Arrival

Chapter 7: Arrival

Silva

As the elders had told me, the journey really wasn’t far. I had stopped on a couple of seemingly uninhabited islands for snack breaks, and to pass a little extra time I would have had. The first island was small. I could easily cross it on foot in less than half a day. By broom, it was just minutes. It had been ages since my feet touched the ground of a floating island, and I was excited to see how different it was from the Mistlands. Notably and probably obvious, there wasn’t a constant fog impairing sightlines. Even in the forest that covered the island, I had no trouble seeing well enough ahead of me to avoid getting lost. It probably helped that the crow familiar that accompanied me seemed to be moving from tree to tree or flying in directions to nudge me where I wanted to go. Together, we found some of the trees were apple trees and had fruit ripe enough to eat. I picked a few and tossed them into my pouch before indulging myself in another. These apples were almost twice the size of the ones we grew back home. On top of that, they were tangy and had yellow skin, unlike the red or green apples I was used to. They were still sweet and juicy, but the tanginess did make me wonder if I had picked over-ripened or under-ripened ones. It also gave me something to think about as I took off to make more progress on my way to Prydannia.

The second island I stopped at was quite a bit larger. Maybe two to three times the size of the first. We, that being the crow and I, had elected to pass over a half dozen small islands. I was hoping to find greater diversity in the flora, and maybe even some animal life. Maybe I could find some bugs too. The apples we had found sparked a curiosity that I needed to at least partially answer before I arrived at the capital: what made nature so slightly different up here? Was it the amount of sun that plants could get without the mists getting in the way? What were rainy seasons like? What were seasons like in general? Who did the pollinating? What flowers were there to pollinate from?

In my hamlet, we relied a lot on our honey bees to pollinate, but there were also a good number of butterflies and moth species that contributed to the cause, too. Flying close to the canopy of the forest that sprawled most of the second island, I was enamoured by what I saw. A cacophony of colors, beetles, butterflies, and bees jumping and flying from flower to flower that line the forest floor. Citrus fruits the size of my head weighed heavily on tree branches. As the trees thinned, overgrown stone and gravel paths revealed themselves, weaving through the trees.

“Well, what do we have here?” I spoke to the crow familiar that had elected to rest atop my broom. The two of us canted our heads, stretching our necks to follow the paths to their terminus. An abandoned village. I circled the dozen or so buildings that made up the village before landing next to what looked like a town hall. Vines choked each of the buildings, moss crept through the stone and brick. The door into the town hall was clear of vegetation and, with a little muscle, swung open freely. The interior was musky, and the wooden floor was rotting. With careful steps, I moved into the meeting hall that made up the majority of the building's footprint. Wooden tables and chairs suffered greater rot than the floor I stood upon. I snapped my fingers, producing a small flame that hovered just where my thumb and index finger met. The small illumination revealed candles lining the wall, half melted onto their iron holders, and with a snap from my other hand, the flame jumped to each of them, brightening the room. At the back of the meeting hall, below a window whose light had been snuffed out by a tangle of vines, a tattered banner flew. It had the same crest as the letter I received, but in much greater detail: a crowned warrior standing atop a winged serpent, holding a sword that had been driven through the monster, presumably slaying it.

I wasn’t far from Ludenbruh, for such a large, bountiful island to be abandoned perplexed me. I recalled the ways Mother would commune with the world, seeing beyond what was apparent to the naked eye. “Keep an eye on the sun, and fetch me if we are running out of time,” I commanded my familiar, who had transferred from my broom to my shoulder upon entering the town hall. The crow flew off, back outside, and I was alone. I sat for a moment, eyes closed, resting my hands on the warped wood of the floor, and listened for a moment. But heard nothing, saw nothing. This time, I moved to the banner, which hung low enough for me to reach, and removed my gloves. Eyes closed again, I explored the banner’s tears and loose threads, the moss on the wall beyond it, the vines that had creeped from below the floor and broken out through the gaps in the wall panels. It was lonely. Not the banner or the wall or even the town hall, but the whole village was lonely. Phantom images of people stacking stones and affixing wooden frames danced across the inside of my eyelids. Scenes of people celebrating the harvest from an orchard. An orchard that I had flown through, that had melded with the woods, now that its caretakers were gone. I saw the town hall filled, all intently listening to the commands of who must have been their mayor. I saw their static forms weep and pack and leave. I saw the island abandoned, lonely.

My eyes shot open as my crow flew in circles not inches away from my head, cawing aggressively. “Alright! Alright. Let’s get a move on then?” I hurried out from the town hall and was away on my broom again. I rubbed my eyes and wiped away tears that I had shed unknowingly. How much more of the world had Mother seen? I struggled to imagine how vibrant the memories shared with her might be. How much she must have known from resting her hand on my face. How much she really understood my suffering. The world's suffering.

My travel companion flew circles around me and my broom as I flew away from the abandoned town. I took a long glance back at the village that was not dissimilar from my home. Homes. Then, orienting myself to follow the antsy crow, who made loops in front of my broom so as to not leave me behind, I took off at full speed.

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I finally made my way to the capital. I had arrived ahead of noon, leaving me an hour or so before I had to touch down and make contact with the lieutenant. Drifting high in the clouds above Ludenbruh where no one would see me, I turned to the crow familiar that guided me, who had been perched on the tip of my broom since we could see the city, and voiced my thoughts out loud, “we’ll my friend, I’d like to do a little sightseeing before my meeting.” The crow tilted its head so it could make eye contact, clearly listening, “Why don’t you keep an eye on the dock and come get me when the time seems right?” The crow ruffled its feathers and then dove from my broom into the city below. After receiving confirmation of our sent letter, the lieutenant sent another carrier bird with instructions on where to meet. Fortunately, this one avoided our cats, and we were able to send it back home.

With my avian companion keeping lookout for me, I too dove down, my eyes and head twitching from side to side, up and down to keep on the lookout for their airships. I wanted to avoid any altercations before my official arrival, but Mother’s parting words stuck with me. If I were going to play their games, I would need as much information as possible. The city was built up against a mountain, with a massive castle surrounded by large estates backed up against it. Beyond that, a small keep stood out from the middle of the city, breaking up districts filled with Prydannians hustling about their daily business. Without dropping too low, I circled two towers meant for airships. The first was near the castle, and I could make out the figures of countless soldiers and what looked to be weapons peeking out of windows and fortifications. The second extended out from the smaller keep and was buzzing with activity. Large, heavily armed airships arrived and departed at all times, with more soldiers loading and unloading from each of them. From the looks of it, neither of these was my destination. I circled the city again, following the paths of smaller ships that moved around or through it, and found smaller towers that rose from above a large lake that flanked the city. Squinting my eyes, I could just barely make out a black bird flitting from rooftop to rooftop, circling the docks occasionally before returning to some alcove out of my view. My companion was resolute in the duties given and continued to watch for the welcoming party.

Flying in just ever so much closer, using the large bladders many of the airships hung from as cover, I got a clearer picture of the docks, and the massive crowd that was causing traffic jams as people boarded and exited their crafts. The crowd overflowed into the main street that led from the castle down to the lake, and a knot in my stomach formed. “Oh Mother help me!” There had been no indication that my arrival would be such a public occasion. I peered past the brim of my hat at the sun’s position. It was still early. I darted around to get a better view, still staying in cover, this time hugging the bottom of a ship's hull closely. In front of the dock, which had the number “IV” painted on it in bright white, a perimeter had been established by what looked to be more soldiers. They had made space for a single carriage to be parked, and standing by the carriage was a single person, unmoving. I groaned, twirling out from under the ship to sneak back into the clouds. The minutes ticked away, and I’d rather not have to come up with some lie about my tardiness. Sitting straight up and letting go of the front of my broom, I deliberated over how best to avoid being a spectacle, my arms crossed. As I did, my crow returned, cawed, and then dived down before circling back up to do the process again. I averted my focus from the bird’s urgent signaling and looked up at the sun. High-noon. I took a deep breath and descended.