118

Ezra

The Sky Lion landed back at the camp with a gentle thump. Ezra slipped and slid down the rope ladder, wrestling to control his emotions. They had searched for hours. There was no sign of Ansel, or his stolen ship, or the rats who had fled with him. Rage and betrayal tied Ezra’s innards into a complicated knot and he fell on the last rung, landing awkwardly in a bad-tempered heap, one foot tangled. He swore vehemently and shook it free.

He could feel the hot, sticky eyes of the crew on him. Not just the crew, but the sorry remains of the entire company, the once proud and hopeful band of men that had set sail from Stonehaven so many moons ago. That ragged band was all that was left. The best of them.

Ezra was keenly aware that with Lothor and Boaz dead, and Ansel gone, there was a void of leadership which he fully intended to fill. Some of the captains remained, but they were either unpopular or uninclined to lead. Not that he blamed them. So far the mortality rate had been high.

“Mind your tasks,” he growled, picking himself up and dusting off his robes. The men all turned away, seemingly grateful to have someone tell them what to do. There was certainly plenty that needed doing. Aside from the hunting and gathering and preparation of food there was maintenance of the buildings, and always the watch. On top of those daily concerns were the lofty goals. The ship building, the weapons forging, the expansion. There was never enough time.

Ezra knew he had a real opportunity to make his mark on the world. He could shape events that would be written about in the history books, He would have an influence on the fortunes of an Empire. Finally, he could be someone important. He knew that. But right now, all he wanted to do was punch Ansel’s face in, and Ansel was nowhere to be found. He settled for the next best thing, which was to punch the wall of Ansel’s workroom. This accomplished very little, other than splitting his knuckles.

Ezra cursed and punched the wall again. This time the pain soothed something in his brain enough to let him think. Sucking the splinters out of his knuckles he glared around. Ansel’s workshop was a mess. Of course, it had always been untidy, but before it had been a sort of controlled chaos - the kind of ordered disarray that Ezra associated with impassioned intellectuals and artists. Now it looked like it had been torn apart by a hurricane. The roof was partly smashed in - the hole the treacherous bastard had escaped through still open to the raindrops. Timbre and masonry were strewn everywhere, as were bits of models and loose piles of drawings.

Ezra stepped through the dark and ground a tiny, perfectly constructed wooden model of an airship under his heel. It splintered with a satisfying crunch. By the door he found a heap of ashes. His lip curled. Ansel had been burning things, which meant he had been planning this. Not well, of course, Ansel never planned anything well, but it had not been a last-minute dash, as Ezra had first assumed. Ansel had looked him in the eye, knowing he was going to leave.

His barely suppressed rage threatened to bubble up again, to overwhelm him. With a grunt he hurled everything off the closest table and onto the floor. He stood looking at the mess, breathing hard.

How could Ansel do this to him? Ezra had looked up to him, had admired him even, he begrudgingly admitted to himself. He had never had a friend before. Not a real one. Perhaps he never had. His ears burned. Bile rose in his throat, and for a moment he thought he might be sick all over the remains of Ansel’s papers, but he wasn’t.

Ezra fantasised briefly about setting the whole place on fire, but it was probably a bad idea. And hidden in the debris might be some things Ezra needed, to complete the build of the giant airship that Ansel and Kjell had designed. He turned to leave but then a glitter of magic caught his eye. He frowned, and followed it to its source. Over to the far side of the workshop a piece of runework shone. A stone, with cavorite, the rune still active. He snatched it up, nostrils flaring. Then he found another chunk. Huh. The bastard had been working on something. A moongate. Ezra’s pulse quickened. Had Ansel succeeded?

Ezra dived into the mess, his heart beating faster. It was a moongate. Or rather, the remains of one. A small one. And Ansel had tried to destroy it, but the runes betrayed him. Of course someone who was blind to magic wouldn’t necessarily realise they were leaving a trail.

Intrigued, Ezra went through the workshop more carefully. His rage slid into ice-cold focus. Ansel would help him after all, whether he liked it or not. In a pile of ashes he found the remains of some notes, and on the floor under the hole, a rather soggy diagram with a sketch of a moongate clearly visible.

Carefully, he lugged the bits and scraps over to Audric’s worktable, just across the way and laid them out there. It was time to look to the future, he thought with a grin. This time there was no one to get in the way. No one, to stop his ideas from bearing fruit. Ezra looked at the scraps of moongate and then walked out into the night to take his place as leader.

A Week Later

Ezra looked out at the gathered men of the fleet. Everyone was there who could be spared from the watch. There were pitifully few but this fact only fed his determination.

“I know things have been difficult,” he said. The blank stares, the wounded bodies looked back at him and it was like looking into his own wounded soul. “But now the evil has been purged from our presence. We will live as the All-Mother intended, we will be pure, we will have hope.” There was silence. He would not capture their hearts with Inquisitors’ sermons. No one grumbled, no one complained, but they were all waiting, he realised, for something tangible to believe in.

“The new ship,” said Ezra, “will be ready within the week. Her name is the Tempest Rose!” There was a small cheer at this. The first airship built in the new world was certainly an achievement, but what were they going to do with her? “I personally will lead the crew that will sail her home to Stonehaven! Once there, I will raise an army, and gather supplies for our return. Oskar, formally Inquisitor for the Lazy Magpie-” Oskar hastily got to his feet and waved “-Oskar will remain in command while I am gone.”

At this there was a mutter, a stir. Some of the men looked frightened, others thoughtful. Ezra held up his hands, placatingly. They quieted. He could see the doubt in their eyes.

“I know what you are thinking. That we will set out and be lost forever. That you will never hear from us again, leaving you to struggle on in this savage land, slowly dwindling until the last of you are consumed by monsters or foul magics. But I assure you, the Tempest Rose will prevail! She has been designed to fly high out of the reach of anything that can possibly harm her! She will carry enough cavorite to burn high runes for three months without stopping! That will take us well across the equator and into the safe zone! We will fly in through the clouds, we will fear nothing. Every second of every day, every night every moment in-between we will be at peace! She will carry enough cavorite for a return journey and spare. Enough to buy an army, and to persuade the rich that this venture is worth their while.”

At this the murmur of voices rose to a swell. Ezra had to raise his voice to be heard.

“I know your concerns,” he shouted. “Six months home, a month there to restock and find men, then six months back here. A year is a long time. A lot can happen in a year. But friends! Countrymen! I have a plan!” He brandished the glittering piece of rune-covered masonry high. “You have all seen the strange circular gate in the ruin by the mount! You have heard rumours that the savages use them to travel! Some of you have seen it! Well, I am here to tell you that it is true. I have experienced the native rune-craft first hand and I tell you-” he was shouting now, his voice a passionate roar, “that there will be no need for a return journey! I have unlocked the secrets of the moongates! I will take the parts with me, and friends…” his voice lowered to a hush. The men leaned forward to listen to him, their eyes wide. “I will build one on Lochlanach soil. Once the gates are paired, everything will change! Think of it! Just think! Step through the gate, right here in this camp, and instantly you will be transported hundreds of thousands of miles! A year’s dangerous journey reduced to a few moments! The possibilities are endless. This will change everything. You will be able to go home to visit your families when you have a day off! Have a fancy for spiced wine or butter cake? We will be able to trade with the vendors at Stonehaven! You will be able to shop in the dock markets, see your families, what your children grow! And such riches! We will be wealthy! We will be able to buy whatever we want, trading cavorite for foods and wines and favours!”

The ragged men of the Lochlanach fleet looked up at him, their eyes misty. He had them now, in the palm of his hand. Even to him it sounded like a dream. But he would deliver on his promises, on the future he could see so clearly.

“Friends!” he implored. “Have but a little more patience. We have suffered, I know! I beg of you! But stay strong! Seven months, and you will see the crew of the Tempest Rose once more! Watch for us by the gate. We will step through the gate and greet you with joy! Have patience till then! Mine the cavorite, mind the defences! We will do this, together, I swear on the life of the Empress herself.”

They stared.

“And in the meantime, I need volunteers for a crew!”

The conversation swelled to a roar, and Ezra turned away with a smile.

Later that evening Ezra and Audric stood in Audric’s workshop and poured over the components of the broken moongate by the light of several smoking torches.

“Jumped the gun a bit there, didn’t you?” grumbled Audric. He poked at a smashed bit of rune. “Announcing it, I mean?”

“The longer we wait, the more vulnerable we become. You can tinker with the damn gate as much as you want once we have begun our voyage. I just need to be sure it works. Besides, if Ansel could do it, we can do it. If the savages can, we certainly can.”

“Hmm,” said Audric, noncommittally. “I agree it can be done, but how long will it take us?”

“I want to leave by the end of the week,” said Ezra. “This gate is a lifeline. It will change everything. Every day matters.”

“Yes, yes,” said Audric, testily. “I don’t disagree.” He twisted the burnt scrap of paper with Ansel’s notes, and then made a mark on his own parchment. “And I will work as fast as I can but Ansel knew what he was doing when he smashed this. Although it looks like he was in a hurry.” He bent down and squinted at the masonry. “This was a very small moongate,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t think a person could fit through this.”

“Ansel liked his damn models. Another point in our favour - I can see magic and he couldn’t, and I can tell you that rune there is broken.” Ezra pointed and Audric squinted at it.

“Oh,” he said, turning the model. He adjusted the cavorite paint and the rune flared to life. “Thank you.” Audric looked at it for a long moment.

“What?” asked Ezra.

“Something is missing,” the scribe said. “Not a rune… I don’t think? Something in the base. There’s a chamber… but what is supposed to go in there? I have no idea.”

Riley slid out from under a table, and Ezra jumped. He hadn’t known the former powder boy was there. It was strange to see him alone, they had usually moved as a pack. Ezra wracked his brains to think of what the other two had been called but couldn’t remember. The two witches. He looked at Riley with great suspicion. Surely, he must have noticed. He made a mental note to tell Oskar to keep an eye on him.

“A body,” said Riley, sullenly, poking a finger at the model moongate.

“What?” said Audric.

“A body goes there,” Riley said. “A mouse or something….a sacrifice,”

“A sacrifice,” repeated Ezra, grimly.

“What will you do,” asked Audric, settling back on his stool and crossing his arms, “if you get back to Stonehaven and the Inquisitors’ Council rules these gates...witchcraft?”

“They are not witchcraft,” said Ezra, at once. “They use runecraft. How are they any different from our airships? I don’t claim to fully understand the science of either but the Council will see sense. I am sure of it.”

Audric shrugged.

“You better hope so,” he muttered. He turned to Riley. “And how do you know about this?”

Riley’s eyes darkened, flickering with the light of the runes. “I spent a lot of time in Ansel’s workshop. Half the time he didn’t even notice we were there.” He spat on the ground, his face hard, and Ezra adjusted his views a little.

After all, he wasn’t the only one who had been left behind.