When the guests entered the archive, they were struck by the sheer size of the vaulted room. Books, scrolls and boxes were stacked on shelves that extended to the ceiling on three levels, accessed by thin wooden ladders. The faint light of oil lamps made the dust dance in the air. ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ Falstaff patted his enormous belly proudly, as if the archive was the result of his own long-standing efforts. ‘The collected knowledge of the Storm Islands and beyond is here.’ ‘Is the archive open to the public?’ Nora asked. Falstaff laughed uproariously. ‘What do you think? I manage the castle in the absence of its owners. They have to make that decision.‘ “But…,” Nora began, “the Storm Knights are…?” Finn nudged her, and she fell silent. Fortunately, the castellan hadn’t been listening, but was already walking through the corridors again, gesticulating with his stubby arms, pointing this way and that, showing his guests the special features of the place. Here the family trees of the Storm Knights – ‘The edition covers twenty volumes! Twenty!’ – there the Thunder Chronicles: ‘From the weak Grumbler to the stable Droner to the strong Cracker, every significant thunderclap that sounded over the storm bridge is meticulously documented.’
‘He lives in the hope that the Storm Knights left an heir,’ Finn whispered. “But the historians of the Nimbusheim University consider the end of this line as certain by now?” Nora continued. Finn shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn’t mention that either.’
‘Ah, there it is!” the castellan bellowed. He held up a small wooden box that had sat on a shelf. ‘I recently did my annual inventory here in the archives,’ Falstaff explained, placing the box on a small table in the light of a lamp. ‘It fell into my hands. It’s a good thing I remembered it.’
‘Look!’ Eva exclaimed, pointing to the delicate pattern that adorned the surface. She opened the map and held it up next to it. The pattern corresponded exactly to that on the back and her stocking. “That’s it!” she exclaimed. “Exactly,” said Falstaff, folding his arms. ’But there’s still a problem: this box has no key. No latch, no lock. It’s a puzzle – like so much here.’ Nora leaned over the inscription carved into the side of the box. “A piece of the storm remains with you,” she murmured.
Before Eva knew what was happening, she felt a strange tingling in her fingers. She raised her hands, hesitated for a moment – and then placed them on the box. A soft hissing sound was heard as small blue lightning bolts struck the wood from the palms of her hands. Falstaff took a step back, his eyes widened, while the other two watched, spellbound. All of a sudden, the air smelled of ozone. With a loud click, the box sprang open.
‘That was the thunderstorm!’ Nora exclaimed enthusiastically. ’It charged us!’ She now held her hands close to the box and again small flashes of lightning flickered back and forth between the edges and her fingers like an electric spider web. The castellan’s eyes grew wide. ‘You didn’t fly through the storm zones, did you?’ When Eva nodded, he was aghast. ‘Of course! And you probably didn’t come here in a storm boat? If the surface of your ship doesn’t shield the electricity, you could charge a battery with your bare hands for days after the crossing.’ “Oh, that’s what the inscription meant – we brought a piece of the storm with us!” exclaimed Eva. She reached for the lid of the box and opened it carefully.
Resting on dark blue velvet, it contained a construction of finely crafted concentric rings. Each of them was engraved with intricate constellations, cryptic symbols and small markings that looked like coordinates. The rings were made of different metals – shiny silver, dark iron and shimmering copper – creating a fascinating play of colours. In the centre was a lens made of polished crystal that scattered the light from the lantern in all directions.
‘It’s… beautiful,’ Nora whispered, reaching out her hand but quickly pulling it back as if she were afraid of breaking the object. Finn stepped closer and his eyes widened. ‘I never thought I’d see one of these with my own eyes,’ he said in awe. ‘That’s an Orbis Arcanum.’ ‘An Orbis… what?’ asked Eva, her forehead creased in confusion. ‘It’s an ancient tool used by navigators and astronomers long ago. It is able to calculate and project multidimensional positions – not only geographical, but also magnetic and astral. For a long time it was indispensable for travelling, but then it lost its importance when the modern spherical compasses were developed and most of the Cloud Islands had been discovered.’ Nora laughed: ’So we’ve found an obsolete navigation device – congratulations to us!’
Tharion Falstaff had remained silent, but when he spoke, they noticed the glow in his eyes. ‘Far from it! An Orbis Arcanum is a masterpiece of engineering – even today.’ ‘And how does it work?’ asked Eva. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the device out. A rainbow of light fell through the crystal onto the floor.
Finn carefully took it from her hand. ‘The rings have to be aligned in a certain configuration, which depends on the position of the sun, the constellations, and our position in the room. The orbis is like a special key that deciphers hidden information from the surrounding area.’ He carefully placed the tool on the map and turned the middle lens. The light from the lantern refracted in a pattern that was suddenly projected onto the map. Lines and dots appeared that had not been visible before. ‘It’s magic,’ whispered Nora, but Finn shook his head. ‘Science – but it makes no difference to the result.’
‘Can you use it to determine where we have to sail to next?’ Eva’s heart was pounding with excitement. The navigator adjusted the device so that Stormspire was now in the centre of the lens. The incoming light suddenly revealed lines that reinforced the printed golden lines here, crossed them there: a secret map was created in the map. ‘Our next destination,’ Finn murmured, concentrating, his finger tracing the strongest golden ray, “is – Heaven’s Rest.” ’The graveyard island?’ Nora sounded worried. ‘Not exactly a lovely destination.’ Falstaff straightened up. ‘Well, my friends, it seems you have just found a new companion for your journey. May the Orbis Arcanum guide you wherever this map points you – hopefully not to your doom.’
The castellan had given them so much travel rations that they had trouble transporting it all to the ship. A heavy rain had started to fall and the wind had picked up again, so that after everything was stowed away, the three of them sought shelter in the wheelhouse. ‘Fortunately, the route to Heaven’s Rest is marked in a relatively straight line,’ explained Finn, map and orbis in hand. ‘There’s just one problem.’ ‘What problem?’ Eva asked. ‘You really make me drag things out of you!’ The navigator ignored her reproach and pointed to an unnamed spot on the map. ‘This was an uninhabited island for a long time. Today everyone knows its name: Bloody Bay.’ ‘The pirate island? Oh dear.’ All the colour had drained from Nora’s face.
Bloody Bay – what a name, dear reader! Just the sound of it conjures up images of rugged cliffs, lashing waves and a history that is as dark as it is fascinating. Once upon a time, this island was nothing more than a merciless rock in a storm, a place even the seagulls avoided. No vegetation, no fresh water sources – just barren stone walls and the constant howling of the wind. But where there is no civilisation, the survival of the fittest usually applies.
It was air pirates who made Bloody Bay their home. A daring and untamed bunch of outlaws who made the impossible possible. The steep cliffs and hidden coves provide ideal hiding places for their airships, while the pirates themselves have converted the caves into a labyrinth of smuggler camps, workshops and living quarters. The black flag flies proudly over the island’s highest peak. Their fleets consist of daringly constructed airships, painted black, swift as an arrow and equipped with cannons and grappling hooks – ready to attack any merchant ship between Goldendale and Skycrag. Highgrain, the radiant granary, is the stark opposite of their homeland. It offers everything the insatiable belly of the Cloud Islands desires: endless fields of golden grain, lush fruit groves and crystal-clear springs. For the pirates, it is like a table laden with food, from which they help themselves as they please – much to the chagrin of the farmers, who repeatedly have to rely on protection from their Skyguard or private mercenaries. And then there is Skycrag, where the Cloud Islands‘ trade particularly flourishes. With its huge marketplace, which dwarfs even Nimbusheim, it is the destination for merchants and adventurers from all directions. Treasures are traded here – rare spices, mechanical devices, the finest fabrics – and, of course, the stolen goods from Goldendale. For the pirates of Bloody Bay, the free city is the place where they turn their gains into gold, upgrade their ships and celebrate their successes in the seedy taverns.
The fact that our adventurers are now to sail past this hornet’s nest has our otherwise optimistic inventor justifiably gripped by fear and dread. I myself only barely escaped the patrols near another pirate colony. But no more talk! Dear reader, you are surely bursting with excitement about how the crew will manage the crossing to Heaven’s Rest.