XXII

He walked carefully towards the door that seemed like it would lead him further into the Dirigible’s depths, but as he tried the door he found it was locked. The piping led that way, so Adrian was fairly certain that was the direction he needed to go. If that way indeed led down to the boiler room, or whatever an airship’s equivalent was then it made sense to lock the door, the only issue was the fact that this was a suspended platform, meaning it was relatively easy to slip out past the railing and shimmy around the door.

Theoretically, that was…

Nothing for it Adrian wiped his hands on the white uniform and stepped over to the edge of the platform. Aside from the railing every five or so feet there was a set of wires that crossed like an x in the middle of the section of the walkway, likely there to help support the structure by keeping tension on the framed section, though these really didn't stop someone from getting through, they were simply structural. Careful to keep the heal of his boot locked in on the bottom rung of the railing Adrian swung his leg over, and twisted so as to get his other foot in place, from there it was easy to swing his first leg over and to stand on the railing hanging out over a drop he would rather not look at. “Here we go,” he said as he shimmied around the door.

He felt much better with his feet firmly planted on the ground, or scaffolding or whatever it was. Straightening up he carefully walked forward, doing his absolute best to look normal should anyone see him but also move as quietly as possible. This walkway hugged the canvas and metal sides of the airship, wrapping around and leading down with a staircase. Electric lights dotted the ceiling in an infrequent pattern, but there were more than enough for him to see. Ahead the quiet buzz of machinery, as well as the murmur of conversation, caused him to pause. Creeping up to the edge of the stairway he paused, eyes half closed as he listened to the conversation of what he guessed were two men.

“-nacceptable,” a commanding voice said. “This is the flagship, the head of the royal aerial division, I will not be the one to tell his lordship that his craft is running suboptimally, get this tub moving properly, or I shall make you regret it-”

Adrian stopped listening and closed his eyes, his heart rate, and breathing spiking. A low growl escaped his lips and before he even realized what he was doing he had reached into his pocket and pulled out his tin of reagents. With hands that only shook slightly, he licked his fingers and dipped them into powdered Halzin as well as some Yero, and brought them up to look at. One finger was coated in a yellowish green powder, the other in a bright white, a white that seemed to almost give off its own light. Careful not to smear the powders he switched the tin to his other hand and looked at it. Only three fingers remained, a testament to his refusal to break, they had removed those fingers slowly, an inch at a time, each time they had not gotten the answers the had wanted. Closing his eyes he dipped his index finger into the ichor vial, feeling the cool oily liquid stick to his skin, and then plunged it deep into the powder Calmine. The black oily liquid hungrily sucked up the white powder, mixing and turning it into a greyish paste. On his thumb he slipped a small metal band, it didn't make it past the first joint, sitting there black with copper etchings on it. Carefully he flipped the lid closed and replaced it in his pocket.

He knew that voice, knew it quite well actually, after all, Adrian had surrendered his command of the Fortress of Marumar to the man. Years ago, no, a lifetime ago, he had been put into command of the Fortress on the Helheim-Kurtz border, though his command had gone rather poorly. Despite rather heavy losses on both sides he had successfully held the keep. Then the orders had come down from on high, and he had surrendered the keep to the invaders. Brigadere general Alian von Harus had been the commanding officer that had accepted the surrender. He might even still have Adrian’s blade, he had after all taken it, only to smile as the men took Adrian and the rest of the unransomed away, proclaiming that he would hang it on his wall as a trophy…

The sounds of footsteps on the metal walkway told him the man was heading back this way, though from the sound of it he had a few other officers in tow, likely underlings that had tagged along to lend to the intimidation factor. Adrian closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, he was about to do something stupid, he knew that not only would it cause alarms should this group never report back in or should they go missing, more importantly, Harus was a mage. Imperial mages were different from the mages of Helheim, they practiced magic differently. Much like the empire of Kurtz itself, the mages relied on more quantity over quality. Instead of directly using the reagents to cast a spell a Kurtz mage would have a special tattoo embedded in his skin, each symbol tied to some piece of history and tradition, and each marking on their skin inked with a concoction that contained a reagent in it. When they touched certain signs against other signs they would cause the reactions, and be able to channel the spells. It meant that they could fire off spells faster, as they would not need to reapply the reagents, as they were tattooed on, it also meant they were always armed.

It was a good system with one glaring flaw.

With the reagent mixed and inked into the skin the contact between two reagents was small, added to the fact that the compound was changed to be formed into the ink and it resulted in the spells being significantly weaker than what a mage using the reagents directly could do. That being said, Harus was still an amazingly skilled mage, it was a lesson Adrian had learned all those years ago on that battlefield. He was a man with great reactionary skills, able to counter and dodge almost like he could read the attack before it came, and while his spells were weaker than Adrian's everyone was still more than enough to incapacitate or kill a man if hit in the right spot.

A duel between mages was a sort of dance, one would strike, the other would react if things went fairly that was, but in war, fair was not a good thing. Any chance you got to turn the tables, to gain the edge, it was key, the very key to life and death. It might not be honorable, but what good did honor do the dead?

As the sounds of the boots got nearer Adrian took one final breath and spun around the corner hands raised before him as though in surrender which couldn't have been farther from the truth. Alian von Harus stood not five feet away, a grim look on his face. He was exactly the way Adrian had remembered him, a man in his mid-thirties, his hair combed back in a way that displayed his prominent widows peak, his sideburns reaching down to follow his jawline and meet with a thick mustache that covered the upper lip, his green eyes blazed as they looked up at the sudden motion in front of him, a spark of recognition followed by one of shock. He was a tall regal man, well built and proportioned, still well in his prime, though a touch of grey near the temples gave him a more dignified look than when Adrian had last seen him. Behind him were four other officers, each in their uniforms of white and black. Harus, however, wore an imperial battlemage’s uniform, which consisted of a sleeveless overcoat of white outlined in gold markings denoting rank and status as well as the lineage of his mage line. His arms held a multitude of colors and designs, each one deeply carved into the flesh, creating ridges and markings in the skin that could no doubt be felt. It was the sign of an accomplished Kurtz mage, seeing as each time you used a spell it expended some of the reagents. It meant that the signs had to be continuously tattooed on, and over time with each layer of ink placed on the skin it would be carved gradually deeper.

Adrain stood there for only a heartbeat before raising his hand on the right side and touching the Halzin to the Yaro. He felt the reagents react to each other, and he felt the spell pulling mana from his body, a bright whitish blue flash appeared in his hand and he hurled it at the group, blue fire shot in a stream, the heat of it blistering his palm and singing the hairs on the back of his hand and forearm. It was always recommended to use gloves when handling flames, Adrian simply didn't have them at the time. As though in slow motion the flames stretched across the gap and he watched as Harus grabbed his right wrist with his left palm, a cold grey light springing up in front of the man as he bodily hurled himself backward. He might have reacted quickly but his subordinates around him neither had the reflexes nor the ability to shield themselves in such a way. Where the flames touched them they seemed to vanish, as the hellish fire consumed them. Unfortunately, it was not just the men that were hit by the flames, the pipes behind them, tied into the walkway ruptured as the gasses inside were superheated. The explosion through Adrian back, tossing him completely up the stairway and sending him skidding across the floor until he came to a rather painful stop against the door that had blocked his path, it twisted and buckled under the impact, but did not fully give. Hurting everywhere Adrian slowly stood up, blinking several times to clear his vision, it took a few moments to realize that the haziness was not a result of his landing, or rather not entirely the result of the landing, but rather due to the copious amounts of smoke that were filling the area. There was something else as well, a biting cold that seemed to wisk the smoke away almost as fast as it appeared. Using the railing to hold himself up Adrian took a few cautious steps forward, testing his weight on his legs.

He was almost instantly glad he had a hand on the railing as a secondary explosion rocked the airship, causing the giant contraption to shudder under the impact. He warred with himself, wondering if he should check and see if Harus had survived or if he should find his way off. He made up his mind as the canvas and metal wall next to him tore away, revealing the pale blue sky in a roar of the wind that seemed to scream at him in anger and defiance.

Harus could wait, it was time to find a way off of this ship.