Cinnamon Bun

Chapter Five Hundred and Forty-Nine - All Four One Formation

When we stepped out of the tavern it was to discover the sun was already kissing the top of the dunes, its bottom half swallowed by the sea of sand. It was nice, the orange sky reflected off the surface and turned the sand all glittery and shiny.

Ah, but it wasn't the best thing either.

Sunset meant night, and the convoy was only going to depart in the morning.

I returned to the Beaver with my friends and told them what Captain Gum had told me about the three Pyrowalkian ships heading back to the same destination as us.

Amaryllis was immediately suspicious. "And he just invited us along? Did you not consider that he might be a pirate as well?"

"I mean, maybe, but my gut says otherwise," I replied.

We could see the other ships now, and they didn't look very pirate-y. The three were anchored near each other, and had lights on their decks. The crews looked normal enough from afar. All human, all looking rather relaxed, and it seemed like they even had uniforms.

Not that pirates couldn't have uniforms, but I imagined that most piratical uniforms were more... thematic than clothes made from the same place.

Plus, the ships looked well-maintained and not all that well-armed. Two of them had large ballistae on their fore-decks, but that was it. Nothing like the amount of armament I'd seen on warships and even pirate vessels.

Maybe they had concealed weapons, but if so, they were well-hidden.

"There are some merchants from Pyrowalk that come this way," Awen said. "They make it to Mattergrove, buy weird things, then leave again."

"Weird things?" Caprica asked.

Awen nodded. "Stuff from the rest of the continent. Sylph candies, small harpy-made machines... stuff."

"Things they can't get in Pyrowalk," I said. "They probably resell them all for a whole bunch."

"I suppose Captain Gum's group might be legitimate," Amaryllis said. She still squinted at the other ships. "Fine. We're stuck here until daybreak anyway, unless we plan on departing in the dark of night."

It was possible. There was nothing stopping us from working by spell-light and then taking off in the middle of the night, but it was a bit troublesome, and everyone onboard needed some sleep. So, even if we did take off, we wouldn't be flying all-out anyway, especially since the dead of night made it harder to spot landmarks and keep track of travel time.

So, the morning was safer, and the Pyrowalkians ships looked professional enough that I was sure they'd be launching at first light.

We set up a watch rotation, just in case, but throughout the night no one approached. I was on the last rotation, so I was wide awake when the sun came up. Before that, I had a blanket over my shoulders because it got cold in the desert at night. Almost as soon as the sun hit the horizon, the air started to warm right up.

We started prepping for launch while some of the crew made breakfast.

About then, a small group from one of the Pyrowalkian ships made their way over. A man in an officer's uniform with two sailors.

I waved at them. "Hello!"

The man returned my wave with a polite smile and a little bow. He was older, with lines around his eyes and a big bushy moustache that didn't quite match his shaved head. "Good morning, Captain," he said. "I'm Officer Gel, first mate aboard the Cramped. Our captain asked that I confirm arrangements with you."

"Oh! Sure thing," I said. "We're just about ready to take off. Did you want to come aboard, we can drop a ladder for you."

Mister Gel shook his head. "No, but thank you, Captain. I shan't be staying long. We just need to confirm our flying formation before we take off. Our vessels are about ready to weigh anchor."

"Did you want us to fly in a specific formation?" I asked.

He nodded. "A simple wedge, if it pleases you. The Streaker takes point, Bloody Mess to starboard, Cramped to port. You can take port as well."

So, a wedge with a longer side? Like geese! We could do that! "Alright! I'll let the helmsbird know!" I called down.

Gel's moustache twitched. "Good to hear. We'll be aiming for altitude two hundred feet to start, ascending with the morning thermals. Should give us smooth air. Departure in forty."

"Got it," I said with a thumbs-up. "See you in the skies!"

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

He saluted with two fingers to the brim of his hat, then turned to march back across the sand, boots crunching on the uneven surface.

Behind me, Calamity leaned over the railing. "Was that guy's ship really called the Cramped?"

"Apparently," I said. "I guess it must be tight in there." I giggled. "Maybe we should invite them over sometime. Trade recipes, complain about legroom, make some more friends?"

Amaryllis stomped over, feathers all ruffled up. "Don't get attached, this is a transaction, not an alliance. When are they going to take off?"

"Forty minutes," I said.

Amaryllis hummed, then glared up into the sky. "This will slow us down a little."

"Is that bad?"

"We're on a deadline, Broccoli," she said. "But this might also be safer, and I can't say that's a bad thing. Convoys make for poor targets for pirates and monsters alike. There's a reason clever birds fly in flocks."

"Mhm!" I agreed.

By the time breakfast was done, we were pulling up anchor. Awen ran through the engine checks one last time and the ship rumbled beneath our feet. I took my place next to Clive at the helm.

The Pyrowalkian ships were already rising, one by one, their balloons swelling as the morning sun crept higher. The Streaker was first, floating up with all the leisurely dignity of a noblewoman's carriage, then Bloody Mess and Cramped followed, angling into a loose formation.

I steered us gently up, finding our place in the wedge just a little behind the Cramped. The air was smooth, just like Officer Gel had said, and I could already feel the breeze catching the Beaver's fins.

The Beaver caught up quickly enough. It... well, I loved my Beaver, but he wasn't the fastest thing around. In fact, I was pretty sure that the shape of this airship made it kind of awful, plus we were weighed down quite a bit.

Still, the Beaver was much smaller than the three merchant airships. All of them were almost as wide and twice as long as the Beaver was, with outboard engines in little nacelles sticking out of their sides. They were a bit more like the airships I could remember seeing in old movies and such. So, not exactly speedy.

"Desert flying's not so bad," Calamity said as he joined me at the railing. He had his goggles pushed up onto his forehead and a snack bar half-chewed in his mouth. "Just a lot of beige."

"Beige can be nice," I said. Then I eyed him. "Some of your fur is beige. Wait, I'm beige!"

"Yeah, but it's such a dull colour. You get tired of it."

Clive chuckled, then shifted his pipe around. "Must be weird, all that fur in place of proper feathers," he said. "Now, keep an eye out. Don't know what kind of beast occupies the skies 'round here, but I'm betting they're not all friendly as the captain."

"Peepers peeled, got it!" I said with a rap of my knuckles to the side of my head.

We hit a stretch of gentle turbulence, the kind that made the ropes creak and the sails flutter, but Clive adjusted the pitch and we settled into a lazy, slightly tilted cruise. The Pyrowalkian ships adjusted with us, their crews clearly used to travelling together. I spotted sailors with flags flashing simple signals back and forth between the vessels. Just course corrections and such.

"They're really well-trained," I said.

"They must make this route often," Calamity said. "Didn't think I'd ever be this far from home, you know."

"Homesick?"

"Nah," he said. "Though... can I be homesick but just for the food?"

I laughed. "I think so!"

We coasted along above the dunes, the sun rising higher and slowly washing the desert in sweltering gold.

Ahead, the Streaker led us in a steady line westward, her sails taut and proud, while the Bloody Mess trailed a few dozen metres to the right, her hull glinting red whenever the light caught the lacquer just-so.

Below us, the desert began to change. The soft, sleepy dunes near Weakling's Rest gave way to harder, flatter terrain, with big stone shelves jutting out of the sand like the spines on a half-buried dragon. We passed over a cluster of ruined buildings, too square to be natural, with walls half-swallowed by the dunes. Maybe it had once been a town, or an outpost.

Right now, it was just another thing to fly over. Soon, we'd be on a whole new continent!

***