The Silver Sphinx

 

“ We know that most factions don't trust the other factions. But the Anarchists — they don't even trust each other.”

author of The Factol's Manifesto

 

 

Third Guild Day of Savorus , 126 HR

After the successful fight against the sky pirates, the crew of the storm barracuda was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Krixxi's report that the drive's main converter was damaged had, of course, caused concern at first. But Maxime Duval, the grippli captain of the Cloudsong, had immediately suggested to tow the barracuda, which was unable to maneuver, to the nearest trading post. Krystall had gratefully accepted this offer, as well as the grippli's invitation to visit his ship. 

 

The Cloudsong was a medium-sized airship belonging to the Sigil-based company Zilargo's Cargo, which was affiliated with the Planar Trade Consortium. They were able to move from ship to ship via a narrow suspension bridge that the giff cannoneer Cassius threw over to the barracuda. However, only Krystall, Rakalla, Krixxi and Figaro went aboard the Cloudsong. Zamaks had to remain in the darkened room of the keep because of the daylight, and Blackhoof forcefully refused to step onto the shaky suspension bridge, although Cassius assured him that it would not give way under a minotaur, when it carried a giff. On board, they were greeted by a young woman who introduced herself as first mate Ma Yun Sin. Like the captain, she wore a magnificent uniform, albeit purple instead of blue, and her elaborately decorated tricorn was adorned with a golden koi carp.

 

 

“Welcome to the Cloudsong,” she said in a friendly voice. Krystall guessed her to be little older than twenty-five, and she appeared quite competent and self-confident. “The captain would love to offer you a glass of Bytopian port wine. If you like, I'll show you around the ship until everything is ready.”

“I'd love that,” Krystall replied, and Krixxi clapped her hands enthusiastically.

Ma Yun pointed upwards at the large balloon that supported the hull. “As you can see, unlike your barracuda, the Cloudsong is supported by a tethered lifting balloon and steered by a combination of fan sails and airscrews. Sails on the balloon, as well as at the bow and on the sides below the hull, catch currents of air.”

Figaro adjusted his welding goggles with his mechanical leg and nodded gravely. “A very sophisticated system, I have to admit. But if I do the math right – just a quick calculation in my head – the hull would still be too heavy for a balloon of this volume. Assuming, of course, that it was made of the usual woods used in shipbuilding. May I ask what materials your ship was constructed from?”

The intelligence of the awakened rooster and his ability to perform complex calculations never ceased to amaze Krystall, and Ma Yun nodded, clearly impressed by Figaro's observation skills.

“You are absolutely right. The hull was built from the lightest possible materials: rattan, the self-floating pheroxyl, bamboo, balsa wood and the dried and water-repellent flesh of giant mushrooms. The balloon is made of light but very strong cloud silk.”

“Very clever,” Krixxi enthused, walking to the railing and leaning against it to get a better look at the sails. ”And how do you control it? I would imagine that with the size and arrangement of the sails, there could be too much propulsion at times.”

Rakalla shook her head and grinned. “You always know questions that wouldn't occur to me, even if I had all day to think about it.”

“Huh?” The goblin woman frowned. “That's the most obvious question!”

Krystall laughed. “Yeah, sure.”

“The question is indeed valid,” Ma Yun replied with a grin. “The sails can be folded like fans to reduce propulsion. To change course, they can be turned so that they are parallel or perpendicular to the hull axis. Next to the ship's wheel, there are levers for converging cables that can be used to unfold and move the stern, bow and hull sails. Two propellers can also be swiveled individually.”

Krixxi whistled enthusiastically. “Not bad! It's really super exciting, all of this!”

While the two mechanics were still looking at the propellers, Krystall noticed some colorful ribbons and chimes at the end of the rear platform. “What's back there?” she asked.

“That's a small altar for Akadi, the goddess of air,” Ma Yun explained. ”This small sanctuary is the responsibility of our navigator Polly, just like the steering of the ship. You are welcome to go over and see her.”

 

 

She led the four visitors to the helm of the Cloudsong. There stood an air genasi with light blue skin and long white hair. She appeared extremely graceful and light-footed, which was probably due to her elven ancestry combined with her elemental air heritage. At the nearby altar, ribbons and bells swayed colorfully and tinkling in every breeze, and in a gilded offering bowl lay bird feathers, silk scarves, and a few coins. Prayers were written on several pieces of thin cloth, which the wind was probably meant to carry to Akadi.

The navigator greeted the visitors warmly. “Ahoy, travelers of the skies. I'm glad we were able to help you against the sky pirates. Welcome aboard the Cloudsong.”

Behind her stood several spacious aviaries, from which the loud chirping of colorful songbirds emerged. Next to them three hawks were sitting on a perch.

“Are these birds some kind of messengers?” Krystall asked with interest.

Polly nodded. ”Yes, indeed. They can respond to a few verbal commands in Common. However, only I can communicate with these little friends here.”

She went to one of the aviaries, opened the door and let an orange-red finch hop onto her hand. Then she took a small bone flute from her belt and began to play a lively tune on it, until a kind of dialogue developed between her music and the twittering of the bird. Then the finch fluttered away.

“She will be back in a few hours,” the air genasi explained with a smile. “Then we'll talk again, in the same way as just now. Thus the birds convey to me insights about the path ahead. In my profession, we call this bird whispering.”

“I see,” Krystall replied, fascinated. ”And what kind of profession is that, if you don't mind me asking?”

“The Aeronauts Guild in Skyhome,” Polly replied gladly.

The leader of the Razor Angels nodded gratefully and noticed with a smirk that Figaro was deliberately keeping his distance from the aviaries. He apparently wanted to make it clear that he was no longer an ordinary bird.

Rakalla, meanwhile, had discovered several bugles and a gun-like iron pipe hanging from the central mast. “What are they for?” she asked curiously.

“The bugles are used for communication between airships in poor visibility conditions,” Ma Yun explained. ”The pipe serves the same purpose. It can fire colored dust, luminous sand and gold glitter. In a bright sky, this can be seen for miles and can be both, a call for help or a respectful greeting.”

The medusa nodded and examined the pipe with the interest of an alchemist.

But now the first mate pointed towards the cabin. “I think the captain is expecting us now. If you please?”

The navigator Polly waved goodbye to them and they followed Ma Yun Sin down the stairs from the bridge to a beautifully carved door leading to the captain's cabin. Maxime Duval and Cassius were waiting for them there. The cannoneer held a tray with five filled glasses and now offered the guests the announced port wine. The way the one-step-tall grippli in the magnificent uniform greeted them effusively, while the bulky giff served the port wine next to him, was a sight that made even the guests from Sigil smile. But since there were only five glasses on the tray, Krystall hesitated briefly, and Ma Yun noticed it immediately.

 

 

“Cassius and I are on duty,” she explained. “We are satisfied to keep our honored guests company.”

“Well,” captain Duval explained with a shrewd grin. “Strictly speaking, I'm also on duty. However, it would be rude not to toast with other aeronauts.”

“As captain, you can take the liberty,” Cassius said with amusement.

“Well, well. Lucky me,” the grippli replied with a laugh, then stretched to pass a glass to Krystall, while Cassius leaned down to give Krixxi a glass as well.

Rakalla took a glass for herself, while Ma Yun looked questioningly at Figaro. “Excuse me, we weren't sure whether you drink port wine or not. And whether a glass is the right form of presentation.”

The rooster nodded with dignity, apparently positively impressed that he hadn't been dismissed and ignored as Krixxi's familiar or even pet. An experience that – as Krystall knew – he often had and to which he reacted irritably. “Thank you very much,” he replied to the first mate and fluttered onto one of the chairs at the table in the cabin. “If you put the glass here on the table, I'll gladly take a sip.”

Ma Yun nodded and placed the port wine on the table in front of Figaro. Then Krystall, Krixxi and Rakalla clinked glasses with the captain, while Figaro sipped a few slugs from the glass in front of him.

“To aviation,“ the grippli toasted them.

“To aviation,” Krystall replied. “Although I have to admit that we're not really aeronauts. At least not by profession. We're from Sigil, but we're currently on a mission and have hired the barracuda for it.”

“Ahh, I see.” The captain nodded. “Hence the somewhat unconventional maneuvers during the fight.” At an inquiring look from Krixxi, he cleared his throat apologetically. “They were quite brave and skillful – just a little unorthodox.”

“I see.” The goblin woman nodded, apparently satisfied with this answer.

Captain Duval now looked at Krystall again. “So you're from Sigil too. Pleased to meet you, Captain Krystall. Of course, we travel a lot with our ship, but we also have our permanent residence, so to speak, in the City of Doors.”

The leader of the Razor Angels nodded. “You said that this is a ship of Zilargo's Cargo. Unfortunately, I must confess that I have not heard of it before.”

“It is a younger and still small, but up-and-coming trading company,” the grippli explained, obviously not without a certain pride. “Originally founded by a gnome from Eberron – hence the name. We mainly trade in Sigil and the Outlands, but we also travel to the Plane of Air, Bytopia, Arborea and Elysium.”

“Surely an exciting life aboard an airship,” Rakalla said. ”May I ask what you trade in?”

The captain nodded. “We are currently transporting shark leather and coral figurines from the City of Glass, tea from the realm of Izanagi and Izanami, spices, dried Jamju berries and mother-of-pearl fur combs from the Arthati Empire. Therefore, our next destination is the trading post Bexrey. I'm sure you'll be able to find the spare parts needed to repair the barracuda there.”

“I certainly hope so too,” Krystall replied. “And thank you again for giving us a tow there.”

“Of course,” Maxime Duval assured. ”We aeronauts have to support each other.”

 

After the port wine and the friendly exchange with Captain Duval and his crew, Krystall, Rakalla, Krixxi and Figaro had returned to the barracuda. Tied to the Cloudsong by several sturdy ropes, the flying fish was then towed without further incident across the skies of the Outlands. The airship from Zilargo's Cargo glided majestically through the clouds, with Captain Maxime Duval proudly standing at the helm next to Polly, while his first mate Ma Yun Sin gave precise instructions to the crew. Towards evening of the next day, the trading post Bexrey appeared below them – basically no more than a small cluster of warped buildings and flickering lights. The löocation didn't look particularly promising, but Captain Duval had assured them that it was a good place to buy mechanical spare parts. They would try their luck there – they didn't really have much of a choice. Various airships of different designs and origins were moored to rusty masts, and the Cloudsong docked to one of them. While the crew of the airship wanted to wait until the next day to do their business, Krystall decided to try to get the spare parts for the barracuda's main converter that very evening. This had the advantage that Zamakis could accompany them in the falling darkness. Krixxi and Figaro stayed on board to carry out the repairs that they could already do without the spare parts.

“Take care,” the goblin woman called to the others as she hung upside down in a maintenance hatch. ”I've heard that Bexrey isn't exactly known for its hospitality!”

Krystall nodded seriously and then led Zamakis, Rakalla and Blackhoof into the bustling streets – or rather, narrow, winding alleys, teeming with creatures from all corners of the planes. The air was thick with the smells of exotic spices, lubricants and stale ale. As they made their way through the chaotic bustle of the trading post, they spotted a dwarven merchant on a street corner loudly touting axes and war hammers. Next to him, a female tiefling was selling purple potions from a steaming cauldron. Outside a shabby smithy, a muscular earth genasi hammered at a suit of armor. Next, they passed a shop window with glowing crystal balls floating in the display. Krystall stopped short as they passed a square where a gnome street performer juggled fireballs while his familiar, a talking ferret, asked the spectators for coins. It seemed pointless to hope that they would find a shop selling the spare parts they needed at random. The trading post was chaotic, contorted and confusing. They didn't know their way around, so they had to ask for directions for better or worse. They could turn to someone on the square or inquire at the tavern that Krystall spotted diagonally behind the juggler. The building had crooked walls and a roof with a few visible holes. An old sign swung back and forth in the wind, making a squeaking sound. The Dancing Demon was scrawled on it in awry letters.

As Krystall approached the building, Zamakis gave her a skeptical look. “I don't think we'll find the spare parts we're looking for there.”

“I doubt it,” the leader of the Razor Angels conceded. “But if we have to ask for the way there, we might as well treat ourselves to something to drink. Maybe they even offer blood.”

“From the looks of that shebeen, quite possible,” Rakalla stated dryly.

Zamakis merely raised one of her perfect eyebrows and nodded slightly, indicating that she would follow the others. Inside, they were greeted by the smell of stale beer and the murmur of dozens of conversations in seemingly as many languages. The ceiling was supported by crooked wooden beams, from which dangled strange amulets and stuffed creatures. Behind the bar stood an insect-like, four-armed thri-kreen, who simultaneously poured drinks, polished glasses and accepted coins. Its chitinous shell glistened in the flickering light of the oil lamps. At one table sat a group of duergar playing cards, at another two tieflings clinking glasses with a hobgoblin. A kenku was leaning against the bar in a well-worn captain's coat, telling stories of his adventures in a rough voice. Next to him, an old tortle nodded in agreement as he pulled on a pipe. Krystall went to the bar while the others looked for a seat. Since there was no blood after all, she returned to the table with three tankards of beer. She was about to apologize to Zamakis for not being able to bring her anything to drink, but the vampire waved her off.

“Take a look over there,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the noise of the tavern. ”Do you see that woman? She's watching us.”

The leader of the Razor Angels waited for a moment, then let her gaze wander in the direction Zamakis had shown her. In a dark corner sat a fire genasi whose long hair seemed to glow in the dim light of the tavern. It changed color from deep red to orange towards the tips, and small sparks occasionally shot out of it. And Zamakis was right: the woman's piercing turquoise-green eyes stared at the newcomers with undisguised intensity. It was a look that promised trouble, so Krystall decided that offense was the best defense and stood up.

“Wait a minute,” Blackhoof snorted, alarmed. ”What are you doing now?”

Krystall took a deep breath. “Find out why we are being watched here.” Then she made her way through the noisy crowd of the tavern. With every step she felt the piercing eyes of the fire genasi resting on her. When she reached her table, she put on her friendliest smile. “Greetings, traveler. I am Krystall. May I ask why you are interested in us?”

The fire genasi studied her intently, her turquoise-green eyes glowing. She smiled slightly as she replied. "Síkhara. My name is Síkhara.” Her voice sounded smoky, like the crackling of a campfire on a cold night. The studded leather armor she wore and the scimitar at her side, as well as the long scar above her right eye, enhanced the martial impression she made. She gestured invitingly at the empty chair across from her.

Krystall took a seat, while the rest of her group waited quietly but alertly at the other table.

“I'm a blood hunter,” Síkhara explained. “And I'm tracking a dangerous individual that's been wreaking havoc in the Outlands - a minotaur.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively and looked over at Blackhoof.

Krystall felt the air vibrate with tension and almost unconsciously, her hand moved towards her rapier.

The fire genasi noticed it immediately and smiled. “But don't worry, your friend is not the one I'm looking for. Of course I was attentive because he's a minotaur. But the description doesn't fit. His fur is too dark and he's a bit too small, I suppose.”

Although Krystall felt a distinct sense of relief at these words, she raised her eyebrows. “Too small?” Blackhoof was a good two and a half steps tall.

Síkhara smiled and was about to answer when the tavern's door swung open with a creak. Another minotaur entered the room ... He was indeed a bit taller than Blackhoof, his fur gray and disheveled, and his face disfigured by numerous scars. A piece of his left horn was broken off.

Síkhara's eyes widened. With a single, fluid movement, she was on her feet, her gaze fixed on the newcomer, and suddenly her hair flared up brighter, as if someone had poured oil into a fire. “That's him!” she hissed.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment. All eyes were on Síkhara and the newly arrived minotaur.

Krystall's hand moved to the hilt of her rapier once more. She recognized him, too. “By Milani,” she whispered. “It's Thunderhorn!”

He was a member of another cell – a cell that pursued the Anarchists' goals more aggressively and uncompromisingly than the Razor Angels. A cell they had crossed paths with in Sigil, which had led to an unpleasant confrontation. And to the death of a Razor Angel at the hands of Thunderhorn ... Síkhara slammed her mug down on the table, drew her scimitar, and stormed towards the gray minotaur. However, he recognized her intentions, pushed over a table, and fled through the back door of the tavern. Without saying another word, the blood hunter pursued him, and Krystall ran after her. Her confused companions didn't understand what was going on, but didn't hesitate to follow the two women into the streets of Bexrey. The chase led them through a labyrinth of narrow streets and crooked buildings. Thunderhorn ran with the strength and speed of the minotaurs and threatened to break away from them, but Blackhoof was still able to keep up. Rakalla reached for her glasses while running, apparently intending to take them off and use her medusa gaze, but then apparently decided against it, because she pushed the glasses back again. She probably didn't want to risk being mistaken for a greater danger than the fleeing minotaur in this rather lawless outpost. Instead, she pulled a vial out of one of her belt pouches. With a practiced throw, she smashed the flask at Thunderhorn's hooves, turning the ground into a slippery surface. The minotaur stumbled but caught himself at the last moment.

“Damn it!” Rakalla cursed. ”He's more dextrous than he looks!”

Thunderhorn tore down a wooden scaffold on one of the houses as he ran past to block his pursuers' path. Fortunately, Blackhoof was on hand to quickly move the boards and beams out of the way. But the trick had still given the other minotaur a significant lead. Zamakis, in the shadow of the houses, now murmured an arcane incantation. Suddenly, Thunderhorn's shadow multiplied and fanned out eerily, each one pointing in a different direction. The fleeing minotaur hesitated briefly, visibly confused by the illusion. This moment of inattention was all Síkhara needed. With cat-like agility, she leaped forward, a chain whirling in her hands. The weapon, apparently enveloped in a fire spell, wrapped itself around Thunderhorn's legs. Krystall seized the moment and hurled a metal bucket lying on the side of the road between the minotaur's hooves. That was enough to bring Thunderhorn down. The minotaur crashed heavily to the ground and was visibly dazed from the impact. This gave Blackhoof time to get right up to him and push him to the ground. Shortly thereafter, Zamakis emerged from the shadows and cast a sleeping spell that finally ended Thunderhorn's escape. Panting and breathing heavily, the pursuers stood around the overwhelmed minotaur.

“Thank you,” said Síkhara. Her fiery hair pulsated to the rhythm of her breathing. “Without your help, I would never have caught him.”

“Oh, you're welcome,” Rakalla replied, casting a questioning glance at Krystall. ”And why exactly did we help hunt this guy?”

“I also had a score to settle with him,” the leader of the Razor Angels explained. “An old score from the Cage ...”

“Well, good for you,” the medusa replied, apparently a little annoyed. ”A little warning would be nice next time if you want us to help you with any unsettled scores.”

Síkhara raised an eyebrow when she noticed the differences in the group. “I'm sorry, I didn't want any complications here ...”

“Shh,” Zamakis interrupted her, and her gaze suddenly fixed on a point beyond the group. “I hear something.”

The others fell silent and the vampire moved slowly towards a dark corner between two dilapidated buildings. There, half hidden behind garbage and old junk, two legs stuck out. Krystall frowned. Was this a lifeless body? As she stepped closer, she realized that it was indeed the corpse of a dwarf lying there. Zamakis knelt down next to the dead man, her eyes unfocused, as if she were looking into another world. Then she leaned forward and a shiver spread across Krystall's arms as the corpse suddenly moved its lips and seemed to whisper something to the vampire. She quickly glanced sideways at Síkhara, who was now also witnessing the incident. The blood hunter appeared quite confused, but watched the scene calmly and intently.

After a few tense moments, Zamakis straightened up again. “He spoke to me,” she explained matter-of-factly.

The leader of the Razor Angels nodded gently. The vampire's gift. Sometimes the dead spoke to her to reveal secrets and convey messages. “What did he say?” she asked seriously.

“He whispered of a floating island. A place hidden in the mists here in the Outlands, where we ...“ Zamakis looked at Síkhara briefly. “... where we should continue our search.”

“I don't know of any flying island in the mists,” Blackhoof snorted helplessly.

“Likewise,” Rakalla sighed. “Very specific information ...”

Síkhara, who had listened skeptically so far, raised an eyebrow in surprise. “A floating island hidden in the mists? It could be the Haze Cliff. I know this place. You helped me capture Thunderhorn. If you want to find this island, I can guide you. I know the region better than most.”

Krystall looked at the others, who signaled their approval after a brief consideration. “We accept your offer, Síkhara,” the leader of the Razor Angels said, smiling.

“It's a deal.” The fire genasi nodded. ”I still have to hand over Thunderhorn to my client, but there's a portal nearby. After that, I'll show you the way to the Haze Cliff.”