The Adventure
May 13th, 1008
Kingdom of Maregypt
Dakhal Desert, 260 km northwest of Koltnak
Temperature: 40 degrees centigrade
It was here. It had to be.
Ernst Graustier, Bronze dog explorer and archeologist, scanned the dune sea ahead of him with his binoculars. Only ever surveyed by outsiders on a pawful of occasions, the treacherous Dakhal Desert had swallowed up many poor, unfortunate expeditions. Locals knew better than to venture into this place, which was also known as ‘the Great Dead Lands’. Anyone who came here either flew with wings or an airship, for setting down and relying on the land to provide was tantamount to a slow, lengthy death by desert. Not even the great Daring Do had conquered the Dakhal and discovered its wonders, though she had certainly tried, and if Dr. Caballeron had ever found anything here, he had never boasted of it. That meant he never had. It was madness to try.
Unless, of course, you knew where you were going. And now he saw the rocks, he knew he was in the right place.
Graustier brought the binoculars down, tugging his wide brimmed fedora further on his sweaty face in an attempt to thwart the merciless sun, feeling the grit and sand in his jowls. He growled in irritation and took another gulp from his canteen to ignore the fiendish itch, trying to moderate his intake. He only had so much to consume, after all. Isis, the camel he had hired to accompany him, stretched her head around to glance down at him, shifting under the supplies she carried.
“I do not understand, sir. The Dakhal is an empty quarter. Explorers have been trying to map its space for centuries, since the time of Nightmare Moon. What could you hope to find out here?”
Graustier grunted as he screwed the cap back onto the canteen. It was a question he knew had been coming, though she had been professional enough to reserve her query. He gestured forwards with his head, out over the desert.
“You see that rock outcropping out there? About two kilometers away or so? That’s what we’re here for. Just follow me, Isis. Showing you will explain a lot more.”
And be more fun, he thought as he skittered down the dune. To her credit, Isis merely followed in his step, though he swore he could hear her eyes rolling. They had been out here a week in what seemed the middle of nowhere, braving the blasting hot desert sun as it roasted the endless sand around them. After a ride on a truck for hire from Koltnak to the edge of the region, they had gone in on foot in what their driver had clearly thought was sheer insanity. While he normally wore a leather bomber jacket on his outings, on this occasion he had left it with Isis and the supplies, preferring to roll up the sleeves of his khaki field shirt to cool off. He always led the way, and navigated through the treacherous dunes with a compass, reading the stars and referencing his journal. Inside, he had a sketch of a map assembled from the scraps of three ancient adventurers. One, a crusader knight buried in Romau’s deep crypts, another being an old historian who had donated his findings to the Princessyn Museum of Natural History and the third being an Imazeeb mercenary from Zarantia that he had tracked down from rumors in Colthage.
The first had been easy. Find the crypt, inspect the inscription. That gave him a heading from the knight’s dying words. The next was more difficult, as Princessyn was now Stalliongrad. Being from the Griffonian Empire, the socialists hadn’t been happy to see him. That had resulted in a small amount of burglary, being chased by the Red Army and stowing away aboard a freighter to New Mareland, but it had given him a detailed topographical survey of the area in question. The last had been the hardest. Only by placing himself in constant danger in politically unstable Colthage had he finally found the zebra mare he had been looking for. She had parted with the information with a cackle, telling him that even if he found what he sought, the journey would kill him anyway.
All of which had led him here. Finally, three years of work and near death would give him the final goal he had long striven for. They had rested under a canvas awning when the heat became unbearable, and did a lot of their travel in the cooler night. Occasionally, wildlife such as massive scorpions or fire breathing salamanders and at one point a juveline tatzylwurm had attacked them largely from below the sand. Luckily, Graustier had seen fit to cart a Buckstar Automatic Rifle out with them despite the weight, and the Arisian .30-06 weapon had proven its worth time and again. He would not let this desert defeat him, after he had spent so long on this path. Rival treasure hunters, personal misfortune, long nights spent in sleepless research, now the Morr-damned sun and the wildlife. All of it he had endured, and would overcome to reach his prize.
He shifted the BAR slung over his shoulder again, plodding on through the sand despite the boiling heat he felt through his boots. The thirst and exhaustion had leapt out of him at the sight of those rocks, and now he practically strode across the distance like he was back in the Countal Army on the parade ground. Despite being quadrapedal, Isis struggled to keep up with him.
As they approached, his fervor only redoubled as he spotted the barest hint of stone brick embedded into the rock face. Forget what the textbooks, dime novels or cinema said, nothing of white marble or smooth sculpting could survive the aeons intact. But as they moved through the sand to come around the escarpment to the other side, they could finally see the structure in full.
Worn and degraded it might have been, the massive stone bricks must have been built into what had once been a larger formation, a cliff or jutting structure. The grand staircase and outer grounds were buried and lost forever, likely pounded into the very sand they walked on. But the main entrance remained, half sunk into the dune but with more than enough clearance to get inside.
"Marvelous," Graustier whispered, taking off his fedora to wipe his brow and let the sun beat down on his exposed head. "Simply marvelous…after three years! The Tomb of Bashtet, the Hoofmaiden of Somnambula!"
"I had heard it lost…" Isis said in quiet rapture. "No one has set eyes on it for centuries."
"Well it was," Graustier proclaimed, frantically digging out his field journal and hurriedly scribbling down a few notes as he approached, stumbling in the sand and hurriedly rising again. "But we have just found it against all odds!"
That wasn't technically true. Others, like the old Imazeeb mare, had likely known of this place for some time. But if the warning she had given him was true, none had returned to report the finding. He would be the first.
"Come! We head inside! Surely more of it is intact."
They did just that, venturing down the sand-choked corridor. While the temperature did not drop quite so much, the cool and enclosed nature of the structure lent them relief from the sun, allowing a moment to relax and drink some more water without the stress of feeling like every drop was precious. If they kept at the same pace and reversed heading, they would make it back to civilization long before their supplies ran out.
The passage opened up into a main room, far enough into the rock face that there was limited light from the entrance. The floor was also now visible, massive marble flagstones with hieroglyphs and golden filigree set into them. Huge columns soared ten meters overhead, shrouded in shadows until Graustier pulled out the electric torch from his bag, shining it around to expose the chamber.
With a roar, the manticore that had been lurking in the corner lunged forwards, wings outstretched and stinger raised high, about to land the killing blow. Isis screeched in terror, about to turn and flee when a trio of gunshots rang out, echoed and magnified by the close proximity of the chamber. The manticore stumbled, faltering in its headlong charge and slamming into the column next to Isis instead, bleeding from the impacts. Before either could recover, six more rapid fire shots rang put, a line of bullet holes stitching across the leonine pelt and dropping the manticore where it stood. Graustier advanced, smoking Imperial P1 pistol in one paw and electric torch in the other, inspecting the fallen creature where it lay dying, gasping for air.
"You…you killed it," Isis declared, still not recovered from the sudden shock. Like the attacks on the sand, it was over almost as soon as it had begun, and she still needed a moment to take it in.
"What? Oh no, not with this," the Bronze dog scoffed, holstering the 9mm pistol and unslinging the BAR. "I just needed him stunned so I could finish the job."
If the pistol shots had been defeaning, the burst of high-caliber rifle rounds was ear-shattering. Three .30-06 slugs buried themselves into the manticore's flesh, and the monster flailed once more before falling still.
"There we go," Graustier proclaimed, kicking the corpse to ensure it was actually dead. "Not as robust as his Griffonian cousins, though the scarcity of food here likely means he cannot grow as much."
He glanced around before taking up the torch again, peering into the corner the beast had emerged from. Isis peered over his shoulder to see a pile of worn, cracked and shattered bones and skulls, the Bronze dog humming some old tune as he dug through the remains. Isis was desert born, so the bones of fellow sentient beings did not bother her, but Graustier's casual sacrilege did. He pulled one skull, then another, and then another until he had six lined up next to him.
"Ponies, a griffon, zebras, a horse, a juvenile dragon unless I miss my guess. Hmm. Seems we dealt the exploratory community a favor. I can still take pride in being the first dog in here, at least."
Then, with no more fanfare, Graustier stood and stepped over the skulls, heading for the door on the far side, his electric torch bobbing.
"Come on then. This won't be an extensive structure. Servant of Somnambula or not, Bashtet was only a hoofmaiden."
Isis hurried after him, delving into the dark. Behind them, the entrance shrunk to the size of a postage stamp, the sunlight unable to pierce this far into the crypt. Their trip was not long, but Graustier paused occasionally to inspect the walls, peering up at the hieroglyphs and reading inscriptions carefully, muttering to himself in Herzlandisch as he did so. She didn't understand him, but he seemed to be fascinated by the ancient script. Though a local, Isis could not read the hieroglyphs herself. It was an ancient language, dead and lost to Maregyptians aside from the vaunted scholars who studied the nation's history. She was a desert dwelling peasant, with no real literacy herself.
After the short walk, they emerged into another chamber, larger than the last one. More columns stretched from floor to ceiling, covered in hieroglyphs and pictographs. As the torch cast its light down, their final goal revealed itself; resting on a raised dais, a sarcophagus carved in the shape of a resting mare, forelegs crossed over her chest and wearing a servant's headdress.
"Somnambula was said to be a gracious queen," Graustier muttered as he observed the sarcophagus from afar. "So much so that she ensured every soldier and servant who fell in her service was given their own crypt, just like this one. Thousands of these have been discovered through the centuries, but she saved the best of the servants' crypts for her personal hoofmaidens. And of those, Bashtet was her most beloved. It is said that when she died, Somnambula buried her enchanted Glass Fire Spear with her and decreed it forbidden for any to visit. There's a theory they'd been illicit lovers." The bulldog snorted. "But I think that's just lonely professors writing their own fantasies. But as you saw, whatever barrier sealed this place fell long ago, and our friend has been seeing to any who stumble in."
He turned to Isis, rummaging in the packs on her back as he kept muttering to himself before finally extracting an oil lamp and lighter. With a click of the flint, he ignited the lamp and held it high, exposing the floor in a much wider pattern than the torch.
"Now…we must be careful…"
Conscious of his warning, Isis stepped to the side. Abruptly, her foot slipped and she realized a flagstone had given way beneath her. She flinched, wincing back and crying out, expecting a shower of poison darts, a pile of cobras or a spinning ax to descend on her and annihilate the poor camel…but to her amazement, all that happened was a loud clunk behind the wall.
"It…didn't go off."
"Of course not, it's been thousands of years," Graustier admonished, chuckling at her naivety. "Any mundane construction would have to be maintained by engineers and architects. But by now, it's all rotted away. The mechanism is worn out by time." The dog turned back to the wide open expanse of the chamber floor. "The real threat will be more…fantastical."
He reached into one of Isis' bags, extracting a smaller package that he set down and unfolded. Inside, glowing with an unearthly innate light, were a dozen raw and uncut magic crystals. Green, blue, purple, yellow and even a red one, which he took up first.
"Crude, I am aware. But still expensive. From under Bronzekreuz itself. They serve our purpose."
With that, he carefully rolled the crystal before him. Given its rough shape, it rolled more or less straight, veering a little to the left before it was abruptly snagged up by some invisible object, hovering in midair before, with a flash of purple, it shattered into pieces.
"Ah, I knew it!" Graustier crowed, already preparing another one. "Glyph traps, enchantments bonded to the very stone! Clever, oh so clever!"
He rolled another crystal, and it too veered off course from the center before it was seized by a glyph trap and overloaded it. Again and again he sent the crystals out, tripping one glyph after another, and Isis felt her anxiety rise as she watched the small pile get even smaller, ever as each crystal made it further and further.
Finally, Graustier only had two left. He rolled one of them, a yellow stone, holding the purple one in his other paw. The yellow crystal rolled and rolled and rolled…and clicked as it touched the dais. The two of them held their breath, watching the merry little glow of the yellow crystal at the far side, on the edge of the darkness. After a count of ten, Graustier stood. He took his electric torch back, leaving the lantern there.
"Stay here," he instructed, his words no more than a quiet mutter. Then, cautious and careful, he took a step in the path the crystals had made. One boot forward, sliding over the stones, watching for any sign of activity. If he had been wrong, he still had the last crystal in his paw, though his reaction time would certainly be tested. Would it explode before he could get clear? Or would the arcane glyph simply zap him without the crystal doing anything? His boot stepped on a flagstone that depressed without warning, and by instinct he froze. Nothing happened, however. Graustier sighed, glad that his predictions about the mundane booby traps had been correct as well. The further he got, the more his confidence rose. He couldn’t let himself slip this far in, though. Cautious movement, all the way. All the way…
When his toe hit the dais, it almost took him by surprise. He’d been so focused on following the path he had cleared himself, he’d forgotten to check his progress. A quick inspection and step onto the stone convinced him of its safety, and he clambered up, inspecting the sarcophagus. It was indeed an exquisitely carved piece, dulled by time and the elements certainly. But if its shine was dulled and its lacquer cracked, the workmanship was some of the best he had ever seen. Maybe he had to reexamine that theory about Bashtet and Somnambula being lovers. Clearly much wealth had been spent on a simple hoofmaiden.
Later. Graustier set the electric torch down, running a paw around the edge to make sure there was no latch or trigger. He found it, but the metal had long ago worn out. Likely some simple drop or spear trap, now rendered useless by time. Feeling that rush of excitement when he was so close to his goal, he quickly slipped his fingers under the edge, heaving with all his might. The lid fell away. And there she was. Bashtet, Hoofmaiden to Somnambula the Immortal Queen of Maregypt. Mummified and preserved all these years. In all honesty, the mummy was in excellent condition. He was the first to open the lid, then. Another achievement to note. Excellent.
And there, laid in the sarcophagus with her among several other golden treasures, was a length of clear, untainted glass, glowing from within with a guttering, faded light. The Glass Fire Spear of Somnabula. In awe, he slowly reached down, a paw stretched out in front of him. The magic seemed to brighten, to respond to his proximity. All he needed to do was touch it…
“That’s far enough,” said a harsh voice. Graustier froze, a sensation crawling up his spine. That voice was familiar.
He looked up. The chamber was suddenly far more crowded than he remembered. Figures spilled out of the dark, holding electric torches or oil lamps as they came on. Just from a glance, he could see a dozen forms, some still obscured by the darkness. Of what he could see, at least half of them were an odd, eclectic mix of races and ruffians. Minotaurs, harpies, griffons, even a polar bear. They wore mismatched clothing and gear that seemed to only share evidence of a hard bitten lifestyle in common, and they all wielded different weapons. A few had Thundersplash 999 submachine guns, some possessed P1 pistols like he did and the polar bear hefted a sawn off shotgun. Mercenaries, no doubt. If he was correct, airship pirates, likely from Klugetown. Not the worst thing he had ever faced.
It was the other figures that made him freeze. Ponies and thestrals, dressed in sea-green trench coats and helmets that were clearly meant for another climate entirely. They all wielded BA-T Aviva battle rifles and carried them like trained professionals, which they clearly were. Chiropterran Legionnaires. And the one with the pistol to Isis’ head, her lavender coat and dark mane helping her blend into the darkness, one eye blood red and the other covered by an eye patch, was a thestral he was very familiar with.
“Lieutenant Colonel Falling Star,” Graustier proclaimed, straightening up and keeping his paws raised clear of his BAR and holster. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
Colonel Star didn’t look amused, digging the muzzle of her pistol into Isis’ jaw even harder.
"So Doctor Graustier. You thought you lost us in Tobuck?"
"My apologies,” the bulldog explorer shrugged, as if nonplussed. “If I'd known I hadn't, I'd have actually put some effort into it."
A few snickers rang out from the pirates in the chamber, though they were silenced immediately as one of the Legionnaires, a sergeant from his patch, whirled on them and glared. Graustier tilted his chin in the freelancers’ direction.
“What’s with the hired help, Colonel? You had more than enough cannon fodder to throw after me in Colthage.”
“Let’s just say I didn’t feel like chasing you into the desert the hard way,” the Legion commander replied, short and curt, her tone telling him she was done with the banter. “Now, since you’ve done us the favor of getting us this far, why don’t you get back to picking up that spear? No stupid moves, Doctor. I’m a little on edge. You cost me a lot of ponies to get here, on top of that stunt you pulled on the U-boat. I might shoot first and ask no questions at all.”
“Ah. I see. As you wish, Herr Oberst.”
There was no way for it. There were too many guns on him to pull any tricks. Well, that he could normally deal with. But Isis had been a loyal, faithful companion this far. He’d hate for something to happen to her, though if it was a question of his life or the camel’s he knew which one he preferred.
His paws slowly gripped the spear. As he lifted it, the artifact reacted to his touch, flaring to life in the cavern, bright light casting the tomb into almost daylight-esque illumination. The pirates and Legionnaires all winced, holding up limbs to cover their eyes. Some, the thestrals, seemed especially distressed by it (except Colonel Star, of course. That would be too easy).
“The Glass Fire Spear of Somnambula,” Star murmured, her voice in just as much awe despite her stalwart features. “Amazing…it still retains its magic after all these millennia. Imagine the weapons we can make from that kind of power.”
Typical Lunarist, Graustier thought. Find a magic artifact from ancient times before Celestia banished her sister to the moon, and all they can think to do with it is imagine up the next great wonder weapon. He held it a moment longer, letting all in the chamber see it as his eyes acclimated. His gaze found Isis’, her own expression somewhere between morbid panic and life-altering wonder. Once he knew he had her eyes locked on his, he gave a small tilt of the head. Her orbs widened slightly, and she nodded minutely. She was ready.
“Legionnaire!” Star called, and one of her soldiers nearby glanced over at her, still keeping his rifle trained on Graustier. “Go collect our prize. We’re all going to be rewarded for this.”
“If you’re going to go through with this mad plot after all, I insist you come directly down the middle,” Graustier insisted, gesturing the path he had made. “I went to a lot of trouble disabling a lot of glyphs, after all.”
“Wait!”
The Legionnaire froze, a hoof raised. But Colonel Star was watching Graustier carefully, one eye narrowed as she ran through the possibilities in her head, calculating the odds. Finally, she smirked, shaking her head. She thought she had his number.
“Legionnaire…go down the right flank.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Graustier insisted, holding up a paw in warning. “Whatever you do, don’t send him down the side!”
“How stupid do you think I am, Doctor?” Star chuckled, her voice full of malevolent glee as she saw what she predicted was her victory. “Straight down the middle. You’ve lost your touch. And now I’ll have secured a powerful relic in the name of the Nightmare.”
Graustier somehow, through an immense effort, manage to bite back the one liner that threatened to emerge from his throat as the Legionnaire diverted his course, took two steps down the side approach and stepped on a rune.
There was an explosion of blue light as, with a powerful curse, the Chiropterran soldier exploded on the spot, rent apart by the powerful arcane energy of the booby trap. Graustier had time it so his eyes were closed at that moment, and as the flash went off and blinded the group he swiftly drew his pistol, firing towards the soldiers. He hit two more Legionnaires and Colonel Star, freeing Isis and allowing the camel to flee in the chaos.
“Open fire!” the sergeant hollered. Graustier threw himself flat as a hail of bullets came streaming in, wild flurries of shots that carved up the mural on the wall behind him and began chewing into the sarcophogus. Such a shame, he thought absently as he tugged his BAR out, replacing it with the spear in his jacket. The carving was such a brilliant piece of work.
He waited until the shooting mostly stopped before he popped up, the BAR chattering in short bursts as he laid down his own barrage, carving down two pirates and the sergeant as he lunged out, striding forward against the weapon’s massive recoil. The slide clacked open, and he began to run, fumbling for a new magazine.
“GET HIM, YOU IDIOTS!” shrieked Colonel Star, bleeding from the furrow along her brow where Graustier’s shot had clipped her. “IN THE NIGHTMARE’S NAME, I’LL FLAY YOU ALL IF YOU LET HIM ESCAPE!”
Time to go, Graustier thought. Since he was a pup attending temple, he’d learned a very valuable lesson about the insanity of trying to stick around religious zealot nutcases who just happened to be heavily armed. As an afterthought, he tossed the crystal towards the polar bear as the massive creature brought his shotgun towards him. The crystal bounced off that white fur coat and landed on a nearby live glyph, detonating spectacularly. It didn’t kill the bear, but it was enough to zap him with several thousand volts of arcane energy. Leaving the panicked shrieks of the survivors behind, Graustier finally got the BAR loaded, emptying the next magazine behind him as he ran. He didn’t stop to see if he hit anything, of course, just kept sprinting down the passageway with the spear slung, the glowing light shining ahead of him.
Which helped him out as a frying pan swung out at the next doorway back to the entry chamber. He barely ducked under it, fumbling for his pistol as he dodged the braining, finding himself staring at a very upset, enraged and terrified Isis.
“What the hell was that for?” Graustier fumed, reloading the pistol by reflex.
“I didn’t know it was you, I thought one of -them- was coming!” the camel snapped back, voice shrill in her emotional state.
“How many bad guys you know running around with a glowing godsdamned spear on their back, you dummes mädchen?!” Graustier practically barked, his paw twitching as if he was contemplating shooting her instead.
“ I thought -you- were dead!”
Their argument was cut off before it truly got off the ground, as the voices coming from the crypt were suddenly thundering towards them, gunfire ringing out as their pursuers shot on the run. From the entrance to the entire structure, two more harpy pirates fumbled through, revolvers raised as they blinked in the suddenly bright light, trying to parse out the situation. Graustier shot them both before they had much chance to resist, grabbing Isis and yanking her along, their disagreement forgotten.
“This way!”
“How are we going to outrun them in the desert?”
“They’re mercenaries! Pirates! They won’t have walked all the way out into the Dakhal!”
The two of them fumbled out of the sand-flooded entry passage and out into the blazing sunlight, the rock escarpment the tomb was built into towering over them. Even higher than that, tied off to anchor at the top of the ridge was an airship. Not the large military style one in use back in Griffonia and Equus, but the one where it was a wooden galley hung from a gasbag. Guarding the anchor, two more pirates peered down at them in confusion. Graustier fired up at them, and one lurched back in a spray of blood with a shrill cry. The other took a second to realize his friend was indeed shot before he leveled the Thundersplash in his harpy claws, hollering in fury as he chattered away at the archaeologist and camel. Graustier shoved Isis against the rockface to escape the worst of it before he began working his way up, blazing a trail for his companion. The next time the dumbass pirate stuck his ugly avian face over the edge to get a better shot, it was to realize that the dog was much closer, and was ready. The P1 barked again, and the harpy fell as he gurgled on his own blood, tumbling to the sand below before bodily slamming into the first of the inside team to poke out of the tomb entrance.
“Hurry! Sir, they’re coming!” Isis hollered as she desperately climbed up after him. Indeed, with shouts of fury there came more snapshots around them, buzzing by like angry lead hornets. It was only a matter of time before they got a steadier shot or one of the winged ones took flight after them. They only had one chance for survival now.
Fortunately for them, Graustier made it to the top first, hurriedly reloading the BAR and popping over the edge, conscious of the fact he had shot the last one to make this kind of mistake. Exposed, in the open and a clear target for all below, he dumped the twenty-round magazine in a mad fury, howling like a beast possessed down at their attackers. Though they kept firing back, and he couldn’t see that he’d hit any with his wild fire, the trick had worked. Their aim was thrown enough by self-preservation that Isis could clamber over the top.
“Run!” Graustier shouted, changing magazines once more before shifting to keep the spear secure. “Get up the ladder and cut the anchor! I’ll be right behind you!”
“GRAUSTIER!” came a mad, half-feral shriek from below, and the fire intensified again. Isis’ eyes went even wider as she shook her head, a hoof fumbling for the rope ladder.
“She -really- hates you. I’m pretty sure she wants to kill you.”
“Well she’s going to have to wait her turn!” Graustier snarled, gesturing frantically. “Now go! Schnell, schnell!”
It was a close thing. As Isis finally severed the line, Graustier almost didn’t grab the ladder in time. Firing madly at the Legionnaire who poked his stupid pegasus head over the edge, wings flapping angrily, Graustier was so focused on killing him that he nearly missed the ladder, letting the BAR drop on its sling and grabbing the rope with both paws just in time. Dangling from the last rung, feeling his boots leave the roasting sand as he was hauled bodily up into the hot desert air, Graustier heard the zipping of bullets buzzing all around him as the rest of the surviving crew clambered out, their weapons flashing and popping. But it was too late. The airship caught a hot updraft and was off like a rocket. Some of them had wings, but they’d never catch up now.
Graustier was too high up to hear Lieutenant Colonel Falling Star’s apoplectic screams of fury, but he got a last glimpse of her face, and knew that’s what she was doing as she tried to take off after him. He laughed all the same as the desert wind pulled at the vessel, pulling him off, finally, to safety. He wasted no further time on the sight, grunting and struggling to pull himself up into the ship, the smug feeling of triumph radiating off him like the light and heat from the sands below and the relic still secure on his back.
It didn’t take long for him and Isis to bring the vessel under control. It was, after all, a vessel for marauders and mercenaries, not exactly the brightest creatures on Faust. Once they had the airship set towards the north and back to civilization, Graustier locked the wheel and tugged out his pipe, chewing on the end as he knew between the heavy wind and the risk of the gas bag being damaged an open flame wasn't really possible.
"Where did you want to set down?" he asked Isis, leaning against the gunwhale next to her as she gazed out on the desert below. In the bright air above, she could see further than ever before in her life. Below was the sea of dunes stretching out across the horizon, interspersed by roads, small villages and occasional oasis. Far beneath them, an enormous tatzylwurm breached the sand, roaring its fury as it dove down after an elephant-sized sphinx, which lunged forwards and sank massive claws into the beast's armored hide, the two collapsing into a roiling dust devil. Graustier glanced down at the spectacle, then looked away, as if he witnessed more extraordinary sights daily.
"Where will you go? Back north?" the young camel asked. The bulldog nodded sagely, as if in deep introspection. "Are you going to take the spear back to a museum?"
"A museum? Sure, if they win the bid."
Isis blinked, extremely confused.
"Bid?"
Graustier laughed bodily, tugging the Glass Fire Spear off his back, gently setting it next to him and securing it with some loose rope.
"Of course. I've been after this for three years. Do you know how much an expedition like this costs? No university was going to fund me, they never do. If a museum or university doesn't buy it, likely it'll wind up in some noble's private collection. A shame, but they do tend to pay more."
Isis was agape. This relic was a huge part of her nation's history, a massive slice of culture that belonged to Maregypt, or at least in a place of learning where it could be studied, displayed and have its story told to the world. The idea that the dog she had just helped across such hostile terrain and battled fierce opponents to get at this relic had only done it for money...
Graustier caught her expression and, rather than be offended, merely shrugged.
"I'm a Bronze dog. Not quite as loony as my Diamond cousins, but a living is a living. I'm just making it the best I know how. Daring Do does it for the adventure. Caballeron does it for...I don't know. I think he's just an egotistic dick. I'll give it to the right people, but I can't afford to be charitable. It gets expensive, running a one dog show. Can't be picky. Just the way the world works."
Isis glanced out over the gunwhale again, her gaze pulled northwards as she considered Graustier's words. He was, if nothing else, extremely blunt and honest. She could appreciate that, at the very least. It was a difficult quality to find in life. After he set her down, she'd go back to hauling cargo on caravans or in the cities, working for loose change and surviving until she got married and settled down. Life would still be dangerous, but would it ever be as exciting as this?
"You know," the dog's accented voice said, surprisingly gentle. "You held your own pretty well down there. With a bit of training and some experience...I wouldn't mind a capable assistant."
She snapped her head back to him in shock, eyebrows raised almost off her forehead. Had he just...?
"Of course, you'll have to attend some lessons while I'm busy. I do a lot of consulting work between jobs to keep the bills paid. But I'll be reviewing your course work, can't be too careful what lies they're telling in universities lately. And we'd be bouncing around a lot, following leads. A lot of the work is boring research, not quite as much excitement as we saw today. But it's...a life." Graustier's eyes leveled with Isis' own, and he raised an eyebrow. "So...what do you think?"
"I think," Isis found herself responding before she could even bite back the response. "That I'd want to be your -partner-, not your -assistant-." She paused, watching his face carefully before looking back out at the desert, her eyes a million miles away inside her own mind. "And I think I'll consider it."
Graustier chucked, chewing on the piper stem once more as he glanced over at the Glass Fire Spear of Somnambula. The magic within flared once more, alive and alight and bright with renewed energy. It seemed to know, as he did, what her answer would be.
They got off the airship in the city of R'ataphet, a major port smack dab in the middle of the Neighile Delta. Given its criminal association and the chance Colonel Star might have survived, they wanted to get as far away from it as possible.
After that, Graustier bought passage on a steamer heading north. Destination; Skyfall. One long and fragile package registered in the hold and a female camel passenger accompanying him.