Page 5

After all, he had been lamenting the lack of opportunities to harvest occoreal.

If it were a smaller flock, they might have managed. Even if there were just a few less of the giant ones formed from broken bearships, that could have made the difference. But even her pilots paired with the meager number of attunement phase wizards weren’t enough to drive off the flock of occorites.

The passengers thought they were winning, because the occorites kept allowing themselves to be “driven off” only to swoop back around again. It was a harassing tactic; primitive and effective. Staying in a combat-ready state of mind was easier than relaxing and re-rallying one’s spirits. Every time the passengers saw the flock fly off, they celebrated, and each return was met by groans and frustration. Even her pilots, who weren’t fooled by such a tactic, were being worn down by the constant battle.

“Charge the cannons!” Captain Sharshaw spotted the surprise in her pilot’s eyes as the two nearest to the mana-cannons hurried over. The weapons were dangerously hungry beasts that cut into their fuel supply with every shot. Like any good pilot, Captain Sharshaw kept a surplus of energy for any voyage, but the cannons would eat through it swiftly.

Better to burn the mana than lose the bearship, though.

As the flock of occorites circled around to attack once more, they were met not with a disorganized cluster of hurriedly hurled spells, but by twin blasts of condensed explosive energy. Each cannon’s blast destroyed entire sections of the flocks, including one of the huge versions made from a fallen bearship.

Wails and groans of frustration rose up from the passengers as they watched the remains rain down on the surrounding terrain. There was a reason so few wizards favored aerial combat: it was much more troublesome to recover an occorite’s materials. Since that was where familiars harvested occoreal from, and the easiest source of ingredients or gellen, defeating an occorite without claiming those materials made the effort feel downright pointless.

Of course, staying afloat had a value of its own.

Mercifully, the flock trailed back, diving down to pick apart the remains of their broken kin since it was now the most immediate source of energy. That wouldn’t keep them from pursuing again once the feast was done, but Captain Sharshaw planned to put as much distance as possible between her bearship and those occorites.

Still, it was best that everyone rest while they could. There was a real possibility that the flock could still catch up, or that something else heard the explosions. Now that her bearship really couldn’t spare the mana to accelerate, the wizards might be everyone’s best, and last, line of defense.

“Well fought! Everyone not assigned a post at this moment, head down for refreshments and recovery. I’ll have the mess set out something special, though don’t expect any fare that compromises your wits. If the occorites return, we’ll all be up here once again, so rest while the winds allow it.”

Her passengers didn’t look happy about the news that their fighting might not be over, and honestly, Captain Sharshaw shared the sentiment. Part of her wondered if it would be worth the trouble of bringing familiars up to the deck so that imbuement phase wizards could help as well. At worst, they could channel their mana into the ship’s central pillar, but how much mana was she really expecting imbuement phase wizards to provide?

Given the amount of chaos adding a hodgepodge of familiars to a fight in the sky could add, Captain Sharshaw wasn’t sure if it was worth the risk. Bearship battles were different than dealing with terrestrial occorites and coordinating as a large group demanded practice. Quite a bit of it, in her experience. But they could provide mana, and more wizards would make it easier to bring down any of the swooping occorites that drew too close. Advantages that might well make the difference in another close battle.

At a nudge, Ovandor took flight, heading off to circle the bearship. As far as Captain Sharshaw could discern, their best bet was to stay unnoticed for as long as possible. Barring that, she’d take a good tailwind and a headstart.

SEVEN

Since they were lagging behind the other wizards and in need of shelter, Lenar and Wanda had ducked into the first area they found with places to secure themselves. That proved to be an observation room that looked out onto the bears that were running to help supply the ship’s controls with power.

Although only four bears were running at any given time, there were twenty treadmills all interconnected, hints that the ship was capable of much longer, more arduous journeys. As Wanda watched, one especially robust specimen was running so fast, the treadmill next to him appeared to be turning as well. Actually, when Wanda looked closer, it was turning.

Lenar evidently followed her gaze, since he offered up an explanation. “The treadmills are connected so that if one is being fully powered, the effort will engage gears on the next one over, allowing the excess force to be properly utilized. I believe that familiar belongs to Captain Sharshaw.”

Given that it stood a head taller than the other bears with ashen-colored fur and a pair of visible scars along its flank, the ursine seemed a suitable fit for the captain of a whole bearship.

At the thought of familiars, Wanda’s hands shook slightly. In times of stress, she was used to holding onto Wumble, running her hands through his fur to relax and taking comfort in his steady presence. While she could still feel him through their bond, it wasn’t the same as having him in her arms.

Lenar’s eyes darted down to her trembling fingers, and Wanda felt a flush of embarrassment creep in. The ship wasn’t even moving much anymore. It was merely that shock and uncertainty had left her rattled. “I’m okay. Just wish Wumble was here.”

“I would prefer Karlisle be nearby as well,” Lenar agreed. “Perhaps we should distract ourselves. Knowing you, may I presume the topic of alchemy would be a suitable diversion?”

“Oh, that would be lovely. I wish we could lose ourselves in a bit of brewing right now.” Looking around the viewing room, Wanda noted there were no cauldrons, burners, chopping boards, or other tools alchemists of their certification level might use to produce potions. “No utilities, though.”

Checking around for himself, Lenar nodded. “I do have a fix for that. Unfortunately, we’d need our familiars, as magic is required. Though that doesn’t preclude us from discussion of the topic. May I ask, what prompted your interest in the field?”

The earliest part of that answer entailed recollections of her village’s destruction, which Wanda quickly banished from her mind by focusing on the more enjoyable sequence that followed her escape and meeting Wumble. “I had a teacher. We met when I was lost in the woods after leaving my village. He was out there searching for sprungthorn caps, not that I knew what those were at the time. Garumph fed Wumble and I, then helped us make it safely to another town.”

“Interesting name,” Lenar remarked.

“He said it was a fitting one for an old grump like him.” Wanda warmed at the memory of her gruff instructor. The prickly exterior concealed a shockingly caring heart. “The town was small, like my old village. There was no one to take us in, and we didn’t have skills to earn our way with yet. So Garumph let us tag along until he reached his destination and taught me the basics of alchemy. Enough to muddle through Alaroz’s orientation and get my alchemy certification.”

Lenar clicked his tongue. “I would hardly call being named top of the course ‘muddling through.’ You are a talented alchemist, Wanda, and I have seen more than a fair share of them.”

“Is that why you got interested in alchemy?” While conversations often felt outside her depth, Wanda had learned a few fundamentals and tactics over the years. One of which was to ask people back their own questions. Most people loved to talk and wouldn’t be asking about subjects they weren’t interested in or didn’t consider appropriate.

It took Lenar a surprisingly long time to answer, nearly a half-minute by Wanda’s estimate. “Alchemy was never much of a choice, if I’m being truthful. It was an expectation. My grandfather is extremely accomplished in the field, and my family all tread in his footsteps, hoping to follow him to greatness. It is fortunate that I enjoy alchemy. Several cousins have forced their interest and are unhappy for it. Whereas I have always found the practice pleasant, and I had thought myself quite talented as well.”