To Fly the Soaring Tides

The rest of the afternoon was spent slowly repairing her dishes, lamenting the unreasonable quantity she owned for being a lone young girl. Using alchemy, it was a rather low-cost process because all the pieces were there, but she had to arrange them all individually before the spell would work—a hurdle she had yet to overcome. Nonetheless, it was a huge hassle and Cira had hardly made any progress along the way since the trail was so treacherous.

She couldn’t stop or merchant ships would try to dock as if it were a trading post—only small ones could attempt to land, catastrophically so as per the barrier—but even at a crawl she kept having to run up the helm spire constantly to circumvent any obstacles, turning the whole thing into an incredibly irritating ordeal.

By the time she finished the day had worn on. For a trade route it was expected to see a lot more populated islands but Cira kept coming up empty. Not that she really wanted to stop again so soon but it was never a bad idea to find a nice spot to rest before nightfall. Especially when the weather turned.

Cira walked outside to grab a late lunch from the garden and found it to be misting. Such thin mist wasn’t common so high up, meaning it was likely a sign of rain up above. If one flew recklessly through a storm they may find themselves caught in dense black clouds that stretch for miles. One of the first rules to travelling is to never fly blind.

The usual solution was to maintain altitude or go down. Cira, however, needed to go up. Thus, she wouldn’t mind stopping for the night. From her garden she cruised on over to the next island in sight. While nobody seemed to live there, a few merchants had the same idea and were docked around the shore.

Breeze Haven wasn’t large compared to many ships that sailed the skies, but the merchants had really crowded this place. Their ships were all single mast and nowhere near the size of the pirates’ from earlier. They all bore the symbol of their companies on the sail, none of which Cira would recognize. Nevertheless, her vessel could land directly on the island, and she delicately floated down to an empty field.

The island itself was hardly twice the size of the pirate ship and the merchants seemed to be having a bonfire under some makeshift cover on one end, so she hung over the rails as she descended to make sure nobody was below there. Upon landing there was a small group of confused merchants waiting.

“Huh? Who are you?” One man in a gray robe asked.

“Um, I’m Cira…?” local greetings varied wildly and she tried not to get hung up on it, “Just a travelling sorcerer, possible customer. Nice to meet you!”

The man was immune to her winning smile, but the others exchanged pleasantries. The men here represented three different companies that spent their days travelling the archipelago for profit. Mil was a portly young man with a monocle and leather vest. He took one look at Cira’s silken dress and his eyes lit up.

“My, a young lady like yourself would look just ravishing in a Dolmont, I say.” He put a hand on his monocle as if to inspect more thoroughly.

“No, that’s quite alright, I make my own clothes.” She waved her hands and laughed nervously, but the man’s eyes widened.

“Incredible, such fineries…” He unconsciously went to grab the fabric causing Cira to jump back and yelp, startling the man. “Ahh! My apologies—”

Another man dressed in considerably more modest clothing put a hand on his shoulder and spoke up, “Come now, don’t you see you’re scaring her? That’s bad for business. Besides, she’d be far more interested in my own wares, aha!”

“Um…” She watched them for a second, confused.

“Pay it no mind, why don’t we get out of the weather? We’re all set up with the others over there making dinner. Even if you aren’t buyin’ some company never hurts does it? Gets lonely up here.” He certainly had a merchant’s charisma, playing the relatable common man. Seeing no reason to decline, Cira decided to follow them, accepting an apology from the large one along the way. Still, the first man in robes didn’t say much.

Someone had strung what appeared to be a spare sail up between trees to block the rain, giving them a rather large hovel to spend the evening. There was a bonfire with meat cooking over it in a pan, and another with something in a large pot.

But there were also many tables set up with many things upon them. Some men were even scrambling to lay wares out as she walked up. Being a non-merchant at a rest stop full of merchants had turned Cira into a prize and they scrambled to be the one to take all her money.

Unfortunately for them, that well wasn’t very deep. For a moment Cira was shocked to see a random island like this exploding with life due to a storm in the way, but maybe this happened often on trade routes. Regardless she spent a few minutes perusing the area and meeting people. One table had crossbows and an earnest young woman trying to sell them, while the next was strewn with gold necklaces and rings holding vibrant gems.

They were pretty but of little use to a sorcerer. Cira had plenty of jewelry herself, but they all summoned a shield, threw fireballs, or carried other effects. She’d sooner buy a crossbow just for fun.

There were a few different people selling clothes, but none finer than Mr. Dolmont’s. She indulged him and had to admit his skills as a tailor were top-notch. Still, not quite her style. He let her go after she agreed to consider selling him a set of robes or two. She didn’t much feel like it, but having money in her pocket as she delved ever-deeper towards civilization seemed wise.

Finally she arrived at a table with various meats lined out—jerky, cured sausages, dried fish and even a few cuts of fresh meat. Behind this counter was the man from earlier who claimed she’d like his wares, wearing a broad smile.

“Discerning eye you’ve got, merchant” She said.

“Please, it’s just years on the Boreal.” He held out his hand, “Call me Jonas. Cira, right?”

“That’s right.” She shook his hand, “I must say I’m interested but low on funds. Will you take trade?”

Jonas didn’t falter for a moment, his years of experience hard at work, “Ahh, that’s no problem, always glad to trade! What do you have?”

She opened her palm and a red tuna appeared. This was one of her aforementioned rings, it held ten of anything smaller than a barrel, but not containers with other things inside. While narrow, these fish were about the max length she could store. The merchant gave an impressed nod then went to inspect the fish.

“It’s like you caught him five minutes ago. You magicians sure are something. I could never store it ‘til this storm clears but I’d sure like to eat it. How many you got and what’s caught your eye?”

After brief clarifications of the sorcerous nature and a short conversation, they agreed to trade ten tuna for all his fresh meat—lamb and beef—and a few cured sausages. He called them Salah’mee. How exotic, Cira thought. The man intended to share with his crew, but it still seemed like a lot of fish for just them. That much was none of Cira’s concern though.

“You mentioned the storm. Do you know when it’s going to let up?” She asked.

“Not exactly, but this storm never really leaves. It’ll be clear for a few months then pack in like this for weeks on end. You never really know when it’s coming or going, but it’s clear most the year, else this route would fall apart. ‘Course the fancier boats don’t seem to mind, most of us have to wait it out.”

Waiting wasn’t hard for Cira, but indeterminate waiting was another story. She, too, could go right through the storm but it would be difficult and require constant hands-on attention, not to mention the hassle of finding the next landmark every hour or two. Without knowing where the storm stopped, it didn’t seem worthwhile, “So it could be a month out at worst, you think?”

“Worst I’ve ever seen it was two and a half months. Threw the whole port into a panic, but I doubt it’ll go more than a couple weeks. Still, If you’re in a hurry there is a way around. Most aren’t equipped to take it on the way up so it takes them just as long, but I bet your ship could manage.”

“The Dead Belt, it’s called,” Jonas continued at her noncommittal shrug, “Though most just call it the Noose ‘cause it’s a straight shot from the top. It’s an old chain of islands. My granpap used to tell me it was part of the archipelago before the islands shifted but it’s mostly abandoned by now. You’ll just find dead islands, wannabe pirates and falling merchants up there now.”

‘Dead islands’ is where the name really came from. These were islands that used to be populated but have long-since been abandoned for one reason or the other. Cira really didn’t like pirates, but funny enough they weren’t always hostile. It really came down to how you end up meeting them. Some had interesting wares and stories. Combine that with her barrier and she didn’t see them as a reason to avoid a shortcut. Neither was her lack of urgency for that matter, but her own Breeze Haven was self-sufficient, so she didn’t mind passing some dead islands along the way.

As for his comment about most ships not being equipped for the ascent, it was a straight shot up. A regular ship would have to do switchbacks constantly or sail in a massive spiral, as they couldn’t sail straight up. The canopy sails just add lift from their forward momentum—holding the ship up is enough strain as is. Those same ships could descend, though, hence the falling merchants.

Most shipwrights had at least one guy with rudimentary artificing experience, otherwise ships would be a luxury for the incredibly wealthy. That said, there were ships built by master artificers that could circumvent the limitations of your average canopy sail.

Jonas helped her mark the Dead Belt on her map and gave her some pointers, “First island you’ll see is called Fount Salt, you can’t miss it. That’ll be your last taste of civilization for a little while if you need to stop for any reason.”

She pictured a pearly white island with tons of waterfalls dangling into the clouds, “Sounds pretty.”

“Er, if you say so.”

The gray robed man from earlier had a few herbs and potions set out on his table but those items didn’t interest her. She could make them herself if she felt like it. The man also seemed to guess she wouldn’t be interested because he didn’t have half as much put out as the others. Still, she caught him looking at her more than once.

Before long the food was done. All the merchants put their wares away, dropped their competitive yodeling, and pushed all the tables together. Pork ribs and vegetable stew were on the menu and the merchants insisted she join in. She noticed the jewelry merchant grilling a red tuna then turned to Jonas who wore a smug grin.

Talk about a quick turnaround. She found it amusing—there was more fish at home anyhow. Amidst the lively dinner conversation, she learned that this island was called Hawkers’ Pact. The reason they all seemed so tight-knit even though there were ten different rivaling companies present was because that was this island’s tradition.

Anyone who stopped here presumably had to spend the following weeks together. If there was hostility, a weeks-long stay could turn bad. In the worst cases, dangerous.

“There was a war here during my father’s era,” The jewelry merchant wiped the ale from his mustache and continued, “During one of the long storms. Two rival companies started the whole thing, but eventually half the archipelago was involved. They’d just keep showing up to wait out the storm and getting caught in the battle defending themselves. It was hell, they say.”

“But it ended in a ceasefire, didn’t it?” Another asked.

“That’s right,” Jonas also knew the story, “That’s how the Gandeux Group was formed. They signed a treaty right about where this girl parked her boat and went to build the port right after.”

Boat was a strong word, but otherwise Cira thought the information was neat. Such a historied island with no permanent residents. Nobody lived here but merchants did inhabit it multiple times a year. There was nothing built here because doing so would be illegal within Gandeux territory. A conglomerate of companies couldn’t allow just one to build a trading post. Cira thought they could build something here together like the city but they elected to leave it empty to honor the spirit of their pact.

The Gandeux territory was controlled by a multitude of merchants all at each other’s throats, so no unreasonable laws were passed and order was well-maintained, supposedly. The people were the merchants’ life blood, so if any one company didn’t uphold themselves to a certain standard, they could lose influence within the group.

To Cira’s ears, it was a peaceful sky to drift around in for a while. Soon dinner was through and everybody got ready to head back to their ships. One man stopped Cira as she was saying her good evenings—the man in gray robes.

“Say, couldn’t help but notice you weren’t interested in my medicine. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about alchemy would you?”

“Why, I sure do!” She smiled, “What do you need?”

“Well, I’m on my way down actually, unlike these folk. Set to ship out come morning. I wanted to arrive on Dolliver with more stock but they almost cleaned me out up the way. If you have some time, would you like to help me clean some herbs? Brewing too if you’re skilled enough. I’ll pay you in silver crowns by the batch.”

Herbs had to be purified before synthesizing, or they’d come out impotent or useless. Cira was no stranger to such requests, and this afforded her the chance to make some money without selling one of her dresses. She readily agreed and followed him to his ship. His crew was small but none of them seemed like the unsavory type. Especially given the pact, she didn’t deem it a risk, even if the man himself seemed off to her.

Below deck she met a few others, but they didn’t know alchemy. The robed man, who introduced himself as Boras, took her to another room full of tools and brewing utensils. Leaves and roots were piled up on the tables and there was a single cauldron in the middle. He lined her out with a common ingredient called Limroot and she got to work, purifying the whole table in about twenty minutes.

Boras looked on, impressed, “You’re real quick, you know that? Where’d you learn?” She got this question a lot. Some cities supposedly had places where they train alchemists specifically to make medicine. It was a small subset of alchemy, but easily the most sought-after.

“My dad taught me everything I know.”

“Ah, he must have been quite skilled. I actually have another question…” he looked at her, unsure of how to approach the topic.

“Okay, what’s that?”

“Your ship—island or what have you…” He narrowed his eyes and the air in the room tensed up, “Just how did you get your hands on it?”