Mike Wild - The Crucible of the Dragon God

"Tales from the Final Age," he had said, "tell of them actually preparing to send ships to the heavens. To explore Kerberos itself."

Ships to the heavens.

In truth, she had never really believed they could exist.

But now she was looking at one.

She and Slowhand worked their way in a daze down to the Kerberos sphere — there reuniting with Aldrededor and Dolorosa — and now the four of them were gazing up at what was clearly the ultimate achievement of the Old Races.

Sitting on some kind of fluid, semi-organic cradle, the ship was a great flowing, sweeping creation that was unlike any mode of transport Kali had ever seen, human or Old Race. The main part of its hull the length of ten cattle carts and the breadth of four, it widened further where its wings curved majestically and seemingly without join from port and starboard down to the hangar floor. As Kali and the others drew closer, they saw that the wings, like the hull, were seemingly made up of, but in fact overlaid with, hundreds of small and overlapping sets of fluted funnels, like flattened panpipes. Combined, these gave the impression the ship was covered from bow to stern in rippling scale. The impression that it was some kind of living organism was further enhanced by the fact that every one of the funnels was inscribed with delicate runics resembling the porous flaws of skin. They, in turn, rested on a membranous, flexible underlayer that was soft like flesh. Kali stroked one of the wings almost reverently, realising that here was another reason why the yassan had chosen what they had as the basis for their religion. They were not misguided, their ancestors had simply been mistaken in what they had seen. Because by accident or design, the Kerberos ship looked for all the world like some stylised dragon ready to take flight.

"A thing of beauty, is she not?" Aldrededor observed with a heavy sigh.

"As beautiful as I, my 'usband?"

"Ohhhh, definitely not."

"But, er, what is it?"

Kali smiled. "I guess you could call it a… spaceship."

"A space ship?" Dolorosa repeated. "What kind ovva space?"

Kali pointed upwards — straight upwards — and the tall, thin woman inhaled sharply. Then her eyes narrowed and she stared with great suspicion. "You take-a the peees, yes? You havva the laugh atta Dolorosa!"

"Nope," Kali said, shaking her head. In truth, she only had half a mind on the conversation with the Sarcrean woman, still absorbing the words of the dwelf when he had revealed the ship to them.

The Final Faith will destroy our creation along with the Crucible. You must take it from this place, to a place of safety, where it, and its cargo, must remain in your care.

It's cargo, Kali had thought. Tharnak meant k'nid. This beautiful thing was laden with their ultimate weapon, he had said, sealed in a magical stasis inside its shell, lying dormant, awaiting the day when they would travel to the heavens. Only they couldn't travel to the heavens now, could they? Because without the dragons the magic that would keep them alive was not whole, whatever the hells that meant.

Maybe one day, Tharnak had said, the magic would return.

Kali exhaled. The fact was, she had no idea why they should save these k'nid. That, though, wasn't really the point, because what had really been given into their care was the ultimate artefact of the Old Races, the ship itself. As such it was invaluable — a source of information about those who had gone before that was absolutely unparalleled in its importance. Gods, even if she hadn't been asked, she would have had to save it herself!

The only problem now was how to get it out of here.

The ship will accept you, Tharnak had said. The ship will choose its saviour.

But what did that mean?

There was only one way to find out.

Kali took a step up the sloping cradle, towards the stern of the ship, pausing warily as the spine of the semi-organic hull parted before her, as if someone were slipping the covers from a wagon. Where it parted, a long, narrow, railed deck was revealed, running from stern to bow, and at the far end an organic-looking control panel glowed a dull green. Kali took a breath and stepped onto the deck, noticing now that it was translucent, another organic membrane, and beneath could be made out the still forms of dormant k'nid. It was something of an uncomfortable feeling treading over the lethal predators but, when it became obvious that they were not going to stir, Kali's confidence grew and she began to marvel at her unique surroundings. The combination of structured hull and semi-organic interior clearly marked the ship as a co-endeavour of both the Old Races and, born in crisis or not, it was a magnificent achievement.

She beckoned the others aboard and Slowhand, Aldrededor and Dolorosa stepped tentatively onto the deck, joined her at what seemed to be the controls; a collection of fleshy nodes forming a sweeping curve. But though they glowed that dull green Kali had noticed as she'd come aboard, nodes were all they appeared to be — lifeless.

"Now what?" Slowhand said.

"The ship will choose its saviour." Kali whispered, and stepped closer to the panel. The nodes made a squishing noise and pulsed at her approach, like pods about to open.

"Easy, girl," Slowhand said, pulling her back. "We have no idea what the things are, let alone what they'd do to you."

"Slowhand, someone has to do this!"

"I don't deny it. Only it isn't going to be you." As Kali opened her mouth to protest more, he placed a finger on her lips. "It's more than concern. Don't you have a prism to find?"

"Mister Slowhand is correct, Kali Hooper," Aldrededor said. He examined the still pulsing nodes and pulled his moustache, intrigued. "This, I think, is a task for Aldrededor."

"Husband?" Dolorosa queried.

"With you at my side, wife, I captained a ship of the outer seas for over forty years," the ex-pirate pointed out. "I should be the one to captain her now."

"No, Aldrededor," Kali said. "This is my responsibility."

"No, Kali Hooper. Your responsibility is finishing the job you have to do."

Dolorosa stuck her face into Kali's. "Or do you thinka you canna do everytheeng, heh?"

"Aldrededor — " Kali began again, but it was already too late.

The ex-pirate placed his hands onto the two central nodes and, with the same squishing sounds as earlier, his hands were absorbed into them. The Sarcean's eyes widened in surprise and, for a few moments, he suffered a series of small spasms that made Dolorosa slap her palm over her mouth. Her husband seemed, though, to be unharmed, managing, a few moments later, a small and slightly stoned looking smile.

"Aldrededor?" Kali enquired. "What's happening?"

The Sarcrean did not reply immediately, but only because he did not know how to answer Kali's question. Because he was seeing things which no one had seen before, the world on which they lived in a new light, and not through his own eyes but those of the ship. And what the ship saw were the very threads on which Twilight's various magics depended, filling the air around the craft with ribbons of colour, thick and thin, long and short, like the component parts of some as yet unmade, planet sized tapestry. But the ribbons were not still. Instead, they wove in an out and around each other like snakes, in places touching and releasing bursts of more vivid colour, in others drifting apart and fading, but all in constant motion. If the waves of the seas were coloured silk, Aldrededor thought, this is what they would look like.

One thing marred the beauty, however. Here and there amongst the ever moving patterns were black threads that hung heavily, disturbed occasionally by the other, coloured threads but themselves unmoving, apparently lifeless. And when they touched their vibrant counterparts, they seemed momentarily to leech them of colour. It was as if these threads had once been a part of the flowing sea but were no longer, remaining within it now with no purpose other than to fill the space they had left behind, yet at the same time weakening the sea as a whole.