Unbound

Chapter Seven Hundred And Seventy Six – 776

Chapter Seven Hundred And Seventy Six – 776

Lights danced inside the doors as sigaldry ignited along the edges of the room beyond, illuminating a space four times as large as the cove outside. Its size made Pit feel small—a rare occurrence in recent days—and it echoed back the soft lappings of the sea so loudly that it was like another ocean lay within. It was bone dry, however, and perfectly spherical, save for the flat plane of the floor. Upon that floor, among the geometric markings of sigils and array lines, nine diases were set in a triangular pattern with the triangle’s tip facing the doors. Each dias was inscribed with deeply chiseled glyphs that burned, illuminating what rested above them.

Nine massive Manaships.

Each one was ancient in design, sleeker than any modern craft Pit had seen, and built as if made of a single piece of pale wood. The hull and masts were riddled with a curious texture, which was at odds with its flowing design, but it hardly took away from their strange beauty.

Bundles of pale, silver-white sailcloth were secured against the cross-wise beams—Gaffs and yards, Pit recalled dimly—but there were far more than a normal galleon might have. Masts rose like a forest of young trees from the main deck and forecastle, as well as the sides, almost like the wings of a bird. There were even a number of sails poking out from the bottom of the ships, ribbed and splayed outward as if they would swim through the air—and they did. The ships all hovered above their own dias, suspended atop a ripple of air that smelled like ozone and salt.

Not birds. Big fish. Pit sniffed. Lightning and air Mana. Some force, too, maybe, all pushing up out of those glyphs.

The company stepped in cautiously, scouts testing the sigil-inscribed floors for traps or wards, but nothing was found. Pit walked in without a care. The place had accepted him, after all.

Standing closer, he inspected the nearest ship. It, like the rest, was covered in ropes and knots and little wooden brace things that Pit didn't have names for—all the stuff that he’d have seen on any Manaship, just fancier.

Not nearly as fancy as the Sailwhale, but what could measure up to perfection?

On the prow of the ship, right before the pokey stick part at the front, a figurehead emerged from the clean lines of the pale wood as if it were surfacing from within. Pit glanced around—a similar decoration was on all of them. Lizards, wolves, birds, even snarling cats were picked out in intricate detail, dozens of times bigger than they'd normally be in real life.

A Chanter, one Pit didn't particularly recognize, gaped at them before pointing excitedly. "The figureheads are Chimeras!"

Pit almost smacked himself. How hadn't he noticed? The one with the bird head even had tufted ears laid back against its skull, and large paws stretched up beneath, though they were half-hidden in swirling carvings that seemed to illustrate the wind. Or was it water?

Tch. I look nothing like that, though. He lifted his chin. I’m much more handsome.

Now that he was up close, Pit could see that each ship was covered in delicate carvings that were easy to miss at first glance. What Pit had originally taken for the texture of the wood were, in fact, intricate details like the waves and wind swirls, and even the masts featured feathers and scales climbing their lengths. Somehow, the carvings didn't detract at all from the sleek smoothness of the ships’ construction and only served to enhance their strange beauty.

I suppose they’re nice enough.

Chanters and soldiers approached cautiously, careful not to touch or climb atop the floating vessels. Close up, the ships were remarkably large, bigger than the galleons Pit was used to, yet more narrow in design. The sleekness made them look like arrows shot from a bow, all curves and sloping angles. Closer still, Pit noticed that the ships were inscribed with a litany of sigiltry, no doubt infusing magic into the hull, sails, and what seemed like every rope.

"There are enchantments for speed and stability here," Tzfell pointed out as she walked up behind Pit.

"Shields as well," Laur said. "Impressive ones. These will prove useful in the storm.”

“Has anyone learned Manaship pilot?" Vess asked.

Several Legionnaires spoke up. There were fifteen who had learned the Skill and more that knew their way around the crafts. Apparently, they'd learned that at the shipyards Beef had helped establish in Elderthrone.

"Good. Check them over for any irregularities. Chanters and arclights, please assist. If we are taking these, we need to know their functions." Men and women saluted her before swarming the decks of the ships.

"Decently sized," Evie said. "If they can still fly, do you think we'll all fit?"

Vess leaned against her glaive. "I hope so. Battlelord, you are more familiar with your people. Will you remain comfortable on these ships?"

The frost giant rumbled deep in his throat.

"It will be a squeeze, and my people do not enjoy tight spaces." He looked to Evie and inclined his head. "If the Kyria wishes it, we will endure."

Evie pursed her lips, and Pit felt her annoyance ripple across the room. "You'll get on the boats, and you'll like it, Ari. Otherwise, you're gettin’ left behind to babysit the Shadowgate."

The fifteen-foot Risi bowed at the waist, ice armor creaking. "As you wish, Kyria."

While the soldiers swarmed the Manaship, Pit drew back, casting his gaze across the rest of the chamber.

“Do these things not interest you?” A’zek asked. His fur stuck up in spiky clumps, but he’d stopped dripping. “Not enough rain, perhaps.”

“Shush, you’re dry.” Pit glanced at his friend. “Mostly.”

“Fah.”

“The Manaships are cool, but there’s more here. Look.” Pit walked farther into the spherical chamber, through the rows of glowing diases toward the nearest wall. It was covered in small tiles, most of which were describing massive cloud formations in a variety of blues and purples. Lightning threaded the clouds, bright slashes of silver that stood out starkly against the darker hues. If Pit squinted, the place looked like it was suspended in midair, the ships floating among a still sky. “Why do all this?”

“The Nym loved art. I have seen many such pieces, whether they are painted, stone carvings, or tile mosaics. The natural world was a wonder that the Golden Empire greatly valued. Why would they not celebrate the skies, storms and all?”

“I guess.”

Pit walked the walls, following their curve as pale clouds darkened, and more lightning struck out of their shadowed underbelly. A fleet of Manaships appeared, their frozen image captured as they battled against tumultuous winds and driving rains. Clouds swirled in their wake, trailing after their extended fin-sails, and from the feathered wings of the legion of Chimera that flew at their side. Men and women sat astride their backs, armored robes flapping in the wind as they came up against things that crawled in the darkest of clouds.

That’s creepy.

"I've tried. Either it won't accept my Mana, or something in the sigaldry is dispersing it before it can affect any change."

"Why is this part weird?" Evie asked.

Pit tilted his head. Evie was looking at a piece of the mosaic where a handful of tiles in the clouds were a strange shade of lavender. They didn't quite match the pattern around them, but the tones were close.

"Maybe it's a mistake," Pit suggested.

A'zek narrowed his eyes. "Have you ever seen Nymean artwork that was sloppy?"

"No?”

“Me either."

Loquis stepped next to Evie and ran his hands across the wall. "It's aligned with the sigaldry. Could it be?" He pressed against them, and while slight, the tiles moved.

"Evie, could you press these two tiles upward?”

“Sure," she reached out, following Loquis's instructions. The Half-Orc mage leaned closer, fiddling with the rest as they slid around each other. Once those first two shifted, a half dozen others moved freely, like a tiny puzzle.

"I think I may have figured—” Loquis paused, glancing up at Evie as she leaned above him. He cleared his throat. “Erm. Just press those a little farther to the left."

"Alright.” She did, and Loquis shifted a few more, and suddenly, there was a resounding click.

"Yes!" He stood up and came face to face with Evie. "I did it...”

"I see that." She smiled. "Do I have to keep holding these?"

"Oh, um, no, I think you can let it go." She moved her hand. The walls gave a thicker, more resonant click.

"Is something supposed to happen?" she asked but hadn’t moved. Loquis hadn’t, either.

Now they’re both blushing.

"Um, yes." He licked his lips. “I think—”

The mosaic suddenly hissed, startling the two of them back several feet. A dagger appeared in Evie’s hand, and she put herself in front of them all, legs braced. Yet no monster appeared. Instead, the wall gave a slow grumble, and something heavy clunked repeatedly in the stone. The walls pulled back, moving along carved lines in the ground as sigaldry lit up their interior. The mosaic folded, the curve of the spherical wall bending and pulling back into one another until it revealed an entirely new chamber.

The entry was wider than Pit but extended for quite some distance into the rock, and every available surface was covered in elaborate shelving made of dark metal. Thick, transparent crystal fronted them all, each pane inscribed with sigils along one side, while within were rows upon rows of raw materials and strange tools.

Loquis ran his hands over the walls where they had folded into one another. "What incredible engineering," he muttered.

Evie, however, was far more taken by the contents of the room beyond. "Those all look pretty fancy," she said. "I bet Harn could make use of some of those metals.”

That caught Loquis’ attention. He entered and ran his hands over the cases, feeling the sigaldry on the glass. He tapped three in succession, and the glass popped open. "Aha! Yes. They're definitely high tier, somewhere between high steel and mithril."

"How'd you do that?" Evie asked.

"A lucky guess. It’s the same pattern the mosaic tiles used.”

A’zek snorted. “I cannot imagine the Nym were so foolish.”

“It’s not foolish—I mean, maybe it is, but it’s mostly just people. I’ve got a sigil-locker in the Forge back home, and the pattern is the same as the one in my room at the barracks. This is a supply room for people that worked on the ships. Who wants to remember a dozen combinations to get their supplies?”

Evie grinned. "Ain't just a pretty face, hm?"

Loquis' eyes got very big. He swallowed. "Uh..."

"Why are all the metal signs blank?" Pit asked, interrupting whatever was going on between the two. He stuck his big head into the room and pivoted about. "How are we supposed to know what's what?" He nodded to the brass placards beneath each shelf. They had been wiped smooth without even a hint of lettering.

"I'm sure it's all sorted in some fashion," A’zek said. He slipped into the room, too, but had an easier time of it. Still, his bulk split the mage and warrior up as he prowled about.

"We'll have to figure things out ourselves." Loquis sighed. "The Ruin touched it, after all."

The mage turned around and gathered up a dozen of his friends, directing them into the storage room with quills and parchment. The Arclights and Chanters set about cataloging the place’s contents, moving swifter than Pit would have imagined. Some proved impossible to identify at all and were marked as such, while others were simple enough, especially to the Legionnaires that had shipwright experience.

Soon enough, materials and tools flowed out of the back room, heading toward the Manaships as clever hands and sharp Minds got to work.