The Sail Weaver (4 page)

He pulled the wood out of his pack and placed it on the ground before gently freeing the stone from the earth that had held it safe for him to find. The stone was black, a few bright flecks caught the light on the surface, deep lines ran along the length of it. He caressed it gently before putting it beside the branch and got out the rest of the items he would need to bond the pieces together to make the Element. Lighting a candl
e, he focused his mind, feeling
the planets lining up. Sensing the sun rising in the sky, he began to speak the spell that would join the Elements. The ground trembled and sand slid down the canyon walls as he recited the spell, his hand tracing patterns in the air as the Latin words fell from his tongue. Reaching down, he picked up the wood and the stone and held them aloft, letting the magic grow until he felt it hum in his bones. He pressed the two Elements together and held them, speaking the final words of the spell. The blast that joined them slammed through his body and pulled his legs out from under him.

He heard a
crack
and everything went
black.

IV

After the silence of the desert, the Weavers’ Guild Compound was almost overwhelming. The
shuttlecars
buzzing in and out of the parking garage, the larger shuttles from Terra Secundus dropping to the port area and the dragons drifting lazily out of their mountain all fought for Tristan’s attention as he sat behind his desk. The Elemental Interface sat there, the wood wound around the rock as if it had grown around the stone, the soft silver and dark black blending harmoniously. It was proving to be a distraction. Of all the Elemental Interfaces he had made over the years, this one was special—he could feel its soft hum through the desk. The Weaving would begin the next day, Tristan had just returned from gathering the willowisps, coaxing them out of the Winds and into a spell that let them be safely transported to Earth. Now they were waiting patiently to become sails. He wished he could cast aside the doubt that fluttered to life every time he thought of the massive undertaking, but he couldn’t. The sails were more than twice as large as any ever attempted.

Also there at the back of his mind was the information that Fenfyr had passed along. Tristan still refused to believe that humans were capable of using anything that resembled Vermin technology, but it was worrying. The dragon had asked him not to mention it to anyone. The Guild Master knew and the dragons, but that was all.
They all believed that letting the information out could prove disastrous, but it weighed heavily on his heart as he contemplated the Weaving to come.

“Master Tristan?” The voice pulled him back from his musings.

“Yes?”

“Master Rhoads is here.”

“Thank you, let him in.” He sat up and focused on the door.

“Tristan!” Brian’s voice boomed as he entered the room, and Tristan smiled.  “Back four days and not a word, I’ve been worried.”

“Has it been four days? I was helping gather the willowisps.”

“So I heard, are you sure that’s wise?” Brian dropped into the chair in front of Tristan’s desk and put his feet up.

“”Why wouldn’t it be? I always help gather…”

“I know about the attempt on your life.” The man cut him off. “
Lokey
Fenfyr
informed Darius and Darius informed me. I’ve let you stew about it long enough. We are concerned, as you know.”

“About more than me, I hope.”

“The attempts are part of a larger scheme, yes. We just aren’t sure what it is.”

Tristan sighed. “If it even is, I’m not convinced.”

“We know the ship is there, so that much is confirmed.” Brian met his eyes. “As to the rest, it is yet to be seen.”

“Yes.”

“I have assigned Alden
Soldat
to
Winged Victory
.”

“I guessed as much when I saw him in the hall the other day.” Tristan tried to hide his distaste. Alden had risen to the top of the ranks of Warrior Weavers—the Guild member assigned to a ship to control her sails—but he didn’t like Alden.
The man was vain, egotistical…

“And a pain in the ass,” Brian said, finishing his thought. “I know what you think about him, but he is the best we have and we need the best for this ship. These sails are massive, and I don’t even know if he can handle it. There are twelve Air Weavers assigned to the project, they’ve been there since the Navy requested Air Weavers for two ships.”

“You’re as worried about this as I am.”

“No, Tristan.” Brian dropped his feet to the floor. “I’m more worried. The closer it gets, the more I hear, and that makes me
uncomfortable. Frankly, I’ve considered pulling out more than once. If Darius hadn’t asked us specifically to be involved, I would.”

“Why do you think the dragons are so interested?” Tristan asked.

“Besides the rumors?” The Guild Master shrugged. “I’m not sure. I don’t trust them to tell us everything, and there is far more going on than we know. I did hear from Sandlin on the
corvette
Fury
. They’re patrolling the Outer Reaches. There have been several Vermin attacks in the last few weeks, like they are probing for a weakness in our defenses.”

“Even if they broke through there, it’s a long way into our space.”

“Not that far, not for Vermin. It’s why the Navy wants the
Victory
to fly so soon.”

The intercom buzzed. “Sorry, Master Tristan, but Master Alden is here to see you.”

“That didn’t take him long,” Rhoads said. “I sent him his papers this morning.”

“Let him in, Scott,” Tristan said, sitting up straight in his chair. He ranked the warrior by several levels, but Alden tended to behave as if he were the ranking officer no matter what company he was in.

The door opened and Alden strode in, his dark uniform impeccable and his hair worn clubbed at the back of his neck, the formal bow tied so precisely Tristan suspected that it was glued on after the fact by one of his underlings. Stopping in front of the desk, he glanced at Tristan and snapped off a crisp salute to the Guild Master. “Sirs!”

“At ease,” Rhoads said.

“Sir!” Alden made a point of staying at military correct “at ease”, and he looked at the Elemental Interface lying on the desk. “Reporting for duty.”

“A little premature, Alden,” Tristan said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“I wanted to be in at the beginning, sir. This project is so important I assumed you would want me present from day one, sir.”

Tristan ground his teeth together. He really despised the man. “It’s not customary to report until the sails are complete.”

“Ah, yes, but this is far from a customary assignment, sir.”

“You’re right, Alden,” Rhoads s
aid, standing and slapping the W
arrior on the back hard enough to knock him off balance f
or a second. “I think having a W
arrior at your back is not a bad idea this time, Master Tristan.”

“Perhaps,” Tristan agreed, trying to decide whether he liked the idea of Alden lurking around while he was Weaving.

“Thank you, sirs!” Alden grinned slyly at Tristan.

Rhoads moved between them. “I mean watching his back, Alden. No matter what else is going on in the Guild, we are all Guild. You understand me? We watch out for our own. You have had to have heard the rumors. If anything happens on your watch I will personally take you to Darius to have you explain why these sails are not completed by the Master Weaver.”

Alden took a half-step back as if
he had been punched, his face flushing. “No, sir! I mean yes, sir! I mean…” He cleared his throat, his shoulders slumping for a moment. “Yes, Guild Master, the Guild comes first always.”

“Remember that,” Rhoads snapped. “Master Tristan, excuse me, I have a meeting with the Worlds Council and Navy.”

“Good luck, sir,” Alden said.

“You’ll need it,” Tristan added under his breath.

The massive building that housed the Weaving area was at the far side of the compound from the port. The Guild had discovered that any energy affected the way the willowisps bound themselves together, and the energy output of shuttles seemed to affect them more than anything. The fact that they survived at all at normal Earth gravity was a part of the spell the dragons had given them. For particles that existed in interstellar space, Earth-norm was a crushing weight.

Tristan walked through the front of the building towards his office there. It was quiet, the pristine walls glistened softly in the gentle lighting. It seemed a whole world away from the rest of
Earth
. He laughed, in a way it was, it was different from any place else, anywhere. It was the only Weaving area in the galaxy. Early on, they had discovered that the balance of Weaver to willowisps seemed only
to function on
Earth
—even if the Weaver had
been raised entirely off world—
which was generally the norm. Most humans had fled their decimated planet and lived on the hundreds of stations that dotted the solar system and reached attentively beyond.

There was a large medical area at the front of the building, specially shielded from magic and other energies. Weavers were vulnerabl
e after creating a set of sails—
usually they just needed a day or two of isolation, but the larger the sails, the more immense the risk. There was already a med team on the alert and a shielded room in the most protected area ready for Tristan. He had no illusions about it, this Weaving was serious—if it didn’t kill him, he would be lucky.

“Sir!” Alden’s voice brought his attention to the doors of his office.

“You are here bright and early, Alden,” Tristan said.

“I am excited to see the beginning of the sails for my ship,” Alden said slyly.

Tristan fixed the man with a cold look and opened the door to h
is office, well aware that the W
arrior had broken protocol and just followed him in. The subtle reminder that Alden would be flying the ship was a calculated insult. Many of the Warrior wing of the Guild felt that they should outrank the other members of the Guild. The Weavers’ Guild and the dragons did not agree, believing that the creators of the sails should be in charge. It had been decided when the Guild was first formed that the Guild Master would be a human with no ability with magic at all. Brian Rhoads, the Guild Master
,
knew the basics behind all the spells, understood the magic at the most basic levels, was a brilliant particle physicist but—as he was fond of saying—“couldn’t bend a spoon without a set of pliers if I tried”—and so was completely removed from all the emotional aspects of the magic.

Making a point of ignoring the man in his office, Tristan sat down at his desk and opened his computer, taking his time before looking up at Alden, who was still standing at Parade Rest in front of his desk. “You seem overly anxious about these sails.”

“
Winged Victory
is the most important ship to ever sail, of course I am concerned! I am the one representing the Guild.”

“Representing them with sails I have created and attuned for
you,” Tristan chided, none-too-gently.

“Of course, sir!”

Tristan kept himself from sighing or rolling his eyes. He was used to Alden, however: they were almost the same age and had started in the Guild together. Alden had wanted to be a Sail Weaver—everyone who entered the Guild did—but lacked the skill. He was fortunate enough to have the ability to be “tuned” to the sails. It was hard to explain to others, but the sails, once created, would only react to the Weaver who created them and someone that their creator had essentially introduced to them. The Warrior was trained to use the Elemental Interface to interact with the sails. It was a delicate process and took a great deal of skill. Tristan often wondered why some of the Warriors felt inferior. What they did was highly skilled and very important. The Guild was symbiotic, and all parts had to function for it to work effectively.

“Um. Sir?” Alden asked, his voice less sure.

“Yes?” Tristan looked up.

“I’ve heard a rumor.”

“What?” Tristan waved him to sit in the chair in front of the desk. “What kind of rumor?”

Alden sat, glanced at the door to make sure it was closed and looked back at Tristan. “I was invited to the Naval Mess the other night. There was a dinner and ball in honor of the First Rim War.”

“Yes?” Tristan nodded.

“One of the officers I know—I hate the man, he’s a flogging captain—but I served with him once when I was young, anyway, I heard him talking.” Alden leaned a little closer. “There is something going on with
Winged Victory.
”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to hear the conversation. They had all kinds of… entertainment to distract me, but I heard them talking about the sails and testing them.”

“What?”

“It was strange, the way they were talking about it, like they weren’t sure the sails would fly. I know that there is always a worry that the sails won’t bond with a ship, but no set of sails you have ever created has failed to bond. I assumed that’s why they wanted you to do it. There was something in the
way
they were talking that made
the alarms ring, you know?”

“We’ve heard rumors too, Alden,” Tristan said, realizing that he hadn’t been paying attention. “I am not sure what it means, but I know the dragons have asked for me personally to do these sails.”

“So that rumor is true!” Alden said, his eyes getting wide. “I’d heard that, but it is unprecedented.”

“I know, and it makes me nervous.”

“And I understand there was an attempt on your life, the Guild Master briefed me about that. While you were out gathering the Elements.”

“I am not sure what it was, I know someone risked following me into the Wilderness Area that is part of the Sanctuary.”