Page 29 of Spectral Seas (Spectral Worlds #2)

A BBY, SOREN, AND Uhggwa stood upright on the disc while Leta sat on the deck. The near zero visibility of the Indicus fogscape reminded Abby of driving a hover through the Mid-Hi of the Nor-East Meg. In the Meg, the ever-present mist was a cocktail of chemicals released from the environmental system condensers of the highest of the megastructures; here the vapor was alive with microorganisms. But all in all, the blinding effect was the same. The big difference between a hover and the disc was that the latter’s superior stabilization tech shielded them from even the slightest sensation of movement; in fact, the moisture streaming back across the glass dome was the only visible cue that they were moving at any velocity at all—that and their dragon escort.

Suspended up high by the warmth of the mist, the arcane creature glided effortlessly in a mesmerizing stillness, a spell occasionally broken by the flap of its widespread wings or the whipping of the long-barbed tail it utilized to rudder through the directionless fog. The augmented readout in the upper corner of Abby’s field of vision indicated the distance between the disc and the tip of the dragon’s tale to be twenty meters at best—along with the temperature beneath the dome, it was about the only thing his ocular implant could contribute.

Throughout the journey, the monotony of the fog was broken by a rocky patch of terrain piercing the veil of fog. Though they passed quickly, these bleak peaks jutting from the unseen ocean were disorienting to Abby since he had no way to deduce if they were flying high or low. Occasionally, the disc would be shadowed by the silhouettes of other beasts flying above or beside them, some in flocks, some alone, some long ribbons, some squid shaped, some the shape of a large bird—though Abby knew better. Some of the creatures were so small that the smudge of their shadow was barely noticeable in the blue cotton candy haze, and some, far above, were so large that they would blot out the light as the disc passed beneath them. One such shadow from above was a titan in comparison to their tiny craft and escort.

“What is that?” Leta asked. “It’s the size of a storm.”

“It’sss Ash’ara,” said Sss’kallion. “She rules the sssky above the missst.”

Leta leaned back on her hands and tilted her head back to take in the vastness of the beast. “What does she eat?” she asked.

“She isss a predator. But do not worry. She ssstays above the missst, as she fearsss what she cannot see. She won’t come down.”

“That doesn’t sound too comforting,” chipped Abby.

“No,” chipped Leta. “Not at all.”

“ I think I’ll join you ,” Abby said aloud. He put his hand to his hip and lowered himself onto the deck of the disc next to Leta .

“Is it your back?” Leta asked, referring to his prosthetic spine.

“Yeah,” he said. “A miracle of medicine but damn, in the moisture.”

“Says a man a century old.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true. The age mods do wonders for the skin and liver, but despite rejuvenation, the bones and joints know their true age.”

“Ha ha,” chuckled Soren.

“Why do you think that’s funny?” asked Abby.

Soren smiled. “I was just remembering how spry and limber I was at your age.”

“I bet you were,” Abby said leaning back. “Don’t worry. I’m not done yet. There’s still quite a bit of kick in me.” And though his words were defiant, his face showed a sign of the ache.

“Would you look at them,” chipped Leta. “The hooded Indici and helmeted Viridian, side by side, their guards standing sentinel behind them.”

“What of it?” asked Abby.

“ A silly, never-ending game of one-upsmanship. Who can stand the longest.”

“Let them have it,” Abby said, rolling his head around his neck. “I don’t think I could’ve stood for a minute longer.”

“You know, neither of them has said more than two words since we left the monastery. I mean apart from what Sss’kallion just said about whatever that was flying overhead.”

“Ash’ara,” said Abby.

“Whatever.”

Abby sat back up then spun to reposition himself close to the back edge of the disc.

“Running away?” asked Leta.

“No,” said Abby. “Sitting makes the journey somewhat more physically tolerable, but I can only watch the back of that dragon for so long.”

Abby had been watching the dragon for at least an hour, but what he sought was distraction from the monotony of endless fog. He found it by focusing on the moisture beading onto the dome. It soothed him. Sitting close to the glass reminded him of his childhood. His parents had taken him on a vacation outside of the Meg. That too was a long journey of mist and rain, but he’d spent the time playing on a carpeted panel in the back of the craft beneath the rear window, not unlike the glass dome. If he let himself go, it was much the same, the beads of moisture growing into jiggling blobs, collapsing on their own weight to join other melting masses, converging into rivulets that streamed down to create little spouts and eddies where the metal met the glass, then swirling free into the disc’s wake. He watched the vortices spin wide in the turbulence, trailing evenly from either side of the disc, curling inward then hanging in the air. From where he sat, the misting rings, suspended mere meters away, became spectacles, like the cosmetic pair his friend Jazz needlessly wore to, as he’d say, ‘Hide his mods.’ The longer Abby stared, the further the trailing mist merged to a pattern, an image, reminding him of his lost friend. Eyes, a chin, a mouth, a heavy browed face, a face that did not contour to show emotion but simply hung there, statuesque in the disc’s aft.

~*~