NaNoWriMo Posty Post Post

New post! It's all kinds of fucked up because Microsoft Word Starter is intractable. Sorry.


“What do you mean, no transits to Port Nanfula?” Devon demanded. “I have family over there!”
“I’m very sorry, sir, but we have removed all our Nanfulan topaz,” the clerk, an annoying girl, repeated. “Even if I wanted to break the ban for you, I couldn’t. The topazes are all in lockup at our Guildhouse.”
Devon swore floridly, making the girl’s eyes go wide, and stalked out of the tower. He continued to swear as the fog surprised him yet again. What kindo f city just let fog sit there for weeks? Port Nanfula’s priests would have banished this mess as soon as it sprang up! He yanked strength out of the earth carelessly, and fired up his map lore, directing it to the Kosmima guildhouse.
The familiar golden circle sprang to life under his feet, and he felt his blessing searching, finding the quickest route. He opened his tie to the ground as wide as he could, flushing himself with strength. His skin darkened and took on a sheen of vitality. His hair gained silver highlights, and his eyes brightened to the same intense blue as a Kosmima-lit sapphire.
The map lore caught, and Devon was running, heedless of potential obstacles. Within a moment he was airborne, and not even the thick fog could slow him. He had to get back to Port Nanfula, and even if he had to steal the damned topaz, he would. Sarah’s life might depend on it. Their parents might have virtually abandoned them, but Devon would never leave his sister.
He hit the roof and continued running top speed. His body was optimized, his balance perfect,
and the map lore provided the sense of timing he needed to fly over the tops of houses. He left behind
a golden trail of light, like a comet blazing through the air, visible through to fog even to those with no
blessing.
He made another jump, just as blind as all the rest, but midway through the arc he hit a patch of
clear air. Passersby under him stopped and stared. He heard shouts, but he was focused on the patch
of gold on the street he was going to hit. Roof-to-street jumps were tricky; even though his body was
still strengthened, every moment he hung in the air some of that extra durability leached away. His map
lore always plotted his trajectory so that he didn’t injure himself, but he still had to land properly, his
using his calves and thighs to absorb as much of the reflected force of his landing as he could.
He hit, crouched, and exploded forward, saving momentum and turning it into velocity. He
started emitting pulses of Petra power through the road with every step, hopefully sending people
scattering away from what would sound like a rampaging elephant. If they had elephants in Zydobe.
He saw the golden guide line shoot up, and leapt again. He got a flash of image – a window left
open – and curled himself tightly, leaving his hands free to catch something.
He hit and lunged forward. His hands met stone, and he shaped it around them, giving him a
strong handhold. He swung out, then vaulted into the room, releasing the stone as he passed through
the opening. Inside, the fog was blessedly gone, and he could stop and rest. He wasn’t tired, not with
the strength of rock pounding through his sinews, but his heart was beating frantically and he was
pouring sweat. He could still draw up power from the stone floor, but it was diluted by passing through
narrow walls and pillars. He walked over beside the door, not wanting to draw attention to himself as
his body wound down a little. His map lore wanted him to go through the hallway, which was odd. He’d
never had to go through a building before. Unless he was in the guildhouse now?
He realized he could hear voices, and leaned against the wall, listening and hoping for a clue of
his location.
“How are they flying, Diane?” A man’s voice.
“It’s a mixed Coalescence!” A woman. “they found fire and frost spirits, powerful but cheap. He
didn’t tell me what the price was, but he implied they could easily amass a huge store of it.”
“But how does it work?” A new woman.
“The frost spirit manipulates the weight of the ship, making it lighter than air. The fire spirit lifts,
and the frost concentrates weight in the direction they want. It’s basically a falling ship, not a flying
one.” The first woman wounded giddy. With excitement, perhaps? Devon wasn’t sure.
“can we neutralize the spirits without killing anyone?” A new woman, her deep voice
authoritative. “That Storm-blasted detective has been hounding me all day, and Alexander is working
with her. He has every reason to want me in jail, so we have to be very careful.”
Devon heard a man mutter “That’s what you get, stealing someone’s boyfriend,” and snorted
Appreciatively, then paled. This was beginning to sound like a very dangerous group of people. He
Released his map lore, and crept toward the window.
He heard a sharp voice, the authoritative man-stealer, but couldn’t understand the words. He
heard footsteps in the hall, and pulled a massive blast of strength, leaping for the window, but
he hit a sparkling field of light and fell to the ground, darkness closing in on his vision. He saw a
blonde woman standing over him, her fingers wreathed in gemfire, before passing out.