Lithos finds me easily enough, instantly recognisable even though it’s the first time I’ve seen him. Nicholas must not have brought out all of his Bonded for our first duel. The winged serpent messenger seems to swim through the air, thin threads of wind-magic trailing around him. He’s Tier two, I judge, but not far into it based on what I’ve seen on my own Bonded.

  I follow him, taking advantage of my vantage point to survey the city below.

  Nicholas was right: the fire is under control. Out in the dockyards, the ships haven’t relit since I left them. The few flames still burning among the houses and in the slums won’t last much longer – already they gutter as water is thrown on them. A few roofs still glow, but the worst is clearly past. Even so, it’ll be hours before the danger is gone, and much longer before the city manages to rebuild what has been lost.

  Everywhere, blackened wood marks the fire’s path. The dockyard is separated from both slums and proper houses by large storage buildings. The latter are barely touched by the flames – their fire-protection must be significantly better than most. However, the buildings beyond haven’t escaped unscathed.

  The slums, built of flimsy wood and most likely lacking any sort of magical protection, have suffered most: entire rows have crumbled to ash, and soot-stained people pick through the ruins. In contrast, the houses mostly stand. Many are scorched, a few are roofless, but only two of them have been reduced to charcoal frames. For once, city-dwellers and slum-dwellers look identical – soot-stained and blackened as they move through streets marked by smoke and ash.

  A ball of fire zooms toward me, causing fearful shouts below. Lithos twists, hissing aggressively.

  “It’s fine,” I tell him, hoping he’ll understand me, or if not my words, then my tone. “He’s with me.” My message must get through – he doesn’t react as Aingeal circles me in joy.

  The fire elemental looks unchanged, but….

  “Are you bigger?” I ask. Aingeal spins a happy figure eight in reply. “Huh. Is that the only change?” Aingeal sends me a sense I interpret as ‘no’.

  Then he swells like a balloon, flames darkening as he grows from basketball to beach ball to twice that again. In his final size, his fire is red shot through with orange. He doesn’t hold it long. With a flash of relief, he shrinks to his normal size, then once more he concentrates. This time, he shrinks further, flames brightening until he’s golf-ball small and almost pure white. This seems to be more comfortable for him, though he releases it soon enough.

  “So, your ability to change your size has become significantly better?” I murmur curiously. “And you can condense your flames with more control?”

  He agrees happily and does another looping spin through the air to express his excitement.

  Then he splits. Another sphere of fire, though golf-ball small to his basketball size, floats free beside him. I stare. “Did you just split yourself?” His joy is infectious as he dances with his smaller brother, proving they can move independently. I wonder if they’re limited by range.

  Lithos coils irritably, reminding me that Nicholas is waiting. I sigh.

  “We’ll test more later.”

  Aingeal agrees, then zips off to harass Lithos, who swats at him in vain. Judging from the exasperated glance Nicholas gives me as I descend towards them a few minutes later, I have a feeling that the serpent has been complaining vociferously to his Tamer.

  Nicholas is standing in a square dominated by a fountain. The water feature has clearly been more than just decorative tonight – even now, a chain of water-bearers are passing buckets along the line towards a house on the edge of the square that still smoulders. I cast it a searching look, but the locals seem to have it all under control – no need for me to intervene.

  I recognise two of the people accompanying him – one is Lord Pevril; the other is the water mage, currently leaning tiredly against the black scales of Noir. As I land, the alcaoris nudges the mage with his nose until the man stands on his own feet. He then trots over to me and rubs his head against the side of mine, his scales smooth. I reach up to scratch him at the base of his skull, his favourite spot.

  “Had a good time?” I murmur quietly, both seeing and feeling his tired pleasure. He sends me strong agreement, though there’s a hint of wistfulness to it too. I interpret his message to mean that he’s satisfied he played a part, but wishes that it was me who had sat on his back, not some strange water mage.

  Still, it seems the other man was respectful enough – fortunately for him. From the images Noir sends me, they flew over the burning city, circling in place long enough for the water mage to put out a fire before moving onto the next. He’s tired from the chaos of the air currents above the blaze, but is satisfied with the effect of his efforts.

  He does remark about getting a sudden boost of mana – and being grateful that it stopped before it began hurting too much. Guilt sweeps through me and I decide to check all of my Bonded’s channels to make sure I haven’t thoughtlessly hurt them.

  You did well, I praise Noir, continuing to scratch him even as I walk towards the small group of people. I also take a moment to reach out to the rest of my Bonded, just checking on them. Ivor is on his way now – he has been helping to put out fires with the pouch I gave him and is also very tired. Sirocco remains circling above the city, keeping an eye on everything.

  The rest of my current companions are all together in the lord’s manor, eating and relaxing, though Ninja has apparently spent most of the time fretting.

  I pull my mind away from them as I stop in front of Nicholas.

  “Markus, glad you could make it,” Nicholas says with a note of irony. I nod at him in greeting and then give him a nonchalant shrug.

  “Just trying to make sure the city doesn’t burn down around our ears. You know how it is.”

  “And we are very grateful for your efforts, Heir Titanbend,” Lord Pevril says anxiously with a deep bow. Then he looks at Nicholas. “And yours too, of course, Lord Titanbend.”

  What did you do? I ask curiously. Nicholas responds with the mental equivalent of a hand wave.

  Mostly organising evacuations – my Bonded helped reduce casualties by retrieving people from burning buildings and transporting the most injured to the healers. And I did a little healing myself.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  I nod at him again, this time in respect, then refocus on Lord Pevril as he continues speaking.

  “May I present Master Mage Vellus? I believe you encountered each other before.” He chuckles nervously, sweat beading at his temples that I don’t think is anything to do with the fire nearby.

  The master mage in question steps forward and bows so deeply I’m briefly worried that he might fall over.

  “My lord, I can’t apologise enough for attacking you when you were only coming to help. I-”

  “It’s fine,” I interrupt, holding up a hand. The man’s words cut out but he stays bent over – that can’t be comfortable. “Look, stand up, please.” The mage does so slowly. “I’m not angry. You saw what appeared to be a fire mage attacking a city already ablaze. Acting to defend it was the right thing to do. Anyway, no harm done.”

  The mage looks at me for a long moment. Then he inclines his head and shoulders in another bow.

  “You are too gracious, my lord. Is there anything I can do to repay you for your mercy?” I shrug, more than a little uncomfortable with the gratitude the man is showing.

  “You already repaid it by working well with Noir,” I tell him firmly. “My companion had fun and it seems like you made a real difference. That’s enough.”

  The mage looks to be on the point of bowing even more deeply, but Lord Pevril cuts in – perhaps he can see that I’m already uncomfortable.

  “Lord Markus, Master Vellus is not a natural fire-fighter, but I promise that there is no one better for reading the currents of the ocean. Perhaps he can be part of your expedition?”

  “Would you be interested in that?” I ask the man. He straightens enough that I can see the longing in his face.

  “To sail across the deepest ocean, to delve its currents and see it in its full magnificence? My lord, I would like nothing more.”

  I nod slowly. I’d like to speak to the man in more detail, but I’m not willing to take the time to do so now. I need to sleep for a bit to recover from my magical exertions, and then I need to prepare our vehicle to take us to Sandend, and then I need to rescue my companions. I can figure out who I’m taking on with me on the expedition afterwards.

  “I’ll return to Whalehost after I’ve dealt with my current business, and we can speak then,” I promise.

  “On that note,” Nicholas cuts in, “while I wait here for you, I will do my best to discover the source of this attack.” He gives me a meaningful look. I nod, not needing words to see what he’s thinking – simultaneous fires on four ships separated by stretches of quayside? It’s arson for sure. “By the time you return, I should also have a better idea of whether your departure time will need to be postponed.”

  Then these are the ships meant to carry me to the Lost Continent? It’s likely that the motivation for the arson is to interfere with my participation, then. Which means that the culprits could be anyone who would benefit from Titanbend doing poorly. Unfortunately, from what Nicholas said, that doesn’t exactly narrow down the list of suspects much.

  Pevril wrings his hands, the exuberant lord nowhere to be seen.

  “Oh, I do hope the damage isn’t too bad. Emilia, my dockmaster, will be back soon with a report.”

  “As do I,” I tell him, somewhat honestly. “In the meantime, may I make use of a room in your manor to rest?”

  “Of course, of course,” Pevril flaps slightly. “It is already prepared for you. You must be exhausted after so much magic-use! I know it always tires me out terribly. And please signal to the kitchens when you would like to eat.” Regret passes across his face. “I deeply apologise for my absence, but I fear I must look to my people right now.”

  “Not a problem,” I tell him firmly, approving of him putting his people first before a visiting lord. “I would do the same.” The slightly disapproving look from Nicholas is worth the evident relief from Lord Pevril. And I suspect that Nicholas’ disapproval is more because I said it than because he disagrees with the sentiment.

  I exchange a few more words with the pair before Nicholas signals that it’s fine for me to withdraw with my companions. We fly off to the manor near the top of the hill – time to bathe, eat, sleep, and then prepare things for an early departure tomorrow morning.

  *****

  The next morning I rise before the sun, Bastet nudging me awake after only a few hours. Time-candles are fortunately easier than clocks for beasts to interpret, especially when I marked the candle at the point I wanted her to wake me. Still, I miss clocks. Maybe Lady Renaye could invent some – I can’t be the only one who would appreciate having a more exact measurement of time than candles.

  Outside my room, I find Mathis there on watch. He insists on shadowing me; the guards have decided Nicholas and I shouldn’t be left alone. Considering last night’s arson, I can’t fault his reasoning. If the culprits’ intentions were to disrupt the competition, assassinating me would be an excellent method of completely derailing Titanbend’s participation. At least with him and Bastet watching my back, I should be able to work without distraction. And since Aingeal doesn’t need to sleep, he’s joined me too – he makes a perfect lamp in the pre-dawn dark.

  On the manor’s rooftop, I stretch, then get to work. Pulling out the various pieces I’ve been creating, I lay them out in their place.

  “What is that?” Mathis asks curiously. I send him a mischievous look.

  “Curiosity killed the cat.” He stares at me for a moment.

  “...what is a ‘cat’?” I just send him another grin, then focus in on my task.

  Inspired by the idea of airships, I’ve rebuilt a method of transportation that I used in an earlier rescue. But sturdier, subtler, and with better materials this time.

  Spidersilk is an excellent fabric. When tightly-woven, it’s impermeable by water – and air. It’s taken a lot of mana to create enough of it for my purposes, and even more to pack it with sufficient mana to use its camouflage properties.

  Questioning Nicholas revealed that an airship’s main issue in the sky is aggressive beasts. But the beasts generally attack for two main reasons: territoriality, or opportunism. We’re doing our best to avoid the former by travelling over territory that is principally human-controlled. The latter…though the spider-silk may leak some magic, it’s nothing like the leakage from the Core-powered engine of an airship. And fortunately for me, I have other options for propulsion.

  Hopefully we can make the journey without becoming a target – though I’m careful not to think that too loud. I’ve learnt my lesson about tempting fate.

  The basket this time is built of bone and hide from the manor’s kitchen, dyed white to hopefully make it look like an odd-shaped cloud from below rather than a target. Stuffed with as much mana as I can pack in, it will be stronger and lighter than it would naturally be. It’s also far bigger than the last one I made – big enough to contain all of us – though not Noir and Ivor. Though if one of them is hurt or exhausted, they might be able to perch on the side for a bit.

  Slipping into Heavy Meditation and holding a Flesh-Shaping Energy Heart in my hand, I maximise my mana regeneration as I fill the basket with mana – the envelope had been protected by the wrap and chest Nicholas lent me, and fortunately didn’t lose much mana while Ivor used it as a water pouch. At the same time, I send my mind into the materials, connecting the ropes of the basket to the envelope, and checking for any faults which might endanger me or my companions.

  By the time the sun has risen above the horizon, I’m done and the Energy Heart is a third of its original size.

  I push myself to my feet and stretch. More than forty points in Constitution or not, that first stretch after being immobile for hours is still incredibly satisfying. Though my increased stats do show their use when the lingering stiffness disappears rapidly.

  Bastet moves over to press her head against my hip. I reach down to scratch her even as I grin at Mathis.

  He eyes me warily.

  “Now will you tell me what that is?”

  “Sure,” I chirp, a mixture of exhilarated and fatigued by my activities. “It’s a hot air balloon.”

  He frowns in slight confusion as he eyes the basket and the deflated envelope lying beside it.

  “There doesn’t seem to be much balloon. Or hot air.”

  “Not yet,” I admit. “Aingeal?”

  The little fire elemental dances through the air in excitement.

  here!

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