Skybound - Chapter 9: Divergent Trajectory

Morgan Mackenzie sat on the side of a partially constructed airship, ankles crossed with her feet dangling over the edge as she skimmed through her status menus and considered her choices. All around her the sounds of construction continued unceasing, a cacophony of background noise that would not have been out of place in her old life. A saw powered by magic still made the same buzzing rasp as it cut into timber that any saw on Earth would have made, and the hum of enchantments and mana crystals were not even that far off from the shrill whine of small engines.

Her options for spending her skill points were dismal and unappealing. She no longer had need of anything related to wilderness survival, and many options had simply vanished for her after choosing her class and accepting life-long nudity. Any skills related to using tools or weapons or other forms of armor or equipment were useless to her. Over a hundred skill points to spend, and nothing stood out as useful or interesting while the costs had gone up as she levelled.

Her enhancement points had been easier to work with, albeit frustrating in their own right. She had wanted to spend some of them on one or more of her affinities, [Mana Affinity] in particular. It turned out that not all of her skills could be enhanced, even when mastered. Affinities and Resistances specifically did not seem to work with enhancement points. She knew her direct spells could be enhanced, and her non-spell skills along with her learned enchantments. She had decided to save her last two points for the day she managed to raise [Soul Anchor] to the tenth level before trying to boost it. Her instincts said that she should be able to do so, but neither Biggles nor Chnarl had known anything about the anchor itself. Even Terisa had never heard of anything like it, and the Huntress was certainly one of the most well-travelled adventurers of the Expedition.

A chill breeze caused the enchanted bags to sway and ripple overhead. The organic fabric woven from witchwood leaves seemed to blur and shift and subtle waves of color. The magics that allowed air to permeate the spatial pocket in such a way as to still maintain lift also left dim visual peculiarities around the balloons. That particular achievement had given Dana a new skill and level instead of Morgan, but the [Skyclad Sorceress] could not bring herself to feel jealous. She had a plethora of benefits of her own to enjoy, after all.

The ship itself was a marvel of functional ugliness to Morgan’s eyes. Nothing had been spared for aesthetic, the engineer simply had to prioritize getting it working in the first place. The cannibalized walker and mobile workshop parts were evident in the construction, and the whole ship sat like a flattened rectangular apartment tenement. All cubes and right angles and structural timbers, it was just over seven hundred feet long. The bulging air-bags nosed over the fore and aft ends of ship itself. After the lift bags had been attached and secured to the structure, Dana had install strange coils with fins that extended through the rings into the space inside the bags. A brief test had ensued, heating the air within before the engineer had shut everything down to make adjustments in both the engine room and on the makeshift bridge deck. A huge, three-bladed propeller stuck out from the back near the engine room. The blades were folded in like petals sticking straight out from the rear, but once off the ground would fold outwards to provide some measure of powered movement. Dana herself admitted the design was not optimal, but it would be something at least. And sails were being woven in similar fashion as had the lift-bags, to be hung from folding masts along the side of the ship to let them take advantage of favorable winds.

Where planks and support timbers and other structural witchwood met to form joins, a strange resin had been used that fused the wooden material as if it had grown together. According to Biggles the witchwood went through a curing process that could be slowed down by infusing enough mana into the material, which was why such a large project would never have been considered outside of the wildlands. Without the high ambient mana, the expense of keeping the wood workable long enough to make anything useful  would have beggared entire nations.

In the Wildlands such matters were of less concern, and within the valley near the spire it was a trivial consideration. One that Dana and her crew of dwarven and gnomish workers had been all too eager to take advantage of. The speed of construction had been impressive even to the Worldwalkers, an observation she voiced to Terisa as the Huntress meandered her way towards Morgan to sit next to her on the edge of the upper deck.

“Even on Earth, a ship this big would take months or years to build in our shipyards.”

“There are definitely advantages to having magic to help lift and secure heavy materials,” replied Terisa. “Dana tells me that building one of steel will require something she called ‘heavy industry’ before it becomes feasible, but the Thuns will be salivating over such a creation even with only the one.”

“What is built once can be built again,” nodded Morgan, looking up at the clouds as another gust of wind tugged at her hair and made her shiver. It was noticeably colder than the previous day, and her own instincts were restless and uneasy.

“You seem unusually morose this morning. I’ve seen that look,” mused the Huntress. “You and your father will be leaving today, I gather?”

“It will snow soon,” Morgan nodded in reply. “I’d like to be lower in elevation as soon as possible, even if I’m with dad. He’s also getting restless himself.”

The aforementioned Titan was lumbering along the edge of the forest in the lower side of the valley, grazing on trees and drawing in massive amounts of ambient mana from the valley itself. Morgan could feel the currents of the magic shift. Her father seemed to be feasting, or stocking up in preparation by taking advantage of the location before leaving. His agitation had disturbed the cats, Lily and Nyx, who had taken to playing with Foz and several of the other beastkin and tougher dwarven and human adventurers when they weren’t busy with the ship’s construction. Dana had modified two bunkrooms into a single sheltered kind of lair on the ship, and Marjorie had only taken a small bit of convincing to travel with these new two-legged friends. Most of that convincing had been in the form of raw meat and a booped snoot at the hands of one naked sorceress. The fact that the new dwelling was directly adjacent to the engine room and Dana’s reactor to keep it warm and cozy probably didn’t hurt either. Several members of the expedition were more enthusiastic than the rest of the group about having such predators aboard the vessel. Apparently the cubs were of a proper age for bonding with a tamer, and such bonds did not require an actual tamer class. Morgan had little interest in such a thing, but wished the others luck in any case.

“How will you find us after you finish your quest?” asked the Huntress.

“Well I have the makeshift maps we cobbled together,” Morgan tapped a storage rune on her waist. “That gives me a general idea of where to go to find Thun’Kadrass if I can’t spot you from the air once I’ve got wings.”

“Flight will be impressive. I’ve rarely seen anyone who could fly freely, although most magickers and adepts can manage to cushion a fall or glide a fair distance in the right circumstances…”

“But you have seen it?” Flying had never completely left Morgan’s thoughts since she had first seen the wings on her other-self’s avatar.

“There is a succubus who works with the constabulary at Stormbreak Isle, although the one time I saw her fly was from a distance.”

“A succubus?” Morgan goggled at the other woman. “As in a hellspawn demon slut who feeds on men?”

“Convicted criminals, mostly. As I said, she works for the city there, likely bound by some magecraft of the Storm Breakers. Demon summoning isn’t illegal, but it is frowned upon. If she were prone to murderous rampages she’d have been put down long ago.” Terisa shrugged. “I’ve rarely had cause to travel so far to the west, and only saw her the once. Angels are seen from time to time, or winged beings that may as well be angels. The gods have been quiet for centuries, and their messengers rarely seen since Oasa. There’s also the Drakengard, of course, but they don’t have many drakes left and rarely leave Drakenth.”

“What is Oasa?” Morgan had been more focused on matters close at hand, and had picked up little of the actual history of the people around her.

“Oasa was an oasis with a city built around it, in the middle of the desert between the northern continent and the southern tribal lands. Before there was a Deskren Empire, everything south of Oasa was unsettled holdings and savage tribes constantly migrating and warring with each other. Oasa was the trade hub.” The Huntress shook her head, and shifted Althenea from her back to a holster at her side when the living weapon shifted from rifle to handgun. “A lot of records were lost of course, but when the fledgeling empire cut it’s first holdings out of the southern jungles, things weren’t actually looking bad. Trade opened up, Oasa went from a trading post to a merchant’s mecca in a handful of years. It wasn’t until the Emperor started making those abominable collars that conflict broke out.”

Morgan shuddered with revulsion at the thought. She didn’t have words to describe the utter wrongness that roiled in her blood and mana at the memory of the collar’s touch. “So how’d that get started? The [Oracle] people have mentioned?”

“Ha, no,” replied the other woman. “At first Emperor Deskra could only make one collar at a time, and the threat was not so great. The [Oracle]’s power and authority are only as great as the need, and at first it was just rumors and small groups of adventurers sent to deal with singular problems. And then…”

“And then what?” asked the Sorceress, watching Terisa’s face turn sad.

“The elves, or what was left of them, flooded across the borders into the northlands. The Empire invaded their groves for the witchwood trees and to take pretty elven slaves. Elves can’t be held captive though, they either die fighting or simply cease living according to the stories.”

“What happened to them? I don’t think anyone in your expedition is an elf…”

Terisa snorted. “No, they vanished. Only the [Oracle] knows where they went, but everyone agrees they went north and kept going. They were never numerous, and long lives and low birthrates meant they weren’t able to fight a prolonged war, especially without their groves to tie them to the nature magics.” She shrugged before continuing. “They just left. We know they used to be around, and you can still find some of their artifacts and enchantments in out of the way places, but nobody has seen an elf since the first Deskren war.”

“So what about Oasa?” asked Morgan. The history lesson was fascinating, but the restless winds spurred her instincts and she wanted to know before she left her knew friends.

“Oasa was the end of the war. The Deskren had fully invaded the north but had been pushed back. The [Oracle] herself marched, to fight the overseers and the legions of those shackled by the golden collars. She was the one the emperor wanted most of all, and while nobody knows what happened for sure, one thing is certain. Both the [Oracle] and the Emperor marched for Oasa, and whatever happened burned the oasis away, obliterated both armies, and shook the earth as far north as Sprocket. It’s also what was the start of the quiet time, when the gods fell silent, and nothing can survive the desert to investigate. The sands sap all magic, and it gets stronger the deeper into the dunes you go.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah it’s probably the single worst place in the world for someone like you.”

“Yeah, when I run out of mana my body starts to starve itself to convert calories--” Terisa looked at her with confusion. “--uh, fat reserves if you don’t know that word. But yeah, I can burn fat for mana, but it could kill me if I’m not careful.”

“And here I was so jealous of your youthful figure,” said Terisa. “Anyway, that’s how the whole Deskren situation began. After Oasa both sides fell back, but the empire raids the north every few years. Piracy is a constant threat on the seas of course, but most of the nations bordering the coasts have to deal with slavers both Deskren and their own criminal elements seeking to make a profit selling to them. Every handful of decades there is a bigger campaign, but they’ve never threatened Fort Expedition even once, let alone Possibility. The [Oracle] and the Expedition have always remained neutral, so this war may be bigger than the first Deskren war.”

“More than you realize,” murmured the Sorceress, looking down to where a team of dwarves were installing one of their cannons into an opening in the side of the skyship. “Dana was not exaggerating about war on earth. We know terrible things. But I will have to be a part of it, at least where I have a chance to save people from the collars.”

“Every one that is destroyed is one less the Empire can use. War may be terrible, but there are worse things to endure,” said the Huntress. “Have you been considering your skills and abilities? Your method of mana recovery shows me one glaring weakness that you will eventually have to contend with.”

“Yeah, I’m not built for long fights. If something drags out, I’m done the moment I run out of food.”

Terisa shook her head. “I’m no mage, but I’ve been doing this a long time. You have only been in the Wildlands, where the air is so rich with magic it can poison those too weak or unable to adapt. You don’t just gain mana from eating, you breath it in the air, drink it in the water, soak it up from all around you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ambient mana outside of the Wildlands isn’t a tithe compared to what you are accustomed to experiencing. If you can, you should invest some of those skill points into mana conservation abilities, and try to learn to contain what you have. I may not cast spells, but a hunter uses all their senses, and you cycle mana with every heartbeat. In the lowlands, you’ll lose more than you regain if you cannot learn to conserve.”

“That…”

“Could be problematic, yes?”

“It’s bad enough when I’m actually casting spells! If it’s as bad as you say I’ll be magically crippled outside the wilds?”

“Not crippled, but more bound to your food than you are now.”

“Great, one more thing to worry about. What about cities? Are they going to try to arrest me for not wearing clothes?”

The Huntress burst into laughter. “I’d like to see them try. But no, most won’t care though you may have to singe a few lecherous hands depending on where you go. And I’ve seen you cover yourself in flames. Such measures should be sufficient.”

“I’ll be leaving once he finishes topping up on the local wildlife,” said Morgan, pointing off into the distance where the Titan was chewing on a large [Burrowspine Earthwyrm] that had had the misfortune of digging it’s way close enough to the surface to be detected. “Can you give me any advice at all on skills? I don’t have anything that might help right now, but it would be good to know what to look for or try to train on my own…”

“Well, it’s not just mages that use mana. Most classers do, myself included, we just don’t manipulate it for actual spellcasting. Endurance and meditation to keep from running dry when I need to be able to boost a shot or use my more powerful skills are something I am certainly familiar with.” The Huntress pulled a flask from a pouch on her hip and made a gesture of offering, and Morgan pulled a crystal out of her own storage rune and shaped two glasses as Terisa leaned in and continued speaking. “Now, first I can tell you how it works for me, but I know mages and druids can also learn [Meditation]...”

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Dana Pierce flipped the visor of her helmet back with a thought. The [Neural Link] between herself and the suit made it as simple as if she had done it with her own hand. It would have been easier to build the skyship’s systems to interface with her suit directly, in the same manner that the crawler had used. A ship was not a crawler, however, and she needed to be free to move around as needed. The crew would have to learn on the job, but the tech she had to work with wasn’t all that much more advanced that the Dwarves or other artificers would already be familiar with. So far all control runs were of mechanical means. Cables and ropes and springs. The sails would hopefully work once they were off the ground, the hinged masts at the front and sides of the ship were designed to flip outwards to give them some maneuverability, assuming they could get airborne.

Which led to her current task of installing the heating systems for the lift bags. Using the rotating core of the crawler’s reactor to turn a dynamo and brushes for a generator had actually yielded impressive gains in electrical efficiency. Mostly due to enchanted bearings not requiring lubrication or expensive exotic materials, thanks to the skills of the dwarven knowledge of the forge and working metals. With friction reduced to such a miniscule factor, powering the critical systems of the vessel with electricity was an easy choice. She finished welding the last conduit into place, connecting the aft-most heating coil to the power junction. Securing the cover in place over the wiring, she turned and headed up the passageway towards the bridge.

“That should have number four up and ready for initial warmup and testing, Kojeg,” she called, interrupting her dwarven assistant in the middle of swearing at another pair of dwarves dragging a crate of tools along the upper deck of the ship. “How are the other three lookin?”

“-an if ye scratch the deck one more time I’ll ‘ave ye scrubbin it from here all tha way back to Thun’Kadrass!” bellowed Kojeg, before turning back to his employer. “One an three be steady on tha guages, but number two is a wee bit slow to warm up.” He eyed the panel to one side of the wheel, an actual ship’s wheel to turn the rudder, assuming the ship ever managed to lift itself from the bonds of the earth. “Number four is now on tha’ gauges, one-twenty-two on the coils and rising.”

“It’ll take a while to heat up as much air as we have in the bags, but they’ll start pulling on the rings long before we actually have a chance at lift.” Her prediction came true as timbers creaked when the first bag at the front of the ship began to pull taught, finally resembling a balloon instead of a half-inflated sack. The ropes and vines woven into a net around all of the bags stretched and flexed naturally as the leafy material flexed within its bounds. “There’s a storm comin, my suit’s reading a slight drop in barometric pressure. How fast can we get the wagons loaded, Kojeg?”

“A half day or so,” came the reply as he looked out through the open front of the bridge across the upper deck of the ship. Reinforced timbers and beams secured the rings to the ship, obscuring the view down the center, but either side remained clear. “Since she’s no designed for water and just sits on the ground, tis easy enough to just push the wagons aboard. The horses and mules will be tricky, although we’ve plenty of fodder. If they get too excited we can always use the extra meat.”

“I’ve had worse than horse, although I’m not keen on it in particular. Prioritize the wagons and critical supplies first then, we don’t want to get snowed in and may have to leave in a hurry.”

“And the Burnin’ Lass? Has yer little project finally borne fruit?”

“It did, and I sent one of my drones to find her,” she said as a fuzzy image appeared over her forearm before settling into finer clarity. Morgan and Terisa seemed deep in conversation while sharing a drink, sitting on the edge of the upper deck just aft of the rearmost lift bag. “I’ll go see to that while you keep the warm-up test going. Don’t be afraid to pull the plug if they get too hot too fast, better safe than sorry.”

“Aye, Lassie”

“That’s Aye-aye, Capn!” she retorted as she left the bridge and clambered up the side of the ship with her suit’s extra legs. Morgan grinned at her as she climbed up to perch next to the Sorceress, opposite Terisa. The grin widened with excitement as she held out her latest project to the woman.

“Is that!?” Morgan left the question hanging expectant in the air, looking at the metal and stone tablet with three knobs and an analogue display that anyone from Earth would be familiar with, if they had ever listened to radio in a classic car.

“It’s a magically boosted, mana-powered frequency modulation transceiver. Basically a magic radio.”

Morgan reached out, and her magic caught the stone grips on either side to gently lift the tablet. “You even remembered to make it out of parts i can use with [Terrakinesis]!”

“Yep! Since we couldn’t figure out a way to learn you a new living rune before you left, I tried to make it as simple as possible. You can power it up to transmit just by funneling mana into the crystals set on the back. Range is variable, but you should be able to hear us squawking from thousands of miles away if you can get high enough.”

“Is this some new manner of scrying?” interrupted Terisa with sudden wonder. “No scrying or divination magics work in the Wildlands, it’s why we aren’t able to contact home right now…”

“The only thing magic about it is the power source,” answered Dana. “And this is primitive compared to the stuff back home, but I don’t think you guys need or want the internet and smartphones any time soon.”

“Hah, they’d just post pictures of cats like we do,” tittered Morgan.

Dana scooted closer to the other two women, leaning in to explain the functions of the new toy, while the winds stirred restlessly around them.

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Biggles stood near a small fire next to Chnarl, watching the Titan lumber down the slope towards the northeastern gap in the mountains that lead to the lowlands. He could just make out a pale figure standing on one shoulder of the giant, and could barely feel the tremors in the ground beneath his feet as the massive form loped away. There had been no time for proper partings, the Sorceress’ father had simply stood and begun walking. Morgan had quickly darted after him with rushed waving and shouts of thanks towards Dana and Terisa.

“Do you think we’ll see them again?” asked Biggles, turning to the druid.

Chnarl wheezed, coughing up phlegm to spit which was carried away by the wind, thankfully in a direction away from the necromancer. “I’d not gamble, but I think we just might,” he said.

“You’ve been more grumpy than usual, badger-man. Something about all this bothering you?”

“It’s just age and all that comes with it,” said Chnarl, leaning on his staff. He gratefully accepted a hot cup of kaffen as Biggles lifted the pot from over the fire. “A fine brew makes the cold a bit easier to bear, but doesn’t do spit for the dreams.”

“A bit of talent for dreams with your druidry?” inquired Biggles.

“I wouldn’t call it a talent,” growled the old badger. “More like an intermittent curse of confusion. It’s to snow soon, and nobody needs dreams here to tell that.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, looking up at the wispy clouds scudding above the valley. They were growing more numerous by the minute.

“It’s strange though,” mused Chnarl as he nursed the cup.

“What is?”

“If it’s going to snow,” responded the druid grimly, “then why do I dream of thunder?”