Sailing Ether Tides

Sailing Ether Tides

Ch: 19 A Name On The Wind

“Think we can get the whole family together for the boys’ birthday? Fifteen is the big one.” Gary Ward sighed softly, lost in his wife’s embrace.

“Aye, fifteen years since I lost thee, as well… if only fer a time.” She sighed and rocked her biggest baby, ruffling his eternally messy hair with her hands. “Though I tell thee nearly e’ry day, lad… ‘tis fine tae hae thee betwixt me bosoms. I far too long feared that ye would never motorboat me tits again.”

They were interrupted before things could get interesting, this time, not by one of the many friends, relations or children that seemed to always be coming and going from the house, wherever it landed.

Today it was a tiny white bird, a cute chubby clay sparrow that whistled a gay tune as it fluttered down onto Gary’s outflung big toe; the only part of him not embroiled in tangle bedding or deep, snowy boobies.

Zelda’s Ocarina of Echoes, rare magical construct, enchanted flute class musical instrument, golem, phylactery. Rank, unranked. One of six existing examples. This instrument is bound to Becky Ward.

He extracted himself from the promised land with a sigh and a little sulking, until his little birdie sang its sweet song into the room.

Together, they dashed, barely clothed into the garden, over to the private baths; where the wildfire plum grew, against the rocky outcropping from which their magical hotspring baths gushed.

On the sunny side of that stony incongruity, she stood in a wide, open stone archway leading into the house, directly into the common room fireplace, where her sparks and occasional fury outbursts wouldn’t ignite anything.

Her fiery canopy filled the family hearth, bringing warmth, light and sweet springtime scents into the home and had for some time now. She’d supplanted the magical, semi-real Mana fire that once burned there when her first flaming, blazing leaves had sparked to life.

The tree still stood, outrageously magical and wildly beautiful, but now she lacked the vibrant, living essence and sense of sentient attention she’d once held.

“It’s strange… Her being… just a tree now.” He murmured softly. “Dannyl better have pictures!”

The young couple separated for a few minutes, unable to use their magical flutes within range of each other, lest both birds fly to the same recipient.

#

Gary’s little clay bird landed on Liam’s shoulder and whispered very softly, for a few seconds; before flying back home at his reply. “I’ll ask the boys, but I suspect we’ll still stay out ‘til tomorrow afternoon, at least…” He turned to the triplets and Harry, over in the corner of their camp, eating… as always.

“Congratulations, boys. You have a new cousin! The wildflower plum just blossomed.” The count called cheerfully. We can return home if you wish, but She was… Born? Whatever, she’s with Ward and Amy on Centre Port island for now.”

The triplets and their younger brother held a quick, wordless conversation in glances and subtle gestures. “Let’s finish our hunt and head home tomorrow.” Harry announced, finally. “Mom said we’re running low on meat.”

“Trouble at home?” Issac, second in command of his Red Ascots and the captain’s husband, asked quietly, when his count sent the little white bird flying away.

“The opposite… there’s been a… birth in the family… or something… you know how the Wards are… uncanny at the best of times.” The count sighed in utter exhaustion at the very thought of his odd friend and his family of weirdos.

Isaac shared a flat, disbelieving glance with his technically identical twin brother, Saul.

They were currently sheltering under the enormous, spreading canopy of the count’s terrifying snapdragon vine familiar. Audrey reached down and nuzzled her master fondly, with a sharp toothed, long fanged flower maw large enough to swallow him whole.

“Yes, my lord, they are very strange, not like my lord, who has never sparked a panic among the market traders, by riding a flower dragon up to the town gate…” His loyal retainer answered drily.

“Gods… it was one time… You try and rein in three tons of excited, frolicking vegetation around a full festival privy.” The count grumbled at his grinning warrior.

“At least I was able to dismount in a dignified manner, before she dug her roots in.”

“Yes, my lord, very dignified indeed. Rolling in the dust of the common market on festival day, mere yards from the privies really shows your common touch.” Saul chimed in, enjoying this game immensely.

“Tell us more embarrassing stories about uncle Liam, please…” Harry asked, sounding more four years old than fourteen; wheedling and pitiful… The wretched urchin.

#

Jaspreet and Abed Mubarak, duke and duchess of Shiraz received a fluttering sweetly musical message at their luncheon; it landed on their terrace and pretended to peck at crumbs on Jaspreet’s plate, while the young nobles began formulating excited plans. She would wait patiently for a reply, pretending to be a common bird, before finally winging her way home.

“Of course we must bring the children…” She murmured happily, lost in her plans and schemes.

#

Meanwhile; to the northeast, across the Shallow Sea; the duke and duchess of Port Clement were already packing their baggage for an excursion into the half wild hinterlands to the northeast, where count Liam was slowly and steadily rebuilding his family’s ancient domain.

“What does one wear to a function like this?” Duchess Grace Rummel asked her young, handsome husband. Her confident, mature beauty and his devoted, often inappropriate solicitude of her least desire, marked them out as eccentrics, like most ducal households in the region.

The very much younger duchess Grace Sheng, the newly married daughter of a minor noble and the suddenly widowed duchess, had found herself in surprisingly deep waters; murky depths populated by sharp toothed noble predators.

Grace, a girl of eighteen who had fallen face first into ruling a wide, troubled and complex duchy with no preparation or training for the task… Had forged a minor legend of herself in the process of making herself among the most prosperous, respected and feared rulers in the north of the Shallow Sea.

By dint of arms, wielded by her loyal warbands and her own native cunning, Grace Sheng had kept the mantle of duchess for herself, in the uproar following her new husband’s sudden death on a monster interdiction.

With scrupulous attention to detail and a keen mind bent on rooting out corruption, she had become the most beloved ruler in the region… Among the commons and plebeians of Port Sunderland and her far flung cities, towns and villages along the seashore and in the mountain valleys.

Her warbands were welcomed with open arms wherever they rode across her lands; just as her navy swept up and down the coast, watching for threats… Whether human, natural, or monstrous.

Beyond her borders, her legend continued to grow, by fostering innovative new arts and workings of craft, as well as vast new public works, expanding the anemic road system in her realm, bringing trade, security and prosperity to her holdings and beyond.

Two years after the Madman’s moon had erupted into the sky above the realm, and almost without warning, she’d surrendered her title to her own prosperous, influential duchy; to marry a minor duke fifteen years her junior, just across the Shallow Sea. Naturally, this sent her domain into near chaos; quelled only by her common people’s absolute confidence in her chosen successor.

#

The nobles of Port Sunderland found themselves less than pleased by the elevation of lady Emma Fernlowe to the ducal seat, despite her lineage and impeccable carriage… Her distasteful hobby left the nobility of the duchy irritable and fractious to this day. Even less palatable to the noble cohort, was sir Francis Pangbourne; a former petty baronet of little renown from the distant north, and husband to the new duchess.

The new duchess was a beloved, close cousin to the aged dowager duchess; who, with a little fancy paperwork, and a quick, but very legal adoption in the midst of a sudden whirlwind state wedding…

Emma suddenly found herself seated much higher than she had ever anticipated…

She was also a very successful and highly regarded expert in the field of small unit monster interdiction, landing in the top three or four every year in the fantasy Adventure League rankings.

She held that place on her own merit, and the strength of her carefully trained and equipped warbands; vying with established mercenary houses like Grandstaff, Pickering and Leinsdorf, even before taking control of the near legendary ducal warbands of Grace Sheng and Port Sunderland.

Her own small household had been outperforming the major names, rising quickly under her guidance to rival the legendary houses of Belen, Mubarak, and even Sheng. That confidence, grit and courage permeated her every act, word and gesture, giving the impression of an unstoppable force of nature, once she had set her course.

“Frank… We’re going out of town for midsummer’s feast. Liam’s throwing a party for those three hellions’ fifteenth…” She smiled as he let out a long suffering sigh. “...and the sweet one finally emerged, as well.” She added in, once he’d finished being dramatic.

The young duke did not enjoy the prospect of guesting with the madman’s widow, any more than he was looking forward to seeing the dead man again, and made that clear with a fine tantrum:

“Burn me with hot irons, rather than journey to the arse end of creation to suffer a madman’s company…”

His sister, lady Paisley Pangbourne scoffed from her seat on the terrace and chided him for his antics. “Frank, if this mysterious madman is so vexing, we will simply take rooms in the town. The message mentioned an inn.”

“The Inn will be half the problem…” He grumbled, arguing with himself, angrily. “...But to meet a new born dryad, the wildfire plum? Really?”

He glanced over to the little potted tree planted in the hearth of their private parlor, warming the room wonderfully, no matter the season. He smiled with genuine excitement at the tiny tree. “It will be worth the aggravation, I think.”

Emma was stroking the feathers of an odd little white bird, but she was always doing things like that; playing with wildlife and stray animals. When his gaze fell back to the little tree, she huffed at him in irritation. “Plumeria says she won’t be able to step from tree to tree for at least a full year; until she sees the whole cycle of the seasons as an adult. If you want to meet her anytime soon, you’d best find your courage somewhere.” Emma scolded him sourly.

“You don’t like Shai or her husband, but I do…” She huffed at her duke. “We’re going visiting… and you are going to smile and be nice to my friends. Rolf will be there… you boys could get some monster hunting in with Liam and the others…” She cajoled and cooed.

“When we get back, we’ll announce our own new development… which should set the noble factions to scrambling and the merchants to scratching their backsides.” She sighed happily. “Trade flourishes in stable times… and nothing’s more stable than a freshly made heir to the ducal seat.” She scooted closer to him and smiled, still petting her odd little bird.

“I’m already eager to start on our second… We should make certain that we stay in practice.” She cooed into his collar, nuzzling around as though she planned to climb into his shirt, like a kitten on a chilly morning.

“All right, we’ll be there…” He murmured under duress, at which point, her pudgy, white pet flew out the window, in a cloud of sweet flute music.

#

“Shoo, scat!” Tawny swatted ineffectually at yet another white clay bird, fluttering around her patient, in the midst of her complex and sensitive magical and medical exam ritual.

The muscular, brown haired craftsman was strapped into a complex arrangement of hoops, pivots, swivels and eccentric devices, bound at hands, feet, hips, shoulders and head. Immobilized, he slowly spun, turned, twirled and revolved in several directions at once.

Mystical runes and glyphs had been painted on his nude body, drawn with painstaking care by this wife and her physician priestess bestie.

“Really!” She scolded him, as though he was capable of doing anything beyond trying to hold breakfast in. “Your stray magical devices flying about in my workings will only make this take longer, Gary!”

He tried to complain, but his coffee and cinnamon buns were really well agitated, he was upside down pretty frequently and the Gyro Pope was still not vomit proof.

#

A tiny, nude, wasp waisted girl barely six inches tall buzzed her four lacy irridescent wings of shifting autumn and fiery colors at the gathered tall folk and sniffed in irritation. “It’s my birthday… Where’s my cake and presents?”

Wilf leaned closer and held out a tiny handful of bright scarlet silk scraps in his huge, scarred palm. She pounced on the tiny, neatly folded miniature summer dress, sandals and underthings with a buzzing cry of delight. “Oooh, pretty!” She gasped in her high, tiny voice, which somehow could be heard by all, over the rushing waterfall nearby and the soft, crackling hiss of her eternally smoldering tree.

At least two more sets of insectile limbs that had been tucked back with her wings clumsily reached out to ‘help’ her slip on the clothing, promptly tying herself into an uncoordinated tangle of clothes and unruly appendages.

The big meanies watched her fumble and struggle for entirely too long, smiling and giggling like fools; until she’d finally had enough.

“Don’t just stand there gawping! Help me, you ridiculous primates…”

She demanded haughtily, which was quite a trick; considering she was enshrouded in her own clothing and dangling from a branch of her own tree, barely clinging to a loop of silky cloth she had managed to catch herself with. Swinging from her own panties, hooked on a twig of her own tree, she sighed dramatically at her spectating minions.

“Amy… Show me how these work… Please?”

The girls had a fine few minutes with the miniscule child; happily playing dress up with the tiny creature, who giggled, cooed and soaked up the attention like a thirsty sponge.

They giggled together gleefully, as they sorted through a full wardrobe of doll sized, exquisitely crafted clothing that the big craftsman had in his storage gift… For some reason.

Before long, the fully dressed, pixie sized insect/girl hybrid reappeared from the press of feminine affection and stood on the crown of Amy’s far more conservative Adventuring hat; it had far fewer ribbons and flowers. Sadly, the elaborate tricorn bore no sequins, plumes or bells at all; the sacrifices the admiral suffered for her craft were truly an inspiration to her crew.

“I need a human name, papa!” She buzzed her wings at Ward, glowering at him from her lofty perch impotently; since her wings were not yet ready to fly. “I can’t see the outside ‘til I have a name!”

Her too handsome, darkly mysterious father smiled brightly at the fussy child and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I hadn’t really given it any thought… How about Burn-adette?” He asked at last, doing his best to look blandly uninterested in the whole thing.

Every member of the little group moaned in agony at Ward’s criminal abuse of the language, while his daughter just looked disappointed and swished her red silk dress at him in agitation. “Nope, and not funny either. Stop being dumb, or I’ll tell mom on you!”

“Yes dear, I don’t want Plumeria getting angry with me…” he murmured, sounding properly chastened.

“Your sweet mom, ‘Meria was one of my first friends here… and Maria was my mother’s name, what do you think about Mariah?”

“Ooo, it’s pretty…” She cooed and buzzed, nestling herself into a comfy seat on Amy’s headwear, lounging in the folds of a spray of vibrant yellow, silk orchids that ran around the crown of the admiral’s Adventuring hat.

“They say that the wind that sweeps down from the plains, carrying the smoke of wildfires is also called Mariah…” He crooned softly, as he strummed his guitar.

“Sold!” His daughter cried happily, as she snuggled in for a nap, with a huge yawn. “Now carry me outside… I wanna see the sky.”

#

After a brief, whispered conversation with his mysterious ear jewelry, the giant smith smiled down at Leafchaser and Jeskin. “The team is coming back up… the problem is solved and they will be topside in less than three hours… That’s not nearly enough time to properly prepare you two, I‘m sorry.” He rumbled, not sounding sorry at all.

#

“They’re bringing that weird Ward guy up… and his newborn daughter? She’s a tree and an insect at the same time?” Jeskin growled and scratched his ear in frustration.

“Dryads are neither truly plants nor animals, but they are definitely people… Immortal, powerful and deeply alien in many ways, but she’s a person… just like you, me… and Ward, ‘that weird guy’. They are people, remember that and you will be fine.” The smith rumbled quietly, as he set about methodically dismantling their camp and somehow stowing it all away in a bronze ring he wore on his littlest finger. “Go check your traps and snares, kids. We’ll head home as soon as they hit the surface.”

Jeskin and Leafy vanished into the scrub brush and small trees on the volcano’s slopes, eager to see what would come next on the crazy ride they’d found themselves on.

#

“The unique magical conditions on this world severely restrict access to the akashic record, this is why you all have such pitiable racial memories… little better than animal instincts in most cases.” Mariah was lecturing from Amy’s fanciful hatband, struggling to get the mortals up to speed.

“As I grew in uncle Gary’s garden, uncle Dannyl was busy planting my clones all around in his travels.” She cooed at the young warrior bard and smiled. “Likewise, my dryad sisters were already busy spreading clones of me across the realms, so I am already present, if only vaguely, in several places here and on several other worlds.” She smiled and nodded at her retainers, as they bore her to the surface, smashing aside any would-be predators they encountered on the way.

“So you’ve been conscious and alert for a while, watching from the fireplace and hanging out in the bath?” Rio asked, intrigued by his cheerfully imperious new… relative.

“Don’t make it sound weird!” She grumbled adorably. “I’m a handmaiden of Beast, not some creepy peeper like sister Fig!”

“There’s a lot to unpack there, Honeybee…” Ward murmured, as the cave seemed to grow brighter, if only by a bit. “We can talk later, right now… we’re almost outside.”

They emerged into the gross and not at all pleasant lava vent at the bottom of a twenty foot rift, failing to delight in the squelching and crunching of vermin corpses underfoot.

Cave crickets and isopods skittered away from the noise and light of their passage, returning to their feast after the party had moved on.

Huge mantis and terrifying cave spiders crept down to join the feast, even if they were dining from a different menu. In the darkness, things slowly began to return to normal.

No one was there to witness, far below as the massive crystal ooze slowly spread out to seal off her master’s temple cavern. Six glimmering crystal bats with raptor claws and long, razor keen teeth emerged from her mass, flitting up into the stalactites to await any foolish interloper.

No blight, creeping nibblers or tragic mischance was going to befall that little tree, still sweetly blossoming and burning in its hearth, under magical, crystalline starlight. Fig stepped from the leaves of the golden fig tree growing in the henge and settled down on a sofa to watch over her new sister as she grew and explored the world.

She nestled her plump, perfectly rounded rear end deeper into the cushions and folded her arms over her perky, modest bosom and sighed. Plumeria was furious that she couldn’t step through her own daughter’s trees, but that was a single small thorn on this well fruited tree.

Fig smirked to herself and planned how best to needle poor Plumeria, over needing another sister to sit watch over her daughter.

“So many new things…” She hummed happily, as one of her new sister’s strange wasp drones alighted on her nose. The tiny, nude insectile humanoid waved a friendly greeting at the elder dryad and buzzed an incomprehensible mixture of human and insect languages at her. “New things indeed.”

#