The Witches of Ne'arth (The Star Wizards Trilogy Book 2) (47 page)

Geth squirmed.  “I do not feel worthy.”

“Well, you are.  And your assistance would be most invaluable.”  Archimedes stretched out his arm.  “Starting with, elevating me off this bed.”

Geth helped Archimedes up.  Bok handed Archimedes his staff and shawl, and Archimedes hobbled to the door with Geth and Bok following.  While they passed through the woods, Bok searched their rear.  The lieutenant, not being an experienced guerrilla fighter like Geth, was easy to spot.  Bok informed Archimedes of their 'tail.'

Geth reflexively touched his hilt, then saw their placid expressions.  “Another ruse?”

Archimedes smiled.  “You're catching on.”

“Old man, your tricks in tricks!  Kresidalan you may be, but I still cannot understand why you never became Emperor of Rome.”

“Oh, it takes a different kind of clever than mine.  And a different heart.   And it didn't seem like it would be fun.”

Archimedes stopped to rest twice.  Within the hour they reached the tent.  It was as big as a hut and draped in moss and branches so that one had to look hard to see it.  Archimedes beckoned them inside and lit the torch.  Geth's eyes widened at the sight of the workshop.

“I've never seen a catapult so huge!” he exclaimed.  “So this is your secret weapon!”

“It is not,” Archimedes replied.  “This is what Krobart thinks we are building, because Bok tells him so and it is what the lieutenant lurking out there sees when he sneaks in when we're not here.  But our journey to the ultimate secret is not yet concluded.  Bok?”

Bok pulled aside a box against the opposite wall of the tent, revealing a meter-square flap.  He lifted the flap and Archimedes got on his hands and knees and passed through the hole.  Geth followed, and Bok backed in, moving box and flap into their previous positions.  They crawled through a tunnel of dense brush, emerging into a gully.  Silently, they led Geth through more trails.  At last they entered a clearing that encircled a pond.  Archimedes pointed to the hill on the other side and held out his arms expectantly.  Geth and Bok took one each and helped him up the trail to the crest.

Once he caught his breath, Archimedes entered the woods atop the hill and they came to another camouflaged tent, twice the size of the first.  The flaps were pulled to open the entire front of the tent.  Geth stared quietly.

“
This
is your secret weapon?”

“Indeed,” Archimedes replied.  “As did the ancients, we call it a 'glider.'”

Geth entered the tent.  He ran his hands along the wings and fuselage, gently twisted the ailerons and rudder, observing the play of the cables that led via a system of pulleys to the controls in the cockpit.

“It resembles a bird, yet with wings longer than even an albatross.  Is it a kind of kite?”

“In a sense, it's a kite that carries its operator.”

“How is a kite a weapon, even if it does carry a man?”

“You're missing the key, Geth.  A kite can't go very far or very high and the reason is because it's tethered to an operator on the ground.  The glider's operator is inside the craft, so it can fly as high and as far as the wind will take it.  Same thing as gulls suspended in a breeze.”

“Even gulls must flap their wings from time to time so as to regain height.  These wings are fixed.  How then does the craft rise in the air in the first place?”

“We have it roll down this hill, and when it gains enough speed, it takes flight on its own.”

“That is quite astounding, but again, how is that a weapon?”

“Well, imagine that the Roman airship is here –“ Archimedes indicated mid-level with one hand “– and this craft is here – “ he raised his other hand higher.  “Then we attack from above, dropping bombs or firing rockets on the airship just as the airship does onto its targets.”  He swooped his 'aircraft' hand over the 'airship' hand to illustrate.

Geth scratched his chin.  “How do you propose to lure the airship below this hill?”

“How do I – oh, I see what you're saying.”  Archimedes addressed Bok:  “He thinks all we can do is fly downward from here.  He doesn't understand ascendals.”

“What is an 'ascendal?'” Geth asked.

“It involves a technique by which the aircraft can ascend to higher altitudes,” Archimedes replied.  “You see, warm air rises – well, you know that, you've piloted the airship.  At any rate, above the surface of the land and sea are invisible columns formed of air that rise because of their warmth.  Bok and I call these columns 'ascendals,' because if the pilot flies the aircraft inside of one, he and the craft will ascend with the air in the column.”

Geth was quiet for a moment.  “And so this is your theory?”

“P
roven
fact.”

“Sir,” Bok interjected.  “I can show him.  The breeze today is good speed.“

“I saw you glancing at the sky as we walked.” Archimedes smiled.  “A complete overcast is not the best weather to seek ascendals, but I suppose it will work for a demonstration.  All right Bok – but nothing fancy and keep it short.”

Bok took the cue to remove the wheel blocks.  Though his expression continued to signal perplexity, Geth helped them roll the aircraft out of the tent, down a well-worn path to the point where the hill's incline rapidly steepened.  Bok climbed into the cockpit and faced the handles that operated the pulleys.  He and Archimedes went through the flight check, testing control surfaces and cable integrity.  At last, Bok strapped himself into the harness, fitted on the 'flight glasses' that Archimedes had fabricated, and the signal was given.  Geth pushed the craft forward until the wheels rolled on their own with gathering speed.

The craft rattled and shook as it always did, but Bok had learned to ignore the bouncing and concentrate on the sensing the right speed for lift.  With precise timing he pulled the cable handles that operated the horizontal stabilizers on the tail.  The nose elevated and the shaking stopped as the craft leaped into the air. 

Once clear of the ground, Bok wasted no time.  Pulling the aileron and rudder cables, he went into a tight bank and steered toward the face of the adjacent cliff.  As usual, the day's breeze was striking the cliff, becoming an updraft.  Bok joined, barely clearing the crags.  The updraft carried him above the top of the cliff, scores of meters higher than the hill from which he had launched. 

Below, Archimedes waved his staff in the approval signal.  Geth was staring open-mouthed.

Bok made a lazy circle over the perimeter of the pond, nearly grazing the tree tops.  He curved back to the cliff and replenished altitude over hot springs.  He repeated and then, wanting to impress Geth, he surveyed the landscape for what to do next.  He could head north, and follow the tree line along the mountain slope for a while.  That would show Geth that the craft had range.

Then the banking nose brought Mount Skawful into view.  The massive volcano loomed above the landscape, simmering vapor all the way to the cloud cover above:  the ultimate ascendal. 

Bok's heart ached at the sight.  Archimedes had often remarked, “
If you can reach Skawful, then all the sky above Britan is yours
.”  And each time Bok had nodded soberly at what was for Britan's only aerial knight the holiest of grails. 

For the ascendals of Skawful towered so high that even on this gray day they bored a hole into the overcast.  To reach Skawful meant to be borne by ascendals that would lift him perhaps kilometers into the heavens, to altitudes where he could survey all the island.  He could circle as long as he wished, waiting until he spotted the Roman airship.  And then however far away, so long as it was over the island, he would have the range to swoop upon it, and strike swiftly from above and behind –

Such an act would make him a hero of Britan.  People would speak of him in the awestruck way they did of Lady Carrot and the Wizard.  Not that he, Bok, would ever be motivated by a desire for fame and glory.  And 'awestruck' wasn't actually what he was aiming for in human social interaction.  What mattered was the deed, to free Britan from the Roman murderers . . . although it would also be nice to win the Lady Carrot's smile for his valor.  

As he had done on many previous flights, Bok gazed longingly across the plain that separated him from Skawful.  He had often probed for ascendals along the nearest ridges, but they were never enough to enable him to soar across the entirety of the plain.  Skawful dominated the scene, yet seemed forever out of reach.

Then he noticed that the cloud cover was thinner over the plain.  Shafts of sunlight were breaking through and warming the land below.  The air over those sunlit areas would become warm from the transfer of heat, thereby forming ascendals. 

Bok raised his eyes and saw that the spots of sunlight upon the plain stretched toward Skawful like stepping stones.  He glanced down at the hill.  Archimedes was waving his staff in the 'return now' signal.  But Archimedes was on the wrong side of the hill to see the opportunity.  Geth was standing alongside the old man, silently waiting for whatever Bok would do. 

Geth
, the father of Lady Carrot.  Perhaps no man's opinion, not even that of the Wizard, weighed more with the Lady Carrot than that of her own father.  If he, Bok, could impress Geth . . . .

With little hesitation, Bok broke across the plain, heading over fields and villages toward the nearest bright spot.  As he passed the distance from which he could not return without an ascendal's lift, he felt a resurgence of the fear that he had vowed never to show the world. 

The cool air was dense and sustained his altitude.  He reached the bright spot and the invisible column of the ascendal made itself known by twitching his wings.  He sliced into it at an angle and began a slow upward corkscrew path, staying within the perimeter of the splotch of sunlight below so that the hot air being generated would take him all the higher.  When his gain in altitude leveled, he broke toward the next spot, kilometers closer to Skawful.

He glided to that one, ascended again, glided to the next, ascended again.  The fourth was problematic.   

When he was halfway there, the bright spot on the landscape started to shrink and fade.  In alarm, he looked up.  The sun break in the clouds was closing.  When he looked back down, the spot had vanished entirely.  It didn't matter that the other stepping stones remained.  To miss even one put his goal beyond hope.

Bok growled and swore.  He turned the craft westward again, to return to the launching hill.  After a few seconds, he realized that he had been undone by confidence.  So sure of making his goal, he had failed to consider that if he had to turn back, the breeze that had speeded him over the plain would impede his return.  He was descending too fast.

He eyed the adjacent ridge.  He had never found ascendals there before but maybe today he would get lucky.  If he could gain any kind of altitude, then he could fly back to the hill and Archimedes would blast at him but it would be all right, no harm done.  Otherwise, he would have to land in unfamiliar territory.  He would be stranded and the craft might be lost and Archimedes would be disappointed and Bok knew it would be all his fault. 

Bok grimly set for the ridge.  The pointed tops of the evergreens rushed below his dangling feet, closer and closer as he lost altitude.  He made it over but there was no ascendal to greet him.  And with the failure, he was coming down fast over rough terrain.

He pulled hard on the cables and lifted the nose higher.  Suddenly the aircraft shuddered and began to descend ever more rapidly.  He yanked on the cables, but the nose wouldn't rise any higher.  He had lost control completely.  He knew he was going to die.

Not now
.
  He would meet his parents in the next life, if there was one.  But he couldn't allow himself to die; Britan needed him. 
Not now!

He had been raised to believe that when you die, your life passes in front of you.  Instead, at that moment he pictured himself in a mist, writing on a tablet, and Archimedes was speaking to him in a calm tutor's voice.

Events have causes
, Archimedes said. 
Why don't the controls work?

Bok verged on fainting, but the answer flashed: 
The control surfaces need air to pass over them.

What can you do about that?

The answer burst:  Counter-intuitively, Bok pushed the nose down.  The glider hurled toward the ground.  With air rushing from fore to aft over the wings and tail, the controls became responsive.  Careful not to stall again, he raised the nose and broke the dive and leveled. 

It seemed for an instant that he had avoided catastrophe, but by then he was only meters above a field and there was a stupid lone tree in front of him and he couldn't dodge in time and he clipped the trunk with his wing and the aircraft dipped and hit the ground hard and bounced and bucked and the impact snapped his harness and tossed him from his seat.  His arms flailed and protected his head from concussion but he felt a sharp pain in his wrist and then he landed on his side and tumbled. 

It took a moment to shake off grogginess.  He became aware of the pains in his thigh and wrist, but he was gladdened that his spine seemed okay.  Bruises would heal without the help of the Wizard, and it seemed that all he had was bruises. 

He removed the flight glasses from his eyes.  He was sprawled on the field, staring at the ceiling of unbroken gray.  He propped onto his elbows and saw a village nearby, Mount Skawful so close yet so far.  Bok slumped flat and rested.  At the moment, even the prospect of Archimedes scolding didn't matter.  He was alive!