Brotherhood of the Strange (Kingship, Tales from the Aether Book 1) by Michael Richie, Grant Wilson Page B

hull, setting its bronze features aglow. Below, the Black Forest of Germany stretched out as far as the eye could see, its darkness made darker by the approaching twilight. A few rocky craters, some several miles in diameter, could be seen, mute evidence this area had contributed its share to the countless uplands that dotted the sky. The century and a half since the Great Calamity had not yet been enough time for nature to wholly reclaim the scars with the dense foliage of this mystical and ancient forest.
    The ship was descending towards the town of Oppenau. The once small town had become a hub for trade since the Great Calamity due to the large number of uplands that drifted within the area. It boasted a sizable, sprawling marketplace and several warehouses. Gothic steeples and Bavarian manors stretched towards the sky, greeting the descending Kingship. The architecture was old and beautiful, and it was one of the many places the crew looked forward to revisiting. Their trade circuit brought them here a couple times a year allowing them the opportunity to make several warm friends and valuable business contacts. It had been Winston who had first suggested coming here a few years ago. The family of his late wife Evelyn, “God rest her soul,” Wingnut said aloud as she mused upon the subject, had lived here for generations. As Evelyn and Winston never had children of their own, the old Scot rejoiced in doting on his numerous great nieces and nephews who swarmed him whenever they landed. He would do just about anything to make them laugh, even going so far as to wear his kilt over a pair of lederhosen while he played Germain folk songs on his bagpipes.
    The propellers came to a rest. Winston used the maneuvering steam thrusters to make adjustments while the vessel descended as the ship’s levitite crystals mounted on their iron screws pushed just close enough together to make the Kingship drift safely towards the earth below. A whistling sound came from the open hatch. Someone, probably the captain, was calling on one of the speaking tubes. With one last look at the sunset, and a nod to her husband’s memory, the Kingship’s engineer climbed back down into the vessel’s inner workings to answer. She pulled the speaking tube to her mouth, “Engine room,”
    The voice of Vance, tinny from traveling through the hundred plus feet of pipe from the bridge, spoke, “I’m sure you know, but we’re a few hundred feet from the ground, Winston wants to know if we’re set for landing.”
    She quickly double-checked all of her pressure gauges, sisters of which were to be found on the bridge itself. “Cap’n. Everything’s holdin’ steady. Will we be moorin’ or landin’?”
    “Landing. The tower is full of other vessels and the Von Fersches want us to land in their field by the market.”
    “Well that’ll sure be makin’ things easier. I’m divertin’ more steam to the landin’ struts in case they decide to stick.”
    “Thank you, Wingnut, bridge out.”
    Shaking her head, she placed the speaking tube back into its cradle. Why the captain could not use the perfectly good telephone was beyond her. He was a good man and a good captain but could be so bloody old-fashioned sometimes.
    With the right amounts of steam channeled to the necessary sections of the Kingship she then turned her attention to the rapidly growing list of parts and supplies the vessel needed. The encounter with the pirates had damaged a few systems when they made their impromptu plunge dropping over four thousand feet. As she had predicted, that caused the gears and screw system to jam up. It had only been with the aid of the prodigiously strong Afa that they were able to get things moving again and arrest the vessel’s descent before the ground did it for them. Surely that was why Vance sent him up to the engine room in the first place, despite the large man’s aversion to overly confined spaces. It seemed the captain always thought his plans