Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1) (34 page)

"Call a meeting of my council.  Let's give them the
impression they have some influence.  In the meantime, recall the majority of
the western and northern fleets and issue orders to those in the east to
increased vigilance."

"At once, your eminence!" Yalang responded as he
retreated from the room in a bow.

---o---

Carbella fumed.  He was angrier now than he had ever been,
but
orders were orders
he thought as he went up on deck.  This patrol wasn’t
even his idea, but as Captain of the Imperial sky ship
Chimera
, he went
where Admiral Jarut told him.  And he had just told him in no uncertain terms
that he was to return to the Tala’ahar, the Imperial City.  Some days Carbella
wished the damn Dar'Shilaar had kept their inventions to themselves, or had
never come up with them in the first place.  Then Admiral Jarut wouldn’t have
been able to contact him on that infernal magemirror that all the skyships now
carried for just that purpose.  They would have had to send a messenger
instead, and could not be contacted on a whim.  It had taken them and their
sister ship
Wyvern
ten days to get to the northern escarpment on the edge
of the Empire, and they had only been here seven, with
Chimera
patrolling the west, and
Wyvern
heading east along the extensive cliff
edge, but now they were ordered back at haste, told that they must make it back
within five days or be docked pay.

His crew scattered as he stepped up on the deck, pausing to
survey his ship.  They could sense his mood as if a thunderstorm hovered over
his head even as his ship floated above the landscape tens of spans below the
keel sail.  Turning, he climbed the steep stairs to the aft castle, making for
the helm.  He stumbled on the ship’s ladder - his conversations on the
magemirror always drained him physically as much as they charged him
emotionally.

“Orders, sir?” asked his First Mate Harsen.  Carbella regarded
Harsen for a moment before answering.  The First Mate had been with him for
seven years, and had been resilient and stoic, dealing with everything that had
come their way in that time.  And that had been quite a lot.  The scar running
down the left side of his face had a story to it, as did the claw marks
scarring his left bicep hidden by his golden uniform.

“We’re to return to Imperial City, at double speed,”
directed the Captain.

“That will put quite a strain on the skygem sir,” stated
Harsen.

“Yes,” Carbella stated frankly.  He too was worried, even
though no emotion had entered Harsen’s voice at the previous statement.  In the
last two years, thirteen skyships had mysteriously plummeted from the sky,
injuring and killing many on board.  Before that, no skyships had failed in the
forty or so years the Imperial Sky Navy had been in existence.  The Dar'Shilaar
that had been sent out by the Empire had yet to find any reasons why this was
occurring.  “Give the order, and then go check on Marius,” he ordered as he
straightened his hat and tugged down his golden coat, taking the helm.

Marius was the ship’s Dar'Shilaar, assigned by the Empire,
supplied by Mahad'avor in payment for allowing them to call the Empire home. 
That was not a situation that Carbella understood, nor did he really care to. 
It just meant he had to put up with a Shilaar on his ship due to the necessity
of having someone who knew how the skygem powering his ship’s flight worked.

Harsen was shouting orders to the crew, who leapt to obey, climbing
the rigging to the main sails, and adjusting the port and starboard side sweep
jibs to their most advantageous positions to begin tacking against the breeze. 
Carbella watched his crew scurry around, stowing the few loose items on deck,
as he leaned into the helm and began to turn the ship.  He cursed his luck as
he turned the helm and the aimed the ship into the wind.  Five days was going
to be impossible heading into the wind, let alone beating the ten that it took
to get to the northern escarpment in the first place.  Carbella knew what he
had to do, but was loath to do so.  The
Chimera
, at forty paces of keel,
an additional ten pace long front spar, and a beam width of nine paces, with
three main masts, the tallest over six spans, or twenty paces from the keel,
and four six span side sweeps, she was the standard hull style for the Imperial
Sky Navy, but she was
his
.  She carried a compliment of sixty sailors,
and a squad of thirty soldiers armed with sabres and studded leather armor all
under his command.  She also carried four ballista and an aft deck catapult on
a swivel.  With full sail, she was a site to behold, white sails with the
Imperial crest emblazoned in the center likened to the wings of the mythical
dragons, not seen for centuries, and the speeds she could reach running with
the wind became staggering.  But with all that, none of the Imperial skyships
could run head on into the wind, but could only tack across at an angle, which
basically doubled the amount of distance they would have to cover.  Unless...
unless it was an emergency, in which the
Chimera
crew could stow all
sails but the keel sail below that provided a small amount of steering and run
fully with the skygem propelling them in any direction, even directly into the
wind.  
But at what cost?

Carbella stared over the forests below to the far mountains
ahead that defined the limits of the Empire, only low dark purple stains
against the horizon.  It was the only option.  It didn’t mean that he would
have to like it.

---o---

Harsen knocked loudly on the vault door, partly convinced
the wizard was either deaf, or daft, and partly because if he wasn’t one of
those two, then he just wanted to annoy him.  Harsen knew that Marius was
always a little distracted, and generally full of himself, so without waiting
for an answer, he pushed open the door.  Stepping into the small vault that
housed the heart of the skyship, Harsen looked around the small room.  Located
at the dead center of the ship, the main mast ran from the floor boards below
to the ceiling above.  Attached to the mast was a small table with a metal
bowl-like depression in the center holding a glowing egg-shaped gem the size of
Harsen’s fist.  In the emerald light emanating from the gem he could see Marius
sitting in the chair in front of the gem watching it, but not obviously doing
anything.

“Yes?” Marius whispered, “You banged?” His voice was dry,
like a sand viper
Harsen thought.

“Captain’s orders,” stated Harsen gruffly. “We’re ordered
back to Imperial City at double speed.”  He thought he saw the skygem flicker
and dim slightly as he could feel the ship shift into its turn.

“Of course,” replied Marius.  Harsen could not see Marius’s
face under the raised hood of his cloak, but though his tone seemed one of
indifference, Harsen thought he could sense irritation.  “Please send the
Captain down.”

Harsen left the vault without another word, shutting the
door behind him, thanking the god Voral that Marius was the Captain’s problem
to deal with.

---o---

Carbella stormed down the ship's ladder, through the top
hold, down another ladder and stomped his way towards the vault.  He stopped
himself about three paces shy of the door to the non-descript room to calm
himself.  The Dar'Shilaar always projected a calm, icy demeanor, and Carbella
had not ever seen the man agitated, but there was always something in the man's
eyes that indicated a buried fury that may erupt at any time.  He was similar
to the ocean, calm one instant, then raging the next when a sudden squall whips
up.

Stepping forward after a few moments to get under control,
he knocked on the door, waited a moment, and then stepped into the small room. 
"You requested to speak with me?" the captain asked as calmly as he
could.

"Summoned you, yes." Marius said flatly from under
his hood.

"Well, what do you want?" he responded, ignoring
the Dar'Shilaar's attempt to illicit a response to his last statement.

"I just wanted to let you know that it would be unwise
to strain the quafa'shilaar to the extent your lackey just expressed," the
cloaked man stated.  "In fact, I am not sure it will allow it."

"What do you mean that 'it won't allow it'?"
Carbella asked with frustration.  "It's not like that stone is
alive."

"It most assuredly is.  All magic is life.  All life is
magic."  It was simply said, but it ran shivers up Carbella's spine just
the same.

"Just do it.  We have been ordered back to Tala'ahar
and must be there in five days or be docked pay."

"Well then, by all means," the Dar'Shilaar said,
voice dripping with sarcasm.  Carbella was well aware that Marius did not get
paid; it was a tour of service to keep the Dar'Shilaar in good graces with the
Empire, more specifically the Emperor. 

He lurched as the Dar'Shilaar reached out and touched the
stone and the ship began to accelerate.  He hoped things could hold out until
they got back to Tala'ahar.

---o---

Marcon stalked through the courtyard, Goralonian soldiers
under his command moving out of the way quickly.  He could not blame them, as
he was in a foul mood, and expected that his face showed it, in addition, the
scar from his most recent fight caused his mouth to turn into a perpetual
frown.

They had captured this sky citadel guarding the pass almost
seven days ago in what had been a masterly executed plan, sending magically-enhanced
agents in to cut off messages be sent via those mirrors, and close off the
magegate for retreat.  Once that was done, his master Kartem had used the
willing sacrifice of eight Goralonian soldiers and blood magic to open eight
gateways into the fortress to allow hundreds of soldiers to storm the floating
keep.

He was still in awe of the thing.  Walking through the
courtyard, with walls on all sides, you could really forget that you were
floating a hundred spans off the ground.  Of course, he had walked along the
walls one day and even though it was two spans wide and protected by
battlements, the view gave him vertigo, and he had not stepped up there since. 
He had managed to find the two bodies of the slain shadow assassins amongst the
other slain, noting one of the sky harnesses was missing, and procured the
other harness for himself.  He had not tried activating its power, but he felt
safer that should the citadel fall out from under him, he would float gently to
the ground.

But now, nothing seemed to be going their way.  The floating
citadel was still in the same location, over the now occupied former Imperial
fort that protected the Pass of Maran'toral.  They had not managed to get into
the control tower as yet, so they could not move the thing.  But that was not
even the worst part.  He was even now on his way to report to Kartem on the
latest developments.  He could only hope that the warlock would not take it out
on him.

He stormed to the main keep and up the main hall to the
somewhat informal audience chamber which also served the small citadel as its
great hall.  The tables had been cleared - moved to the giant barn for the men
to use as their dining hall - and the throne left as the only place to sit. 
Which was where Kartem was currently - sitting and tapping his fingers on the
oak arm rest with a staccato rhythm.

Marcon stepped forward without wasted motion and took one
knee before him.

"Report," the warlock said after a moment in his
ever present whisper.

"Six more dead this morning.  We have not found the
assassin that is hounding our soldiers, and a rumor has started saying that
this fortress is haunted.  Even the four remaining shadow assassins remain
baffled.  They are still roaming the fortress after dark, when the murders seem
to be taking place."  Marcon paused, licking his lips, waiting for the
warlock's reaction.

"Go on," was all the thin man whispered.

Marcon heaved an inward sigh as that was the worst of the
news he brought this day.  "We have not managed to breach the control
tower yet.  The wizard still manages to block our access, but we are certain
his food must run out soon.  Also, we have managed to use the pulleys and
winches we found two days ago and raise and reset two of the eight gates around
the fortress.  We should have the rest raised within three more days."  He
stopped, his report done.

"I see," whispered the warlock, not even looking
at Marcon.  "Well then, I guess we will have to set an example."

"What are your orders?" Marcon responded.

Kartem the warlock, most powerful shadow magic wielder, and
advisor to the king told him.  Marcon felt himself smile.