Page 4 of Stalk the Sky

That was all the explanation needed. Fieran’s uncle Edmund was the top spymaster of Escarland. He was well-versed in the more shady side of life.

Fieran’s dacha and mama had made the mistake of letting Uncle Edmund and Aunt Jalissa watch Fieran, Adry, and Louise when Ellie was born. The three of them had gotten an education Dacha hadn’t been expecting. Mama had just laughed.

Pip’s padlock clicked open. She grimaced down at it. “Simple locks are ridiculously easy to pick. It’s worrisome.”

Stickyfingers grinned, showing off his crooked and stained teeth. “Told you.”

“Anyway, if the lesson in the more dubious arts is over, we’re nearing Dar Goranth.” Fieran gestured toward a door set between two of the portholes, which led onto the lower catwalk around the gondola. “You’ll get a good look at it from the catwalk.”

Chairs scraped, then a stampede rushed for the door. For many of the men in the squadron, this was their first time ever leaving Escarland, except for brief visits to Calafaren across the Alliance Bridge, much less their first time seeing Kostaria.

Fieran stayed at Pip’s back, protecting her from being jostled in the rush for the door. Merrik also waited, though Lije, Pretty Face, and Stickyfingers joined the chaos headed for the door, the latter stuffing padlocks and lockpicks back into his pockets as he went.

Once the others were outside and shoving for positions along the rail, Fieran held out a hand to Pip. “Ready for your first look at Dar Goranth?”

“Yep. I’m sure it’s impressive.” Pip took his hand and let him pull her to her feet, releasing his fingers as soon as she was standing. Her head didn’t even come up to Fieran’s shoulder, and he found himself looking down at her dark brown hair. She tilted her head to grin up at him as she stepped past him. “I need to take lots of notes to describe it in my next letter home. My muka has a great interest in troll architecture.”

That made sense, given that Pip’s mother was a dwarf. While both trolls and dwarves had the ability to manipulate stone with their magic, the trolls used their magic directly on the stone while the dwarves used their magic in conjunction with tools to craft the stone.

“Hopefully you’ll be able to see Osmana someday.” Fieran followed her with Merrik trailing after them. “Even I find Khagniorth Stronghold quite impressive, and I’m not normally one to note architecture.”

“Perhaps someday.” Pip shrugged. “It’s hard to imagine I’d travel that far. Until now, I’ve never been to Kostaria.”

“Well, I’ve never been to the dwarven mountains.” Fieran hurried a step ahead and opened the door for her. A blast of frigid air slammed into him, cutting even colder than it had when he’d been on top of the airship and exercising away his fidgets.

As Pip stepped outside, she rubbed her arms. “Brr. It’s cold.”

“It’s still winter in Kostaria.” Fieran strolled next to her along the catwalk to the end of the line of flyboys, heading for the bow.

“I might have to stock up on warmer gear at whatever Dar Goranth has for a commissary.” Pip shivered again as she claimed a spot free of flyboys against the railing. She wore the shirt and coveralls the army provided, but no thick overcoat.

Fieran had a green, army-issue wool overcoat in his rucksack, but he hadn’t bothered bringing it with him that morning. He’d pull off his shirt and give that to her, but he wasn’t sure if she’d laugh or get embarrassed by that. Besides, his shirt was just a hint sticky with his sweat, even though he’d taken the time to let the wind dry his sweat before putting it on. It was too gross to give to her.

He leaned against the rail beside her. “I guess I’ll just have to provide a windbreak.”

“That works.” Pip tucked herself closer to him, not quite touching but nearly so.

Merrik took the spot on Pip’s other side, creating even more of a buffer from the wind, though Merrik left more space between himself and Pip than Fieran had.

As they stood there, chilled in the sea breezes, the airship drifted past the long, green island with stretches of rocky cliffs bordering the crashing waves. A small sandy cove came into view far to the left, and a few wooden docks reached into the waters while what looked like a small collection of stone buildings were tucked into the rolling green hills rising from the water.

The airship eased to starboard, paralleling the coast for several minutes before it worked its way around a jutting, rocky headland with a squat, stone lighthouse perched on the point.

The headland opened to a large bay with long sea grass rolling down to the white-capped waves. The points on either side sported gun emplacements and bristling fortifications overlooking both the harbor and the ocean.

Two airships, one flying Kostaria’s flag, the other Escarland’s, hovered over the gun emplacements.

At the bow of their airship, a signal corpsman waved a series of flags. He must be sending out today’s recognition code and their airship’s information for a few moments later, their airship was allowed to proceed into the harbor.

To one side of the harbor, the commercial port bustled with large ironclad merchant vessels. Some had both smokestacks and masts for sails rising from the deck while others lacked smokestacks entirely and must be magically powered. Both troll and human workers toiled along the quays, unloading and loading the various ships carrying vital supplies for the war.

Filling the rest of the vast harbor, the Dar Goranth Naval Base stretched into all the fingers of the bay. The water was filled with gray ships of all sizes—from smaller cruisers to the mighty dreadnoughts bristling with turrets sporting guns as long and wide as trees. The ships flew a variety of the three flags of the Alliance, though Kostaria’s flag dominated.

As the elves hadn’t taken to iron ships all that well and Escarland was essentially landlocked except for the Hydalla River seaway, Kostaria had to be the Alliance Kingdom to rule the waves and protect the trade routes, and they had taken to the role with alacrity.

Airships drifted over the harbor, casting long black shadows on the water and the teeming wharves below. On the airships, Tarenhiel’s flag was better represented, though plenty flew the insignia for Kostaria or Escarland.

Fieran leaned farther over the rail, but at this angle he couldn’t make out the names painted on the sides of either the surface ships or airships.

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