Vanya hooked his chin over Soren’s shoulder, his voice a counterpoint to the engine, even through the helmet he still wore. Soren tried not to shiver at the sound of it. “You won’t let that happen.”
Soren revved the engine, pointing his front wheel toward the northern horizon. “You better hope I won’t.”
Four
BLAINE
Blaine loved flying almost as much as he loved his husband, though truly, it was a close call most days. Honovi had given him a home, but flying had given him the sky, and Blaine had found something like peace up in the clouds years ago on the deck of theSkyborne.
The thrum of the airship’s engine was as familiar as his own heartbeat and always would be. The engine room was hot and stuffy, causing Blaine to sweat beneath his fur-lined leather flight jacket. The discomfort was easily ignored as he did a final check on the gauges, part of his job as chief engineer. He logged the numbers in his little leather notebook before weaving back through the cargo bay and heading abovedeck.
Blaine climbed up the narrow, twisting metal staircase, leaving the cramped quarters below for the forward open deck. A cool breeze smacked him in the face, and he breathed in deep. His lungs didn’t need to work so hard at the lower altitudes, and it was a nice change from the last leg of the flight.
Crew shouted amongst each other as they prepared for landing. Straight ahead off the prow, a burst of violet-colored smoke erupted in the air at their balloon level. The aerial marker indicated their docking location, the color different for every berth in the many numbered sections of the airfield below.
“We’re marked!” someone shouted.
“I’ll tell the captain,” Blaine called out. He headed for the flight deck and pushed open the door, leaning inside. “Engines are good, and the marker just went off.”
“We’re in position. Ground crew said we have clearance to descend. I’m deploying the anchor in thirty seconds,” Honovi replied from his spot at the airship’s helm in the flight deck, radio in hand, brass goggles shoved up over his flight cap.
It was a familiar sight to Blaine after all these years. The chinstrap drew attention to Honovi’s strong jaw, the features of his face sharp and handsome. Tall and broad-shouldered, he made an excellent aeronaut captain on top of his duties asjarlto Clan Storm. He made an even better husband, in Blaine’s opinion.
They’d married five years ago but been together long before that. Thejarlwas thirty now. He spent more time captaining airships than on the ground, crossing borders for trade and to assist ambassadors under guidance of theComhairle nan Cinnidhean.
Blaine had seen Honovi’s skill at negotiating up close and personal, having accompanied him on every flight since he’d earned the right to stand as crew. Being married to Honovi and traveling with him meant Blaine was privy to a level of politics most E’ridians never encountered.
Blaine gave a lazy salute to his husband. “I’ll notify the crew.” He ducked back out onto the open-air decking, raising a fist in the air and making a circle with his arm. “We’re descending!”
The crew around him shouted back acknowledgment as the creak of gears rumbled through the air. It came from the outside hull panel as Honovi remotely deployed the anchor.
Colored smoke dissipated above them as Honovi maneuvered the airship with deft skill. The engines changed pitch as the airship descended, the oblong balloon casting the deck in shadow.
Blaine rested a hand on the railing, peering over the side through his goggles as the ground came up to meet them, Glencoe spread out like a glittering maze behind its walls. Clan Storm laid claim to a northern airfield, and the sky tower tasked with keeping air traffic organized had assigned them a berth closer to the city than the fields of the Sunrise Valley. The sun was directly overhead, and they’d made good time coming up over the Constellation Sea from their trip to Solaria.
Shouts from other crew members passed back and forth through the air as they descended. Blaine could feel the change in the air temperature, the chill from the higher altitude bleeding away the closer they got to the ground. His fur-lined leather jacket was always too warm during summer once they reached the earth, but spring tended to be cooler.
The engines changed pitch, and Blaine automatically noted the sound. Nothing sounded off, and if it had, he’d have gone belowdecks in an instant to deal with the problem. Blaine had triple-checked the engines while they were docked at Seaville, though, not wanting to risk overlooking anything before the long flight back home over open seas.
Their cargo hold was filled with merchandise belonging to the Eastern Winds Trading Company. Honovi’s bloodline owned the lucrative trading company, and the family was very hands-on with it. They were returning home with another set of signed contracts regarding spices and tea, which would aid the company’s bottom line.
Blaine knew Honovi was a good aeronaut captain, but he’d grown into his role asjarl, an unofficial diplomat, and a cutthroat merchant over the years. Trade negotiations required a delicate touch, the same way an airship sometimes needed a light hand, and Honovi excelled at getting what the clans needed.
The engines worked to reverse the airflow running through the ballonets. The balloon provided buoyancy in the sky, but the engines did the steering. Honovi brought them down lightly into the dry dock inside a hangar, the anchor caught by ground crew and connected to the very large magnet that would help keep the airship in place.
Secondary rope anchors were tossed up from the dock, and Blaine wasn’t the only one to catch one. He yanked it over the side of the railing with a firm tug, gloved hands sliding over the rope. He knotted it deftly around the metal cleats interspaced along the railing before signaling it was in place.
Someone cranked open the gangplank, and then it was all hands on deck as the airship was swarmed by ground crew and clerks employed by the Eastern Winds Trading Company. They were easy to make out, dressed in sturdy coveralls or kilts rather than flight leathers.
Blaine removed his flight cap and goggles, dragging his braid out from beneath his flight jacket. Some loose hair caught on the gold marriage torc he wore, but he tugged the strands free. The plait reached midback and was twisted through with a colorful beaded leather strand indicating his association with Clan Storm.
It wasn’t anywhere close to the elaborate version Honovi wore asjarl. Neither was it the style Blaine had worn as a boy in Ashion, but he’d spent fifteen years in E’ridia, and this country was home now more than the one he only barely remembered.
He returned to the flight deck to log the energy levels of the clarion crystals that powered their airship. Steam engines had run the clans’ airships for centuries, but the risk of explosions with those models had always been higher.
Clarion crystals used to be reserved solely for magicians and priests of the Star Order. Then some promising engineers centuries back had discovered that, when cut into different shapes, they could conduct and amplify energy. These days, clarion crystals were a hot commodity, their commercial use gaining traction in everyday life.
E’ridians had always focused on the mechanics of flight over everything else. Airships were what enabled them to traverse the Eastern Spine, mine the mountain range, and settle the Sunrise Valley and hills along the east coast of the continent. Without that form of transportation, their people would’ve remained in Ashion at the end of the Age of Starfall. These days, Maricol’s skies were filled with the clans’ airships, and they had ambassadors in every country.
