Paul Thompson - Darkness and Light

There was a sizzle and a loud crack, and the deck quivered beneath their feet. Wingover twirled a brass ring handle and threw another tall lever. The great wings rose slowly in unison. The Cloudmaster lost contact with the ground. Down came the wings, folding inward as they came. The flying ship lurched forward, its wheels sucking free of the mud and bouncing over the scattered brush. The wings beat again, faster. Wingover grasped the steering wheel in both his small hands and pulled. The wheel swung toward him, the bow pitched up, the wings flapped crazily, and the Cloudmaster was borne aloft into the blue afternoon sky.

"Hurray! H-Hurray!" Stutts said, jumping up and down. The Cloudmaster climbed steadily.

Wingover eased the wheel forward, and the bow dropped. Kitiara yelled and lost her footing. Sturm let go of the handrail to try to catch her, and he fell, too. He rolled against one of the levers, knocking it out of place, and the wings instantly stopped moving. The Cloudmaster wobbled and plunged toward the ground. There were several seconds of stark terror. Sturm disen tangled himself from the lever and hauled back on it. The wings sang as the taut skin bit the air. Stutts and Kitiara, in a knot, rolled to the rear of the room.

Shakily, Wingover steadied the ship.

"I think passengers ought to leave the wheelhouse," Wingover said. His voice shook with fear. "At least until you get your air legs."

"I agree," said Sturm. From his hands and knees he grabbed the handle of the door and crept out on deck.

Kitiara and Stutts crawled out behind him. The rushing wind was strong on deck, but by taking firm hold of the rail and leaning into it, Kitiara found it tolerable. The wings flexed up and down in close harmony. Kitiara slowly straightened her legs. She looked over the side.

"Great Lord of Battle!" she exclaimed. "We must be miles and miles straight up!"

Stutts boosted himself to the rail and hung his head over the side. "N-not as high as all that," he remarked. "You can st-still see our shadow on the ground."

It was true. A dark oval sped across the treetops. Sighter appeared with his spyglass, and he promptly announced their altitude as 6,437.5 feet.

"Are you certain?" Kitiara asked.

"Please," said Sturm, "take his word for it."

"Where are we headed, Sighter?" asked Kitiara.

"Due east. That's the Lemish forest below. In a few minutes, we should be over the Newsea."

"But that's seventy miles from where we were," Sturm said. He was sitting on the deck. "Are we truly flying that fast?"

"Indeed we are, and we shall go faster still," Sighter said. He strolled forward, his spyglass stuck to one eye as he surveyed the world below.

"It's wonderful!" Kitiara said. She laughed into the wind. "I never believed you could do it; but you did. I love it! Tell the whistler to go as fast as he can!"

Stutts was almost as excited, and he agreed. He turned to re-enter the wheelhouse. Sturm called to him, and he paused.

"Why are we heading east?" Sturm asked. "Why not north and east — toward the Plains of Solamnia?"

Stutts replied, "Rainspot s-says he feels turbulence in that direction. He f-felt it wouldn't be prudent to fly through it." He disappeared into the wheelhouse.

"Sturm, look at that!" Kitiara said. "It's a village! You can see the housetops and chimney smoke — and cattle! I wonder, can the people down there see us? Wouldn't that be funny, to swoop down on their heads and blow a trumpet — ta-ta! Scare them out of ten years' growth!"

Sturm was still sitting on the deck.

"I'm not ready to stand up yet," he said sheepishly. "I was never afraid of heights, you know. Trees, towers, mountaintops never disturbed me. But this…"

"It's wonderful, Sturm. Hold the rail and look down."

I must stand up, thought Sturm. The Measure demanded that a knight face danger with honor and courage. The Knights of Solamnia had never considered aerial travel in their code of conduct. I must show Kit that I am not afraid. Sturm grasped the rail. My father, Lord Angriff Brightblade, would not be afraid, he told himself as he faced the low wall and rose to his haunches. Blood pounded in Sturm's ears. The power of the sword, the discipline of battle, were of little help here. This was a stronger test. This was the unknown. Sturm stood. The world spun beneath him like a ribbon unspooling. Already the blue waters of the Newsea glittered on the horizon. Kitiara was raving about the boats she could see. Sturm took a deep breath and let the fear fall from him like a soiled garment.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed again. "I tell you, Sturm, I take back all the things I said about the gnomes. This flying ship is tremendous! We can go anywhere in the world with this. Anywhere! And think of what a general could do with his army in a fleet of these devices. No wall would be high. enough. No arrows could reach you up here. There's no spot in the whole of Krynn that could be defended against a fleet of flying ships."

"It would be the end of the world," Sturm said. "Cities looted and burned, farms ravaged, people slaughtered — it would be as bad as the Cataclysm." "Trust you to see the dark side of everything," she said. "It happened before, you know. Twice the dragons of Krynn tried to subjugate the world from the sky, until the great Huma used the Dragonlance and defeated them." Kitiara said,

"That was long ago. And men are different from dragons." Sturm was not so sure. Cutwood and Rainspot climbed a ladder to the roof of the wheelhouse. From there they launched a large kite". It fluttered back in the wind from the wings, whipping about on its string like a new-caught trout. "What are you two doing now?" Kitiara called out.

"Testing for lightning," Cutwood responded. "He smells it in the clouds."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Sturm said.

"Eh?" Cutwood put a hand to his ear.

"I said, isn't that — " The brilliant white-forked bolt hit the kite before Sturm could finish. Though the sun was shining and the air clear, lightning leaped from a nearby cloud and blasted the kite to ashes. The bolt continued down the string and leaped to the brass ladder. The Cloudmaster staggered; the wings skipped a beat, then settled back into their regular rhythm once more. They carried the scorched Rainspot into the dining room. His face and hands were black with soot. His shoes had been knocked right off his feet, and his stockings had gone with his shoes. All the buttons on his vest were melted as well. Cutwood lowered his ear to Rainspot's chest. "Still beating," he reported. The ship's alarm went AH — OO — GAH! and the speaking tube blared, "All colleagues and passengers come to the engine room at once."

Stutts and the other gnomes filed toward the door, with the humans trailing behind. Stutts paused. "What ab-bout him?" He indicated the unconscious Rainspot.

"We could carry him," Sighter said.

"We can make a stretcher," said Cutwood, checking his pockets for paper and pencil to draw a stretcher design.

"I'll do it," Sturm said, just to end the discussion. He scooped the little man up in his arms. Down in the engine room, the ship's entire company collected. Sturm was alarmed to see Wingover there.

"Who steering the ship?" he asked.

"I tied the wheel." "Colleagues and passengers," Flash said, "I beg to report, fault in the engine."

"You needn't beg," said Roperig.

"We'll let you report."

"Shut up," said Kitiara. "How bad is it?"

"I can't shut it off. The lightning strike has fused the switches in the 'on' position."

"That's not so bad," Sighter said. Birdcall warbled in agreement.

"But we can't fly around forever!" Kitiara said.

"No indeed," said Flash. "I estimate we have power to fly for, oh, six and a half weeks."

"Six weeks!" cried Sturm and Kitiara in unison.