Witch Wraith

Shortly after, the storm struck—a curtain of black rain that left them all but blind. Railing could no longer either see or hear Skint from where he crouched at the bow. Steady, steady, Challa Nand would say every few minutes. And Railing would respond.

Austrum relieved him not long after, telling him to rest. Railing didn’t argue. It was barely three hours after sunrise, and yet it felt like they had been flying all day. Worse, the sun hadn’t showed itself since dawn, and the light was so bad you could only see a few yards ahead. Challa Nand seemed to see farther than the rest of them, his eyes sharp enough to pick out the cliffs that hemmed them in. They might have tried taking the airship higher, but once above the peaks the winds were blowing fiercely, threatening to shred the sails and bring the ship down completely.

Woostra had long since gone below, so airsick he could barely stand. He was forced to occupy the space alone since by now everyone else was well enough to stay topside, including the previously injured sailor, Aleppo. The Rovers and Mirai were working the lines and monitoring the power of the diapson crystals, ready to change them out if needed. Railing watched them through the rain and gloom for a few minutes, then worked his way forward to the bow and dropped down beside Skint.

“Do you have any idea at all where we are?” he asked.

The Gnome shrugged. “Somewhere in the Charnals? Of course, I’m just guessing.”

“How are we going to get through this? I can’t see anything beyond the end of my arm.”

“Challa Nand knows where we are and how to get to where we are going. He told me this morning we’re about two hours out from the Klu. We just have to ride out the worst of this storm and hope there isn’t another one waiting up ahead.” He glanced over at Railing and grinned. “Admit it—this is sort of fun, isn’t it?”

Railing stared at him, and then realized he was right. In a reckless, bone-jarring sort of way, it was fun. He grinned back. “As long as you’re an airman or a crazy Gnome Tracker, maybe so.”

Skint laughed, then took Railing down into the hold for a drink of ale. Sitting near the keg that held the amber liquid, they sipped from cups, sodden and bedraggled in the near dark.

“You look a wreck,” Skint offered, raising his cup and clinking it with Railing’s.

“Your health,” the boy responded.

They drank and leaned back against the bulkhead. “Sorry about Farshaun,” the Gnome said after a minute. His wizened face was solemn. “He was a good man. I liked him. He had iron in him.”

“That he had.” Railing looked off into the gloom, thinking of what Farshaun had said to him about Mirai on his deathbed.

That girl, she’s worth a dozen of you or me. She’s got grit and determination that hasn’t even been scratched. She’s got heart. And she loves you.

He believed it all except for the last, even though it was the last he most wanted to believe. He didn’t feel like she loved him, not really. Not even after last night. But he loved her; there was no disputing that. Now, more than ever. But in a different, more complex way. He loved her intensely and completely enough that he wanted her to love him back in the same way.

“You seem a little less distant today,” Skint said suddenly. “You were keeping pretty much to yourself after we left Arborlon. Something was bothering you. Did you get past that?”

Railing nodded. “I think maybe I did.”

He meant it. He could tell that he was different—his attitude, his temperament—ever since he had opened up to Mirai and confessed the secrets he had been keeping. It hadn’t changed the reality of how things might play out when they reached their destination. It hadn’t changed the wrongness of what he had done to the others. But it had allowed him to breathe again. Keeping his meetings with the King of the Silver River and the Grimpond to himself had suffocated him. Sharing it with Mirai had been the right thing to do, and he felt stronger for having done so.

He sipped at his ale, working hard not to spill it as the airship lurched side-to-side and bucked against the force of the winds.

“If I get through this in one piece,” Skint said suddenly, “I’m going back into the Eastland mountains and I’m never coming out again.”

“We’ll get through,” Railing answered at once, and he meant it.

Skint got to his feet, put down his cup, and started for the ladder. “You’ll be the one to make it happen, if anyone can,” he called back.