DEPARTURES AND ARRIVALS

Two shakes of a dragon’s tail. That had been Ergo’s estimate of how long it would take them to reach Astoril. A few days perhaps. Zoll would have laughed at the evident stupidity, if he hadn’t been so fed up.

It hadn’t been all bad. Their second day brought a good deal of joy. Low clouds that made them blind for periods, encouraged Jacques and Ergo to try for a little more height. It was a revelation. Emerging into a blue heaven under the warming sun gave them all the unexpected wonder of a cloud landscape. Whenever Zoll’s shift on the pedals passed to Terrance, he was hanging over the side trying to see and to remember everything. He felt that to reach the nearest peaks, he need only climb down a rope and then he could wander off to explore the cloud mountains, valleys and fields. Ever and again his eyes were drawn to the frequent cavernous rifts and their promise of an unknown country below. Somehow that good earth in the depths seemed more mysterious than the land they knew: the rolling forests were somehow greener, the briefly sunlit fields, ablaze with the yellows of the season’s turn, were somehow more wholesome.

But the joy didn’t last. What were at first gusty but warm and friendly winds that merely buffeted Appetentia through the day, turned suddenly cold. By nightfall, the gusts had become a gale. Steering was impossible. All they could do was hold on tight and hope. The air that gripped and oppressed them became murky and wet. They lost the new Earth that had so enthralled them, they lost all memory of heavens above. All was black and blinding. Kreet, using one of his lanterns, did try to keep track of their direction and the distance travelled, but by the time the gale was blown out, and morning arrived, he had to admit to being completely lost.

There were mountains below. They could have been the Lights, the lower Dedicae, or the Reeks but there was no way of knowing which. The stiff breeze was still northerly, but at least with Zoll on propulsion they did manage to engage the steering. The plan was to tack a southerly path back onto the plains.  Instead, as the compass confirmed, they travelled east. The mountains fell away behind but left them in a bowl between three ranges. A tempestuous bowl. Caught in a gyre of wind, they spent two whole days flying in random circles before they could get free.

Now ahead lay the plains. Plains burdened by dark grey clouds that climbed to impossible heights.

Zoll cast a look around the deck. This was now the tenth day of their flight. On the cushions Agwis lay covered in blankets with an oilskin over the top. It was hard to see how he was today. After the elation of his escape from the Palace in Garassa, the King had seemed on the mend until Terrance’s unfortunate mention of the wizard, and the suggestion that he might have a dragon to fly. Now, during the days, Agwis sat or crouched on one side of the craft or the other, frequently peering over the rails, probing cloud banks or scanning the horizons for any threat of pursuit. He barely spoke now, he ate little. At night he hid beneath his covers, muttering and shaking.

Not that the rest of them were faring much better. Each of the aeronauts was thoroughly soaked. Kreet had the brazier lit, and that was something, but every time they were nearly dry the rain began again. Zoll and Terrance continued to share the work on the pedals, and Jacques kept to his duty at the wheel, whatever the weather. But days of wrestling with wind and storm, had left them all weary, and Jacques in a fractious state. He spent much of his time swearing randomly, cursing the elements, and cursing the gods he didn’t believe in. Kreet tried to be positive, to engage them all in conversation, but as the days went by, he too opted for holding onto his sanity in silence, simply hoping for an end to their journey. Just now he’d sent Jaques to rest for a while.

Terrance managed to hold himself together by doing that thinking thing he did. Meditation. Zoll looked at him now. He was sitting cross-legged in the prow, his back to them as he surveyed the sky ahead. He wore his cloak, but didn’t bother with the hood. His hair had grown shaggy since they first met. Gaston liked it. And he liked the way Terrance held his head high, and his shoulders square. He was someone Zoll could sit beside on a quiet evening; and someone he would stand beside in the face of any storm.

‘Come and see!’

‘What? What is it, Terrance?’

Zoll moved alongside and peered ahead. They were travelling through thick cloud.

‘I can’t see anything.’

‘Just wait a bit. The cloud’s beginning to break up. I just saw a building, a tower. I’m sure I did. And listen. That’s hooves on cobbles. And voices. Ergo, can we descend a little? I’m sure we’re over a town.’

‘Are you, Mr De Vere? Are you? Did you hear, Jacques? You’d best get up here, again. Best flyer and all. I’ll feather the valves and let some gas out.’

Jacques clambered back up to the wheel box. ‘Best flyer, am I? Best flyer? Damn cold flyer, that’s what I am. Cold and tired. Can barely move my—’

Just then the clouds slipped away, and the noonday sun blinded them all for a moment. Terrance sprang to his feet.

‘Pull right, pull right,’ he yelled.

They were flying over a great city, and Appetentia was heading directly towards a tall, oddly shaped tower.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Zoll, ‘it’s my cistern! We’re going to hit it. Turn the wheel!’

Jacques didn’t need telling. He spun the wheel like fury, but it wasn’t fast enough. As Appetentia yawed to the right, her stern slapped against the side of the water tank, cracking several timbers, and throwing her passengers to the deck floor. Her deck then tipped, sending them all rolling. Agwis, waking into mayhem, tumbled over and over, before Zoll threw himself in the way, halting their momentum by crashing into the starboard gunwale. Terrance was hanging onto the bow rail. Jacques had been flipped onto his back. He was groaning and his head was bleeding.

Zoll decided he was best placed to do something.

‘Stay here, Sire,’ he told Agwis, ‘Keep low and you won’t fall over.’

He pulled himself to his feet, but stumbled immediately. The ship was still in motion, and ground on for nearly a minute more before coming to a complete halt. The breeze still dragged at the balloon. The gas balloon bobbed, and the spars squealed, as the ship strained to be free, but broken spars from the port hull had lodged firmly in cistern’s housing struts.

‘Quick, quick,’ said Kreet. ‘We need to get her anchored before that balloon catches on something.’ He dragged himself to teetering feet and made for the tethered stays in the stern. ‘If I swing the lead, I might get it onto the tower.’

Zoll had another plan. He made sure the King was safe and holding on, and then climbed across the deck. The portside rope was still in its box, and still tethered to the pegs driven through the gunwales. He looped the stay over his shoulder, with the lead swinging loose, and stepped up onto the rail.

Terrance screamed out in protest, but too late. Zoll launched himself up and across the gap to the tower. He grabbed at the fencing around its rim and dangled for a few moments before managing to get a foothold on a rivet. He hauled and pushed himself up, and then clambered over the fence.

‘You dolt!’

‘Problem, Terrance?’

‘You could have killed yourself.’

‘Not really. Always been good at climbing. I sometimes think it’s why I got into building towers in the first place.’

Terrance shook his head. ‘You’re an idiot—’ Appetentia, lurched forward, righting the deck to an easier level, but almost breaking free. Zoll was yanked forward, but just about held on. ‘Better get that rope tied up quick,’ Terrance said, ‘before we pull you clean over the edge.’

Zoll disappeared then into the body of the tower. Terrance heard the echoing thump as he landed on some sort of floor, or roof. In just a few moments the rope was pulled tight.

‘That’ll do it, Zoll. How’s it going at the back, Ergo?’

Kreet sounded a little put out. ‘Not well, Mr De Vere. The lead’s too heavy. I’m not even reaching the tank. Don’t think I’m quite strong enough. Jacques seems indisposed. Perhaps you could attempt it?’

Terrance went aft to take over.

Zoll appeared over the fence just above them.

‘Chuck it up here, can you?’

Terrance gave himself some room and began to swing the lead. It clanged into the side of the tank. The second try went completely awry. At his third attempt he managed to get both the lead, and the rope, caught up in the fencing. Zoll had something of a struggle to get it loose, but in the end prevailed. Once again, he dropped out of sight, and after only a minute or two he began to draw-in the rope.

‘Success,’ said Kreet.

Terrance raised his eyebrows. ‘Perhaps so, Ergo,’ he said. ‘Now we just need to work out how to get down from here.’

Terrance looked over the side of the tank. Down in the city their presence had been noted. With many a cry, people were gathering in the streets below. A party of Sirl’s constables had arrived to keep order. One of them took to thumping on the door of a small lodge next to the cistern tower. After a minute or so, the resident appeared, shouting at the constable and asking: ‘What in creation is all this about?’ The constable pointed skyward. It did the trick. Back into the lodge the gentleman ran and came out again in a trice. Terrance hoped that he had trundled off to fetch the keys to the central stairwell. He couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

‘What’s amusing you?’

‘I don’t really know, Zoll. It’s just that they all look so pompous and serious, rushing about, and yet at the same time they all seem so funny. Perhaps because we aren’t somehow. You know, looking down on them as if we’re watching some kind of performance. But all done by short round people. Is this what travelling in the heavens does? Makes you arrogant and insufferable?’

‘Above it all.’

‘Precisely.’

‘Well, Terrance, just be thankful the little round people are making a fuss. At least they’ll help us getting the king off the flyer, and up into the tower. What we need is a plank.’

A plank was found by King Sirl’s helpful constables, but even with Appetentia stabilized and the plank securely tied, it was impossible to persuade Agwis to attempt the crossing. In the end, with barely disguised impatience and a brief: ‘Forgive me, your majesty,’ Zoll threw the king over his shoulder, stomped over the plank and deposited him on the tower walkway, where he sat down with a thump, his legs refusing to function.

Zoll looked pointedly at Ergo and Terrance. They didn’t immediately respond.

‘Your turn,’ he said.

They spent a good ten minutes making a great fuss over the king’s welfare, offering him water and food, assuring him that all was now well and that he was safe, and eventually they managed to persuade him to his feet. The whole party then, in company with two constables, made their way to the central stairwell and descended by steady degrees down to the street.

A considerable crowd awaited them, but standing to the front were the cistern’s caretaker and a newly arrived lady police sergeant. The sergeant seemed uncomfortable. The caretaker less so.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘Get ‘em arrested then. I want ‘em charged.’

‘With what?’

‘Trespass. Interfering with company property. Criminal damage.’

Terrance decided to take control.

‘And what criminal damage would that be?’

‘Well, I’d ‘ave to do an audit, but you must have done some, crashing into the tower like that.’

The sergeant clearly decided that a less confrontational manner was appropriate.

‘Well, gentleman,’ she said, ‘perhaps you could explain yourselves? You’re some sort of travellers, that I can see. But who may you be? And this old gentleman now, he looks in a bit of a state. Has he come with you willin’?’

The caretaker pushed forwards, squaring up to Terrance. ‘Never mind that, constable, what about the trespass and the damage this fella’s done? I have the company to answer to.’

The sergeant gripped him by a shoulder and pulled him away. ‘I’ll ask you, sir, to stop interferin’. And it’s Sergeant to you.’ She turned back to Terrance. ‘I asked about the senior gentleman, sir. May I have an answer?’

Terrance thought it would be best if the senior gentleman spoke for himself. ‘Sire? Would you like to explain?’

‘Well. I… Yes, madam. I did. I came willingly, though had I known the true terrors of flying, well…’

Terrance laid a comforting hand on the king’s shoulder. ‘It is done now, Sire – no more terrors.’ The King nodded but said nothing more.

Zoll stepped up from the back. ‘Perhaps I can, help, what? You ask who we are. Well, this noble gentleman is King Agwis of Aegarde. And we are the people who helped him to escape his son’s oppression. Together we are the first ever aeronauts! Employees of The Zollerine Water Company, Mr. Keyholder, should be proud to entertain such significant guests, rather than promoting ill-founded accusations. I am Gaston Zollerine, by the way. Any thoughts?’

The caretaker found that he could not manage an appropriate response, so Zoll continued. ‘Now, Sergeant, we’ll need carriages. To take us to the Palace? Oh, and put a guard on this tower, will you – our ship has some dangerous elements on board, and we really wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt.’