“What’s the package, by the way?”
“Me.”
Hatch stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “That’ll keep me honest,” he said.
The old man wolfed down the remainder of his food, leaving the scraps for the dog. Teron quietly appropriated a few pieces and let Flotsam out of the bag to eat on top of the table.
Hatch gathered several waterskins and poured a handful of tea leaves into each of them. Catching a clue from Teron’s pacing, he filled the skins with water that was merely warm, proclaiming them, “Good enough.”
Grabbing a lantern to light the way, he exited the house for the roost. Teron scooped up his cat and followed. Hatch walked over to the large barn next to his house, handed the lantern to the monk, and pulled open one of the large doors.
As the light spilled into the barn, Hatch turned to look at the monk’s expression. Sure enough, the young man gaped in amazement at the creature within. The expression of bedazzlement never failed to warm the old man’s heart.
The great bird was perched on a tree trunk hewed for just that purpose. Even without the stand, it stood almost twelve feet high, with large, intelligent golden eyes set on each side of a cruel gray beak. Its breast was a cloudy gray that blended well with autumn skies, while rich mottled brown feathers covered its wings and back.
It blinked at the unexpected onset of light and raised a single long feather set at the front of its black-feathered head. It balanced on one great claw to stretch out its other wing and leg, displaying its huge talons as well as the bony horn that protruded from the wing’s wrist.
“That’s impressive,” said the monk.
Hatch brought a stepladder over to the great bird. It bent its head down as he fitted the bit and reins. Then he coaxed the dragonhawk to stand horizontally while he mounted the saddle. “Soarwood,” he said as he tightened the hitches. “Makes it a bit easier on the old girl.”
Teron held up one hand. “I’m just glad well be riding on its back.”
Hatch stopped his preparations and stood up, “Back? You’re riding in its claws, son.”
Teron blinked. “You’re … joking, right?”
Wakened by one of the deck hands, Oargesha shucked off the canvas tarpaulin that had served as her blanket, gathered what gear she had, smoothed her hair, and climbed up onto the bow deck.
The sky in the east was just starting to lighten, silhouetting the Shadow Fox’s slim figure leaning on the railing. Oargesha walked up to stand beside her.
The Fox pointed to the north, and Oargesha looked. The airship was just cresting a large hill, and the vast panorama of Fairhaven lay sprawled across the rolling terrain in front of them. The Aundair River parted the city down the center, and a massive complex of buildings dominated the left bank.
“Will you look at those,” said Oargesha quietly, somehow hesitant to make any noise in the quiet predawn hour. “Those towers have to be at least a hundred-fifty feet high. And they’re so slender!”
Fox nodded. “Impressive, aren’t they? And they say the towers of Sharn are even taller.” She sucked on her teeth for a moment. “Metrol used to be that large,” she said.
“I know.” Oargesha dropped her head. “It’s hard to think of that many people all dying at once. And just lying there like they say they do….”
“That’s why we did this,” said the Fox. “That’s why we’re doing this. I want it all back. Even if it takes a hundred years.”
The ship drew closer to the Aundairian capital, just starting to come to life with the growing dawn. The Shadow Fox craned her neck and then dashed for the forecastle. Oargesha followed, wondering what the alarm was.
“Belay there!” ordered the second mate as the two women climbed the short ladder. “I told you not to come up here! I got into enough trouble already just bringing you aboard.”
“Just for a moment, Jendro, I promise,” said the Shadow Fox. “I just wanted to borrow your glass, and I didn’t feel right bothering an officer like you to bring it to me.”
Jendro lost his bluster. “I’m not really an officer, of course, but.”
“Just for a moment,” said the Fox with a wink as she gently pulled the small scope from his hands. “I’ll give it right back.” She put the glass to her eye and scanned the cityscape. She gasped in delight. “I was right! Gesha, the lightning rail is at the station! We ought to be able to catch it!” She handed the glass to Oargesha and pointed, “See? It’s that large building with all the light, just over there.”
Jendro snatched the glass from Oargesha’s hand. “You said you’ve give it right back!”
The Shadow Fox smiled. “I’m sorry, I just got too excited. Can you—could you please, could you debark us at the lightning rail station?” she asked.
Jendro shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” asked Oargesha.
“Aundairian law requires us to go to the airship dock at the west side of town. We’ll be able to let you down after the dock opens for business, an hour or two after dawn. That’s of course assuming that no one else is ahead of us.”
“Wait a moment,” said the Shadow Fox, grabbing Jendro’s arm.
The second mate yanked his arm out of her grasp. “Unhand me,” he said, “and clear the forecastle! You’re not supposed to be up here in the first place! We’ll get you down as soon as we can, assuming you give me no more troubles. You,” he added, pointing to a burly half-orc deckhand, “make sure they stay off the forecastle, understand? And if they cause any more trouble, send them below decks.”
The two Cyrans withdrew from the bow and repaired to a spot on the rail amidships. They watched in silence as the airship crossed above the outskirts of Fairhaven. The details of the city grew in size and detail as the sky grew lighter and the airship gradually descended.
Oargesha looked wistfully at the glowing lightning rail station, slowly drawing nearer as the airship cruised to the appointed dock. “So much for catching this run,” she said. She leaned over the railing to look at the ground below. “Who would have thought that such a short distance could be so far away?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the ground. It’s right there, and yet it’s too far away. We can’t jump. It’d be the death of us.” She sighed in exasperation. “I just wish I had a spell that could help us, but that’s not my kind of magic.”
The Shadow Fox turned, a wry smile brightening her face. “It is mine,” she said. “Gather your belongings and meet me right back here. Quickly.”
Oargesha went back below and quickly stuffed her clothes, personal articles, and spellbook into her bag, then sauntered back across the deck to the railing.
The Shadow Fox was at the aft end of the airship, her bag over her shoulder. She walked up the length of the beam, idly trailing one hand over the railing.
As she approached, Oargesha looked past her to the stern, and the parcel that had been left unattended at the rail, “Hey, Fox, isn’t that the—”
“Yes. Walk with me.”
Oargesha turned and walked alongside the Shadow Fox up the length of the airship. The half-orc deckhand glared at them as they approached the forecastle.
The Shadow Fox stopped and looked over the railing. “This looks good,” she said. “Face me. Hands on hips.”
“But—”
“Obey me!” hissed the Fox.
Oargesha turned to the Fox and placed her hands on her hips. As irritated as she was becoming, it was easy to do.
The Fox pulled her hand up over the side of the airship to reveal the end of a rope that arced sternward. She quickly slipped it around Oargesha’s waist and secured it with a square knot. She shoved Gesha’s bag against her belly and handed her what little slack there was left in the rope. “Grab tight,” she said.
No sooner had the Cyran wizard grabbed the rope than the Fox wrapped her arms around her, grabbed the rope in both hands, and flopped the pair of them over the railing.