The Far Wild

52 - Make Us All Filthy Rich

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Senesio

“Ancestors above. That’s an encampment if ever I’ve seen one,” Theo said, and I found I couldn’t disagree. The banyan grove had come to an end not long before, and we were all huddled at the edge of the tree line, staring out at our destination.

“There it is, indeed,” I said, and didn’t even have to try to put on my most confident smile—it just came naturally in the moment. I was Senesio Suleiman Nicolaou. How could I not be happy? I was staring at my ticket to wealth, fame, and maybe that small kingdom somewhere warm.

The Bospurians had not been idle with their time in the Far Wild. You couldn’t have called their camp a colony just yet, but it was well on its way to it. And they’d picked good ground for it, too. Lekarsos was set on an isthmus, which was one of the only reasons it was somewhat approaching safe. Seemingly learning from that lesson, the Bospurians had established themselves in the middle of a river delta. The Solimikos River delta that Suni had been talking so much about, no doubt.

The wide, strong river flowed from the wilderness interior off to the east. As it approached the colony, though, it narrowed and flattened, then split into a dozen or more different channels, ribbons, and sloughs. Presumably they continued this way out to the nearby western coast. The camp itself was set up between three little islands among this crisscross of river and mud. Rudimentary bridges connected the islands, but even still, most of the camp already had an extensive framework of boardwalks under construction.

But the encampment wasn’t what had my attention

I was looking at the skyships.

Three of them were landed inside the camp, and what beauties they were. Each more magnificent than the last.

The Drossomer was first—how could it not be?—hulking, massive thing that it was. Hard to look past it. It was a defender-class skyship, one of those massive, eight-engined beasts that were designed to camp out above a strategic position and make sure no one but the ancestors themselves could pass without permission.

At twice the size of a vigilance-class skyship like the Stormcrow, the Drossomer had to be at least fifty meters long. Took up near an entire island to itself, too. Each of its eight engines were protected behind metal plating which limited their maneuverability significantly, but made them near impossible to shoot off.

Normally, the ship’s two extra levels above deck would have been equipped with ballistae and other bombardment weaponry, but most of the weapons had been stripped. Stacks on stacks of crates, and two large cranes, suggested the ship had been refitted for hauling cargo. So then, it was the supply ship for the Bospurians. Big, slow, and mostly defenseless. It’d be a nice prize to bring to the emperor, but Cyphos already had defender-class ships. And besides, coasting into the capital aboard that lumbering thing wouldn’t be particularly impressive.

The next ship, then.

The Dreadbore, the name on its side read. Well named, I had to admit. A bit too melodramatic for my style, but not bad.

It was an exalted-class skyship; a heavily modified version of the vigilance-class design. Where something like the Stormcrow had a cargo hold and bunks below decks, exalted-class ships sacrificed all but the most necessary space in order to cut through the sides of the hull and open the two lower decks up as firing positions. Each could be manned with archers or fitted to hold smaller ballistae. Essentially, the Dreadbore was a combat-oriented version of the much more generalist vigilance-class ships. Minimal armor had been added in some places, such as wood shielding around the four engines and the helmsman’s station.

Stealing the Dreadbore would’ve represented a significant military loss to the Bospurian empire. Probably the emperor would’ve been much happier with that than the Drossomer. Not to mention, I’d look much more heroic flying into town at the helm of such a fierce ship.

The last skyship, though, was my first priority. A ship we were all too familiar with at this point: the Needlethroat. Sleek, slim, unarmored, and with only three engines, it was nothing if not built for speed. I didn’t know what class to put it in because there wasn’t a class for it yet. Not in Cyphos, at least. The Needlethroat was new. Experimental, maybe. And that made it valuable. Sure, it couldn’t carry as many soldiers as the other ships. Sure, it was more lightly armed. And sure, it looked like it was still undergoing repairs from the battle at Clearwater Outpost, but it was something the emperor didn’t have. That was a rare thing—to give an emperor a gift he didn’t have. And it could be that the Needlethroat represented a leap forward in technology. Could be it was something that gave Bospur an upper hand. That was something worth stealing. That was something I could see myself flying into the capital aboard.

There was still the issue of finding a way to steal it, though.

The Needlethroat and Dreadbore shared an island, while the Drossomer had one all to itself. All three ships were right in the middle of the encampment, though. As if the whole place spiraled out from them.

And then there were the guards to worry about. Looked to be a hundred or more in total. Oh, and then there were the watchtowers. And the palisade enclosing the whole camp. And probably the komodo, tracking everyone down as soon as it got the gorgam out of its nose. Assuming it hadn’t already.

So there was that, but those were just details. I made a point never to get bogged down with the details.

“Look! In the river,” Suni said, nodding toward one of the channels that ran through the center of the camp. There were people in the water there, chest-deep and doing... something. Fishing, maybe? They looked to be ducking down, as if scooping something from the riverbed, then rising and dumping it in baskets on shore.

“They harvesting freshwater clams or something?” Maritza asked, brow furrowed.

“Doesn’t take that many people to harvest clams.” Theo squinted at the scene. “And look, there’s guards on shore.”

“Agostos mentioned they were searching for magnesia ore particulate in the river,” Suni said, and she was right. That had to be the answer. “You think those could be prisoners, forced to do the work?” she asked, and there was hope in her voice. “Could be Kamil and the members of his expedition. Survivors from Clearwater Outpost, too.”

“Well, then we must free them, surely.” I gave her a nod. That was what she’d come here to do, after all. Her hero’s purpose. Save her teacher, Kamil, from the evil Bospurian plot. The fact that it just so happened to align with my desire to relieve the Bospurians of a skyship or two was a happy coincidence. Or maybe it was fate.

“That palisade’s just as tall as the one at Clearwater Outpost and well made, too. And the watchtowers are well manned. Not to mention, they’ve cleared the foliage from all sides of the camp for fifty paces or more.” Theo cursed. “They’ve done a good job here. Whichever son of a swindler’s leading them should be commended.”

“Up until the moment we make off with one or more of his skyships,” I said.

“There’s five of us,” Demetrias said, shaking his head. “Five against what, a hundred?”

“Two hundred, at least,” Suni corrected.

“Five against two hundred. How are we supposed to win that fight?”

“We don’t,” Theo said.

I turned to her and gave a smile. Not a taunting one, but definitely tinged with a bit of “I know something you don’t.” In situations like this, I found it helped. Made people trust I was on to something.

“We win that fight by not taking it,” I said. For the briefest of moments, the memory of Elpida’s death flashed in my mind, but I banished it. No time for revenge now, nor pity. “As much as I’d like to charge in there and cut a bloody swath through them, sometimes violence isn’t the answer. Sometimes, a gentler touch is needed.”

“A quiet approach, you mean?” Theo asked, looking skeptical. “Sneak in by night, deal with the guards, somehow free the prisoners, avoid being seen by the watchtowers, board one of the ships, deal with its crew, cut it free, then fly off in it?” She shook her head. “Yeah, I considered it. Want me to run down the list of reasons it won’t work?”

“How about the list of reasons it will work?”

“I’d need at least one in order for it to be considered a list.”

I swallowed my frown; smiled through her pessimism. “Theo, my dear, dear friend. Life’s not long enough to fixate on doubts, on reasons not to do something. If we want to achieve something, to leave a legacy that’ll resound through the tomes of history, we have to dream. We have to aspire to more.” I leaned in close toward Theo, Maritza, and Demetrias, lowering my voice so they had to focus to hear me.

“The thing about dreams, as I’m sure you know, is that they cannot be bought. They can only be earned. And earning them is no easy feat. There’s always a hundred reasons to give up, and a hundred more not to try in the first place—it’s impossible, it’s suicide, it’s insane—but no! These ‘reasons’ are nothing more than a test, nothing more than the process by which the cowardly are weeded out and the bold rise... ” I punctuated the word by raising a hand high into the air, slowly, slowly. Then all at once, I clenched it shut. “To prove their worthiness. We’re going to leave a mark on history that our children and our children’s children will recount with pride.” I let that linger in the air for a moment, let them mull it over in their minds. Then, I grinned. “Not to mention, make us all filthy rich when the emperor bestows his gratitude.”