“But now he knows we’re coming. And if he’s in Bastion that means Praximar is now also aware.”
“One problem at a time. First we need to outrun that ship.”
But it slowly gained on them. Two giant masts remained, its great sails billowing and driving it through the different banks of mana. Where Scorio had to navigate around pockets of Coal, they could simply use the ship’s mass and momentum to coast through.
“That lancer is going for another attack,” called Naomi, voice tense. Scorio spun the wheel and released Coal; The Sloop dove and swerved just as another bolt of white power flashed past them, searing the air.
“At least it takes them a while to regain their power,” muttered Naomi. “What can I do to help?”
“Not much,” said Scorio. “Keep an eye on them. Make sure they don’t try anything else.”
They flew in tense silence. The ship drew closer, and finally Scorio lost his patience and began using The Sloop’s mobility to their advantage; it meant losing speed, but each time the greater ship began to correct its course to match them Scorio would simply tack back or catch the wind hard, pulling ahead once more.
It was a game of inches, but slowly he pulled ahead. Where the larger ship could force its way through Copper or Coal, Scorio could avoid them altogether, ensuring on average a slightly higher speed.
It was grueling work. The Farmlands passed by below. Every time the lancer sought to release another blast, Scorio would throw the ship in a new direction, sometimes rising, others falling, and three more times they got lucky.
But all it would take was one correct blast and they’d be done for.
The Rain Wall appeared up ahead. Scorio rose to meet it, but now the mana grew more uniform, depriving him of his ability to duck and dodge. The huge ship began once more to draw close.
“Wait, someone just threw themselves off the railing,” said Naomi. “They’re falling—everyone’s watching…” Then she winced and drew back. “That had to hurt.”
“They fell? Were thrown overboard?”
“No, they clearly jumped.”
“Suicide?”
“I guess? Or… who knows what’s happening on that ship.”
The Sloop rose higher, fighting for altitude as the huge cliffs drew closer. The air grew damp with the heavy mist, and the roar of the countless waterfalls filled the air.
“Wait,” said Naomi. “That’s… damn it.”
“What?”
“Jova. She’s coming in fast on one of her stone slabs.”
“What?” Scorio twisted about. There, far below, came Jova. Her slab was going so fast it left a spiraling contrail of dirt and dust roiling behind her. “She threw herself off the ship?”
“Yep. Must have been her. Only way to get at the rocks. Watch out, she’s rising.”
Scorio grimaced. They were rising too, but slowly, fighting to clear the huge face of storm clouds. “We going to make it?”
“If you go faster!”
Scorio considered dumping their Iron. They’d rise like a cork, but that would leave them depleted, unable to navigate the storm’s top…
“Hold on!” He cut off the flow of Iron and issued a coil of Copper behind the stern just as he’d seen Ydrielle do. Then he compressed it, and The Sloop bolted forward.
“What are you doing?”
“Losing Jova.” Scorio lowered his chin and widened his stance. “Furl the mainsail!”
Curtains of rain and mist swept past them as they speared straight into the wall. Naomi hissed and rushed to obey, unclipping her tether. “She’s closing!”
As if in affirmation, a fist sized rock fell from the skies to punch a hole in the deck.
“She’s got our range! Here comes—”
But then they hit the Rain Wall.
Rain blasted across the deck raising a furious, hissing drum beat and the sky became storm all around them. The mana was whipped into a frenzy, tornadoes of Copper ripping past slowly swirling masses of Iron. The ship rose, fell, spun like a leaf in a fast-moving stream. Scorio swung the wheel about, doing his best to catch the right-flowing rivers of mana, but for the most part he’d lost control; the timbers groaned and cracked as the aerite bones fought to rise or drop. Wind whipped past them, and all was madness.
Scorio laughed. Occasionally the wind sought to pull him off the deck, so that he clung to the great wheel as his feet lifted up behind him. The urge to just give up control was strong, but he fought to keep his senses alert, to steer them into the masses of tormented Iron when he could so that they rose every higher. The rudder had limited purchase on the winds, but slowly he coaxed them higher.
“There!” screamed Naomi over the howling winds. Scorio whipped around and saw Jova came sliding through the curtains of rain, crouched low on her slab, eyes narrowed, a dozen boulders flying behind her.
“Take the wheel!” Scorio unclipped himself and ran to the back of The Sloop just as Jova gave a soundless cry and hurled her rocks at them.
Scorio raised his Shroud. It protected most of the rear of the ship. The boulders flew toward them then suddenly parted, split out to the flanks, curved around his Shroud and then flew toward the hull.
Scorio roared and leaped to bring his Shroud to bear on the stern, and Naomi did her best at port, but still he distantly heard the shattering crack of planks and felt the ship shudder beyond that which even the wind could do.
Jova drew closer, fighting for speed, her expression desperate, and then gestured and the rocks flew back out of the hold, causing more destruction.
“Grab the wheel,” Scorio bellowed. “Steer for Iron!”
“What?” Naomi did as she was bid, her expression wild with confusion. “Where are you—no!”
Scorio took six long steps, leaped up onto the stern railing and dove into the storm.
Iron incandesced about his Heart and he extruded his wings, keeping them to a mere couple of yards each. Rain lashed his face, but then the cold and sting ceased as his scales insulated him.
Jova’s eyes widened in shock as he flew toward her, but a buffet of wind sent him spiraling head over heels. He fought for stability and ceased to focus on his vision, paying more attention instead to his Heart senses.
A chimney of Iron amidst the swirling Copper. A great pool of sinking Coal. The storm winds in the Rain Wall were affected by the mana, and by watching for what was happening he could navigate the gales and hurricane blasts as if he yet stood on the deck of The Sloop.
The key, he suddenly realized, were the huge spirals of Copper. They remained in place, anchored by some invisible power, and drew the other mana and the winds about them. Some were no wider than a house, but looking further he saw that those were contained within colossal spirals, vortices the size of Bastion itself.
Jova crashed through all of this without care; she angled around, boulders flying to her side, her whole body tensed as she rode the whirlwind, slab bouncing and rising and falling away beneath her boots.
Scorio laughed, exhilarated, furled his wings as he hit Coal and dove down through a chute of stillness. Jova flung rocks at him but he cut beneath her too quickly, then turned onto his back and weaponized his aura as he skimmed just beneath her boots, JUMP OFF!
Jova screamed in fury and did so, leaving her slab behind to plunge back-first into the storm.
For a second Scorio saw her features creased in fury, and then he saw her slab catch itself and fling itself down after her.
The Sloop? There, almost capsizing as a great front of Coal washed over it. Scorio cursed, fought for momentum, tore himself free of the storm’s pull and flew toward it.
It felt like trying to make your way through a rioting crowd. Scorio was shoved, pulled, and whipped around. He made his wings smaller, giving himself greater maneuverability and wheeled and darted back to this ship.
A rock the size of his head smashed into his stomach, folding him around it as it rose. Blood spurted into his mouth as his innards liquefied and he fell off the rock to go spinning, head over heels into the storm. Almost he lost his Ignition, but he focused on the ghostly flames as he struggled to extend his wings and catch his balance.