Of Blood And Fire by Ryan Cahill (best classic books of all time .txt) 📕

let out a sigh of relief, dropping himself into one of the seats that was fastened to the platform.

“I see Valerys has found his wings,” Aeson said, as Calen took a seat beside him. “It’s a beautiful thing – to see a dragon fly.”

Calen turned to look at Valerys, who padded over towards him, his claws clicking on the metal platform. “It was… incredible. I—”

“Okay, okay,” Falmin called, who stood at the front of the circular platform, half-swinging off a crossbar that swooped down from the first inner ring. “If e’rybody can please take a seat, make sure to fasten the buckle as tightly as you can, and we’ll all have a good old trip. If you feel like vomiting, please aim down.” Falmin paused, turning his attention to Asius, who didn’t fit in any of the seats. “You might just have to hold on to something…”

The man’s ear-to-ear grin was less than comforting, but it didn’t bother Asius, who simply nodded and held onto one of the nearby railings.

Falmin’s eyes moved over to Valerys, who was curled up on the ground to the side of Calen’s feet. He raised his fist to his taut lips. “You… yeah… I’m not quite sure what you can do with ‘im. Does he ‘ave a leash?” Valerys lifted his head, pulling his lips back in a slight snarl. A deep growl resonated from his chest. “Okay. No leash. Understood. Maybe just hold on to ‘im.”

Calen heard Arthur laughing as Valerys dropped his head back onto the ground, and he couldn’t help but join him.

Falmin pulled his odd glasses down over his eyes. The copper sheet on the side of the lenses fit neatly around his cheeks and nose. He exhaled, cracking his neck from side to side, and turned to face the inner section of the tunnel. Calen felt that tickle at the back of his mind that he had come to know meant somebody near him was drawing from the Spark. He sat up in his seat, his eyes fixed on Falmin.

The man raised his hands slowly, his palms facing upward. Calen could almost see it. The threads of Air weaved their way around, moving in a hundred directions, encasing the entire machine in a sphere of wind. A metallic creaking noise shuddered through the platform as the rings swung into motion. The Crested Wave began to move as the rings spun around the platform in alternate directions, faster and faster, until they were almost a blur. Only the inner ring seemed to remain stationary. Calen felt the platform shaking, vibrating ferociously.

Then they were gone, shooting through the tunnel at speeds Calen did not even know were possible. The walls of the tunnel never changed, so their speed was hard to gauge. The rotating rings caused an almost constant haze, blurring anything outside the platform. But when Calen looked back, he saw the dim light of the tunnel mouth, shrinking at a jaw-dropping rate, until it was nothing but a speck.

Calen turned to Aeson, who was seated beside him, the belt buckle fastened tightly across his chest. Something seemed odd, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Aeson turned to find Calen’s eyes narrowed, staring at him. He raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“There is something…” muttered Calen “Something… Your hair!”

Aeson’s brow furrowed. “What about my hair?”

“It’s not moving! Even when you ride a horse, the wind blows at your hair, yet now, there is not even a ripple. What… what is he doing?”

Aeson followed Calen’s eyes to Falmin, who stood at the front of the platform, his knees slightly bent, his arms spread out wide. Calen felt a drop of irritation when he noticed the smirk on Aeson’s face. His face was usually so impassive that a smirk seemed even more mocking than it would on another man.

“Follow the threads, Calen,” Aeson said. “Read them. Learn.”

Calen focused on Falmin. Even though somebody who drew from the Spark did not need to use their body to direct the threads, it was almost like a reflex. Falmin’s left hand twisted left, right, up, and down. It directed the Crested Wave through the tunnels.

His right hand, however, was constant. It moved repetitiously around the same space, his fingers contracting and expanding. As if he was smoothing down the surface of a ball.

“He’s blocking the wind…” muttered Calen. His gaze moved from the navigator to the threads of Air, whirling around the platform in sync with the spinning rings.

“Precisely,” Aeson said. His smirk was almost proud. “You are learning quickly.”

Calen couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t sure why, but a compliment from Aeson held twice the weight that it did from most others.

Without warning, everything shifted. Calen grabbed onto the frame of his seat, unsure. He felt weightless. Then he looked out, past the blurring rings. They had left the enclosed tunnel, and they were now hurtling through an open cavern. His heart fell into his stomach. Its thumping made him nauseous. The cavern extended in both directions until the end of Calen’s eyeline and farther. He didn’t even need to look down. He knew that he would not see a bottom. It was only for a few seconds, which felt like a lifetime. A heavy thump sent shockwaves through the platform as they entered a new tunnel on the other side of the cavern. Calen closed his eyes for a minute, doing everything in his power to slow his breathing.

We’re going to die down here.

Just as he calmed himself to where he felt he could open his eyes again, something slammed into his shoulder, cracking it against the back of his seat. “Fuck…” he muttered. He reached back, jerking forward a bit as his thumb ran over a tender spot just below his shoulder blade.

“Sorry!” shouted Falmin without looking back.

Calen now realised why the man wore his odd glasses. If a gust of wind like that broke through the barrier, he wouldn’t be able to see a thing. The thought of colliding