Page 120 of The Cradle of Ice
Rami’s small nod supported this assessment. Kanthe knew how much the prince and his sister resented the Augury’s hold on their father.
Drawn by the conversation, Frell and Pratik crossed to join them, followed by Aalia and her guard.
Frell stared toward the sliver of shining sea in the distance. “Do not be so quick to dismiss Qazen’s auguries. In my studies of prophecy, I’ve read of their revered talent. I combed through thousands of their divinations, going back millennia. Time has proven a vast majority of their predictions to be uncannily accurate. Many so detailed that it defies explanation.”
“Unless they’re truly touched by the gods,” Pratik added.
Aalia rolled her eyes. “Or simply touched.”
Frell waved the debate aside. “If circumstances were different, I would have liked to consult the Augury about the prophecy that threatens our world—and about the Vyk dyre Rha—but that is not what we came out here to seek.”
“The Sleeper,” Kanthe said.
Frell shifted toward Saekl. “Any estimation on when we’ll reach our goal, the site I marked on your ship’s map?”
Saekl leaned forward and cast her gaze to the north, well away from Qazen. “Another bell. Maybe longer. We’ve got some stiff headwinds to fight.”
Frell wrung his hands, clearly anxious. They were close to possibly discovering another of the bronze artifacts. Worry etched the alchymist’s face. The questions streaming behind his eyes were easy to read.
Is the Sleeper still there? Can we wake it? Will it agree to help us? And most importantly, will it have the knowledge to fill the gaps in Shiya’s fractured memory?
Kanthe added his own worries, glancing sidelong at Rami and Aalia.
Even if we’re successful, what then? With all of the Klashe hunting us, what will such a discovery win us? Without the support of the empire, where will we go?
It was one of the many reasons he had agreed to marry Aalia upon first landing in the Southern Klashe. They needed the cooperation and protection of the empire to be able to take advantage of any discovery out here.
Rami scowled at him. While much of the heat had dissipated from the prince, the two were far from friends. And any chance of regaining the empire’s trust and goodwill was even less likely.
A heavy silence fell over the gathering. The Quisl trembled as it coursed through the headwinds. The extended wings of the ketch occasionally jerked hard, bobbling the craft as it crossed heated updrafts. Still, they forged ahead. Leagues slowly passed under them. The pounding of Kanthe’s heart marked the tense passage of time.
The terrain below grew more inhospitable as they continued north. A huge geyser exploded directly before the large window, sending all of them stumbling back. Scalding water splashed against the glass and thrummed atop the balloon and deck overhead.
Saekl remained calm behind the wheel. “Gain us more air,” she ordered sharply to her crew. She looked at Kanthe’s group. “Be warned. The lands ahead appear to be more hot-tempered and capricious.”
Kanthe regained his footing, surprised to find Rami’s hand on his shoulder as his friend caught him. They returned together to the window. Kanthe saw that Saekl’s assessment had been too kind.
Shaded by the nearby mountains, the landscape was cloaked in darkness. Boiling pots of clay burped and spat. Rivers bubbled hotly everywhere. Even in the dusk of shadows, the rings of shimmering iridescence that framed each geyser shone brightly. Throughout it all, the dark thorny forests covered vast swaths, so dense it looked as if the woodlands were trying to hide the volatile landscape under their canopy. A few lone trees burned brightly out there, solitary torches in the dark.
Kanthe’s gaze followed one as they passed over it. The flames revealed the towering height of the forest. The trees were far taller than he had suspected from the air.
Rami noted his attention. “Naphtha pines.”
“Their green-black sap is incendiary,” Aalia added. “We use it as the main ingredient in the production of our imperium’s naphlaneum.”
Kanthe’s eyes widened. The entire Crown feared the scourge of the Klashe’s fiery gel. The craftsmanship to produce it remained a guarded secret. Naphlaneum’s flaming touch could burn through the hardest ironwood. Eat through skin and bone. Even water failed to douse its fire, only inflaming it further.
“How much farther?” Saekl called over to Cassta.
The slender Rhysian had shifted to a tilted table with a map tacked atop it. She clutched a compass in one hand and a pointed tool of measurement in the other. It seemed Cassta also served as the ketch’s navigator.
Without glancing away from her chart, she answered the captain. “Best I can tell. Half a league.”
“Heard,” Saekl responded.
Frell crossed toward Cassta. Kanthe followed, but not entirely due to his interest in navigation. With Cassta’s back to him, the leather of her breeches hugged her backside in a most comely manner.
Frell leaned next to her. “Can I see?”
