The Dragon Chase: A Tale of the Everburning City

Chapter 16: Gerald

The Midnight Songbird was forced to plough its way through the winds, as the ship followed the causeway towards the Last Wall. The heat of the Spire constantly threw warm air up into the clouds, which meant that all of the wind currents, for at least as far as the City occupied, blew into the City.

Predictable, Gerald mused to himself as he stared out the bow of the ship. And all the more galling that he could do nothing about it.

"The winds don't favour us," Lucille noted, beside him. He glanced over and was surprised to find her so far away from a shadow's customary position. What motivated her lack of concern for his ability to Craft, he wondered. Was it trust, her feelings, or indifference?

"But I'm surprised we're making such good time. How fast are we going?" she asked.

"Maxwell has us at cruising speed, to save the reservoirs. Judging by how fast we pass the battlements, I'd say..." Gerald stared down for a moment, as the Causeway's battlements passed below. "Forty miles an hour, roughly."

"Good propellers," Lucille said, impressed.

"It's partly the lift-bag. The heat it gives off creates a high-pressure zone, which helps us slip through the air faster," Gerald explained, surprisingly eager to talk shop. "But the propellers were all Maxwell. We used to argue a lot about how heavy they should be."

He smiled, recalling conversations at absurd hours of the morning about the merits of an efficient propeller.

"Sir!" A shout rang out from behind him, and he turned to see a small group of soldiers lead by Corporal Lancet, carrying what looked like a large cylinder on a tripod.

"Is that a tight-beam lantern?" Gerald asked, genuinely impressed.

"Aye, sir. No electricity on board, so it's reservoir fed. It should last a few hours, but..." she stopped. "We don't have very many spare reservoirs, sir."

"Not a problem," Gerald replied. He pointed to a section of the railing, indicating where he wanted it mounted. "Let me know if it the lantern gets dim. Reservoirs are easier to fill if there's still something in them."

"Of course, sir. Sorry, I forgot," she replied. The soldiers set the lantern on the side and bent its legs in an attempt to wrap the metal around the railings.

"You forgot I was a Crafter?" he asked, amused, as they began to set the lantern on the railings.

"No, sir. Just that I-" Corporal Lancet began to say, hesitating.

"Just that you were allowed to make use of it. I understand." Gerald replied, nodding solemnly. Another thing about living with the ability to Craft that most people didn't share.

"Hold the lantern steady, and keep your hands clear of the legs," Gerald instructed. He ran his hand along the tripod leg, and taking a deep breath, willed fire into the air. The heat shone between his fingers and under his hand as he slid it over the tripod, letting the metal melt over the railing. He tacked the third leg to the lower rails and curled a portion of it to hold the small reservoir.

After a single pass, he pulled his hand clear and took a moment to inspect his work. He frowned and tried twisting it. Satisfied, he stepped to the other side and repeated his treatment to the metal, melting the tripod leg to the railing.

"It should hold. Turn it on, and get a feel for its range," he told the Corporal, who saluted smartly before turning away and lighting the lantern. He stepped back towards the bow of the ship, and looked up at Tyler Emery, one of the ship's engineers, who was serving as a lookout. "Anything new since that pipe rupture?" he called up.