"Wild Magic"
A foray into the dangers of the ether with an elven airship and its steadfast crew.
This is a freestanding short story I wrote some time ago. It’s a fun world with a magic meets steam/dieselpunk feel and I may return to it at some point- but for now, enjoy ‘Wild Magic’. -L
Wild Magic
Grug frowned and scrutinized the schematic of the airship in front of him. It was complicated, with multiple overlays of arcane lines, wiring, plumbing and structural components. He traced a pipeline with a grubby finger, then tapped a junction. He turned to the technical manual that lay open next to him and read the runes there carefully. Returning his gaze to the schematic, he drummed his fingers on the desktop for a moment. Suddenly, he made a decision.
Reaching for the speaking tube next to his desk, he whistled into it. Through the big windows in the front of his office, Grug could see the stocky figure of his second mate at the giant control console in the front of the engine room. A second later, a tinny voice responded.
“Engineering.”
“Smokey, it’s Gears.” He used the ancient airship nickname for the engineer's mate. “Get me the schematics for Number Two. Make sure we have the manual for the arcane pressure lines to the upper deck gas system.”
“You got it, Gears.” Smokey’s cheerful voice replied. The thunderous cacophony of the main engine rooms of the Imperial Elven Naval Ship Dominance could be heard behind him. Grug could hear him yelling orders in the background, then Smokey’s voice came back on the tube. “We looking for that manifold pressure leak?”
“Yeah, I think I found it. We might have to take Number Two offline to fix it though. Gonna have to call the skipper about that first.”
“He ain’t gonna like that, Gears. He’s got places to be.”
Grug scowled. The Captain of the Dominance, Lord-Captain Elari d’Marte was a punctual man; as elven lords tended to be. He wouldn’t like having to shut down an arcane engine, even for this. “Yeah. Lemme call him. In the meantime, get ready for a cold shutdown of Number Two. We have to isolate this arcane energy leak. If we don’t, it could cause real problems.”
“You got it, Gears.”
Scrunching his face in thought for a moment, Grug sighed. He looked at the speaking tube, then shook his head. This required him to talk to the old man in person. Picking up the schematic, he rolled it and thrust it into a carrying case. Pausing, he glanced at the instrument panel over his work station. It displayed readings from various aspects of the massive airships systems. Temperatures, arcane energy flow, and etheric weather. With a scowl, he noted that the etherometer had fallen another ten degrees since he’d last looked at it. There was another celestial storm coming, most likely. With a scowl, he flicked the face of the etherometer with his finger, hoping it was stuck. The needle didn’t budge. With a resigned sigh he turned, picked up his helmet and placed it firmly onto his head, set off for the bridge.
Ten minutes of climbing ladders and stomping down passageways later, he arrived on the open upper deck. Overhead, the massive gas bags that lifted the ship hung like a low, looming ceiling. The support cables, as thick as he was tall, stretched down and secured the bags to the aft, fore, and mid decks. Forward, two burly orc crewmen were carefully inspecting and coiling a rope, and several elven cadets were practicing their celestial navigation from the forecastle. Elven sailors standing watch were scattered here and there across the deck railings, their scrying scopes turned outwards. All was as it should be.
Over the sides of the ship the bottomless deep purple and pink swirls of the etherium shone softly. In the distance, he could see ominous purple and black clouds bubbling and whirling. The etherometer was right; an arcane storm was forming. Grug hated sailing through those and was relieved when he saw that the Dominance was headed well away from the disturbances in the etherium.
Heading aft, he neared the hatchway to the bridge. The elven guards on duty came to attention and nodded courteously. One of them reached and opened the door, and said politely, “Nice night in the etherium, Master Gears.”
“As long as we steer clear of the maelstrom to spinward.” Grug replied, sourly. The elven sailors chuckled. The chief engineer's distaste for rough celestial weather was well known on the Dominance.
Entering the bridge, he let his eyes sweep the spacious compartment. A young lieutenant stood at the helm, his eyes locked onto the scrying crystal in front of him. Next to him stood the Dominance’s new ethermage; Dal’darion Starseeker. He was a young man; perhaps three hundred and fifty years old. Grug grimaced at seeing him. He didn’t particularly like him; he thought the young mage was a bit too full of himself. The ethermage he had replaced, an ancient elf named Sith’arian, had served with Grog on several Imperial vessels prior to the Dominance, but the years of sailing the ether took a toll, particularly on the ethermagi. The magic required to safely navigate the turbulent space between the spheres was significant and took magi of considerable power. The ethermage noticed him and gave him a distasteful look. Grug scowled in return as he passed the navigation station.
Seeing the tall, regal figure of Lord-Captain D’Marte facing away from him, speaking to several officers, he started across the bridge.
Abruptly, a voice from behind him broke into his thoughts. “What’s this? Vermin on the bridge? And I thought Lord-Captain D’Marte kept a clean ship.” The bridge, buzzing with the dozens of side conversations that it took to manage the great airship fell abruptly silent. From somewhere in the compartment, there was an audible gasp.
Grug tilted his head, and thought about this for a few seconds. Then, slowly he turned around. A young elven lordling stood, dressed in the regalia of a member of the Imperial Court. Narrowing his eyes, Grug opened his mouth to retort but before he could, the commanding baritone of the captain rang across the bridge.
“Lord Elouet. Thank you, sir.”
The lordling looked up and upon seeing the captain flushed. “Lord Captain, I...”
“I do appreciate your efforts in upholding the traditions of the Imperial Navy. Please, don’t let me keep you. You undoubtedly have pressing matters to attend.” Suddenly, looking at the scowling dwarf, he placed a hand on his chest in feigned surprise. “I don’t believe you have been introduced.” The Lord-Captain gestured to Grug. “This is Grug Stonefist. He is the Master of Gears of the IENS Dominance. He is the finest engineer I have ever had the pleasure to sail with.” The Lord-Captain turned to Grug, and bowed formally. “Master of the Gears. This is the Lord Lothil Elouet. He is the third son of the Lord Admiral Baron Elouete. He is currently without title, I believe.”
The elven lordling flushed, and replied, “I am a member of the Imperial Court, and one day shall inherit...”
“Indeed you will, my lord.” Captain D’Marte interrupted smoothly “Do give your father my regards, when you see him again.”
Lord Elouet flushed red in anger and retorted, “My father is a great man. He has many friends in the Admiralty...”
“Indeed.” The slender elven officer bowed slightly and extended a hand towards the hatch. “I must confer with my Master of Gears. May I offer you an escort off of the bridge, my lord?”
The young elf lordling whirled and left the bridge; his face flushed scarlet, his toadies in tow.
The captain turned back to the dwarf, who was waiting patiently. “My apologies, Master of the Gears. He is...an honored guest of the Navy.” His lip twitched into a rare smile as he added, “Apparently, the Navy has run out of routine ways to torment me, so I was chosen to host him as he travels to Cindarion, to assume some minor governmental role.”
“It’s not a problem, Skipper.” Grug replied with a grin. “The Imperial Court pro’ably wanted to get rid of him too, which is why he’s going way out there. We was just the unlucky saps who drew the short rock to give him a ride.”
“Indeed.” The captain eyed the schematic tube. “But I do not think you would venture up here to speak to an impudent lordling. I suspect you come with matters of import.”
“No, sir. I did not. May we speak in your cabin?”
The elven lord gestured towards his cabin, and followed as Grug entered. The cabin was at the stern of the mighty vessel, and large windows dominated the aft bulkhead. Through them, the pink and purple swirls of the ether could be seen, as could the faint blue-white trails of arcanic fire from the Dominance’s three mighty magic engines.
Unrolling the schematic on the desk, gestured at the schematic as he spoke. “So, sir. If you’ll remember on the last inspection I told’ja about how we had an increasing harmonic resonance in the port side someplace?” The Lord-Captain nodded and tilted his head as he scrutinized the schematic. Grug continued, “Well. We isolated it to the upper deck bag inflation system.” He tapped the junction. “I think we got some crossover arcane resonance in this junction.”
“What do you mean?” The captain replied. “As you well know, I am a line officer by training. I do not pretend to understand these matters.” With a slight smile, he added, “That, Master Gears, is why I have you.”
“It is indeed, sir.” Grug chuckled, then grew serious. “Basically, there’s some sort of magical resonance from the arcane power supply supporting the hull and the arcanized ether that’s keeping the bags afloat. We got to get in there and see how bad it is.”
D’Marte nodded and rubbed his chin as Grug spoke. After a moment he asked, “Is it stable?”
Grug shrugged. “Dunno.” He tapped the schematic. ”But there’s a lot of important bits and pieces that run near that junction. I’d rather not have it fail.”
“Can it wait until we reach Cindarion?”
Grug hesitated for a moment. Seeing this, the captain sighed. “No. I suppose not.” He leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers and asked, “Very well, Master Gears. What do we need to do to secure it?”
“I have to take Number Two offline. Cold shutdown, purge the arcane lines, then find and patch or reinforce the section.”
With a frown, D’Marte leaned forward and pulled a star chart to him. He stared at it for a moment, doing the math in his head then looked up. “With only two engines, we will add nearly a week to our transit time.”
“Aye, sir. We will. It’s why I wanted to discuss it with you first.”
The captain frowned slightly, the very picture of a thoughtful commanding officer. Then, he sighed. “Very well. Take the engine offline, make your repairs and get it back up and online as quickly as you deem safe.”
“You got it, skipper.” Grug began to roll up the schematic.
The elf lord spoke again as he did. “There are very few people on this ship that have my trust as you do, Grug Stonefist- indeed, in the entirety of the Imperial Navy. Fix our ship.”
“You know I will sir. The Dominance and me go way back.” The dwarven engineer replied. With a grin he added, “Me pa was on the Imperial Design team when she was commissioned. In fact…”
He broke off as the deck lurched under them, hard. The Lord-Captain and the engineer looked at each other for a moment in surprise, then another series of rapid shocks. Over the captain's shoulder, one of the bright blue-white exhaust trails of arcanite fire was burning with an ugly orange yellow, and smaller brilliantly colored explosions could be seen in the exhaust trail.
The Lord-Captain lept towards the door leading to the bridge. As he did, snapped, “Gears, what do we have?”
“Unconverted arcane energy in the exhaust trail, by the look of it.” Grug replied, promptly, following the captain. “Probably a failure in one of the arcane energy reactors.”
“Confirm that!” The captain ordered, as he burst onto the bridge. His commanding baritone broke through the hubbub. “Helm, Put the bow to two five six, full stop. Chief of the Boat, sound the general quarters and damage control alarms.”
The young elven lieutenant on the helm replied promptly, “Make my bearing two five six, full stop, aye.” He spun the massive polished ships wheel, and Grug could feel the airship heeling over as the captain put the ship's nose towards the arcane storm. The alarms began to throb throughout the massive airship, as the vibrations intensified. Grug rushed for the engineering panel and snatched up the speaking tube and whistled into it.
A split second later, the gruff voice of his second mate picked up. “Engineering!” Grug could hear the alarms screaming in the background and a strange low rumbling.
“Smokey, It’s Gears. What’s going on down there?” In the background, the damage control alarms began chiming.
“I don’t know. All of the sudden we started getting a nasty vibration in the arcane piping in number two, so I cut reactor output to fifty percent. After that, we had a series of shocks then Number Two reactor failed and activated the emergency arcane dampers. We’re trying to shut it down entirely now.” Grug could hear him shouting away from the speaking tube, then a string of dwarven swear words. A second later, he shouted into the tube again. “We got arcane energy leaking all over the place. Multiple fractures in the secondaries, too. Get your beard down here, boss!” The tube thumped as he hung it up.
“Master of the Gears, your report, sir!” D’Marte demanded. He had assumed his command chair behind the helm and was alertly watching Grug.
“We just lost Number Two reactor and have magic energy leaking in engineering. Probably secondary leaks all over the lower decks because if the reaction ruptured, so did the arcane energy conduits.” Grug replied, his eyes searching the dials set into the polished wood of the engineering panel. Turning, he pointed at the Chief of the Boat. “Chief, sound the magic leak alarms.” The massive orc nodded and turned to snap an order at a watchstander.
“What do you need from me, Master Gears?” D’Marte asked, calmly.
“Keep the nose of the ship towards that arcane storm to lessen ethereal wind pressure on the gas bag.” Grug replied promptly. “Also, evacuate all elven personnel from deck zero to deck five. I’m heading below. I’ll have a better picture of what’s going on in a few minutes.”
“Very well. Keep me posted.” The captain tapped a crystal in the arm of his chair and spoke, his voice now emanating from all over the airship. “Now hear this. This is the captain. We have experienced an emergency reactor shutdown, with significant arcane energy leaks. All elven personnel are to evacuate to deck six or above. Report any magical side effects to your section chiefs.” He tapped the crystal again and looked at Grug. “Master Gears, fix this boat.”
“Aye, sir.” Pointing at a nearby orc marine corporal, he snapped, “You, with me.” Grug hurriedly left the bridge. Stepping out onto the main deck, he could see elven crewman and officers pouring up from below decks, evacuating ahead of the surging magic levels. The deck crew were directing them in orderly patterns. Grug saw a lot of tense faces, but no one was panicking or yelling. Grimly, he nodded. The Lord-Captain ran a tight ship and his crew was well disciplined. Making his way towards the port side, he leaned as far over the side as he dared, looking down the hull of the airship. Seeing a plume of blue energy roaring out and sparking as it ignited the ether on contact, he swore under his breath.
Spying a nearby Elven rating, he grabbed her elbow. “You. Go to the bridge and tell them we have a breach on the port side. Tell them to get a magic suppression team on it, now.” Seeing her hesitate about taking orders from a non-deck officer, he snapped. “Tell them Master Gears is ordering it. Go!”
“Aye, sir!” The rating snapped a salute and left for the bridge at a run. With a last long look at the plume of arcane energy pouring from the burst conduit, he headed below. As soon as the two stepped below deck, Grug could feel it. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and his skin felt tight. The air smelled like hot metal, and tasted like it was a thousand years old- the classic sign of latent arcane energy in the air. The crystals embedded in the bulkheads were flashing yellow, indicating that the levels were high enough to evacuate all elven personnel.
Feeling the magical energy in the air, the orc observed in a gruff voice, “Elves aren’t gonna do well down here.” He hesitated, “Master Gears, let me help you get to Engineering. If any of the elven crew got caught in this crap…” He grimaced and drew his massive barbed sword.
“Agreed. Let's go.” Hurrying down the corridor, they went down a ladder. As they got to the bottom, they encountered two elven sailors, both wearing enchanted protective hoods. One of them was glowing bright blue- skin, clothing, eyes; everything was a brilliant shade of blue. The other seemed to be covered in a thick coat of fur. Through the lenses of the protective hoods, their eyes were full of terror.
The orc corporal pointed up the ladder and shouted, “One deck to go. You can do it, sailors! Go!”
The injured elves nodded and kept moving. Grog rounded a corner and froze in his tracks. On the wall, there was what looked like a relief sculpture of an elven sailor on the bulkhead- perfectly flat and fused into the wall. As Grog watched in horror, the figure blinked and the trapped elf’s eyes followed the pair as they silently made their way past. A second figure was trapped in the deck, and was screaming and pounding silently on the deck plates as they walked over him. In another compartment, there was a single naval issue boot that growled at them menacingly. There were shreds of elven uniform in its teeth and blood splatters on the bulkheads.
Finally reaching the safety of the hatch of the engine room, Grog entered and sealed the hatch. He turned to the orc. “Grog. I’m the…”
“Master of the Gears. Everyone knows who you are, Master Gears.” The orc grinned humorlessly and sheathed his sword. “I’m Grathok. Corporal of Marines.”
“Well met, Grathok. Follow me. Consider yourself on assignment to the engineering….” Rounding an arcane standpipe, he froze. The large open engine room was in front of him, with the three towering arcane reactors. One of them was fractured, with purple energy beaming out of the cracks. There was a loud humming and a violent vibration coming from the damaged engine, and the air tasted like scorched metal. The other two reactors sat nearly dark, with only faint glows to show that there was any power at all.
Grug rushed towards the master control console. Coming up to it, he saw the stocky figure of Smokey, his engineer's mate. The dwarf was yelling orders to be heard over the humming of the engine.
“I don’t give a damn. Strip it and get it down here. We have got to reinforce the shielding on that core!” Two artificers nodded grimly and rushed off.
Shouting to be heard, Grug leaned close to Smokey, “What have we got?”
Yelling, Smokey replied, “The arcane nullifiers just activated on One and Three- they’re offline.” He jabbed a finger at the glowing, fractured reactor. “Number Two has had a complete shielding failure, and is in an uncontrolled arcinic arc.” He leaned closer and shouted, “When it flared, we lost three ratings who were doing maintenance checks on the shield casing.”
Grug followed the dwarfs finger. At the base of the arcing magical reactor, there were three small mounds of pebble sized purple crystals. An engineer's toolbelt was partially visible in one of the mounds and a dropped spanner lay nearby.
Smokey shouted hoarsely, “I’ve got the blue crews stripping bulkheads in the forward hold to use as emergency shielding but if we can’t tamp down that arcane arc, it could reignite the other two reactors.”
“Good! We have to dampen some of this magic in here.” Grug yelled back. “Put a temporary bulkhead around it, then pull the crews back. Put Grinston on it. I need you in the office to go over a plan. We’ve got other problems. Half a dozen high level leaks all the way to deck six!”
“On it, Master Gears!” Smokey turned and started barking orders, as Grug headed towards the master engineer's office. Entering the office, he slapped a crystal embedded in the desk. A three dimensional image of the Dominance appeared in the air, then flickered, wobbled and vanished. Swearing, he thumped the desk several times, then turning to the wall behind him, pulled down a rolled poster. On it was printed a large schematic of the Dominance in all three axes. Taking a red grease pen, he rapidly marked the breach in the hull and the areas of high energy magic they’d encountered on their way below. Frowning at the schematic, he then drew a red double circle around the damaged reactor. Hearing the door open, he turned.
Smokey had entered the office accompanied by a goblin. Grug recognized him; he was the ship’s Master of Cargo. The old goblin nodded at him. He was short with a scarred face and was missing one eye, which was covered with a black eyepatch. In both of his ears, he wore multiple golden rings. There were rumors that in his former life, he’d been a notorious etherpirate, but Grug had known him for many decades and liked and trusted him.
“Master of Gears.” The goblin’s gravelly voice was grim and formal.
“Cargomaster.” Grug nodded at the goblin, then turned to his assistant. “Talk to me, Smokey.”
Smokey gestured to the Cargomaster. “Cargo was down supervising inventory when we lost Number Two. He’s got his lads helping strip bulkheads for shielding.”
“Glad to have you, Cargomaster. We have structural damage and I need your opinion on it.”
“Where?” The old goblin demanded. He stepped up to the schematic and stared intently at it, as Grug told them about the hull breach above The engineers mate and the cargo master listened closely as Grug described the markings on the diagram.
After listening intently for a few seconds, the goblin nodded. “Have a section of pipefitters and artificers meet my boys up on the main deck. We have structural plates in forward bay three; I can have them brought to use as a slap patch.” He turned to Smokey. “Can we shut down that arcane flow? Be a lot safer if we could.”
After a sidelong look at Grug, Smokey replied with a shrug, “Maybe. We’ll get the lads in the blue gang to divert the arcane flow through the lateral vents. It might not stop, but it’ll be enough for you to get an external patch on it.” He paused and added, “Course, with all the damage, we might end up with another blowout someplace too.”
The Cargomaster shot a questioning look at Grug with his one good eye.
“Have to risk it, Cargo.” Grug replied. “Not much choice.”
The old goblin nodded and picked up the voice tube and started speaking in rapid fire Gelbish to his second in command, somewhere in the forward holds.
“External shielding?” Smokey turned back to Grug. “That’ll keep it from arcing, but it won’t fix it unless we fix that reactor.” He reached over and picked up a technical manual. “Has anyone ever re-shielded one under way?”
“Not that I know of.” Grug replied. “And I’ve been near two hundred years on Navy etherjammers of all sizes.” He tapped his nose with the grease pencil thoughtfully. “We could build a temporary containment vessel…” He looked over at Smokey. “That might let us seal it off.”
“Aye. It might. But will it tamp down the arcane reaction?” Smokey pointed out the windows. “We’re already at over thirteen hundred thuams out there.”
“Thirteen hundred?” Grug repeated, astonished. “I’ve never seen an arcane level that high before.”
“That’s as high as our arcanometers will go.” Smokey replied, with a faint grin. “It’s probably a lot higher.”
Grimly, Grug looked out at the engineering crews frantically working to seal fractured piping in the high magic field that was growing in the massive compartment.
After a moment, he asked, “What level does it start to affect each of the crew?”
“Technically, we’re su’posed to evac at six hundred.” Smokey shrugged. “Clearly, we can take a lot more than that. I think elves fold at seven hundred or so. Goblins and gnomes, there ain’t a lot of data. Probably close to us. Orcs, humans, prob’bly split the difference.”
Drumming his fingers on the desk, Grug thought for a moment then made a decision. “Ok. Here’s what we’re gonna do.” The Cargomaster set down the voice tube and turned, listening intently. “Cargo is gonna get teams on the hull breaches.” The old goblin nodded once. Grug tapped the schematic. “Smoke, start putting up a temporary bulkhead here, here and here.” He indicated spots on the map. “Rotate the crews frequently. If there’s any wild magic surges, pull ‘em back.” Pausing, he thought then added, “If it comes to it, we can use teams of artificers to cut through the hull below and jettison the reactor.” Smokey and the Cargomaster nodded. “Anything to add? Concerns? Comments?”
“Nothin’ here.” Smokey replied. The old goblin shook his head silently.
“All right. Let's get to it, then.” Grug ordered.
“Aye, aye, Master Gears.” Smokey tapped his helmet and went out the hatch to start directing the crews to their tasks.
The Cargomaster followed the engineers mate, but paused in the doorway. He turned and said with a sly grin, “Here we are, saving the day again eh, Master Gears?”
“Goin’ ta try, Cargo.” Grug replied.
“Remember Etrixia?” The goblin asked, the grin vanishing.
“Aye...trying not to.” Grug replied with a grimace.
“Agree. Let’s try not to ignite the ether this time.” The goblin’s sharp teeth shone as he grinned.
“At least there’s no pirates this time.” Grug reminded the goblin.
“That we know of.” The goblin tapped his scarred head, grinned widely once more and disappeared out the hatch.
With a sour look, Grug watched him go, then muttered, “Goblins.” He reached for the speaking tube. Whistling into it, he waited for a few seconds then a watchstander answered,
“Bridge.”
“Bridge, Engineering. It’s Gears. I need the Lord-Captain.” Grug watched through the windows as a team of goblins and dwarves heaved a massive chunk of hull plate into an upright position next to the glowing reactor.
“D’Marte.” The captain’s calm baritone came from the speaking tube.
Grug opened his mouth to answer, then flinched and turned his head as the reactor flared. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, he swore. The chunk of hull plate had turned into a giant slab of what looked like butter and was melting onto the floor. The crew that had been holding it howled and started hopping away from the hot butter that was now flowing all over the floor of the engine room.
“Master Gears, report!” The captain demanded from the other side of the voice tube.
“Yes, sir. We’ve got a full containment failure on Number Two. Reactors One and Three just activated their emergency arcane nullifiers.” The reactor flashed again, and Grug watched with a grim expression as a toolbox burst into a cloud of colorful butterflies and started to flutter around. “We’re trying to get a bulkhead built around Two but it keeps flaring. I’ve lost at least three engineers so far and the wild magic flares are getting more powerful.” Turning his face from another flash, Grug added, “If we can’t tamp it down, it may reignite the other reactors.”
“What happens then?” D’Marte demanded. “Aren’t they nullified?”
“Aye, they are. But it’s like a recently damped fire. A little heat and it’ll pop back to life and we risk three unstable reactors instead’a just one.”
“Options?” D’Marte demanded. “We need a solution, Gears. We’re starting to see magic levels rising on the bridge. I’ve ordered the elven crew up into the gas bags, but there’s only so much space on those catwalks.”
“I know.” Grug stared at the flaring engine, thinking. After a moment, he spoke bluntly. “Let me talk to my team. In the meantime, I’d suggest getting the passengers and nonessential crew to the lifeboats.”
There was a long moment of silence from the speaking tube, then D’Marte replied gravely. “Understood. I’ll start loading the lifeboats. Can we save this ship?”
Grug hesitated for a moment, staring at the flaring reactor, then replied. “Maybe. Give me ten minutes.”
“We’ll be waiting. Hurry, Master Gears. We’re already at four hundred thaums up here on the bridge.”
Grug replied grimly. “Skipper, I ain’t lost a boat yet and today ain’t that day. I’ll be in touch. Engineering out.” He looked up as Smokey re-entered, having delegated the task of building the temporary bulkhead.
The younger dwarf took off his helmet and wiped his forehead. His usually cheerful face was tense as he spoke, “We’ve lost sailors. I don’t know how many.”
“Time to mourn later. We got a ship to save.” The door opened again and the Cargomaster entered, followed by Corporal Grathok. The old goblin held a smoking pistol in his fist and had his hand clamped tight to his side. The orc had his sword out and the blade was stained dark with blood. The front of his flat black armor was shiny with scratches.
Shocked, Grug asked, “What happened?”
With a scowl on his scarred face, Grathok replied, “The pixies apparently got a dose of that arcane magic. Made ‘em big.” He frowned. “Real big. Mean, too.”
“Little bastards.” The Cargomaster wheezed. “One minute you’re usin’ a flyswatter on ‘em, the next they’re the size of a bobcat and got their teeth in ya.” He spat a stream of bloody phlegm on the floor and looked up with his good eye. “Don’t count on getting any more shieldin’ down here. Them pixies are tearing the hell out of the middle and forward decks.” He holstered the pistol and looked at his side. “My lads are givin’ them the what-for forward, but there’s no way they can get more shielding down here. Not without a dozen Marines.”
Grathok nodded. “We only have a dozen aboard and Gunny has them keeping the main deck secure.”
“Rockscat.” Grug swore. He drummed his fingers on his desk for a few seconds, then looked up. “Think, people. We need to stabilize or contain that reactor. What can we do?”
A brilliant flash came from the reactor and a bolt of lightning shot out, scorching the paint off of a nearby bulkhead. A large burn mark and the smell of hot metal remained after it passed.
Grug glared at the reactor for a moment, then continued. “As I was saying. We need to stabilize that reactor.”
Smokey, the Cargomaster and the orc traded a glance. There was a moment of silence.
After a few seconds, Smokey began, “Boss, I don’t know if there’s a way…”
“Can I ask somethin’?” Grathok broke in. He was staring through the windows at the pulsing reactor. He pointed. “What are them pipes going into the reactor?”
“Arcane outflow.” Grug replied promptly. “They send magic to the rest of the ship.”
“But the reactor is broke and the magic is...well.” The orc gestured at the mess in the engine room. “Can we cut them?”
“Sure.” Smokey answered. “But why?”
“Cause if we cut the hull under that reactor and chop those pipes, we can let that pile of gar’floga drop into the ether.”
Smokey stared at the massive orcish Marine for a few seconds, then looked at Grug. The engineer rubbed his beard, then shrugged. “Offhand, I won’t see why not.” Pulling the grease pencil out from behind his ear, he stepped over to the schematic on the wall and scrutinized it. After a few seconds, he shrugged and drew a large red circle around the damaged reactor. He then turned and pulled another set of schematics and unrolled it on the desk and started marking as he spoke.
“Smokey, we’ll need wand cutters. Call it…” His pencil flashed.
“Six teams.” Smokey broke in, seeing what he was doing. “Four on pipes, two on the hull.” He looked up. “Cago, can those wand cutters cut through the hull?”
“Easily.” The Cargomaster replied. “Just gotta hold ‘em steady. We used to use ‘em ta…” He looked at the other three with a gleam in his good eye and grinned. “Nevermind. Let’s just say yes.”
“All right.” Grug slapped the table and pointed at the engineer’s mate. “Smokey, you get teams onto the arcane piping. Rotate ‘em in and out so they don’t get a cumulative dose of arcane energy.” He turned to the old goblin cargomaster. “Cargo, you get the hull cut teams going. Make it a wide cut...call it..” He looked at Smokey.
“Fourteen or bigger.” Smokey replied promptly. “It’ll let it fall free and keep the pipe cut teams further away.”
“Ok. Fourteen or wider.” The goblin nodded silently. Grug stared at the schematic for a second, then looked up. “I’ll call the captain. Let's move, people. We don’t have a lot of time.”
As if on cue, the damaged arcane reactor flashed with a brilliant white and blue burst of light. A tool box vanished, replaced with a swarm of bees that began buzzing angrily around the engine room.
“The other reactors!” Smokey suddenly yelled. His stubby finger shot up, pointing. The dark crystal casing of the other two reactors had started to flicker- the dark blue of the crystal brightening momentarily, then fading as the arcane pulse faded.
“We don’t got a lot of time before those things reignite.” The cargomaster observed, in a sour tone. “When they do, they can blow the hell up. Saw that once out in the Pieanes on a Myconid man’o’war.” He shook his head. “Stupid mushrooms never were very good sailors.” He slapped Grug on the back, “Good luck, Master Gears. If we don’t make it, it’s been a privilege.” The old goblin turned and strode out the door.
“You know where I’ll be, boss.” Smokey put his helmet on and left the office.
Grug shook his head and reached for the speaking tube and whistled into it.
“Bridge.” Lord-Captain D’Marte answered.
“Sir. We have a plan.” Grug replied. He quickly laid out the plan to the captain, who listened intently.
After he was finished, the Captain replied gravely. “Do what you must, Master Gears. I’ll need another thirty minutes to get the crew off. Do we have that much time?”
There was another brilliant flash. Outside, a dwarven work crew stiffened, then collapsed to the deck, unconscious.
Grug shook his head, and replied. “I honestly can’t tell you captain. The wild magic surges are happening about every thirty seconds. At this rate…” His eyes swept the instrument panel in his office, then he muttered an oath under his breath. “If my math is right, we have about fifteen minutes before it enters a sustained wild magic state.” He paused, then added. “The other two reactors are starting to flare. It’s possible the arcane surges could reignite them. If that happens…”
“Can we save the ship?” D’Marte asked bluntly.
“If we get this reactor jettisoned? Yes.” Grug replied. “If it reignites the other two, and we lose control of those as well? No.”
There was a moment of silence from the speaking tube, then the Captain replied. “Very well. Continue the plan as discussed. In the meantime, we...Just a moment.” The captain broke off. There was silence from the tube, then the captain spoke again. “The ethermage would like a word. He says he has an idea.” There was the rustling of the tube being passed.
“Master Gears.” The light contralto of the ship's ethermage, Dal’darion Starseeker came from the tube. “Would a large arcane nullifier field assist?”
Pursing his lips, Grug thought for a few seconds then replied, “It might. Wouldn’t stop the flares but might dampen them enough to keep the other two reactors from going critical.” He looked at the instrument panel. “Our nullifiers are going at max already, as are the ones inside the core. I don’t know what else we could do…”
“I do.” The ethermage replied confidently. “At the Academy, I did my senior thesis on arcane nullification theory. I have a prototype nullifier I brought along to test. It uses an elemental suppression field.”
Rubbing his chin, Grub thought about this. Outside the windows, a team of three goblins wearing thick, dark goggles pointed a wand at the deck plates. A bright crimson beam emitted from the wand and began to melt a hole in the deckplate. A burly dwarf carrying a section of hull plate to shield the goblins as they worked stood between them and the core.
“Well, it couldn’t hurt.” He replied as he watched the scene. “At the least it’ll tamp down the nastier effects. Lighting and the like.” He looked sourly at the burn mark on the bulkhead.
“Very good. We’ll be right down.” The ethermage replied confidently.
“Wait!” Grug blurted, “You can’t come down here. The arcane energy is way too high. Even the non-elven crewmen are feeling it and we got way more innate resistance than you elf types.”
“I’m aware of that.” The elf replied quietly. “It’s this or the ship, Master Gears.” He paused and added, “You know what will happen to the lifeboats in a celestial maelstrom.”
“”Damn.” Grug hesitated for a moment, knowing what raw arcane energy did to elfkin; while considering their chances of survival if the Dominance was lost and the crew forced to ride out a maelstrom in the tiny lifeboats. “I guess if the captain’s ok with it…”
“He is.” Dal’darion replied. “And we’re all volunteers.”
“Ok.” Grug closed his eyes against another brilliant flash from the reactor. A ring of golden light followed. Where it struck the crewmen, they paused in shock then looked at each other in amazement. Cuts vanished and burns healed as Grug watched. A badly burned dwarf that had been lying behind a pipe crawled out, his clothing in tatters but his skin intact. Hitching up his toolbelt, he snatched his helmet and hurried to rejoin his crew, clad in nothing but his boots, helmet and toolbelt.
Shaking his head, Grug muttered, “Thank the ether for long beards.”
Overhead in the massive engineering room, a team of dwarves was cutting one of the arcane outflow pipes. The brilliant ruby of the cutting beam sparked and spat white and purple sparks as it burned through the diminished but still potent arcanized ether still in the tube. Outside, Smokey was waving at someone and shouting through cupped hands. Grug stepped out of the office and flinched as the reactor pulsed again. After the flash, he blinked rapidly and looked up. A thousand flashing colored points of light filled the upper half of the engine room. A string of bitter swear words in dwarvish caught his attention and he noticed that one of the pipe crews couldn’t see with the light in their eyes. As he watched, a goblin nimbly swarmed up a nearby ladder and made his way out the pipe. He handed the dwarven crew dark goggles, which they promptly donned and got back to cutting.
Smokey replied, “They’re getting more frequent. We’ve gotten a couple lucky flares, but if we don’t get this out soon…” He gestured at the other two reactors. The crystalline cores now glowed with a low, steady intensity. “Those things are primed as if we’d set the ignition sequence ourselves.”
“Yeah. I know.” Grug replied. “The captain is sending the ethermage down with some kind of experimental arcane nullifier.”
Shocked, Smokey glanced at him, “But elves can’t…”
Shrugging, Grug replied. “He says he’s got a plan.”
“Let’s hope so. Elves wouldn’t survive this for more than a few seconds.” The engineers mate eyed the reactor suspiciously and it throbbed with light. Both dwarves dove for cover behind a nearby console as it flashed again. A few seconds later, Smokey looked down at himself and started to swear. His body was wrapped in a translucent blue suit of armor.
“Are you ok?” Grug asked, helping the other man to his feet.
“I think so.” Smokey prodded himself experimentally. “I think it’s that stuff battle mages wear.” He looked up. “I’m fine. Let's check on the cutting crews.”
As the two engineers emerged from behind the console, three figures appeared from the direction of the main hatch. All wore heavily enchanted protective clothing. The figure in the front held a thin, razor sharp rapier. Grug noted that the blade was dripping with blue blood. The pixies were apparently still at large. The two elves following carried a large crate on poles between them. The group approached and set the crate down. One of the figures approached and leaned close.
“Master Gears!” The figure was shouting to be heard over the howling of damaged machinery and through the heavy leather hood, but it was unmistakably that of Dal’darion Starseeker. “We need an arcane supply!”
Grug nodded, and pointed at an outlet and yelled back. “There. It’s an emergency outlet!” He pointed at the console they had just emerged from behind. “Behind there! Cover helps!” The reactor again pulsed its actinic flash and a nearby bulkhead turned to a wall of coarse stone. Grug looked at it, then screamed, “Get that thing up!” He pointed at the other two reactors that now were steadily glowing. “We don’t have much time!”
Dal’darion nodded and turned to the elves with him. As he did, a nearby vent burst open and a surge of pixies burst out. The normally tiny shipboard pests were huge- the size of large dogs. Their eyes glowed madly and their sharp teeth gleamed. As one, the horde of pixies shrieked and charged for the cutting crew working nearby. The goblins looked up in shock, and prepared to flee.
The elven soldier leapt gracefully forward, his rapier flashing. The elf struck, stabbing one of the pixies and kicking another so hard that it flew into the glowing energy of the reactor where it vanished with a flash of light. His sword danced and flashed as he attacked the horde of pixies.
The cutting crew, seeing the elven warrior defending them, grimly resumed their work. Glancing up, Grug saw that the cut was nearly three quarters complete. The goblins had almost completed their task. Looking up, he saw the last of the arcane pipes fall free. The goggled and helmeted dwarven crewmen were left clinging tenaciously to what remained of the massive pipes high above the floor of the engine room.
The reactor flared again, this time causing thorn-like spikes to grow from every surface facing the reactor. The other reactors grew brighter and started to hum, adding to the chaos in the massive compartment.
“Ready!” Grug heard Dal’darion yell over the chaos.
“Do it!” Grug yelled. He turned and waved at Smokey, getting his attention. The other dwarf looked back and shot a thumbs up, then his face turned to horror. Grug turned his head in surprise as a pixie leapt at him from only feet away. Throwing up his hands to cover his face, Grug felt the impact as the pixie slammed into him. He could hear teeth scratching on his helmet and claws slashing at his thick work coverall. Suddenly, the pixie was lifted off of him. The hooded elven soldier had hauled it bodily off of him by the scruff of its neck and raised his rapier to strike. The pixie snarled, turned and ripped the man’s protective hood off, revealing the startled face of the young elven lord that Grug had encountered earlier.
The elf nobleman reacted instantly, hurling the pixie from him. It flew through the air to be met with the cruelly barbed blade of Corporal Grathok. The pixie fell to the deck, cloven in two. The orc reached down, pulled the shredded protective hood out of its claws and tossed it to the elf. The young elven lord looked at it, then tossed it aside. The two then took up positions next to the cutting team, alertly scanning the engine room.
Suddenly, a low, subliminal hum cut through the room, setting Grug’s teeth on edge; followed by a silence so loud it was deafening. He looked back at Dal’darion, who looked up and pointed at the reactor. There was another flash, and a wave of purple fire shot out in a spray around the reactor. As Grug watched the roiling purple flames grew fainter and fainter, then vanished. Looking back at Dal’darion, he saw the elf give a shaky thumbs up. Grug blew out a breath he wasn’t aware he'd been holding and nodded back.
From the other side of the reactor, Smokey screamed over the deafening silence, “Dropping in fifteen seconds! All hands secure for hull breach!” The dwarven crewmen trained in the emergency procedures rushed to nearby stanchions and snapped themselves in using hooks on their tool belts. Grathok and the young elven lord backed slowly away from the cut line in the floor, unsure of what to do.
Grugh rushed over to the two men and beckoned them to follow. Turning, he pointed at his office a dozen steps away. As he did, there was a tremendous CRACK as the last remaining piece of hull plate supporting the reactor snapped. The deafening silence suddenly broke and the roaring of machinery surged back, augmented now by a different roar...that of the ether below. The massive airship began to list and a blast of wind blew Grug off of his feet. He landed on his back and began to slide towards the reactor, which was falling out through the hull. As it fell, it pulsed again. Thick, leafy vines began to sprout from the deckplates and Grug desperately grabbed one, trying to arrest his slide. The vine slowed him for a split second then gave away, and he shot towards the hole in the deck.
As his boots flew out over the ether, a hand grabbed his wrist, arresting his fall. Looking up, he saw that Lord Elouet had a hold of him, his features a mask of grim concentration. Behind him, the orc corporal held tight to the elf’s boots. The stricken airship slowly began to right itself. Pulling his boots in from over the abyss, Grug clambered to his hands and knees and looked cautiously over the edge. The boiling and surging pinks and purples of the ether lay below. As he watched, the reactor, by now having already fallen several hundred yards flared again and again, then burst into bright blue light as it ignited into a full uncontrolled wild magic reaction. The hard blue spark faded from sight as it fell into the depths of the ether.
Exhausted, Grug collapsed and rolled over onto his back and laid an arm over his eyes for a moment. Hearing footsteps, he looked up at Lord Elouet. The young elf lord’s face was pale. He extended a hand wordlessly. Grug accepted it, and stood. He looked across the gaping hole in the deck at Smokey and the Cargomaster. Smokey was looking around, dazed. The Cargomaster only nodded once, gravely. Looking up, Grug saw that the other two reactors' crystal containment spheres were dark-no sign of the reactions that had moments ago been growing.
Slowly stepping over to the console that Dal’darion and the other ethermage were standing behind, he picked up a speaking tube and whistled into it.
“Bridge.” Lord D’Marte’s clear, commanding voice came from the speaking tube.
“Bridge, Engineering.” Grug paused, looking at the ruined engine room, with the scars of the dozens of magical effects and the massive hole in the hull. Taking a shaky breath and blowing it out, he said firmly, “Engine room secure.”
This story is a book in waiting. The visuals and dialogue are great, but I particularly enjoyed the nuances of the inter-species crew relationships.