“So what would happen if you just kept sailing south?” she asked.
“Past the Iron Weald and into the Telurian Band? The ship would just float higher and higher once it reached that mass of Bronze mana, till you beached upon the upper ethers like a boat upon a shore.” Simeon scratched at his beard. “I think. Nobody’s tried in centuries since it’s known it can be done.”
“Cue Scorio sailing a whale ship to the Pit,” said Leonis.
“Are any of you available to help with training?” asked Jova.
Simeon raised an eyebrow. “Eager to get started?”
“Always.”
“Very well. That way we can hit the ground running when we arrive. Which, seeing as we’ll be taking you directly into the Chasm, is probably a good thing.”
Chapter 32
The passage through the Rain Wall was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. As they drew closer later that afternoon everyone simply stood, staring at the wall of roiling storm.
None of the Manticore members seemed upset; Ydrielle and Simeon had disappeared below decks for several hours while they’d cruised over the Ash Belt, where the noises that filtered through the planks indicated they were intensely focused on something other than steering. Davelos and Dameon lounged by the starboard railing, murmuring quietly to themselves, while Evelyn ensured the ship flew directly toward the distant Rain Wall, a strand of her hair entangled with the wheel’s spokes, her manner indolent as she guided them through a repetitive mana-infusing meditation.
Finally, Leonis could no longer stand the strain. Simeon and Ydrielle returned to the deck, both drenched in sweat and glowing with a shared intimacy that was as unabashed as it was obvious. They moved to the bow where they poured a bucket of water over each other, laughing and wiping at their faces.
“Excuse me?” Leonis sat up straight. “Ah—Dread Blazes? Is nobody concerned about the, ah, hurricane-force winds and twisters we’re about to fly through?”
“Hmm?” Simeon set the bucket down and began twisting water out of his beard. “You think we’re going to fly through the Rain Wall?”
Evelyn snorted in amusement, and Dameon smiled his customary grin.
Leonis raised an eyebrow. “Indicating… we’re not? Then…?”
It was Ydrielle who spoke, her robes sodden and clinging to her slender frame. She moved to take the steering wheel which Evelyn relinquished with obvious pleasure.
“We’ll climb over it.”
Scorio and the others glanced over the prow railing at the towering cliffs of rain and furious cloud that seemed to rise forever.
Simeon took pity on them. “We’ve a tank of compressed Iron mana in the hold. Along with one for Copper and even Bronze. You recall how the ship rises when the ambient mana is stronger?”
Lianshi’s eyes widened with understanding. “You’ll release Iron mana to increase buoyancy?”
“That’s right.” Simeon twisted his mane of hair then ran his fingers through it. “That’s why Ydrielle remained on board. Someone has to replenish the Iron tank whenever we pass the Rain Wall.”
“Takes time, too,” called out Dameon. “At least for our little Sloop.”
“Oh.” Jova’s eyes widened. “I see.”
Lianshi was nodding.
Scorio exchanged a glance with Leonis who shrugged.
“Those strange sails,” said Lianshi. “They act as mana traps.”
Ydrielle was fine-tuning their approach. “We release Iron to ascend. A full tank will get us over the Wall, but the air becomes thin. The Emberlings will have to saturate and slow burn as we go over.”
The Emberlings exchanged worried glances.
“Then we’ll cut off the Iron. The ambient Copper will cause us to lower back down.”
“So if we hit pockets of Coal?” asked Scorio, starting to warm to the idea.
“We’d drop,” confirmed Simeon. “Unless we have a fine captain who can release Copper on the fly and balance it out.”
Ydrielle gave him a tight smile then returned her attention to the rapidly looming Rain Wall.
“Make sure you’re clipped,” said Dameon, tone indolent as if it didn’t really matter. “There’s plenty of natural turbulence up top. You’re welcome to ride below, but folks say that makes it worse.”
Scorio gave his tether a tug. It held firm.
“Can you accelerate with mana?” asked Lianshi, fascinated. “Release, say, Bronze just behind us?”
“That’s an advanced technique.” Ydrielle narrowed her eyes as she stared off into the middle distance. “Normally that would just cause your stern to pop up.”
“She means yes,” said Simeon with quiet pride. “Nobody flies like Ydrielle.”
“Here we go. Releasing Iron.”
The air had become increasingly humid. From their height of several hundred yards, Scorio could make out whirling curtains of diaphanous mist flurrying out from the wall proper, and a haze hung in the air that was shot through with prismatic smears of light from the tiny sun racing overhead.
He activated his Heart’s senses and immediately felt the Iron mana releasing in the bowels of the ship. It was heavy, turgid, and quickly sank out of his range of perception, but The Sloop’s reaction was immediate. It shuddered and began to climb rapidly as if allergic to the potent mana.
For a wild second Scorio thought of drawing the Iron into his Heart, but Ydrielle seemed to sense his inclination for she looked back over her shoulder at them all.
“Don’t,” was all she said.
“How did she know?” whispered Leonis, which caused Scorio to grin.
It wasn’t a purely vertical ascent; the sails were filled and they were forced to tack as they approached, the boom sweeping out across the deck so that the sail would die then fill up once more, causing them to approach at a climbing angle as if they followed an invisible switchback.
Higher and higher they climbed, but it didn’t seem fast enough. Iron continued to billow out from below, propelling the ship to rise, but they were approaching too quickly; he kept glancing at the other Dread Blazes to check on their emotions, but while they were all intent, none of them seemed overly worried.
Then again, they were Dread Blazes. What did they have to worry about?
“One last push,” called out Ydrielle. “Brace.”
She clutched the steering wheel with one arm, the tendons standing in rigid relief, her feet set slightly more than shoulder width apart, swaying easily with the ship’s growing oscillations, and then there was a dull spiritual explosion of Iron resonance and The Sloop’s prow rose and it speared up and flew straight into the Rain Wall.
For a moment the storm washed over them, blasting the deck with hissing needles of rain even as everything disappeared into a cold mist. Scorio felt snakes of Copper tearing past them, endlessly thrashing and coiling like masses of eels, and The Sloop bucked and jostled, nearly casting them all off their benches.
And then they burst out of the top of the clouds trailing wreaths of mist, water coursing over the deck’s waxed boards.
Evelyn let out a hearty whoop. Of all their number she was the only one unclipped, her hair having reached out to snarl around railings, the mast, and the rigging, lifting her up off the deck to hang and sway in the air.
“She’s mad,” whispered Naomi enviously.
Dameon hadn’t been kidding about the turbulence. It was like sailing through a channel filled with rough chop; The Sloop rose and fell, shuddered and blundered, so that half the time Scorio was dropping after his bench then slamming into it and rising back up.
And by the hells was the air thin. He was breathing rapidly, he realized, pants that weren’t just exhilaration but a strained attempt to get more air.
All around them the light of the fleeting sun shone through the haze. The Sloop cut through ridges of angry cloud, flew out over storm ravines, and the sails strained as Ydrielle expertly guided them over the Wall.