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Any other island would be full of seagulls. That must be the rendezvous point, the new one Eric mapped out for their next exchange. Spell-weave cloth was expensive to replace, and in the quantity he had, was outright contraband that would get him arrested if he was caught.Īs Nick tied down the sails, he saw a dark mass of land surrounded by the glittering waters below. With the energy from the aurora, he’d be able to rendezvous and make it home without a hot-swap.Īs the aurora passed and the cloth resumed its natural white color, he walked over and hoisted them down. He had four spare charged emeralds in the upper corner of his cabin, but they were a pain to change out, and the effort was dangerous mid-flight.

The emeralds at the core of each engine, glowed green and recharged. Four conducting ropes tied to the bottom of the sails suctioned the energy to four air engines floating on the corners of the deck. The energy of the aurora swirled through the white cloth, causing it to brim in a rainbow of colors. The pure aethereal energy within were harmless, but could be harnessed with the right tools.Īt the bow, Nick had fashioned spell-weave cloth into a large sail. Auroras were common this far north in the hemisphere. It was an opportunity that Nick was waiting for. This boat was his creation, and was the means by which he kept that obligation held.Īn aurora soared from behind, enclosing through the deck in ever-shifting colors of pure aetherial energy. Not too shabby, given his inexperience, and considering he was following vague tips from a book by Imperial pioneers. In fact, the entire structure was made out of greenwood trees, right down to the sap which sutured the planks together and the pegs that finished the job. The effort was worth it, since he was tired of freezing half to death on every trip.

Which was exactly the case.Īt the rear end of the flat deck was a square cabin fashioned with planks from a greenwood tree. The rickety vessel he stood upon looked as if someone tried to take a raft and latch bits and pieces of a ship onto it. If anything, it was somewhere between air-ship and air-raft. Now, five years later, he peered at the moon’s light filtering through the deck of his airship to the passing clouds below and onto the glittering waters of the sea.Īir-ship may have been too strong a word. Still, those were the parting words of the man he called father for the first decade and a half of his life, and he did his best to live up to it.

To some, it would be deemed cruel to ask such things of a child. All to fulfill the obligation that would rule the next five years of his life. Loitering gave way to reading so that he could work some more. The few friends he had gave way to illicit dealers and business partners. He was fifteen at the time, and from then on, his childhood ended. “A man keeps his word,” his adoptive father told Nick, before swearing him to fulfill a promise he could not keep, then passed away.