It sounds like the set up to a joke.

For a moment, I pause to absorb the strangeness of my life now—or more accurately, how none of it feels strange at all. Like I’d been dreaming for decades and only just woke up. I’m not sure I believe in things like fate or destiny, but deep in my bones it feels like this is where I was meant to be. With these people. In this city. I can’t imagine a world without them, now.

“Fyre?” Mirzayael prompts.

I refocus my gaze. “Sorry. Lost in thought. Let’s get to it, then.”

Salvia leaps up to Ollie’s saddle with a burst of wind, tossing a line back over to help Gardi and Sandro climb up. Mirzayael can reach the lip if she straightens her legs all the way, so she half pulls-half crawls up to the saddle as well.

Ollie giggles. “THAT TICKLES.”

I opt to take the rope as well, not wanting to risk singeing anyone with my flames.

At the top, a series of crisscrossing straps and makeshift seatbelts are waiting for us. Sandro eyes them warily.

“Need help?” I ask, taking the seat next to him as I start to strap myself in. Of course, Salvia and I don’t technically need to be strapped in, what with our wings and Jets, but without knowing the condition of the Drifting Isles, we deemed it wise to keep all of us tied to Ollie to prevent anyone from being separated.

“No,” Sandro says, quickly taking a seat. The cloak wraps around his shoulders like a comforting hug. Well, as comforting as a hug could be from a sentient, anxious, and deadly cloak. “Just worried.”

“I’m not expecting any trouble on this flight,” I tell him. “You’re just along in case we find a wyvern nest.”

He grimaces. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“The wyverns?”

Sandro straps himself in, fending off a corner of the cloak that’s unhelpfully trying to wrap around an arm as he clasps his harness. “Yeah. I’ll finally have to kill one, won’t I?”

I also grimace. “Unless we can figure out an alternative…”

“I didn’t even stand a chance against Ollie.” He looks toward Ollie’s head. “Still sorry about that, Ollie.”

His head cranes around back toward us. “IT’S OKAY! IT WAS A MISTAKE. AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN LEAVE A SCRATCH.”

That doesn’t leave Sandro looking reassured.

“This will be different,” I tell him. “Wyverns are the size of a cat, I’m told.”

His eyes widen. “Really?”

Gardi snorts. “Did you think we were about to investigate a nest of full-sized dragons?”

“I didn’t know they were small!” Sandro objects.

I’m certain I did, in fact, tell him they were small, but I try not to blame the guy with his sanity degrading as it is.

“And whatever you slay, we can bring back to the city and find a use for,” I tell him. Making the best of a bad situation, I suppose.

“Right,” Sandro says, slumping into his seat once more. His part of the transport seems to be radiating an almost tangible aura of gloom. Everyone else exchanges uncomfortable glances.

“Well,” Mirzayael says, cutting through Sandro’s fog of self-pity. “It seems we’re all secured. Ready Ollie?”

“READY!” he cries, wiggling his hips like a cat ready to pounce. It jiggles our saddle back and forth.

“I know you wanted to scout the area yourself,” I say to Mirzayael, “but I’m surprised you didn’t send someone else in your stead. Last time you rode on Ollie’s back, I distinctly remember you saying ‘I will never do that again.’”

“It was an overreaction,” she says, casually leaning back against the side of the transport. “I can handle a bit of—”

“GO!” Ollie cries, diving off the platform.

Mirzayael gasps, desperately grabbing her straps as our stomachs lurch in a moment of free-fall. Sandro screams. Salvia seems entirely unmoved, and Gardi gives a nervous laugh. Then Ollie’s wings snap open and a powerful wind blows around us. And in the next moment, we’re flying.

Mirzayael quickly lets go of the straps and smooths the terrified look off her face. I don’t think anyone else noticed, but I have to stifle a laugh.

“Not a word,” she mentally grumbles.

I’m preoccupied trying to get Sandro to uncurl from the ball he’s folded himself into. “It’s alright,” I tell him. “We’re steady now.”

I prod Ollie’s mind. “A little more gently next time, if you please.”

“SORRY!” he thinks, emitting amusement rather than remorse. He did that on purpose. This kid better not be entering his rebellious phase—I don’t even know how I’d handle it.

The rest of the flight to the stormcloud goes much more smoothly. We keep a wary eye out for lightning as we approach, and Salvia activates a storm arcana spell often used by harpies that’s supposed to reduce our chance of getting hit by lightning. (Not a huge reassurance, I’ll admit.)

As we get closer, the clouds melt into the air around us, our path forward gradually growing less opaque. Everyone is silent, peering out into the dim as if we’re collectively holding our breath. Solid shadows emerge from the fog, and Ollie banks around these. It would be easy to get lost in here. I can see why this Ruin is especially hard to find.

Then, like a switch being flipped, blindingly bright light spills over us. I squint, raising a hand to shield my eyes, but the clouds reflect light back at us from every angle. It’s as if we’re in the eye of a hurricane. A swirling wall of white creates a breathtakingly large funnel, reflecting light from the open sky all the way down to the lowest layer of the Drifting Isles, far below us. Sunlight scatters through the mist at just the right angle to dust the air with a prismatic sparkle. A flock of birds takes off at our appearance and spirals down the funnel. My gaze follows their descent. Sandro gasps, and my breath catches in my throat.

“OH,” Ollie exclaims. “PRETTY!”

Far beneath us is land. Not the planetary surface, but a valley at the bottom of this cloud, floating much like our own city. Above it, however, is more land. Dozens—hundreds—of giant slabs of stone spiral upward, tethered by vines like balloons on a string. Echo confirms it’s all cloudstone—much more than makes up the base of our own city.

But the stones themselves look odd, and it takes me a moment to recognize why. They’re sections of a city, long overgrown by plants and half crumbling away. It’s as if someone shattered Rome and sprinkled what remained across the sky like pieces of a puzzle.

“Amazing,” Gardi breathes.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Salvia agrees.

Even Sandro has nothing fearful to add.

Mirzayael turns to look at me, and perhaps it’s just the light, but her face seems to glow with happiness. “Ready to explore our new home?”

I grin. “You read my mind.”