The Crucible of the Dragon God

Dolorosa!'

'Nope,' Kali said, shaking her head. In truth, she only had half a mind on the conversation with the Sarcrean woman, still absorbing the words of the dwelf when he had revealed the ship to them.

The Final Faith will destroy our creation along with the Crucible. You must take it from this place, to a place of safety, where it, and its cargo, must remain in your care.

It's cargo, Kali had thought. Tharnak meant k'nid. This beautiful thing was laden with their ultimate weapon, he had said, sealed in a magical stasis inside its shell, lying dormant, awaiting the day when they would travel to the heavens. Only they couldn't travel to the heavens now, could they? Because without the dragons the magic that would keep them alive was not whole, whatever the hells that meant.

Maybe one day, Tharnak had said, the magic would return.

Kali exhaled. The fact was, she had no idea why they should save these k'nid. That, though, wasn't really the point, because what had really been given into their care was the ultimate artefact of the Old Races, the ship itself. As such it was invaluable — a source of information about those who had gone before that was absolutely unparalleled in its importance. Gods, even if she hadn't been asked, she would have had to save it herself!

The only problem now was how to get it out of here.

The ship will accept you, Tharnak had said. The ship will choose its saviour.

But what did that mean?

There was only one way to find out.

Kali took a step up the sloping cradle, towards the stern of the ship, pausing warily as the spine of the semi- organic hull parted before her, as if someone were slipping the covers from a wagon. Where it parted, a long, narrow, railed deck was revealed, running from stern to bow, and at the far end an organic-looking control panel glowed a dull green. Kali took a breath and stepped onto the deck, noticing now that it was translucent, another organic membrane, and beneath could be made out the still forms of dormant k'nid. It was something of an uncomfortable feeling treading over the lethal predators but, when it became obvious that they were not going to stir, Kali's confidence grew and she began to marvel at her unique surroundings. The combination of structured hull and semi-organic interior clearly marked the ship as a co-endeavour of both the Old Races and, born in crisis or not, it was a magnificent achievement.

She beckoned the others aboard and Slowhand, Aldrededor and Dolorosa stepped tentatively onto the deck, joined her at what seemed to be the controls; a collection of fleshy nodes forming a sweeping curve. But though they glowed that dull green Kali had noticed as she'd come aboard, nodes were all they appeared to be — lifeless.

'Now what?' Slowhand said.

'The ship will choose its saviour.' Kali whispered, and stepped closer to the panel. The nodes made a squishing noise and pulsed at her approach, like pods about to open.

'Easy, girl,' Slowhand said, pulling her back. 'We have no idea what the things are, let alone what they'd do to you.'

'Slowhand, someone has to do this!'

'I don't deny it. Only it isn't going to be you.' As Kali opened her mouth to protest more, he placed a finger on her lips. 'It's more than concern. Don't you have a prism to find?'

'Mister Slowhand is correct, Kali Hooper,' Aldrededor said. He examined the still pulsing nodes and pulled his moustache, intrigued. 'This, I think, is a task for Aldrededor.'

'Husband?' Dolorosa queried.

'With you at my side, wife, I captained a ship of the outer seas for over forty years,' the ex-pirate pointed out. 'I should be the one to captain her now.'

'No, Aldrededor,' Kali said. 'This is my responsibility.'

'No, Kali Hooper. Your responsibility is finishing the job you have to do.'

Dolorosa stuck her face into Kali's. 'Or do you thinka you canna do everytheeng, heh?'

'Aldrededor — ' Kali began again, but it was already too late.

The ex-pirate placed his hands onto the two central nodes and, with the same squishing sounds as earlier, his hands were absorbed into them. The Sarcean's eyes widened in surprise and, for a few moments, he suffered a series of small spasms that made Dolorosa slap her palm over her mouth. Her husband seemed, though, to be unharmed, managing, a few moments later, a small and slightly stoned looking smile.

'Aldrededor?' Kali enquired. 'What's happening?'

The Sarcrean did not reply immediately, but only because he did not know how to answer Kali's question. Because he was seeing things which no one had seen before, the world on which they lived in a new light, and not through his own eyes but those of the ship. And what the ship saw were the very threads on which Twilight's various magics depended, filling the air around the craft with ribbons of colour, thick and thin, long and short, like the component parts of some as yet unmade, planet sized tapestry. But the ribbons were not still. Instead, they wove in an out and around each other like snakes, in places touching and releasing bursts of more vivid colour, in others drifting apart and fading, but all in constant motion. If the waves of the seas were coloured silk, Aldrededor thought, this is what they would look like.

One thing marred the beauty, however. Here and there amongst the ever moving patterns were black threads that hung heavily, disturbed occasionally by the other, coloured threads but themselves unmoving, apparently lifeless. And when they touched their vibrant counterparts, they seemed momentarily to leech them of colour. It was as if these threads had once been a part of the flowing sea but were no longer, remaining within it now with no purpose other than to fill the space they had left behind, yet at the same time weakening the sea as a whole.

'Dra'gohn,' the pirate whispered sadly to himself.

'What?' Kali said. 'What did you say?'

'I amma worried,' Dolorosa said. 'Aldy has notta been like this since last he smoked the weeds of the sea.'

'Wait.' Kali instructed. 'Give him a little longer.'

Still amongst the threads, Aldrededor heard Kali's words and nodded. A little longer, yes. Because the threads were starting to make sense now — at least in the way they related to the ship. Or rather, the way the ship related to them. Used them, in fact. Because it was the way that it flew.

Eddies and tides and currents of threads. The ship navigated them not with wheel and rudder but with the funnels that coated the ship, drawing in and then channelling and manipulating the threads a thousand different ways to propel it through the sky.

Aldrededor pulled his hands from the nodes with a long sigh.

'My 'usband?' Dolorosa said.

'My wife,' he replied. 'The ship has shown me what I need to know. It has shown me the invisible ocean of Twilight.'

'Aldrededor,' Kali said. 'Are you telling me you can fly this thing?'

'I believe I may even be able to sail it.' His chest puffed. 'It has chosen me, Kali Hooper.'

'Then what are we waiting for?' Slowhand asked. 'Hooper, let's get that prism and get the hells out of here.'

'Unfortunately, Killiam Slowhand, we are not yet able,' Aldrededor advised. 'The ship's energy has leaked away over the long years and is all but depleted. It needs to feed.'

'Feed?' Slowhand repeated, with a note of distaste.

Amberglow, Kali thought.

After all, if the other Old Race magical technology — The Mole, the crackstaff, the airships — relied on it, why shouldn't this? The only question was, what would it feed from?

'We must depart the sphere, that is all I know.' Aldrededor said. 'But first we will need to free these holding mechanisms or we will go nowhere.'