sun.
We’re either going over them or through them, I realize.
We need more power , I tell the ship. One last time.
I feel it struggle to respond.
Then the engines suck in lei and surge, and we arc up above the storm. The green apparitions fade abruptly.
But we must have crossed out of the lei lines, because the engines cut out, then. Everything goes deathly quiet.
And there it is: a high gap, with a small, frozen lake and a broad stretch of deep, unblemished snow. We’re headed for it whether we like it or not, now. I’d tell everyone to hold on, but, well, it seems pretty damn obvious at this point.
I hear the engines kick in at the very last minute—maybe some last bit of reserve power. Whatever it is, I think that’s what saves us.
But we still hit hard, belly-down on the snow, and we skid what feels like half a mile until we come to rest half-on and half-off the frozen lake.
The ice shatters from our weight, and the nose goes down beneath the water. We slide a little more until finally we come to rest, all of us staring out the viewscreen at some pretty freaked-out fish staring back at us, fish that had probably been trying to catch up on some winter sleep.
7.
F or a long minute, there’s silence, broken only by a quiet, irregular ticking coming from that knife in the console of the ship, cooling. Just to be on the safe side, I pull it out with two fingers and slide it into my sheath with my other one. Can’t be too careful.
“So,” I say. “That wasn’t exactly my best landing.”
“Thanks,” says the bearded man. He unbuckles and climbs awkwardly out of the seat, stretches his shoulders, takes off his bowler hat and brushes dirt around on it. Then he sets it carefully back on his head.
“Not a problem,” I say. It was one of my better landings, but I’ll keep that to myself.
The man stares at me. “Thanks for ruining one of the best planned, carefully executed, most expensive operations that I’ve ever put into motion. What are you, man—a devil? A demon?” He takes his hat off again, scrubs at it uselessly with his dirty sleeve.
I unbuckle too and stand up. The hair on the back of my neck ridges goes back, and my ears flatten against my skull. There’s a low growl low in my throat, and all of my fur goes jet black. I'm at least a foot taller than he is.
The bearded man pales, and takes a step backward.
“You know, he probably saved our lives, Ercan.” The female mage says. She’s as battered and dirty as the rest of us, but there’s something about her that still takes me by surprise. She has a round, dark face and large green eyes that are wide and clear, and her long, dark hair is bound back tightly beheath the bowler hat. Her arms are covered in thin metal bracelets, at least fifteen of them glinting on each arm, and they jangle as she moves. “You should at least give him that much.”
She speaks Fhirlo with a slight accent, and her voice is calm and resigned as she stands up on the slanted deck. She offers Kjat a hand out of her seat, and after looking at it a moment, Kjat takes it and stands, but then she edges closer to me and takes out her knife.
“And if he hadn’t shown up, hadn’t blasted his way in and woken up every damn Akarii mage in the complex, he wouldn’t have had to.”
“He’s got a point, Mircada.” The fat mage stays seated. One of his legs is definitely twisted at a strange angle, but it doesn’t seem to concern him much. I realize now he’s covered in fine brown hair—definitely not human, though I don’t recognize the race. One of the helmets from the skeletons had landed in his lap, and he’s examining the carvings on it. “And that trick of steering right into the storm? Well, by Jhestet’s Tits, if I’d been trying to think of a better way to destroy a tremendously significant and valuable artifact, I would have to work pretty hard.”
“An artifact with a huge strategic value,” Ercan said. “An artifact that could
We’re either going over them or through them, I realize.
We need more power , I tell the ship. One last time.
I feel it struggle to respond.
Then the engines suck in lei and surge, and we arc up above the storm. The green apparitions fade abruptly.
But we must have crossed out of the lei lines, because the engines cut out, then. Everything goes deathly quiet.
And there it is: a high gap, with a small, frozen lake and a broad stretch of deep, unblemished snow. We’re headed for it whether we like it or not, now. I’d tell everyone to hold on, but, well, it seems pretty damn obvious at this point.
I hear the engines kick in at the very last minute—maybe some last bit of reserve power. Whatever it is, I think that’s what saves us.
But we still hit hard, belly-down on the snow, and we skid what feels like half a mile until we come to rest half-on and half-off the frozen lake.
The ice shatters from our weight, and the nose goes down beneath the water. We slide a little more until finally we come to rest, all of us staring out the viewscreen at some pretty freaked-out fish staring back at us, fish that had probably been trying to catch up on some winter sleep.
7.
F or a long minute, there’s silence, broken only by a quiet, irregular ticking coming from that knife in the console of the ship, cooling. Just to be on the safe side, I pull it out with two fingers and slide it into my sheath with my other one. Can’t be too careful.
“So,” I say. “That wasn’t exactly my best landing.”
“Thanks,” says the bearded man. He unbuckles and climbs awkwardly out of the seat, stretches his shoulders, takes off his bowler hat and brushes dirt around on it. Then he sets it carefully back on his head.
“Not a problem,” I say. It was one of my better landings, but I’ll keep that to myself.
The man stares at me. “Thanks for ruining one of the best planned, carefully executed, most expensive operations that I’ve ever put into motion. What are you, man—a devil? A demon?” He takes his hat off again, scrubs at it uselessly with his dirty sleeve.
I unbuckle too and stand up. The hair on the back of my neck ridges goes back, and my ears flatten against my skull. There’s a low growl low in my throat, and all of my fur goes jet black. I'm at least a foot taller than he is.
The bearded man pales, and takes a step backward.
“You know, he probably saved our lives, Ercan.” The female mage says. She’s as battered and dirty as the rest of us, but there’s something about her that still takes me by surprise. She has a round, dark face and large green eyes that are wide and clear, and her long, dark hair is bound back tightly beheath the bowler hat. Her arms are covered in thin metal bracelets, at least fifteen of them glinting on each arm, and they jangle as she moves. “You should at least give him that much.”
She speaks Fhirlo with a slight accent, and her voice is calm and resigned as she stands up on the slanted deck. She offers Kjat a hand out of her seat, and after looking at it a moment, Kjat takes it and stands, but then she edges closer to me and takes out her knife.
“And if he hadn’t shown up, hadn’t blasted his way in and woken up every damn Akarii mage in the complex, he wouldn’t have had to.”
“He’s got a point, Mircada.” The fat mage stays seated. One of his legs is definitely twisted at a strange angle, but it doesn’t seem to concern him much. I realize now he’s covered in fine brown hair—definitely not human, though I don’t recognize the race. One of the helmets from the skeletons had landed in his lap, and he’s examining the carvings on it. “And that trick of steering right into the storm? Well, by Jhestet’s Tits, if I’d been trying to think of a better way to destroy a tremendously significant and valuable artifact, I would have to work pretty hard.”
“An artifact with a huge strategic value,” Ercan said. “An artifact that could
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