Dragon S Layers Ch 58

Dragon (S)Layers

Volume 6: The Last Embers

1

Iron Oak

"A capstone is only as beautiful as the foundation it's placed upon, making it fitting that the foundation of the Free States is forged in gold by technological progress and innovation. It's a shame the capstone is cast in the tin of plutocracy and indentured servitude."

Engineer Laverna Webber

Ft. Almoor, Estan Free States

~Sarah~

The chalk was heavy between Sarah's fingers, clutched tenuously between her shaking digits as she tried to check her work for the seventh time. The formula- thrust over weight. Simple, very simple, but she'd made assumptions- she'd assumed the vectors that were created were exponential. She'd approximated the weight of the ship, and she'd only been able to roughly figure the stresses involved of scaling everything up. . .

She looked down at her old notebook; breaking strength, rotary force, torsion; torque. It was all there. She looked up, the figures were scaled up for the larger boat but it

looked

right. It-

It looked right.

Tentatively she touched the space between the ribs that served as her chalkboard, tracing a finger along the formula like it was some sacred rite. Her mind had conjured this, devised it- with it they could raise a sloop to the skies, a waterborne vessel could ride among the gulls that once perched on its deck.

This was her magic. This was Sarah's arcanum. No one could take that from her, no one had ever managed it. . . .then why didn't she

feel

like she accomplished something? She pushed her glasses up and massaged her eyes, muttering in the darkness of the brigantine's hold. No sooner did she block her gaze from the world than an image burst into her mind's eye of a half league strip of smoldering wreckage; timbers and broken Sunless Steel casements, smashed together on cold rocks beyond the End of the World.

A man was among the wreckage- he was always there, but his daughter wasn't. Her magic was a lie, her accomplishment was suicide by another name. Of all the lies she told- even those she told herself- it was the one that would always find her; her 'magic' was a promise only a fool would believe. . .

Dress shoes tapped against the white oak flooring beside her, Sarah glanced over tiredly to find her Cherub staring at the equation with pupilless eyes. The alabaster creature was short but dominating with her divine link to the Great Engineer, every angle of her features sculpted to appear human yet functional. Neither attractive nor ugly, swathed in a three piece suit of charcoal grey that reminded Sarah once more that her 'chosen' religion was as much a business as it was a spiritual endeavor.

Upon seeing her work, the Cherub looked back over the other supporting work. Her thin lips pouted slightly before she finally deigned Sarah worthy of her attention. "It's correct," she said coolly. Matter of fact. With no regard, maybe no concept of the weight Sarah held in the tip of her chalk. "You did it. . ."

Sarah looked at it once more, muttering. "Then why does it feel so wrong?"

"Fear," the Cherub said as it strode over and plucked the chalk from Sarah's fingers. "You don't want it to happen to your husband again."

Sarah snorted. "I doubt h-" she tried to push against the divine block that kept her from speaking of it. Clerics weren't allowed to talk about the circumstances leading to their deaths and Sarah was no exception. She settled on a vague reply instead: "I doubt there's going to be a repeat performance."

The Cherub sketched out an outline of the brigantine, denoting the best place for the reactors down the ship's central axis; one fore and one aft. Through the center would go the turbine and the ducting off the sides. Simple. Efficient. Just like the sloop. . . .just like the

Lostariel Pamor

.

Sarah hugged her arms over her generous chest, suddenly wishing that half-elves didn't have such acute night vision. She could do without imagining what kind of twisted shit this creature

thought

was an appropriate response to scaling up her design and how it should work.

The Cherub, Haras, finished the sketch and deposited the chalk on the make shift couch. They stared at one another in silence while the sound of night insects filtered up through the hole in the bottom of the ship's hull. With it also came the crackling of the camp fire Caldion and the others had set up. There was no chatting, though, no trill of elf, human or kobold to be heard.

No one to interrupt Haras from giving whatever half-assed lecture she thought Sarah 'needed' to hear to bring her back to serving her god properly. They both knew it was coming and Sarah was too tired to argue tonight. Her soul still hurt and nothing in her had the strength to fight so much as a bag of tea leaves, much less a divine agent. And so she slumped forward on her stool and took her head in her hands, fingers massaging through her coppery rat's nest as she waited.

And waited.

When no admonishment came she looked up to see Haras watching her with that otherworldly distance that always followed her. Instead of bitching about her efforts, the creature looked to the math again. "You did nothing wrong the first time, we'll make corrections as we need to, but this. . ." She motioned to the figures. "This is what you were

meant

for."

Sarah laughed a bitter, sardonic cough. She hadn't been eating right again and the damned cough stuck with her. Maybe it was the stress and sleeplessness. "Has it ever occurred to you that I'm

not

one of you?"

"Only every time you open your mouth."

"Then why is it you feel the need to assume I desire a box in which I'll place myself, hm?" They shared a look and for just one fraction of in instant it looked like Haras might have made a joke about her long history with slipping herself into boxes other than her own. But then it passed and the creature turned on its heel.

"The paladin is still awake, get some food and rest. Tomorrow you can decide how to fabricate the parts."

Sarah groaned quietly. She'd have rather heard the joke than be around one.

That wasn't entirely fair, but neither was life; Caldion had ensured they had food to eat, even when he was being difficult there was no denying the boy knew his business backwards and forwards. Sarah sighed and hauled herself up with all the aches and pains due someone who'd spent their day hunched over. Vaguely it occurred to her that she hadn't actually gotten up in a couple hours, so much for keeping promises to herself.

"Nnghhh. . ." she sighed as she braced her hands against her lower back and arched. Not for the first time wishing she'd had the presence of mind to ask for permanent fitness as part of her god-pact. Standing tall was one thing, but the decades of comfortable living she'd enjoyed in Sorash had left her on the voluptuous side- gentle rolling hips and thick thighs were things she'd always enjoyed in women but there was a price to be paid for it!

At that moment her stomach reminded her she wasn't going to lose that extra weight any time soon; the hardy scent of burbling stew wafted up to tease her, to remind her once more of everything she'd forgotten to look after in her work.

Rather than climbing up through the ship, Sarah clambered out of the hole in its hull and snuck under the vessel. The four horse team they'd been using to pull the wagon ship were packed together beside it- Caldion had taken the time to brush them and get them fresh water and for a moment Sarah almost thought they looked rather content. Not comfortable, but content. They were all driving through a difficult situation and the animals had it no easier; carting a heavy ship with poor steering over rocky terrain couldn't have been good for them.

Sarah reached up to touch the muzzle of the nearest one, to apologize- but then it evacuated itself on the grass and all of her sympathy hit the ground with a soft 'thump'. Turning her attention away she righted herself and strode around the rear of the ship where camp had been made.

It was a simple affair as it so often was: a trio of lean-tos made out of local sticks and packed with foliage to protect against the wind and rain, beneath each one lay a bedroll and whatever could be scraped together for bedding. The way they'd arranged themselves around the camp fire formed a surprisingly elegant triangle that ensured the person sitting on the folding chair just outside of the camp's radius had everything within their purview, including the thin wires strung between the trees beyond them that acted as the early warning system. It was efficient but it still felt cozy.

Caldion had apparently stepped out to walk the perimeter before Sarah came out, giving her precious time to pick through the remains of dinner without having to answer for it. She went digging through the stew pot with the ladle, looking for choice cuts of meat with an eye towards the surroundings.

She'd never admit it, but simple elegance always felt

right

and somewhere in the last couple of weeks the entire group had settled into that routine so smoothly without her that Sarah almost felt ashamed even as she was quietly awed by it. Tessarie and Keiter had gone to sleep long before the moon had started cresting its apex which probably meant Tessarie was next up for guard duty.

Sarah allowed herself a tired smile. She might actually get some rest tonight. Miracles never cease. She couldn't even find it in her to be upset when her scrounging went unrewarded. Vegetable stew? Honestly, were they that hard up?

Keiter rolled over listlessly in his bedding, huddling around the backpack that was nearly as large as he was, probably full of warm rocks from the fire. Despite having a direct link to his goddess, the kobold still took comfort in the warmth of something near him.

Before the Salter family massacre it would've been Sarah he was wrapped around, before she'd ran away the first time and put that

damned

distance between them. . . .if it meant he felt safe, though, that was what mattered. Wasn't it?

They'd be safer soon. She'd make sure of it.

Yes, soon. They just needed to get far enough ahead of Sorah's military and their bounty hunters. Then she'd make it up to Keiter- him and Tessarie both.

Sarah ladled out a bowl of vegetable stew for herself and stole the empty seat along with a roll from the bag of sundries someone'd left near the utensils. Technically they'd agreed to ration them out, but Sarah was probably due a little celebration, wasn't she?

Just as she sat down Caldion appeared from the opposite side of the camp with a bundle under his arm and a frown creasing his lips. He'd been shaving again. Sarah scoffed.

"We've water for you to shave but not to wash my hair? I dare say there's a discrepancy here!"

The young man ignored her for the moment and dumped the kit in his bag beside one of the lean-tos. He looked about ready to kick her out of the chair but whether by virtue of the rarity of her appearance or some sense of fair play, instead he settled onto the bedroll. His brown eyes were stormy and uneasy, the wariness and skepticism of the past few days rolled out behind them in invisible waves. "We're running out of water."

"All the more reason-"

"I used my water ration," he waved it off. "I check last night, though, we're down to two kegs."

"T- two? Surely not!" Sarah looked down at her stew, suddenly aware of every drop in the bowl. "Good gods, man we had six last week!"

"That happens with horses," he said simply. "They can't ration water-"

"Surely we-"

The young paladin held up his hands. "They'll

die

, Sarah. We're pushing them hard as it is."

He was right, even if it killed Sarah to concede the point. So she didn't. She filled her mouth with another spoon full of stew and bit into her roll- in full view of him just for spite. Dammit all, they'd come too far to be dealing with this crap, too.

"We've been talking about trying to get the Veil, we could get to Pastow before the water runs out. We'll stay ahead-" he paused, seeming to consider his choice of words. "We get ahead of the trackers, we could probably make it there in good time. . ." As an afterthought he glances to the boat. "It'd be easier without this thing."

Sarah understood where he was going with this but he didn't know what she did- none of them did. "I agree, it

would

be easier without the boat, but I assure you by the time we leave tomorrow I think you'll find keeping it might be far more beneficial to us long term!"

The young man gave her a flat look. "Planning on making a lake between here and the Veil? My father did something like that on the estate's grounds. He had the benefit of fifty workers and six months, though."

"Normally I'd find your lack of imagination amusing, but I don't think you fully appreciate what I'm telling you. If this works, if I can get us off the ground, we'll never

have

to worry about staying ahead of a dragon's agent

or

bounty hunters." Sarah pushed her glasses up for emphasis, just to drive home the point; smart people had glasses. He needed to have a little faith in her.

He knew better, but she still tried.

As if it explained everything, he motioned to Tessarie's sleeping form. "She's a member of a prominent family, she can get us into elven lands and we can figure out what to do next. . . .what you're talking about is suicide."

"I know it

looks

bad, but I wasn't chosen to be an Engineer because I'm good with my hands. I

built

this once before. I can do it again." The words felt like acid in her mouth as the flash of wreckage burst into her mind. Still she pushed, she wasn't going to be out done by some dream hopping paladin. "You serve the god of dreams, shouldn't you be promoting mine?"

Caldion let her finish as he so often did, seemingly unsure of what to say or how. In the weeks it'd taken for him to really come out of his shell around her, he never failed to drop right back into it when he felt uneasy about something. Now was no different. That was

probably

a bad sign but Sarah was too tired to care. "Would you?" He glanced over to indicate the others before turning back up to her.

"If the plan was sound, I surely would!"

"Then you'll have to explain it in more detail to them, because right now my vote is for The Veil. I'd sooner ditch this dead weight and start moving. We don't know

when

or even

who

is chasing us." They fell into an uncomfortable silence for several moments before Caldion rallied and went rifling through his bag, pulling out a pair of sandals that looked like they'd been made out of tree bark and laced with vines. Without comment he meandered over to her and set them down. "Here, I saw you tear up your feet last time we made camp. . ."

Her breath hitched. Just that little bit. This young man, this

paladin

that'd wanted her put in jail for appearing to serve a dragon now wanted to protect her feet? She looked up at him with a faint swell of warmth and quiet respect overwhelming her usually bristling defenses. She looked down at her boots and then to him, uncertain for the first time in a while what she'd say.

But he seemed to take it differently. Maybe something in her manner or the way he'd been raised; he crouched down and went through the process of removing her boots, gently placing the sandals on with the kind of care usually reserved for arranging delicate flowers. His large hand slid down her foot, stroking the top once he had the thong in place to ensure it fit just so-

He looked up at her and briefly she wondered what he'd do if she draped her leg over his shoulder- she knew better. She

damn well

knew better, but some part of her still wanted to hope. To feel connected to someone and to feel maybe she hadn't somehow abandoned those little parts of her that wanted moments like this.

They shared that moment, together and wordlessly stewing in the power of what they both knew

shouldn't

have gone further. Maybe he wanted it too, she definitely did; forbidden fruit was always the sweetest. . . .but just like that the tall man with the broad shoulders and penchant for getting under her skin drew back.

Sarah placed her foot beside his, looking up. "I dare say, young man, you're getting brave."

He glanced away.

"Bravery is an virtue to some, hm?"

He swallowed as she arched her back the tiniest bit to accent the swell of her breasts.

"It's a quiet night, why don't we-"

"Sarah," he said calmly. "I need some rest."

"Merely trying to help! I dare say we've both earned a good bit of relaxation considering all we've been through. . . .after all, comfort isn't a sin but a state of being." She prodded the air with her spoon. "We should be celebrating, no less!"

Caldion looked down at her through lidded eyes, a flicker of desire and hope sparked there- but even as he balled his hands into fists she knew she'd lost him. "I get the feeling that'd be a terrible idea."

"Oh what the hell?"

She was only going to live once. She leaned forward a bit, looking up at him with her lips pouted just so- treading that line between sultry and supplicant. "The world's full of terrible ideas, young man- I dare say, nations are founded upon them as are their declines."

"

Declines

are what I'm afraid of." He retreated back to his shelter, claiming what little space he seemed to think actually belonged to him.

Sarah scoffed, "It's perfectly natural for young men your age to be more interested in seeing things rise and harden against the ebb and flow of the wold." She wagged her spoon at him teasingly. "Things soften in time, but the

journey

to getting that way can be full of ups and downs- a great many of both, in fact."

Caldion stared at her as though she'd lost her mind, eventually settling in and kicking his feet out on his roll. "You going to be all right to take second shift?"

Right over his head, Sarah mused. She knew better than to expect as much from a paladin, why had she bothered? "I was rather hoping to get some rest, actually. It's been a frightfully long day and-"

"It's also been a week since you pulled a single shift." He said tonelessly. "You can't sleep all day, these two can barely function by the time we're on the road. . ."

He was right about that part at least; she

couldn't

sleep all day, and yet she couldn't exactly get upset at him either for pointing out that she needed to help too. So she didn't. She downed her meal and got on with things. "I think I've finished it. . ."

Caldion opened one eye, looking at her like she was mad.

"The math is there. The concepts. I recreated it. . ."

"Good night, Sarah." He rolled over.

Of bloody course she couldn't have this conversation with him! What was she thinking? The isolated lump under a twig shelter wasn't going to be impressed with boring numbers and formulas or talk of metals. He'd need to see it in action before he cared.

Typical paladin thinking.

Painfully, she rose and paced a circuit around the camp site once to get the lay of the land and relieve herself. The insects sang their quiet thrum, celebrating the breakthroughs she'd rediscovered- even if no one else understood, if no one cared, she did. She knew.

There was something to be proud of here, even if it only happened once even the

gods

agreed that her work was sound. Sarah looked to the brigantine, mentally tracing the generous swell of its hull, the beautiful contours by which the ship could have cut through the water effortlessly; they were perfect for hauling cargo, but for Sarah they'd cradle a machine the likes of which the world had never seen. . . .or make one of its most beautiful fireballs.