The Fifth Magic (Book 1) by Brian Rathbone Page B

measure the pressure. It was a nearly sealed system. They were flying on a giant bomb. If it didn't explode, it would likely burst into flames. The mounts holding the boiler in place were surrounded by smoking black wood. An impeller drove a shaft with a leather belt running between it and another. If the belt broke, as belts were wont to do, it could take out the less-than-sturdy boiler mounts.
    "Isn't she a beauty?" Kenward asked.
    Strom was impressed Kenward had lived as long as he had with such a terrible mental illness. "Your brilliance is only surpassed by your sheer lack of concern for safety."
    "Thank you!" Kenward said with his irrepressible grin. "I knew you would see the beauty in her."
    In truth, Strom could think of nothing but getting off this flying disaster before it came unglued. "How long until we reach the Firstland?" he asked.
    "Not much longer," Kenward said, either blissfully unaware of Strom's misgivings or in complete disregard of them.
    Strom suspected the latter. "Perhaps we should land at the beach. Landing within the hold is risky."
    "Oh, but it's so much easier," Kenward said. "You'll be able to step right off the ship and into Windhold. That's how we do things here on the Serpent. No long journey's just to board and disembark, no, sir. We come to you and take you directly to where you are going. It's the way of the future, my friend. You just have to see my vision."
    Strom was having visions of his own, most of which involved fire and a twisted pile of burning flakewood. Osbourne thought even less of the ship and refused to even walk around the deck. He had remained glued to the deckhouse in spite of the heat, and Strom thought he might have splinters from gripping the planks so tightly.
    When the Firstland finally came into view, Strom found himself at a loss for words, despite having seen the Firstland before. No descriptions from fireside tales or books could convey the majesty of the place said to be the cradle of mankind. Osbourne even stood to get a better view, though he remained stuck to the deckhouse. Mountains reached for the sky and pierced the clouds, a natural harbor at their feet.
    Strom decided seeing the Eternal Guardians from above was the most awesome way to see them. The entire Valley of Victors was amazing in how real the carvings of men were. Catrin had always said how it had bothered her that there were no women depicted at all, as if they hadn't existed. Unpredictable surrounded the mountains, especially Windhold, which boggled the mind and the eye. The mountain had been carved out to leave only her bones, twisting sweeping shafts of hard rock shaped by forces long forgotten.
    The Arghast, who Strom knew he must now think of as Drakon and Dragon Clan, gathered near the largest opening into Windhold. Strom questioned the wisdom of their decision. Gusts blew the ship sideways without notice, and there was little Kenward or anyone else could do about it. Perhaps one could fly without Istra's power, Strom thought, but should one? The answer was clear when the Drakon fled.
    "We're coming in too fast," Osbourne shouted, but everyone else had already realized it.
    "Vent the steam!" Kenward shouted. "Lower the sails. Brace yourselves!"
    The Serpent struck Windhold a resounding blow. The mountain didn't budge, and thus the ship and her occupants absorbed the energy. Though the ship was still in one piece, Strom was fairly certain something important was damaged if not completely broken. Black smoke poured from the chimstack, and he just hoped the thing held together long enough for him to get off of it and never get back on again. He would swim wherever else he may need to go if that was what it took. No more flying with Kenward, he promised himself.
    The wind bags pressed against the hold by the prevailing wind held the ship in place. Though Strom would have liked to have been the first one off the ship, he couldn't leave without Osbourne. He turned back to the deckhouse, but to the