The path to the harbour led Eva and her companion first through seemingly endless treetops, then across scorched land. Lennar was no stranger to smoke and fumes. In his homeland of Brannskeld, fierce clouds of fire sometimes swept entire villages from the face of the island. Nevertheless, he was shocked by the extent of the destruction. He knew from stories that the people of Goldendale were not hardened descendants of storm knights and lightning tamers. They were used to crop failures, droughts and livestock deaths, but not to such a degree of devastation. How will this island ever recover, he thought, then he saw the black ruins ahead. ‘The dock must be up ahead,’ he said, and over the static of the radio he heard the Grand Master agree with him.
‘We’re going down next to the big barn,’ she said, and then suddenly dove so steeply that Lennar initially thought her glider had malfunctioned. Impressed, he watched as she shot down almost vertically, braked just before the ground and brought her aircraft to a halt in a graceful curve without kicking up any dust. As a defender, his training had focused on combat with hand and board weapons, but Lennar was also an above-average pilot. Compared to the grand master’s flying skills, however, he felt like a bull in a china shop when his glider’s aileron grazed the wall of the house and knocked off a piece of plaster. He got out with a red face, but thankfully Eva said nothing.
After parking their flying machines in the shadow of the building, they took stock of the situation. The port of Hochsaat lay like a wound in the land. Where once neat warehouses had stood side by side, charred ruins now gaped like screaming mouths at the sky. Entire roofs had been torn off by the pressure of the flour dust explosions, the roof trusses protruding like bony ribs into the sky. Shattered window glass crunched under their boots, the acrid smell of burnt grain hung in the air. Crows and ether gulls circled above the buildings. Some fluttered down among the rubble, pecking at the remains of grain sacks or something the two preferred not to look at too closely. Burned-out warehouses, collapsed cranes, charred carts. Behind them, where the quay wall ended, the ground sloped down, not into the sea, but into the white of the clouds. Below, ether currents flowed like sluggish rivers. In the distance, the neighbouring islands of Goldendale floated silently – unsuspecting, unscathed. A bitter sight.
Eva pointed to one of the few buildings that still had a roof: a grey stone block standing somewhat apart from the warehouses. ‘The harbour guard,’ she said. “We have to start somewhere.” Lennar nodded and they set off, gliding quickly between the ruins. All that could be heard was the crackling of slowly smouldering wood and the whistling of the wind through broken windows. Eva didn’t like the silence; she felt as if she was being watched and listened to.
Inside the harbour guard station, everything was devastated. The large board displaying the arrival times of new ships hung crookedly, next to it lay a broken globe of the Cloud Islands. Chairs lay shattered on the floor and a layer of ash and dust covered the desks like a shroud. ‘No dead,’ Lennar stated after pushing aside a few fallen ceiling tiles. ‘The population must have already taken them,’ Eva replied. ‘Or they were able to save themselves.’ That would be nice, she thought, but unlikely. They searched every room, but found only empty cells, a broken gate and a half-charred logbook whose entries were no longer legible. There was nothing to be found here. When they stepped back outside, her gaze fell on a narrow alley leading to the lower quay. That’s where Lennar saw it first – a bent wing, broken wood, the dull window of a cockpit that had an all too familiar shape. ‘Grand Master…’ He pointed.
Airis‘ glider lay on its side, the fuselage scorched, the tail fins smashed. The seat belts were cut, but undamaged. The seat was empty. Lennar rummaged through the cockpit, Eva knelt silently beside him, placing a hand on the destroyed wood and feeling its coolness. It occurred to her that even the old greybeard couldn’t have nursed this injured bird back to health. ‘Save your trouble,’ Eva said to Lennar, pointing to where the radio connection was normally attached. Bare wires grinned at them – someone had ripped the device out. “Someone must have done that after Virtanen spoke to me,” Eva explained. “That means either the pirates looted the glider or the locals did. Either way, we probably won’t find anything here that will make us any smarter.” Lennar nodded and stood up.
Charred barrels and crates lined the path along the quay. Ahead of them stood a large warehouse made of high-quality dark wood, almost intact, only the outer wall charred. A brass sign hung above the gate. Three crossed keys, the coat of arms of the Confederation of Free Cities. ‘The House of the Merchants‘ Guild,’ Eva murmured. ‘And the building is still standing. How strange.’ Lennar had been looking around the whole time, seeming to anticipate an ambush. ‘Shall we go in?’ he asked Eva, completely forgetting to use the correct form of address. Eva nodded and pushed open the gate. It wasn’t heavy, swung easily on its hinges and revealed the room lying in darkness behind it with a plaintive creak. Inside, the smell of oiled wood hung heavy in the air.
Shelves rose up like rows of columns, and as they crossed the threshold, there was a rustling sound beneath their feet. ‘Careful,’ murmured Lennar, raising the lamp he had taken from the harbour guard. The light pushed back the darkness and revealed a scene of destruction. The floor was covered with paper, scattered, torn and crumpled, forming pale islands on the shiny stone floor. In the cool autumn wind that whistled through the open door, a few leaves swirled lazily, dancing like snowflakes before gently gliding back to the floor. For a moment, Eva was no longer standing in a devastated warehouse in Foldendale, but in the streets of wintry Nimbusheim. She saw the first flakes falling on the cobblestones, gentle yet merciless harbingers of a harsh winter that covered the city in a thick blanket of snow for weeks every year. Suddenly, a shiver ran down her spine.
Lennar started to say something, but was abruptly interrupted by a rustling sound. Eva also stopped in her tracks, listened, waited. Then – a shadow moved between the shelves. Lennar silently pushed the Grand Master aside, stood in front of her and raised his staff. The shadow stopped. And then, with a crack, something emerged from the darkness.