Cloud dancer, p.8
Cloud Dancer, page 8
part #1 of Endless Skies Series
“Okay, I can accept that, but this “Junk” you are “passing off” on me is anything but,” Delphi argued, having unwrapped the second bundle. She set the gauntlet on the counter where they could all see it, and they all recognized it, looking over at the empty display case where it had traditionally rested.
The fingers and shape of the gauntlet were finer than that of a traditional one because the gauntlet in question had been made for and belonged to a woman, Helen, one of the founders of the island and one of the few Cloud Dancers of note who had ever been here. She was also one of Willis’s direct ancestors, and the Dragon bone gauntlet was both a family heirloom and a historical treasure of the island.
Willis only shrugged. “I checked, the fit is perfect. It is almost like it was made for you, and it seems a waste to let it sit around gathering dust when it could be out there doing good once again,” he argued. “You’ll have more use for it than my display cabinet ever did, and if the day ever comes when you can settle down and don’t have any more need for it, you can return it.”
Several of them opened their mouths to argue, but Willis wasn’t about to have any of it. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have several more clients to see today, and you all standing around gawking makes my shop look tawdry. I also haven’t had Second meal yet, and I find I am famished after completing a rush job this morning! So good day and goodbye!” he said, shooing them out the door and locking it behind them, he even went so far as to flip the out to lunch sign and closed the blinds.
They all just stood there in shock. If Wyvern’s skin was expensive, Dragon bones were the next best thing to mythical. Only three dragons had been defeated in the over eight-hundred year history of their area. As such, their skin and bones and the items built from them were beyond rare and expensive.
Delphi elbowed Jesse. “I could use a drink,” she informed them, heading for the nearest bar and a bottle of rum.
The others nodded in agreement, and they set off after her as she stashed Dragon’s Claw in her bags. It seemed a little sacrilegious hiding it with her lingerie, but she figured no one would ever think to look there for something like that.
Departure
Teusren the 12th of Ren
Year 848 of Revana
Delphi did her best not to seem antsy as she waited to board the Orlan Federation Navy Ship OFNS Pippit. Usually, Navy ship wouldn’t transport civilians, but thanks to the remoteness of their island, the fact Le’Pick would be aboard also as their chaperone, and that as Cloud Dancer Initiates they were no longer simple civilians anymore, an exception had been made so they could reach the capital and the Academy on time.
The bell tolled on the ship, informing everyone that they would be cutting loose in five minutes and that it was time for last goodbyes. Troy’s mother was there fussing over him while he glowered appreciatively. Delphi smiled, realizing that over the previous week, as they had prepared together, she had learned what most of Troy’s glowers and frowns meant. There were still a few she hadn’t deciphered yet, but in the next four years, with him being the only living reminder of home about, she had no doubt she would. She felt a little bad for him, though. Her large family surrounded her while he only had his mother. His father, as was his way, was off on some research expedition and didn’t even know his son was about to leave.
“Be safe,” Mama said, giving Delphi one last hug and bringing her attention back to the moment.
Ben stepped up and did the same but passed her a small but abnormally heavy purse as they parted. “This is a little something your “Mother” prepared for you, like your daggers,” he explained. “Use it wisely,” he advised, giving her another hug to hide her momentary surprise as she realized he wasn’t talking about Taniya. “And remember, we are always here for you.”
Delphi wiped away some tears and nodded. “You’ll always be my parents,” she assured them before turning to give her brothers and sisters hugs. When it came to Finni, she also passed him a well-used oiled leather-wrapped bundle containing her old Spira shaping tools. “Now, you won’t have to keep asking to borrow them.”
Finni’s lip quivered a little as he accepted the bundle and held it close to his chest. “You always did have too daft of hands to make proper use of these,” he teased, choking up a little as he realized this could be the last time that he ever saw her. Cloud Dancers from small islands weren’t known to return.
Delphi gave him another squeeze before stepping back. “Then prove you are better when I come back on my own ship and ask for some repairs.”
Finni smiled. “Right, more like a garbage scow, and I doubt you’d have the coin to afford a Shaper of my quality.”
“Just you wait and cry when you watch me park in someone else’s slip.”
Mama had to turn aside as the banter pushed her to the edge of her emotions as she knew this could be the last time she ever heard it. She shoved those thoughts to the side and grabbed Ben’s elbow for support as she squared her shoulders. Ben didn’t complain and squeezed her hand back.
Delphi turned to Uncle Jesse and gave him a quick hug. “Remember, no more talk of heifers,” she teased.
“And you stay out of trouble,” Jesse countered, to which Delphi had the good grace to at least look slightly repentant.
“All aboard,” the ensign yelled from the top of the boarding ramp as Le’Pick motioned for them to join him. It was time, and while the boat wouldn’t leave without them, it was best not to keep its Captain waiting.
Delphi quickly gave her family one last hug and marched up the ramp. They had already stowed her belongings, so all she was carrying were the clothes she was wearing and a small bag in which, against the rules, she had stashed her daggers and the gauntlet as well as the normal sundries. As the boarding ramp was pulled up and they cast off, she waved one last time to her family and the rest of the villagers, though now her hand wasn’t empty.
Jesse squinted at her and swore, patting his empty pocket before shaking his head and fist at her. “You miscreant! Safe Travels!” he shouted over the laughter of those who understood what had happened.
“Mind you purse,” Delphi yelled back, pitching it back to him a little heavier than it had left. She continued waving and made a silent promise to herself that she would be back.
The Pippit quickly gained way and carried them out of shouting distance. Delphi stood there for a while yet, waving goodbye until she could see them no more. She was a bit surprised when she found Troy still standing there next to her, frowning after the shrinking island, and she clapped him on the back. “Don’t worry so much, we’ll be back,” she assured him, earning herself an eyebrow.
Troy shrugged and left for their cabins and a book. At least a book he could understand, unlike a certain redhead.
Le’Pick frowned after Troy. “That boy is rather odd,” he observed to no one in particular.
“He’s just nervous,” Delphi corrected.
“I’m glad at least one of us seems to understand him,” he observed before also taking his leave.
Delphi stood at the rail for a while longer, alone with her thoughts, and whispered into the wind. “Someday.”
Vandal’s Skies
Frind the 15th of Ren
Year 848 of Revana
They were two days out from the capital, and Delphi was getting a little stir crazy. She had been on several longer voyages before, but the Pippit was the first all-metal hulled ship she had ever flown in, and there were some issues she hadn’t anticipated.
Everyone would have loved to have a metal hull, but it wasn’t financially practical outside of warships. Even then, most middling nations could only afford a few of them. Few islands boasted high amounts of iron or other metals, and no one liked digging around in the foundation of their own homes to look for it when there was another option. That option was Mido’s pass every three years when the moon’s sky and those of Spiria connected for a month.
Unlike on Spiria, there was more than enough metal to be had on Mido, and most nations, the world over, tried to maintain a mining outpost there. Unfortunately, even given Mido’s vast and unexplored size, between the predators, the meteor strikes, volcanic activity, and rival nations, only the strongest could expect much of a return on their investment. Which meant nations like the Orlan Federation and the Republic of Silis could build fleets of metal ships while most others made do with hybrid craft or a few larger metal ships and a lot of smaller wooden vessels and almost no private citizen even dreamt of having one.
A hybrid fleet was how the Russo had built their navy, and that was partially to blame for the war. The Russos had wanted better ships but didn’t have the metal, money, or muscle to build them, so they had tried the oldest trick in the book, to pirate some from their neighbor, the Orlan Federations, who seemed to be lousy with them, under false flags. Their first target had been a frigate, much like the Pippit she now rode in.
The Pippit and her kind were hardly the prime of the Orlandan fleet, but they were fine little ships, and compared to what the Russo’s had, they were in a different league. Suffice it to say, the Russos made a stupid call and underestimated what one of the Orlan fleet’s “little” frigates was capable of. They damaged it heavily and killed better than half of its three-hundred man crew and injured another third, but only at the cost of three of their false flags destroyed and one captured with a blubbering idiot overseer aboard who spilled the beans faster than a Ratatoskr infestation could sink a coffee transport.
The Orlandan obviously and somewhat justifiably took offense to this and turned the PRR into their live-training punching bag for teething their new ships and fighters while they slowly ground the PRR’s military to dust and assimilated their islands. The reason why the PRR could only be called partially responsible for the war was that they genuinely did have reason to need better ships because the Orlandan had always planned to add them to the Federation. The PRR’s actions only brought it about a little sooner and a lot bloodier for the people of the PRR than it might have otherwise been.
The Pippit was indeed a fine little navy ship. But for all of its brilliant design and capability, it was a navy ship, not a passenger liner, and that meant it was a practical ship. Their quarters were in the officer’s berths, but they still weren’t what one might generously call roomy. Add to that that despite their semi-VIP status as Cloud Dancers, most of the ship was off-limits to them, and it was feeling a bit claustrophobic within a few hours of boarding. Delphi had quickly found the best way to combat it was to loiter in the galley with a good book or some shaping trinkets she had brought with her. She preferred making practical things like parts and tools through Spira shaping, but that didn’t mean her deft hands and sharp mind weren’t just as adapted when it came to sculpting and carving.
Finni’s jibbing aside, before Delphi had left, she was already regarded as one of the best shapers that the island had ever seen despite her inability to do the rough molding that required a fire Ether. But once the raw form was made, she could bend and shape the materials, with a precision that made professionals like Gregor, not just envious but willing to ask her for tips and help with delicate work. Spira permeated everything on Spiria, and with the right know-how and tools, you could shape almost anything except actual Spira crystals. For those, you needed to be a Cloud Dancer, which she was. Not playing with some of her ideas for improving the designs for Liftrig cores had been a pain, but now she could. Or at least she could once she reached the Academy and had the materials. Those materials could also be found on the ship, but the crew wasn’t about to let her play with them. The engineers had seemed intrigued, but the ship's Purser had been adamant that she wasn’t allowed to “play” with those “expensive” materials. So she contented herself with some chunks of shaper ceramic that the engineers had slipped her on the down-low.
***
Troy wondered into the galley looking for some dinner but instead found Delphi absorbed in shaping what seemed to be a Roc out of a chunk of granite-like shaper ceramic in minute detail. She had managed to impart the impression that the great bird was bursting forth from inside the stone as its great wings unfurled in flight. He didn’t have the touch for shaping, but that didn’t stop him from appreciating the quality of her work. He also wasn’t going to let it overly delay him from his primary mission to procure enough sustenance to sustain his pursuit of knowledge and entertainment for a few more hours.
As he started walking again, he realized he wasn’t the only one who had noticed Delphi. It was about an equal split between those watching her work and watching her. You could tell which was which by the drool, though there were a few who it was hard to tell with as they were drooling but seemed to be watching her sculpt. Then there were the few who weren’t giving very pretty looks. The reason for that was apparent enough; she had forgone her gloves today. She was doing that more and more, and he liked the confidence she seemed to gain each time. Given his Motikan heritage and what he had seen of the world, he didn’t much care about her hand except for being curious as to the story behind it. He gave those glaring and a few of the worst droolers a stern look, and they quickly skulked off as they realized he had caught them.
Delphi looked up in surprise at the slight clattering of a tray across from her and wondered who had finally worked up the courage or been paid enough to make a pass. She didn’t even consider that it was one of the haters. They were cowards, and in a place like this, they would be liable to have an accident if they got too vocal, let alone tried anything. Instead of one of the crew, she was surprised and a little relieved, even happy, to find that it was Troy. The steady procession of people leaving as he sat, looking rather smug, was enough to make her smile. Apparently, as pleased as a peacock and unconcerned with the remaining sailors, Troy turned his attention to his food and a book he had brought with him without any comment beyond an ever so smug grin.
“They weren’t bugging me, but thank you,” Delphi whispered.
Troy’s eyebrow arched ever so slightly, but it could have been amusement over something in his book.
Delphi was about to say something more when a screeching wail shattered the calm of the ship. Every hand still in the galley quickly bussed their trays before rushing out. One of the more grizzled specimens of sailor kind built like a squat troll with massive thews, a broad chest that tapered to a narrow waist, and sturdy looking arms which were as big around as her waist, stopped by their table on his way out. He saluted them with a massive hand, scarred from equal parts working and fighting, and more than a few times where it had probably been both.
“Pardon the intrusion, but if you two would see to returning to your berths, that’s the general quarters alarm. It’s probably nothing but a drill,” he assured, although the slight dilation of his pupils as adrenaline primed his system for what he figured was a fight might have tipped off an observant person. “But the battle station for a guest is their berth where they are less likely to get injured during maneuvers or while the crew runs about.” And where Boarders would have to fight through most of us to reach, and only an unlucky shot would strike.
Salicia wasn’t in what one would call a good cut of the sky, especially since the war, but It wasn’t a bad area either, which meant it was the perfect area for anyone looking for a decent haul and not too many patrol ships. It also was what made this a suitable region for training and blooding fresh recruits and officers.
Orlan ships outclassed most everything in this area in terms of firepower, armor, and speed on a class for class basis, but their crews were also green except for a leavening contingent of older hands like the grizzled Chief gently suggesting they return to their berths. All of it meant that while the Pippit was a fine little ship, it would take damage and losses should they bring their foe to battle, or in the unlikely case where their foe decided the Pippit was worth tangling with, which was doubtful given the area’s history with such things.
Military ships could fetch a prime cut if you could capture one in functional condition. The keyword there was functional. Orlandan didn’t willingly surrender operable naval ships. Which meant the only real option a pirate had if they intended to make a payday attacking a military ship was a scalp bounty, a letter of marque, or a boarding action. A standoff battle would do for the first two, but if they wanted the ship in repairable condition, it meant boarding, and something in Chief Windsor’s gut said that these pirates, whoever they were, would close and board. Which was why, while he always liked the extra aid a trained Cloud Dancer could add to a fight, he wasn’t about to let two fledglings like these anywhere near the tussle if he could manage it. Even if the girl is rumored to have done in a Fiend and is hiding two daggers, one on a wrist sheath and the other along the small of her back. The stiletto the boy has down his calf is almost a short sword too. And there is her hand. Maybe... He shook off the bad idea that had tried to form in his head. I like their style. But I have to wonder what their parent’s motivation for raising them to expect trouble like this is, and there is a big difference between handling a thug in a back ally and a killer in a boarding action.
Delphi squinted at him but could tell he was willing to thump them both over the head and drag them to their berths if he thought they were going to argue. She could be a lot more helpful than any of them knew, but that ran its own risks of bringing extra chaos into what would already be a chaotic situation. He looked like a brawler, but the way he carried himself was as a fighter, and she knew how and why the patrols operated in this area as well as any daughter of an “ex-smuggler” should, and therefore respected his wishes.
