The Sail Weaver (24 page)

“He got a new one?” Thom suggested. “It doesn’t even take that much to change a face, the shape of the nose, the thickness of the lips, then change the way you walk and a whole new person appears.”

“You speak from experience?” Muher said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I was taken by pirates when I was younger. I saw a lot of men become someone else,” Thom said calmly, although his hands were clenched. “There are one or two I wished I still could recognize.”

“It’s a thought, but who?” Muher shifted into a sitting position. “Naval Intelligence, but who?” He stared into space for a long time. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Tristan repeated.

“It can’t be.”

“Who?” Thom asked.

“I’ve always wondered what happened to Admiral Gerard Holton. He dropped off the face of the worlds. Right after the Stars Plot attack on the Guild. It was like he ceased to exist. I thought he might have been killed for botching the bombing, but maybe he was…” Muher cocked his head. “It might be him. Which would be bad, the man hates the Guild with a passion and believes that dragons are nothing more than… He said it, didn’t he? It is him. Damn. I’m screwed.”

“You mean he called dragons draft horses?” Tristan shifted so
they could talk and keep their voices down low enough so they might not be picked up on the microphones.

“It’s like the pirates that use Vermin ships—because of what they are made of. They think of the dragons as nothing more than building material for a ship,” Muher said with disgust.

“I know, Chris, I heard a pirate say it, then realized later what he must have meant,” Tristan said, swallowing hard, willing Fenfyr to be alive and not in the hands of the Vermin. He could feel exhaustion dragging on his body. “We should rest while we can.”

“Agreed,” the general said and closed his eyes.

Tristan slept fitfully. His body ached and the worry for Fenfyr was haunting his dreams. He was relieved when Thom shook him awake. “What is it?”

“Someone’s outside, I heard the door code,” Thom said.

A moment later, the door opened and Fuhrman and an armed crewman stood there. “Up, time to work.” When they remained seated, Fuhrman sighed. “Get up, Weaver, or I will kill them. As much as I enjoy the idea of having Muher as my servant, killing him quickly would have a certain satisfaction as well.”

Tristan stood. “We’ll come.” He walked out the door and into the passageway, trying to get an idea of how many of the other cells were occupied. He counted at least fifteen that had red lights on them, indicating they were in use. Some of the crew had stayed loyal and fought for it. Some, at least according to Webber, were loyal and free. It all depended on how many they could rally. They stepped into a lift and the doors opened on the quarterdeck.

“Now, Weaver, you can fly the ship.”

Tristan glanced over to where the Elemental Interface had been, there was another in its place. “I don’t understand.”

“Raise the masts!” Fuhrman said, obviously relishing the moment.

The great mast began to rise above the decks and as they did so, Tristan felt a waved of nausea wash over him. It took everything he had to not vomit as he caught sight of the sails. He was shaking his head in denial, but there was no getting around the horror that filled the places of the once sparkling willowisps.

Tristan’s sails were gone and in their place stretched Vermin
sails, the skins of at least three dragons dangling from the masts. “No,” he whispered.

“Oh, yes,” Fuhrman laughed. “And now, you fly the ship.”

XXIV

The dark shadows of the sails covered the deck and the death-scent filled the air around them as Tristan stared up at the masts. He couldn’t believe the evidence before his eyes. Knowing pirates used Vermin ships was one thing, the Navy having these sails was something entirely different. It was then Fuhrman’s words soaked into his head.

“What do you mean, fly them?” Tristan said in disgust. “I thought they flew themselves.”

“Ah, yes,” Fuhrman purred. “The dragon. We considered using the slaved dragon mind, like the Vermin do, but it is harder than we thought. We’ve come up with a hybrid solution. We can use these sails in the Winds without the disruption of the dragon’s brain. It’s also far easier to train someone to fly them.”

“Then why do you need me?” Tristan looked at the man. “Oh, you don’t really know if they’ll fly this ship, do you?” He forced a laugh. “And you want someone who has skill to move them into the Winds the first time.”

“Maybe, and the thought that it’s a dragon lover like you makes it so much sweeter.”

Tristan walked over to the Interface. It was ugly, bone and stone, the raw edges sharp and without the elegance he was used to. Pacing around it, he “felt” for the magic that had created it, and could
sense nothing. It was just slammed together and rigged to the electronics that were there in the roughest way possible. It might have fit once, but after having the Elemental Interface he’d created in place, this new one would never sit correctly.

“No,” he said, stopping in front of Fuhrman. He cast a glance over the man’s shoulder to Stemmer and the others that supported this atrocity. “I will not fly this ship or touch those sails. By creating this, you are no better than the Vermin.”

“We are!” Stemmer said, stepping forward. “That’s been the problem all along. We need ships like theirs to fight, our Navy doesn’t stand a chance with archaic sails and magic holding it together.”

“I notice you haven’t tossed the Air Weavers in the brig, I guess you still need that magic.”

“Some is more useful,” said Stemmer.

“I will not fly this ship.” Tristan squared his shoulders.

“I’ll kill you,” Fuhrman said.

“I think we both know you are going to do that anyway,” Tristan replied.

“I’ll kill Barrett too!” Fuhrman snapped.

Tristan didn’t want Thom to have to follow him to his death. It was his choice, not Thom’s, that he was refusing to fly the ship. Tristan turned and met Thom’s eyes. He saw Thom swallow, then nod. Thom knew this was coming and he was prepared. Tristan brushed some dust off his sleeve. “No.”

“
No
what?” Fuhrman snapped.

“No, I will not fly your filth. I will not serve your kind. You are worse than the Vermin after all,”

Fuhrman began to turn red, it started in his neck and crept up his face until even the tips of his ears were beginning to turn purple. He took several slow breaths, and before Tristan could duck, backhanded him hard enough to knock him off his feet. Thom helped him up and they turned to face Fuhrman again. “Toss them overboard.”

“Sir?” one of the midshipmen said.

“You heard me!” Fuhrman shouted, He grabbed Tristan by the collar and dragged him to the
taffrail
. “Bring the other!”

“Just me,” Tristan said desperately. “Barrett’s done nothing
wrong.” He looked over to where Sullivan and Sheea were standing. Sullivan moved his hands ever so slightly and Tristan could see the man’s mouth moving as he whispered a silent spell. Hoping it was enough, Tristan stared at Fuhrman. “Not Barrett.”

“Oh no, I’ve been waiting for a long time to get rid of him. You know, they actually intended that he
command
this ship? The Guild-chasing dragon lover! So, he gets to go swimming too, for as long as it lasts.” Fuhrman waited until Stemmer hauled Thom beside them. “Open this spot!” he demanded. Sullivan stepped forward, speaking a spell and a small tear in the shield began to hiss.

Tristan closed his eyes, doing his best to remember the spell he w
ould need. He started
it as he felt the tug of the vacuum of space against his back. The Air Weavers were doing their best to give him a little extra room before he needed to create his own spell, but Tristan wasn’t sure he could remember the words as the panic coursed through him. He’d had to learn them all to become Master Weaver, but this was one he’d never had the chance to try in an uncontrolled environment. Did the air come before the pressure or the other way around? He cast through his memory, trying to get it straight as he uttered the Latin.

“Praying won’t help you now.” Fuhrman laughed and shoved Tristan out the hole and into space.

He was caught in the drag of the vessel and held motionless at the
taffrail
. The spell was closing around him, so when Thom was tossed over the rail, Tristan was there to grab him, reaching out and immediately wrapping the spell around both of them. He could tell it was imperfect. There was a soft hiss at their feet, and the space itself was small, but they had air for the time being and were protected from the vacuum. How long he could keep the spell functioning was another question.

“The atmosphere of the ship extends too far! Fix that, Aether!” Tristan heard Fuhrman snap. As he spoke shot whizzed close by them, enough to catch Tristan’s leg. He hissed in pain, but finished the last few lines of the spell.

“We need to get out of sight,” he said as soon as he could. They didn’t have much time, the Air Weavers could only keep them close to the ship for a few moments longer.

Thom nodded and pushed against the hull, before Tristan was
really sure what Thom intended, they were on the underside of the ship. “It’s a blind spot on the sensors,” Thom explained. “We can’t stay here forever, they will figure it out.

“I’m trying to figure that out right now.”

“Hey, we’re not dead,” Thom said with an odd laugh.

“I noticed,” Tristan answered a smile. “Sullivan boosted the atmospherics long enough for me to get a spell started. He must have protected you as well.”

“Yeah, or I would have popped.”

“Lovely thought, Thom.”

“They can’t bring the guns to bear under the ship—it’s the one weakness in her defenses.”

“Nice to know they can’t shoot us.” Tristan tried to make the spell a little stronger, he could feel blood trickling down his leg, but he was desperate. He wasn’t going to let Thom die because of him. Fenfyr was already gone, and now this. “I’m not sure how long I can keep this up. I’m not an Air Weaver.”

“Any time is better than no time.”

“I guess,” Tristan said. “They are going to rendezvous with the pirates that use the Vermin ships. Are they going to take the ships or ask the pirates to fight with them?”

“Fighting fire with fire?” Thom asked. “I don’t know. I know that even a lot of the Navy that dislikes the Guild will be horrified by this when it comes out.”

“Unless they managed to stop the Vermin incursion. If they do, whether or not the sails actually made the difference, it will be because of those filthy sails.”

“True.” Thom looked around them. “I never realized how big it was when there was no ship around.”

Tristan couldn’t help it. He laughed. “It’s a perfect day for swimming.”

“I guess it could be worse,” Thom said. “Although how, I’m not sure.”

“I might not know the magic to keep us alive?”

“Yeah, that does help.”

“And once we move away from the ship we’re going to get caught in the Winds.”

Thom frowned at him. “Can’t you make a sail?”

“A sail? No, you have to gather the willowisps and…” Tristan trailed off, thinking.

“
I hope Chris doesn’t do something stupid,” Thom said.

“He will, Thom, but I think Fuhrman won’t kill him. He wants to torture him.”

“I know.”

The silence closed in around them, the huge mass of the
Winged Victory
above them. The ship was barely moving. They were right at the edge of the Winds and the sails had not been put to use yet. Tristan was turning Thom’s idea about a sail over and over in his head. They had no mast, but maybe he could make something like the tiny sails spiders make. He could tell Thom was getting motion sickness, the other man was turning green. They weren’t going to last long like this, maybe dying when they were first shoved overboard would have been better.

“Would you last longer without me?” Thom asked. “I drain the spell, don’t I?”

“Not enough to justify you dying out here. We’re getting out of this.”

“You make it sound easy, what do you plan to do, Tristan? Sneak back onboard?”

“Eventually, but for now I think I am going to try something else. Give me a minute.”

“Okay,” Thom said quietly. Tristan knew the man was afraid. He could feel his own heart slamming against his ribs, panic kept just barely under control.

Taking a moment to focus, he closed his eyes and spoke the few words of the spell used to collect willowisps. At first nothing happened, but after several very long minutes, he could see light sparkling on his eyelids. He opened his eyes and saw that they were surrounded by willowisps. Seeing them gave him hope his plan might work. “I’m going to try and Weave us a sail, Thom. I can’t guarantee it will do anything, as soon as it seems to be working, push us into the Winds, okay?”

“Okay,” Thom said, placing his boots against the hull.

Tristan began the spell for the Weaving, carefully drawing the willowisps together. At first they seemed reluctant, and he was worried it wouldn’t work. A second later he felt the spell “catch” and
the sparks began Weaving together into a small sail. He shaped it carefully, using a tiny line of willowisps to reach into their bubble and then wrapping it around his belt, then Thom’s. The belts would act as the ropes and the small sail looked more like a bubble than a sail. The last of the spell slipped from his lips and he felt the tug of the Winds on their small sail. Thom shoved them away from the ship and the Winds caught them immediately. Not having any control over where the Winds carried them, they were whipped back behind the ship and within seconds the huge mass of the
Winged Victory
was a tiny speck.

“It worked,” he said, a little surprised.

“I noticed,” Thom said with a laugh.

They rolled in the Winds, the sail catching each eddy, and soon they were tumbling. The movement was making them both ill. Worse, Tristan could sense the spell for the atmospherics starting to thin. The sail was strong, but soon it would be pulling nothing but a pair of belts through space. He had no idea how long it would last, his best guess was another two hours, and as soon as they were exposed to the vacuum of space, they would be dead in seconds.

“Thom,” he said softly.

“I know, I can hear the hiss. How long?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping we might get further, but I didn’t know which way the Winds would blow us.”

“It’s okay, at least we didn’t give those bastards the satisfaction of seeing us die.”

“Yeah,” Tristan agreed. “I will keep it as long as possible. If I shift a little from the air and more to the pressure we might last longer.”

“Do what you need to do, Tristan. It was an honor serving with you.”

“We’re not dead yet.”

“I know, I just wanted…”

A sudden gust caught them, and then they rammed into something very solid and warm. Tristan opened his eyes and saw red—the red feathers of a dragon. “Taminick?”

“I’m sorry it took so long to get here, I was tracking something else, then I smelled those sails. I came as quickly as I could,” she said, catching them carefully in her
foreclaws
and cradling them
against her as she opened her wings and swung into the full force of the Winds. “I will take you to the ship, and they can care for you while I track the other.”

“Ship? What ship?” Tristan asked.

“The
Noble Lady,
they have been following you at a special request of the Dragon Guild. Fenfyr is there, recovering, and you can recover as well.”

“Fen…He’s alive?” Tristan whispered.

“Yes, no thanks to those Naval creatures.”

“Alive,” Tristan said again and smiled. “Thank you,” he whispered to the willowisps and released the sail so the tiny sparkles could float through space freely again. He felt the bubble of air around them strengthen as Taminick closed her hand, he sighed and relaxed against the dragon’s claws. They were safe.

It was nearly an hour before Taminick swept towards the graceful little frigate. As soon as the ship was in view, Tristan could see a dragon stretched out along the port side of the ship, his skin gleaming in the light of the sails. When Taminick canted her wings and dropped to the deck, Thom nearly collapsed and Tristan pulled free of her grasp and headed straight towards Fenfyr.