Fyre Fly: Chapter 41 – Onward and Upward

It had started as a search for dragons. Once we figured out that Sandro’s Role Requirement counted anything from the dracus family as “dragons,” our options widened significantly.

There are several common dracus species on Dunmora, I learn, but many of them are of the large and dangerous variety. Apparently, animals on this continent can often appear greatly oversized due to some form of ambient magical influence. Wyverns, however, are also part of the dracus family, and they’re something I have heard mentioned a few times now.

Wyverns appear to be small winged lizards that people have bred to use for everything between messengers, pets, and even livestock. Wild populations are often considered pests to farmers; wyverns mostly eat insects and small animals, it seems, but they aren’t particularly careful about not shredding whatever plants their flock descends upon in search of grubs.

They’re a migratory species and hard to track down and catch due to their speed—unless you know where they will be ahead of time. And their absolute favorite place to hunt bugs is, apparently, at the Drifting Isles.

Fyreneth’s Fortress had originally been mistaken for the ancient Ruin, and it’s not hard to understand why. But the Drifting Isles are apparently much larger than our own city, and at a higher altitude as well. It’s also an inexhaustible source of wind arcana.

“It’s better than finding mana ore, even,” Dizzi says as we discuss our plans. “Which we were already struggling with. But if we can get the city hooked up to the storm arcana source, we’ll never have to worry about keeping the kingdom powered again.”

“It will also provide sufficient mana to keep the watchtower spells activated,” Mirzayael says. “Our city will be much more secure with such a source of magic.”

“And we’ll have more land to expand into for agriculture,” Nek adds.

Torim is the only one who seems unconvinced. “I’ve heard rumors of the Drifting Isles,” he says. “Especially that it’s treacherous. We can’t be the first people to consider making this land our home. Why hasn’t anyone else settled it before now?”

“Fair question,” I admit. “Part of it is due to accessibility. Only harpies or those with an airship can reach it, and since it’s constantly moving, it would be difficult to shift any ground-based population to the Ruins. By the time you got a few ship-loads of people and supplies to its terrain, it will have already floated beyond the range of the city.

“Not to mention, given its altitude, it is likely cold and has thin air. Similar to why we established the atmospheric spell around our own city, living at such an altitude would be difficult for most people.” I pause.

Torim notices. “And what is the other part due to?”

I smile guiltily. “The danger. There’s rumors of territorial and arcana-infused beasts that live there.”

“So, it’s treacherous,” he says flatly.

“It is,” Mirzayael says. “But it’s also an exceptional opportunity. If we can claim the Ruin, we will be one of the most protected, and potentially one of the most powerful, cities in the world.”

The comment tugs a bit of Earth history from the recesses of my memories. During the Cold War, a common sentiment was “He who controls space, controls the Earth.” I find the parallel slightly chilling given our current circumstances. Once again, I uneasily wonder how much my Role Requirement might be playing into this, or if it’s merely an irrational connection I’m drawing due to my own anxieties. We certainly aren’t trying to rule the world—though it’s undeniable that being able to drop weapons on the heads of your enemies from miles above is an incredible advantage.

I suppose all we can do is hope this won’t provoke anyone into viewing us as a threat, and continue to cultivate friendly relationships. I once recall Captain Marlowe suggesting such a future for our city; he imagined we could become a kind of traveling Library of Alexandria, where scholars all across the world could come to learn and share their knowledge. I certainly like this image for us more than an orbiting weapons system.

I think Fyreneth would have liked this for her city, too.

“But most importantly,” I add, “this will remove the threat that losing the Dungeon Core would pose to us. If it’s taken, we’ll have to rewire the city’s spell circuits to directly use the Ruin’s ambient magic—and we’ll likely need many operators to control the spell circles manually in place of the Dungeon Core’s automatic control—but we at least would not be left dead in the water.”

And once we land, we’re no longer at risk of falling from the sky if the Dungeon Core is taken from us.

Landing on the Drifting Isles and integrating its magic into our city will, ideally, make the Dungeon Core and I obsolete. The only way to know that for sure will be to see how doing so affects my Role Range. But I’ll feel a lot safer with the knowledge that even if the Dungeon Core and I are taken by the gods, the city will be able to prosper without us.

Not that I intend to let that happen. The Dungeon Core belonged to Fyreneth, and so it now belongs to the Fyrethians. And as Mirzayael mentioned, once we connect to the Ruin’s magic, we might have a way to defend against any gods who do take too much of an interest in us.

Assuming we can make it to the Drifting Isles, first.

“Alright,” Torim finally acquiesces. “I can see the advantages. We’ll put it to a city vote. However,” he adds before we can all celebrate, “if it does prove too dangerous, I want a backup plan. We can’t expend the rest of our city’s mana to get somewhere that ends up being filled with murderous beasts.”

Completely fair.

“We could do a scouting mission first,” Mirzayael suggests. “A small, skilled party to scope out the Isles. And if all seems safe, we can then proceed.”

“We are in agreement then?” I ask, looking around the room. Everyone, even Torim, seems excited. I am, too. We finally have a destination for our city—just as soon as we learn where the Drifting Isles are.

#

The vote to make the Fortress a permanently flying city is overwhelmingly in favor, as it had been to launch the city in the first place. I think some of it is motivated by the perception of freedom; even if our flight will be determined by that of the Drifting Isles, the ability to wander the world stands in stark juxtaposition of the lives they’ve previously known, buried underground. I can’t blame them for wanting to retain this mobility; living in the clouds is a childhood dream come true.

In the next city, we start researching the Drifting Isles. It seems that there’s no way to actually predict its flight, or at least, no one has been able to do so thus far. I suspect the storm arcana that the Ruin leaks might be part of that, altering its course in unpredictable ways.

There are sightings of it, however, that some scholars compile. Even if we can’t tell which direction it might end up turning, we should at least be able to find its most recent sightings and try to intercept its path from there. One advantage of being a floating city ourselves is that we have an exceptionally large field of view.

Even so, we’re not able to find answers in the cities we scour. This is specialty knowledge, it seems. Eventually we’re pointed to a conclave of wind arcana scholars in East Dunmora, though how we’re supposed to do that, I’m uncertain. They’re nowhere near our flight path. We could risk spending a significant portion of our mana to fly there, but then we’d have to hope we’d still have enough left to direct our flight toward intercepting the Drifting Isles.

Instead, I dig up Captain Marlowe’s parting gift to write to him for help. After I finish drafting the letter, I tap the spell circle that’s stamped into the page, pressing some of my mana into it. The letter shudders, lifting off the desk, and I’m delighted to watch it fold itself into a paper bird and promptly fly away. I’m surprised to get a response only a few days later, with him promising to pass the message on. He says I should expect to hear back before the week is up, but we anticipate it might take longer simply for the mages to gather whatever information they need to find the Drifting Isles.

In the meantime… We live.

We trade, we fix up our city, entertain guests, share knowledge, work on our gardens. It would be nice, if it weren’t for consistent interruptions from the gods.

The first time the Detection spell goes off again, I startle and nearly drop a mug of hot tea in my lap. Just then, Shirasil—or, Lisari, I suppose, since she appears as a young woman—casually walks by, joining a group of visitors in our meal hall. I narrow my eyes, and though she doesn’t turn my way, I can see her smile broaden.

She doesn’t approach me, and I don’t approach her. After a time, the alarm spell deactivates, and the god appears to be gone.

Blair is the next to appear the following day. Again, she doesn’t approach me, but she does appear to be observing. Again, she vanishes when I’m not paying attention, and the detection spell goes inert once more.

The Champion Zetaru doesn’t return in that time. Just Lisari and Blair, almost never at the same time, and always in the background, merely observing. It’s like they don’t want to interupt me, but do want to make sure I don’t step out of line.

To be frank, it’s starting to become extremely annoying. No matter how sympathetic they may claim to be, I don’t take kindly to being under surveillance. One day, using a Psionic Touch, I privately speak with Dizzi and have her shift her team’s research back to the watchtower spells, specifically investigating the mysterious spell circuits that connect each of the towers to one another. So far, we haven’t been able to deduce a purpose of the network, but I have a sneaking suspicion on what it might be for.

Sandro is adapting well, even venturing outside his comfort zone to timidly ask Mirzayael if he could join the guard’s practice and training sessions. Sylva takes him under their wing, teaching him some basic moves while Gardi watches from a bench on the sidelines. Gardi has taken to calling out pointers—mostly for Sylvia, to their extreme annoyance. Sandro seems completely oblivious to their combative dynamic, just relieved to finally learn how to use his sword. I’m glad to see them all (mostly) getting along. But the more days that pass, the more worried I become.

If Sandro’s Role Requirement becomes too pressing, we may not be able to wait until we reach the Isles. Of course, knowing that wyverns will satisfy his Role, there is always the option to purchase a domestic one from a city we pass over. But that option turns my stomach. I’m not much more thrilled about what he'll have to do once we do reach the Ruin, but I can at least partially justify hunting wild wyvern flocks to myself; at least I know nothing would go to waste.

And then, we get a response from wind arcana conclave.

They seem quite excited by our request, and send us atmospheric maps of the world. Lines move over the pages much like meteorologists would create with computer graphics on Earth. Even in the midst of examining what they’ve sent us, I can’t help but be thrilled to find another way in which magic has taken the place of technology on this planet. Every new application I discover fascinates me.

The atmospheric maps help us better predict our own heading, but will also be a large help when we discover the last Drifting Isles sighting, as the wind lines will provide strong evidence for the city’s most likely path of travel.

Unfortunately, the most recent sightings present a slight drawback. They were all over the continent of Valenia (which is, relatively speaking, to the north-west of us) while we are over Dunmora. Theoretically this isn’t a big problem, because we are directionally ahead of the Drifting Isles, meaning we could drift north, slow our eastern progression, and have the Isles intercept our trajectory.

However, once the Isles pass over the Emerald Ocean, pretty much all sightings of it will stop. We can attempt to predict where on the west coast of Dunmora it will next emerge, but it will be just that—a prediction. And if we don’t position ourselves correctly, it will likely pass us by.

It wouldn’t be the end of the world: we could try to catch up to it, or allow it to circle the world again and try for a second interception—we have enough mana for two or three attempts—but with each new visit from Lisari and Blair, my concern ratchets up a little higher. One of these days, it will be a different god who visits us, and there’s no guarantee they will be friendly.

A break comes two weeks after first corresponding with the wind arcana conclave; they recently received notice of a tracker spell designed to provide live updates of the Drifting Isle’s position—something that would only be achievable if a tracker was installed on the Ruin itself.

The catch is that the conclave can’t pass the tracker onto us. Or, won’t. It seems the inventor of the tracker is reluctant to hand it out to just anyone. I offer an extremely generous payment, but I’m still turned down. After some back and forth, Captain Marlowe actually heads to speak with them in person. After an extended silence, he finally writes me back: talks went well, and he’ll be delivering the tracker back to us.

The letter is suspiciously devoid of details on what talks were had or how he obtained the tracker. I do hope he didn’t strongarm anyone. Yet, I’m grateful for his assistance. Our clock is ticking down.

Stumbling upon this Drifting Isles tracker is lucky. Almost too lucky—the timing too convenient. I have a sneaking suspicion the gods are involved, some way or another.

The next time the Detection spell goes off, I’m in the middle of working with Dizzi to draft instructions for our city’s atmospheric spell, which we’ll be sending to the wind conclave mages as thanks for their help. I pause, sitting up to look around.

“What is it?” Dizzi asks.

“Nothing,” I absently tell her. The gods aren’t here in our workshop at least. “I need to go check on something. I’ll be back soon.”

“Uh, okay! If you say so,” she says, but I’m already hurrying out of the room.

The Dungeon Core’s Map interface doesn’t help me find them, since the gods are invisible to it, but I have a suspicion I won’t have to look far. Sure enough, I step out onto a balcony overlooking a lower tier of the palace and find Blair already there, as if she were waiting for me.

I frown. “When you said you’d be monitoring us, I didn’t expect it to be this frequently.”

“It is unusual for two Travelers with remnants to be in such close proximity,” she replies. “Periodic check-ins are not unwarranted.”

“What are you expecting to happen?” I ask. “You think these objects are a threat to one another, but if nothing has happened yet, I don’t understand why you expect that change.”

“In truth I do not expect it to change,” the god says, looking down over the balustrade. “But in the unlikely event it does, the danger is too great to ignore.”

In the courtyard below are some of our guests, including Gardi and Sandro, both still shadowed by their guards. At this point I don’t believe either are a danger to anyone, but I know continuing to monitor them makes Mirzayael feel better.

“Danger to who?” I ask.

Blair regards me for a moment. “Everyone,” she says gravely.

A chill runs down my back. “If these remnants coming in contact is such a threat, is there anything I can do to lessen it?”

“Not likely,” she says, turning back to the scene below. A group of young Fyrethians are playing a sport that involves the throwing and catching of several cloudstone balls. When they catch sight of the guests, they beckon them over, and begin to teach them how to play.

“You proved yourself capable of controlling the remnant with respect to Sandro,” Blair continues. “Hopefully that is a restraint you can continue to maintain. However, I can’t guarantee that you won’t come in contact with a stronger remnant. And if your Core is on the losing side…”

A pit grows in my stomach. All this time I’d only been considering the gods a threat to the Dungeon Core. But if there are more entities like it in the world, and if they’re capable of simply waltzing (or flying) into our city, then that’s even more reason to land as soon as we can.

“I hope it never comes to that,” I say. “But if it does, you’re the first I will reach out to.”

She looks back at me, faintly impressed. “You’re willing to trust a god?”

“I trust your intentions,” I say. “I trust that you don’t want to see our city destroyed if it can be helped. I trust that you wish to avert some sort of disaster. That’s enough to know that, if it comes to it, you’d be our best chance at avoiding something dire.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “I can’t help you, you know. The best I can do is deflect attention for a little while.”

“That’s enough,” I say. “As soon as we land on the Drifting Isles, the brunt of the danger to us will have passed.”

Blair appears surprised. “You intend to land on the Drifting Isles?”

Now I’m surprised, too. “I assumed it was you who facilitated its tracking.”

“No.” Blair frowns. “I doubt Lisari would have, either. She enjoys meddling, but not doing work for others.”

Then who was responsible? Was it truly just good fortune? I suppose stranger things have happened.

“Be careful with the Isles,” Blair says after a moment. “Settling the Ruins will draw attention. If you’re able to keep the Core concealed, you may pass beneath the attention of the heavens. But there will be other obstacles to contend with.”

“I appreciate the warning,” I say truthfully. Concealing the Core was precisely what we were intending. But we have other plans for dealing with the champions. “And thank you for buying us time,” I add. “It sounds like doing so may come at a risk to yourself. Thank you for giving us a chance.” I gesture down to the group running about the square, shouting and laughing as three more balls are thrown into the match and chaos unfolds. “These people deserve a chance. One their predecessors were not given.”

Blair’s expression softens. “I can see you care about the Fyrethians very much. But you have not known them for very long.”

“That’s true,” I agree. “I don’t think anyone would need to. It’s hard not to like them. To root for them.”

My gaze drifts over to an abstract mural of Fyreneth carved into one of the walls of the square. It’s so artistic, it’s more flames than harpy.

“Did you ever meet her?” I ask suddenly. “Fyreneth?”

Blair hesitates. “No. I did not learn of her city until after its fall.”

A lump forms in my throat, and my grip on the balustrade tightens. She didn’t even know it existed? As if Fyreneth’s whole kingdom was insignificant. Just wiped from the earth like someone flicking an ant off a table.

“They didn’t deserve that,” I say, trying to keep my tone in check. “What Lorata did to them was cruel. How can so much death be justified in any circumstance?”

Blair doesn’t argue, grimacing instead. “What was done…”

Then she stops mid-sentence, turning her head to the side as if noticing something in the corner of her vision.

“I must leave,” she says abruptly, her voice suddenly tight. Nervous, even? “Perhaps you will not believe me when I say this, but I wish you luck with the coming storm, Fyre. You will almost certainly need it.”

I open my mouth to ask what she meant—with the Drifting Isles, was she referring to a literal storm? Metaphorical? Both? But she’s gone in the blink of an eye, silently vanished as if she were never standing there at all.

I sigh. More questions than answers, once more. The gods were being infuriatingly evasive—though I suppose I should be grateful they are only that.

Behind me, someone scoffs. “Meddle? I don’t meddle. Can you believe she said that?”

When I turn around, I am unsurprised to find Lisari sitting on the edge of the balcony, legs casually dangling over the side as if it weren’t a lethal drop. She tips her head toward me with a smile.

“I like to think of myself as more of a catalyst.”