By the next day’s dawn, we had left that layer of clouds and were sailing steadily on the surface altitude. Soon our course was announced: to dock at Xenon, a port town on Ammonia’s border. This raised a stir and degree of anxiety among deckhands. For enemies of the Absolomese her people were, and only very recently had we done the latter a great favor.
As it was fair weather, Amonia’s land first entered our sight as but a small dot amidst a sea of sparse clouds and mist. Then gradually that dot grew into one large cliff. Upon which the extreme boundary of earthly life greeted us creatures of the skies. Clinging to a barren cliff of rock and hard earth, hanging plants and the green of moss covered the wind-smoothened stones. Dripping, trickling, sometimes even pouring water exited from cracks in this cliff, nourishing an abundant wildlife behind the thickets, whence nimble creatures stared out with bright wary eyes. No few birds of prey stalked this perilous way of life, clutching in their claws fat critters as our cats looked on with envy.
All this was entertaining enough, but ere long we reached the land’s dwelling level. First to enter our sight in months. Passing the cliff’s edge, the land steadily rose at a shallow angle. Woodlands and vast prairies rolled beneath us, and white clouds parted in our wake.
Before noon, cultivated fields began to overtake the wilderness, giving way to empty roads and silent air. Shadows we cast over some remoter villages of little import, where the denizens drew out to observe our passing in equal awe and apprehension. But as we approached the city in earnest, a foreboding mood in the land reached even us, and for a while, the land seemed dead, and not until the city itself that we would descry again a living soul.
Warriors stood guard upon the great fortress of Xenon. A remote, scarce and harsh this land is, being situated at one of the fronts bordering the nemesis of her country, The Princedom of Absalomi. Trade here was limited, for even in peacetime embargoes unceasingly haunted the relationship between the two countries. Vivid were their grudges through all the warring generations.
Bolstered for warranted fear of invasion, the current Xenon was a great man-made mass of stones, mortar, and bricks. Tall and wide it was, extending all the way to the flanking mountains. Dark embrasures stared out at our approach. Soldiers lined behind crenels. Cannons pointed and ballistae loaded. The gates closed solemnly. We were not welcome.
Now the crew took an alarmed tone and tension spread. Amidst all this, my ala were promptly summoned by Gladiola. The order had passed that Ala Estival was to herald the docking of the Daybright, welcome or not.
So suddenly pulled from the lulling weeks of constant respite and security, and plunged upon our heads straight into perils of combat and atrocity, it was almost a thing unreal. Litzia and I went aloft and at the front of the Citadel, our hands joined for the pledge. The queer mood from the day before yet haunted us, and Litzia’s mien was rigid and tense.
Still, at that time, a feeling of wrongness troubled me more, for it would be humans we flew against, no beasts.
I sighed as we enacted the pledge.
Like as not, the ordeal might be resolved peacefully, however.
“They are frightened,” said Gladiola grimly as we took to the sky. “The Dragon brings fear, and fear brings irrationality.”
Four pairs of wings departed the maimed and dismasted Daybright. For how battered our vessel was, she made still a show of might. And I wondered at what hope the people of Xenon had in their grounded weaponry and soldiers. But from the beginning, they chose to meet us with hostility, needed for dispute, and I could only hope that they would get not what they sought.
Farmlands stretched out below, leaving little space for an ambush, while upon the riped crops, nary a soul could be found. Sealed gates and empty roads adorned those ramparts ahead with a grim visage. This hardness stared back at us, as if ready to withstand a blow. Those walls might be effective against a conventional foe, but ultimately useless in the face of our sky-bearing assaults. And they must know it too.
We gained on the vaulted walls, drawing nearer to the extreme range where those quiet but manned siege weapons might still lay aim at us. Proudly Gladiola led the emissary. Before and beside me, Acis and Valerian were quiet. It would soon be time to get a clear picture of the extent they would go to oppose us, and in turn, the degree of punishment in response from the captain.
I held firm the thorn on the base of Litzia’s neck. She did not pay much heed to me, all her senses trained on our surroundings and any likely ground for ambush. Even as heralds, we flew in a likely enemy’s sky.
I maintain that it was against their better judgment.
A whistling sound tore through the sky. A long, barbed steel head was already in the air. In so short a timeframe, I could not so much as understand its meaning, let alone take up my runestaff. But in midair the shaft snapped in half. On my side, Valerian lowered her weapon. With incredible accuracy and quickness, she had struck down the bolt while gliding at cruising speed.
At once Gladiola halted the Ala. Already I felt the rising of dark caution and readiness for violence in my tempestuous pledge-sister.
“Not yet,” I guardedly told her, but I doubted she would listen.
Already Acis cried out, “Is that not clear hostility? War they want, or something else, for I do not think they expect a fair fight. Do we react in kind, Gladiola? Fire and brimstone or odd benevolent?”
Our leader scowled as she looked on, acted not but considered the situation. Her partner swayed slightly.
“This is not right,” Litzia said.
Valerian pointed fore, “It came from the leeward wall.”
We were close enough to make out individuals upon the ramparts, those who manned the weapons. Presently, a stir was underway where Valerian had pointed to. A brawl. Soldiers crowded on one among them, and ere long they restrained the rebel and took them below.
“A mishap in the chain of command?” offered Valerian.
“It would be an excuse,” said Gladiola. As she said a figure came up to the top of the gate, armed and plated. He raised a flag of fluttering white. “But not a good one. Let us go.”
So she bade us resume our flight towards the city. With even greater caution, we came upon the gate where the man stood. Soldiers arrayed at attention behind him.
Some way over the man’s head, but still within shouting range, Hortensia now beat wings at almost a standstill. The knight's voice rang little louder than conversational tone to my ears, yet it echoed clear and precise to her surroundings. “What plea you for an excuse, leader of men! Is that not the Dragon Head you beheld on our bowsprit, though it is brighter and clearer than the stars and the moon? Or had men of Ammonia grown so bold and mighty now that they make sport of even the Dawn?”
“We pray for your excuse, Your Ladyship,” the man at their front shouted, “I am Renan, appointed general of this city’s defense. The offense just now was by no cause of the people of Xenon, but a poor woman under my command, possessed by a devil of the mind, wrought of sorrow and anger. Let it be known that we respect the Dragon and seek only in her friendship. Still, we could not open our harbor, as it is now closed by the command of our lordship, to any save the King’s host.”
“We are in need of supply and repair of our vessel. This the Lady herself requests. Renan of Xenon, you will do well to observe her demands when she yet sees the need for civility. And even if not so, is it not by the common law of hospitality that one turns not a ship in time of need away?”
“I am afraid it is not, your ladyship, in certain circumstances. In war, for one, as it is in war that the people of Ammonia now live. It seems news has yet to reach the Dragon’s ears, or that she sees no concern in such clashes of men. Nonetheless only a week prior, the Absalomi fleets had struck in succession many of our cities and settlements. So now that spies and treachery are afoot, our harbor and any dealings with outsiders are forbidden. We beg only for your understanding. Supplies we shall offer, but not in excess, for a trying time awaits ourselves, and no more.”
So Thea’s prophecy the night of the captain’s transaction with the Abasalomi had come true. The Prince had waged a war during our time in Underland. And yet, even if their hostility was not justified, our captain cares not for human blight. I feared the worst.
The others might have sensed it too when Gladiola gave her last warning.
“If it is as you said, then all the more reason for us to enter the city, for no mighty navy in this sky should dare transgress the Daybright’s berth. Heed that and make space in your shipyard within the hour, or it is fire and brimstone you will earn for fear of spies and treachery. Have a care! Not a soul will live to warn the remainder of your people if you warrant the Dragon’s wrath! Not women, not children, not even cattle or a standing tower to house your lord! Bid your warriors prepare for the glory of death in combat, and grant their families one last moment of comfort! But beg not your gods for deliverance, for they are no match against the Dawn!”
Blood and madness! Empty warning it was not. For the captain indeed knew no mercy, no pity for her foe. Other skippers of peaceful vessels may choose to steer for another port, but for her this is a matter of pride. And proud she verily is. All the more, I knew the captain’s disposition, but this speech of Gladiola reeked of murder and cruelty, as if straight out of the captain’s rows of teeth. And she frightened me, being one I had been in company lately, and taken much for a friend. Now this friendship was to make the foundation for a crime: this time I was no more a helpless bystander, but a hand and an aid in atrocity against innocent lives!
My heart drummed harder than Litzia’s now. And this reached to my pledge-sister.
“Becalm, Aster,” she said, “I don’t like this either. But those people, they fear us. And only by frightening them into submission could Gladiola prevent their daring thoughts. It is to avoid needless bloodshed and angering that woman.”
She was right, and this was all in the end an ill-timed misfortune. At any other nations by all rights we should have long been snugly in port, pondering only which shops to make merry in town. But here war gloomed and blood stank. The only way this could have gone smoothly now was for them to give in and admit our entrance.
Presently, the guard captain’s face shifted hue. Less for surprise, but a realized anticipation. Much chagrin there was in his fumbling hands and quivered lips as he sought still a way to bid us away. But that was not all of Gladila’s demands.
“Just now, you spoke of an ill-disciplined subordinate. Lesser crimes had been met with utter annihilation, and upon your people this retribution due to one lone man now stands. But that is not for me to decide: bring the woman, my superiors shall tell what fate she has invited. The rest may yet be spared.”
Further extortion. Less ground for submission was now present for the Xenon people – give in, and they might face still violence. I could not comprehend Gladiola’s purpose in pushing this now. And this was my failure to understand the captain’s temper, though I was aware of her cruelty.
At my fore, Acis turned round, saying just loud enough to override the wind. “Methinks they will resist. Get lively with your staff, Aster.”
I clutched my runestaff as said she. Following orders to haul lines and stretch cordages as a deckhand is one thing, to lay aim upon a human is altogether a different story. Yet disobedience was not an option.
At last, the man gave his answer, “Of your request to use our shipyard, I must first consult my lord. But for your other demand I could not consent, alares of the Dragon. The offender is one under my command, and thus shall be punished according to the law of the land and honor, but otherwise he stays under my protection.”
At his bold and fatal answer, Gladiola stirred and looked long in his eyes. I drew a deep breath.
“Your protection is worthless, Renan,” she declared, “and yet I shall not make you choose between honor and your people, for that is not my way. I, Gladiola of the Anemone and Prima of the Estival Alares, swear on the ordained pledge to safeguard your subordinate in the law of honor, that no one may do him injustice, insofar as my mortal capabilities allow.”
The perplexed man stood in wonder for some time. Here, at the border of a human city, a man upon his charge of a rampart faced an overwhelming host on wings almost divine in nature, and had been given an oath made only between equals.
“I did not know I spoke to the Lady Legate," he bowed deep, "your reputation precedes you, and now I see that it proves true. And so I put my man and my trust in your hands. Soldiers, bring captain Halal!”
She nodded. “My fate is no longer tied to the legions, nor am I a legate, but still I have my honor. You did well to set your trust above your order.”
Ere long, Renan’s men escorted aloft a bound man. Bruises and gashes littered his flesh, yet he wore a defiant gaze. Though his hands were tied, his back erected like a mast. Upon Gladiola’s command, Litzia and I landed on the rampart where the men helped him on my wyverness’s back. A strangely obedient man for how great the caution with which the men had handled him.
Before we departed, Gladiola gave her last warning, “Have a care, Renan of Xenon. Within the hour our ship will advance, make your preparation in the meantime, whatever course you will choose for your people.”
It was plain in her speech and also her manner: we had come with fear for our method, but it is now their choice between destruction and humiliation. Now an hour of many decisions awaited us.
By the next day’s dawn, we had left that layer of clouds and were sailing steadily on the surface altitude. Soon our course was announced: to dock at Xenon, a port town on Ammonia’s border. This raised a stir and degree of anxiety among deckhands. For enemies of the Absolomese her people were, and only very recently had we done the latter a great favor.
As it was fair weather, Amonia’s land first entered our sight as but a small dot amidst a sea of sparse clouds and mist. Then gradually that dot grew into one large cliff. Upon which the extreme boundary of earthly life greeted us creatures of the skies. Clinging to a barren cliff of rock and hard earth, hanging plants and the green of moss covered the wind-smoothened stones. Dripping, trickling, sometimes even pouring water exited from cracks in this cliff, nourishing an abundant wildlife behind the thickets, whence nimble creatures stared out with bright wary eyes. No few birds of prey stalked this perilous way of life, clutching in their claws fat critters as our cats looked on with envy.
All this was entertaining enough, but ere long we reached the land’s dwelling level. First to enter our sight in months. Passing the cliff’s edge, the land steadily rose at a shallow angle. Woodlands and vast prairies rolled beneath us, and white clouds parted in our wake.
Before noon, cultivated fields began to overtake the wilderness, giving way to empty roads and silent air. Shadows we cast over some remoter villages of little import, where the denizens drew out to observe our passing in equal awe and apprehension. But as we approached the city in earnest, a foreboding mood in the land reached even us, and for a while, the land seemed dead, and not until the city itself that we would descry again a living soul.
Warriors stood guard upon the great fortress of Xenon. A remote, scarce and harsh this land is, being situated at one of the fronts bordering the nemesis of her country, The Princedom of Absalomi. Trade here was limited, for even in peacetime embargoes unceasingly haunted the relationship between the two countries. Vivid were their grudges through all the warring generations.
Bolstered for warranted fear of invasion, the current Xenon was a great man-made mass of stones, mortar, and bricks. Tall and wide it was, extending all the way to the flanking mountains. Dark embrasures stared out at our approach. Soldiers lined behind crenels. Cannons pointed and ballistae loaded. The gates closed solemnly. We were not welcome.
Now the crew took an alarmed tone and tension spread. Amidst all this, my ala were promptly summoned by Gladiola. The order had passed that Ala Estival was to herald the docking of the Daybright, welcome or not.
So suddenly pulled from the lulling weeks of constant respite and security, and plunged upon our heads straight into perils of combat and atrocity, it was almost a thing unreal. Litzia and I went aloft and at the front of the Citadel, our hands joined for the pledge. The queer mood from the day before yet haunted us, and Litzia’s mien was rigid and tense.
Still, at that time, a feeling of wrongness troubled me more, for it would be humans we flew against, no beasts.
I sighed as we enacted the pledge.
Like as not, the ordeal might be resolved peacefully, however.
“They are frightened,” said Gladiola grimly as we took to the sky. “The Dragon brings fear, and fear brings irrationality.”
Four pairs of wings departed the maimed and dismasted Daybright. For how battered our vessel was, she made still a show of might. And I wondered at what hope the people of Xenon had in their grounded weaponry and soldiers. But from the beginning, they chose to meet us with hostility, needed for dispute, and I could only hope that they would get not what they sought.
Farmlands stretched out below, leaving little space for an ambush, while upon the riped crops, nary a soul could be found. Sealed gates and empty roads adorned those ramparts ahead with a grim visage. This hardness stared back at us, as if ready to withstand a blow. Those walls might be effective against a conventional foe, but ultimately useless in the face of our sky-bearing assaults. And they must know it too.
We gained on the vaulted walls, drawing nearer to the extreme range where those quiet but manned siege weapons might still lay aim at us. Proudly Gladiola led the emissary. Before and beside me, Acis and Valerian were quiet. It would soon be time to get a clear picture of the extent they would go to oppose us, and in turn, the degree of punishment in response from the captain.
I held firm the thorn on the base of Litzia’s neck. She did not pay much heed to me, all her senses trained on our surroundings and any likely ground for ambush. Even as heralds, we flew in a likely enemy’s sky.
I maintain that it was against their better judgment.
A whistling sound tore through the sky. A long, barbed steel head was already in the air. In so short a timeframe, I could not so much as understand its meaning, let alone take up my runestaff. But in midair the shaft snapped in half. On my side, Valerian lowered her weapon. With incredible accuracy and quickness, she had struck down the bolt while gliding at cruising speed.
At once Gladiola halted the Ala. Already I felt the rising of dark caution and readiness for violence in my tempestuous pledge-sister.
“Not yet,” I guardedly told her, but I doubted she would listen.
Already Acis cried out, “Is that not clear hostility? War they want, or something else, for I do not think they expect a fair fight. Do we react in kind, Gladiola? Fire and brimstone or odd benevolent?”
Our leader scowled as she looked on, acted not but considered the situation. Her partner swayed slightly.
“This is not right,” Litzia said.
Valerian pointed fore, “It came from the leeward wall.”
We were close enough to make out individuals upon the ramparts, those who manned the weapons. Presently, a stir was underway where Valerian had pointed to. A brawl. Soldiers crowded on one among them, and ere long they restrained the rebel and took them below.
“A mishap in the chain of command?” offered Valerian.
“It would be an excuse,” said Gladiola. As she said a figure came up to the top of the gate, armed and plated. He raised a flag of fluttering white. “But not a good one. Let us go.”
So she bade us resume our flight towards the city. With even greater caution, we came upon the gate where the man stood. Soldiers arrayed at attention behind him.
Some way over the man’s head, but still within shouting range, Hortensia now beat wings at almost a standstill. The knight's voice rang little louder than conversational tone to my ears, yet it echoed clear and precise to her surroundings. “What plea you for an excuse, leader of men! Is that not the Dragon Head you beheld on our bowsprit, though it is brighter and clearer than the stars and the moon? Or had men of Ammonia grown so bold and mighty now that they make sport of even the Dawn?”
“We pray for your excuse, Your Ladyship,” the man at their front shouted, “I am Renan, appointed general of this city’s defense. The offense just now was by no cause of the people of Xenon, but a poor woman under my command, possessed by a devil of the mind, wrought of sorrow and anger. Let it be known that we respect the Dragon and seek only in her friendship. Still, we could not open our harbor, as it is now closed by the command of our lordship, to any save the King’s host.”
“We are in need of supply and repair of our vessel. This the Lady herself requests. Renan of Xenon, you will do well to observe her demands when she yet sees the need for civility. And even if not so, is it not by the common law of hospitality that one turns not a ship in time of need away?”
“I am afraid it is not, your ladyship, in certain circumstances. In war, for one, as it is in war that the people of Ammonia now live. It seems news has yet to reach the Dragon’s ears, or that she sees no concern in such clashes of men. Nonetheless only a week prior, the Absalomi fleets had struck in succession many of our cities and settlements. So now that spies and treachery are afoot, our harbor and any dealings with outsiders are forbidden. We beg only for your understanding. Supplies we shall offer, but not in excess, for a trying time awaits ourselves, and no more.”
So Thea’s prophecy the night of the captain’s transaction with the Abasalomi had come true. The Prince had waged a war during our time in Underland. And yet, even if their hostility was not justified, our captain cares not for human blight. I feared the worst.
The others might have sensed it too when Gladiola gave her last warning.
“If it is as you said, then all the more reason for us to enter the city, for no mighty navy in this sky should dare transgress the Daybright’s berth. Heed that and make space in your shipyard within the hour, or it is fire and brimstone you will earn for fear of spies and treachery. Have a care! Not a soul will live to warn the remainder of your people if you warrant the Dragon’s wrath! Not women, not children, not even cattle or a standing tower to house your lord! Bid your warriors prepare for the glory of death in combat, and grant their families one last moment of comfort! But beg not your gods for deliverance, for they are no match against the Dawn!”
Blood and madness! Empty warning it was not. For the captain indeed knew no mercy, no pity for her foe. Other skippers of peaceful vessels may choose to steer for another port, but for her this is a matter of pride. And proud she verily is. All the more, I knew the captain’s disposition, but this speech of Gladiola reeked of murder and cruelty, as if straight out of the captain’s rows of teeth. And she frightened me, being one I had been in company lately, and taken much for a friend. Now this friendship was to make the foundation for a crime: this time I was no more a helpless bystander, but a hand and an aid in atrocity against innocent lives!
My heart drummed harder than Litzia’s now. And this reached to my pledge-sister.
“Becalm, Aster,” she said, “I don’t like this either. But those people, they fear us. And only by frightening them into submission could Gladiola prevent their daring thoughts. It is to avoid needless bloodshed and angering that woman.”
She was right, and this was all in the end an ill-timed misfortune. At any other nations by all rights we should have long been snugly in port, pondering only which shops to make merry in town. But here war gloomed and blood stank. The only way this could have gone smoothly now was for them to give in and admit our entrance.
Presently, the guard captain’s face shifted hue. Less for surprise, but a realized anticipation. Much chagrin there was in his fumbling hands and quivered lips as he sought still a way to bid us away. But that was not all of Gladila’s demands.
“Just now, you spoke of an ill-disciplined subordinate. Lesser crimes had been met with utter annihilation, and upon your people this retribution due to one lone man now stands. But that is not for me to decide: bring the woman, my superiors shall tell what fate she has invited. The rest may yet be spared.”
Further extortion. Less ground for submission was now present for the Xenon people – give in, and they might face still violence. I could not comprehend Gladiola’s purpose in pushing this now. And this was my failure to understand the captain’s temper, though I was aware of her cruelty.
At my fore, Acis turned round, saying just loud enough to override the wind. “Methinks they will resist. Get lively with your staff, Aster.”
I clutched my runestaff as said she. Following orders to haul lines and stretch cordages as a deckhand is one thing, to lay aim upon a human is altogether a different story. Yet disobedience was not an option.
At last, the man gave his answer, “Of your request to use our shipyard, I must first consult my lord. But for your other demand I could not consent, alares of the Dragon. The offender is one under my command, and thus shall be punished according to the law of the land and honor, but otherwise he stays under my protection.”
At his bold and fatal answer, Gladiola stirred and looked long in his eyes. I drew a deep breath.
“Your protection is worthless, Renan,” she declared, “and yet I shall not make you choose between honor and your people, for that is not my way. I, Gladiola of the Anemone and Prima of the Estival Alares, swear on the ordained pledge to safeguard your subordinate in the law of honor, that no one may do him injustice, insofar as my mortal capabilities allow.”
The perplexed man stood in wonder for some time. Here, at the border of a human city, a man upon his charge of a rampart faced an overwhelming host on wings almost divine in nature, and had been given an oath made only between equals.
“I did not know I spoke to the Lady Legate," he bowed deep, "your reputation precedes you, and now I see that it proves true. And so I put my man and my trust in your hands. Soldiers, bring captain Halal!”
She nodded. “My fate is no longer tied to the legions, nor am I a legate, but still I have my honor. You did well to set your trust above your order.”
Ere long, Renan’s men escorted aloft a bound man. Bruises and gashes littered his flesh, yet he wore a defiant gaze. Though his hands were tied, his back erected like a mast. Upon Gladiola’s command, Litzia and I landed on the rampart where the men helped him on my wyverness’s back. A strangely obedient man for how great the caution with which the men had handled him.
Before we departed, Gladiola gave her last warning, “Have a care, Renan of Xenon. Within the hour our ship will advance, make your preparation in the meantime, whatever course you will choose for your people.”
It was plain in her speech and also her manner: we had come with fear for our method, but it is now their choice between destruction and humiliation. Now an hour of many decisions awaited us.
