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“What’s taking Mr. Renwick?” Alaric dragged a hand across his sweaty brow. “It’s almost time.”

“My father will be here,” Lilith replied. “You just mind the rigging on that tail fin.” She wasn’t sure why father had insisted on hiring that big, dumb farm boy.

“You really think this bird will hold together? I’ve never seen a more ragtag ship.”

Lilith glanced across the shipyard. Other crews were scurrying to and fro, making preparations of their own. Every one of their airships was bigger, sturdier, and better built than hers. “My father isn’t paying you for your opinion, oaf.”

It had taken every last coin she and her father could scrape together to build her. But Alaric was right. Vesper didn’t look like much of ship. Her gas balloon was a multi-colored patchwork job. Nothing more than bits of scrap canvas quilted together. The boat suspended below was a simple skiff with an even simpler engine.

It was cramped to say the least. There might have been enough room for two normal sized people. But Alaric was—how did he put it?—“girthy.”

“Hullo!” her father called from across the shipyard. He drove a team of oxen pulling a rickety wagon. The tower of crates and fence panels in the back swayed precariously with every creak of the wheel. Lilith hopped nimbly over the side of the skiff and hurried to meet him. Alaric descended the rigging with all the grace of an avalanche and followed close behind.

“Help an old man out and into his chair, would you?” Her father reached toward Alaric, and the big oaf picked him up as easily as he would a child. Lilith wheeled his chair around from the back of the wagon.

Alaric gingerly placed him into the metal chair, careful to set his boots on the foot pedals, and then began inspecting the contents of the wagon. “What’s all this, Mr. Renwick, sir?”

“Just Waldron is fine, lad. You do know what fence looks like?”

“Of course, Mr. Ren—Waldron, sir.”

Her father clapped Alaric on the shoulder. “And do you know how to build a corral?”

“Yes, sir...” Alaric stood there for a moment with a blank look on his face. Then it sank in. “Oh, yes, right away!” Alaric climbed into the back of the wagon and began pulling the paneling out.

“There’s a good lad.” Her father turned toward her and Lilith embraced him warmly.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, Waldron?” A snide voice slithered across the yard. “Shouldn’t you be in your cave? Or perhaps somewhere selling fertilizer?” Lord Idris Stormgate. If anyone could ruin a hug it was that prick, with his stiff chin and upturned nose. “Entering the contest, are we?”

“That’s right,” Lilith replied. “What of it?” She didn’t realize she’d balled her fists until she felt her nails cutting into her palms.

Lord Stormgate frowned deeply as he looked over Vesper. “What an… elegant ship.” Then he snickered, adjusting his monocle as he eyed the wheelchair. “You know, Waldron, I’d thought your days of flying were over.”

It was all Lilith could do to keep from pulling out his tongue and tying it around his scrawny neck. But she stood her ground.

“No one knows that better than you,” her father replied coolly. “But you’re right, Idris. That’s why I won’t be flying.”

“What? Your fashionably undead daughter? Is this some kind of joke?” Lord Stormgate pressed his lips tight and raised his nose so high that if it rained Lilith thought he might be in danger of drowning. She wondered if there was a bucket of water nearby. “No matter,” Stormgate began, “I look forward to seeing you in the sky.” Then he spun on his heels and strode off toward Oberon, his windjammer.

It dwarfed everything else in the yard. The massive airship had four engines and was more than ten times the size of Vesper. It boasted a twenty man crew, and the deck was large enough to hold all the stags, dames, and whelps he could catch.

Fashionably undead. She looked down at her black nail polish. Just who does he think he is? The more Lilith looked at the colossal vessel, the more she hated him. “You really think this will work, father?”

“It’ll work. And when it does, I can’t wait to see the look on that smug bastard’s face.”

Alaric came back panting, his shirt ringed with sweat. “Beg your pardon, Mr. Waldron. The corral is finished.”

“Excellent work, my boy. You may well be the world's fastest fence builder. Now would you kindly set up those four large crates inside, and then load the two smaller ones on Vesper? Oh, and those fuel barrels as well. Careful now.”

“Yes, sir.” Alaric nodded and went back about his work. At least he was good for something.

Her father smiled. “Nice boy. Strong as an ox.”

“And dumb as a brick,” she replied.

Her father had just lifted a finger to retort, when a trumpet sounded. Men began hopping down from their clippers, ketches, and skiffs. Everyone arrayed in a neat line to watch the Baroness Skylar Von Draven and her procession. The common folk began filtering in behind her, setting up tables and chairs, filling out the shipyard.

The Baroness rode in upon the most regal griffin Lilith had ever seen. It was a stag, with antlers wider and taller than any elk’s. His wings were a shimmering silver, and his feathered mane stood up in a fierce display. His coat had a healthy sheen that accented every contour in his feline musculature. Lilith wondered if she’d see his match today. A girl could hope.

Alaric arrived huffing and puffing. “Did I miss it?”

“Quiet, oaf.”

But Alaric didn’t hear her; he was too busy staring at the griffin. “How do you suppose they domesticate them?”

Her father gave him a knowing smile and twisted the ends of his mustache. “Oh, it’s not as tricky as you’d think. They use a tranquilizer to make them docile first. Gently comb their coat. Feed them a few mice. It takes time, but they actually aren’t so hard to train once you gain their trust.”

The Baroness and her colonnade came to a halt. She turned to the crowd and addressed spectators and contestants alike. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the annual migration of the griffin. All crews in today’s competition will have until sundown to round up as many griffins as your kennels will hold. After which, my stablemaster will inspect and price out the top 100 stags, dames, and whelps. The rest are to be released back into the wild. As is custom, the winner of this year’s competition will feast at the high table during tonight’s celebration. Best of luck to you all. Let the Sky Gala begin!”

With that, the Baroness began orchestrating the setup of the feast, while the crews raced to their ships, keen to begin the hunt.

Lilith looked eagerly to her father. A smile crept across his weathered face. “Ok, Lily. You know what to do.”

She grinned back at him for a moment. Then her excitement got the better of her. “Come on, Alaric!”

Together they boarded Vesper. Alaric opened the fuel barrels and looked inside. “No coal, no wood… What is this?”

“Fertilizer, you oaf. Now get shoveling!”

He did, and before Lilith knew it, they were several hundred feet in the air. The sky was full of airships big and small. The faint sound of cannon fire reported in the distance. Some lucky crew had already loosed their first net.

Oberon was a dark cloud in the sky, moving with slow confidence. Lord Stormgate’s tactic, as everyone knew, was simply to fill and empty his ship three times. With all of the smaller ships unable to hold more than two or three griffins before returning to the kennels, they were all at a severe disadvantage. In fact, no one else was hoping to win. Only to land a stag or two that would fetch a good price from the stablemaster.

So while Oberon was firing nets and filling her deck, the other ships squabbled for scraps. Ketches would pair off, running a net between them to snare small groups. Fleets of clippers would use their speed to cut nets and steal catches. It turned into a real mess after a while, most of the ships spending equal time attempting to sabotage one another.

But Lilith and her father had come up with another plan. Something that had never been tried before.

“So what’s with the mice?” Alaric asked.

Lilith stared at him like a vampire considering its prey.

“In the crates. I heard them squeaking. I mean, everyone knows that griffins love eating mice, but we aren’t seriously going to throw mice out and hope to attract them are we? I didn’t want to say anything before… but Vesper doesn’t have nets, it doesn’t have cutters, how are we supposed to land any griffins? And why doesn’t Mr. Renwick have any kennels? How is an open corral with crates of mice going to keep them from flying away once they’ve eaten?”

“The crates on the ship aren’t full of mice, oaf. Now stop talking, and help me spot some griffins.”

A few moments passed in silence. Distant airships shot across the sky everywhere she looked. They scattered groups of griffins and chased them down one by one. All Lilith needed was a decent sized herd that hadn’t been disturbed yet.

“There!” Alaric shouted, pointing. “Behind that wisp of cloud!”

Lilith squinted, but she couldn’t see any—wait, no, there they were! The farm boy was right. “Pull those fins around, get us headed out in front of them!”

“But—”

“Just do it, oaf! And be quick about it!” She kept her eyes on the herd ahead. They were sailing directly out in front of them. Her heart starting pounding louder than the cannon fire in the distance. Closer… closer. It was almost time to see if their plan would pay off. “Are you ready to see what’s in the crates, oaf?”

Alaric smiled. She nodded and he pried open the top of the first crate. The moment the lid came off the air around them began to fill with a crackling blackness.

“Bats!?” Alaric’s smile remained, but his face was masked with confusion. He ducked low into the skiff, and Lilith did likewise. The bats went screeching into the sky, falling behind the ship. Through the clutter of flapping wings, she thought she saw the leader of the herd turn toward their skiff.

When the trail thinned behind them, Lilith leaned over the crate and removed another lid from inside. A second wave of bats came rushing from the crate, and the trail turned into a dark cloud. She ducked again. The air around them was thick with flying rodents. When she ventured to stand she found herself surrounded on all sides by wild griffins. It was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

“It’s working!” Alaric cried, his smile widening. This time it was contagious. She couldn’t help but join him. It really was working!

“Now, all we have to do is lure them down into the corral,” Lilith said, pointing back toward the shipyard. But Alaric was already steering them through the path of another herd. Within moments, the number of griffins flying with them had doubled. Lilith bit her lower lip. Maybe he wasn’t such a stupid oaf after all.

“More bats!” he demanded. Apparently he had taken control at some point. It caught her off guard. But he was right, they needed more bats. She pulled the last interior lid from the first crate and released the remainder. Bats and griffins seemed to be everywhere. It was as if the entire sky had been dipped in tar and sprinkled with spiders. The writhing mass blacked out everything around them.

Then suddenly a swatch of sky opened up behind Vesper. A pair of ketches had flown across their wake, netting several griffins from their herd in one pass.

“No!” Lilith turned to watch as the two airships sped away. But before they went far, she heard the sound of creaking wood. Then the back ends tore off of both kethes and the netting fell free. Pieces of splintered wood spiraled down as the crew bailed out and opened their chutes.

It was just too full. No one had ever been able to catch an entire herd. It just hadn’t been possible before now. In their success, they’d caught the attention of several clippers. The ships were moving in fast, trying to pick off individual griffins. But no matter how many nets they fired, the herd didn’t seem to thin.

At some point Alaric had wheeled Vesper around and set a course for the corral. It was a good thing, because it looked like they had every griffin within five miles hot on their trail. This had to be the biggest catch in the history of the Sky Gala. Lilith was so happy, she could kiss him. She wouldn’t. But she could.

They were getting close. She could just start to make out the corral on the ground below. But the bats were thinning out again. If she didn’t open the second crate now she might lose the entire swarm. She prised her fingers against the lid, but it would not budge. She tried again, strained. Nothing. “Alaric!” It was the first time she actually said his name, she realized.

He was beside her in a flash and tore the lid from the crate. Bats flooded the sky, washing everything in black. Nothing could stop them now.

Together they’d bring these griffins back to father. He’d get his name back. No more selling guano to farmers for fertilizer. No more bat rookery. Well, maybe a bat rookery. After today, it was going to be a very lucrative business. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Idris Stormgate’s face.

“Tranquilizer,” Alaric said, his face suddenly lighting up. “You laced the mice in the crates on the ground with that tranquilizer.”

He was smarter than he looked. Maybe she would kiss him. Maybe. Once they landed.

The Oberon appeared out of nowhere, veering toward them. It moved as slow and terrible as a continent, and was turning right into their path. The massive windjammer seemed to grow in size faster than it had any right to, looming over them as they barreled toward it.

"Alaric! Turn! TURN!!!"

Description
“What’s taking Mr. Renwick?” Alaric dragged a hand across his sweaty brow. “It’s almost time.”

“My father will be here,” Lilith replied. “You just mind the rigging on that tail fin.” She wasn’t sure why father had insisted on hiring that big, dumb farm boy.

“You really think this bird will hold together? I’ve never seen a more ragtag ship.”

Lilith glanced across the shipyard. Other crews were scurrying to and fro, making preparations of their own. Every one of their airships was bigger, sturdier, and better built than hers. “My father isn’t paying you for your opinion, oaf.”

It had taken every last coin she and her father could scrape together to build her. But Alaric was right. Vesper didn’t look like much of ship. Her gas balloon was a multi-colored patchwork job. Nothing more than bits of scrap canvas quilted together. The boat suspended below was a simple skiff with an even simpler engine.

It was cramped to say the least. There might have been enough room for two normal sized people. But Alaric was—how did he put it?—“girthy.”

“Hullo!” her father called from across the shipyard. He drove a team of oxen pulling a rickety wagon. The tower of crates and fence panels in the back swayed precariously with every creak of the wheel. Lilith hopped nimbly over the side of the skiff and hurried to meet him. Alaric descended the rigging with all the grace of an avalanche and followed close behind.

“Help an old man out and into his chair, would you?” Her father reached toward Alaric, and the big oaf picked him up as easily as he would a child. Lilith wheeled his chair around from the back of the wagon.

Alaric gingerly placed him into the metal chair, careful to set his boots on the foot pedals, and then began inspecting the contents of the wagon. “What’s all this, Mr. Renwick, sir?”

“Just Waldron is fine, lad. You do know what fence looks like?”

“Of course, Mr. Ren—Waldron, sir.”

Her father clapped Alaric on the shoulder. “And do you know how to build a corral?”

“Yes, sir...” Alaric stood there for a moment with a blank look on his face. Then it sank in. “Oh, yes, right away!” Alaric climbed into the back of the wagon and began pulling the paneling out.

“There’s a good lad.” Her father turned toward her and Lilith embraced him warmly.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, Waldron?” A snide voice slithered across the yard. “Shouldn’t you be in your cave? Or perhaps somewhere selling fertilizer?” Lord Idris Stormgate. If anyone could ruin a hug it was that prick, with his stiff chin and upturned nose. “Entering the contest, are we?”

“That’s right,” Lilith replied. “What of it?” She didn’t realize she’d balled her fists until she felt her nails cutting into her palms.

Lord Stormgate frowned deeply as he looked over Vesper. “What an… elegant ship.” Then he snickered, adjusting his monocle as he eyed the wheelchair. “You know, Waldron, I’d thought your days of flying were over.”

It was all Lilith could do to keep from pulling out his tongue and tying it around his scrawny neck. But she stood her ground.

“No one knows that better than you,” her father replied coolly. “But you’re right, Idris. That’s why I won’t be flying.”

“What? Your fashionably undead daughter? Is this some kind of joke?” Lord Stormgate pressed his lips tight and raised his nose so high that if it rained Lilith thought he might be in danger of drowning. She wondered if there was a bucket of water nearby. “No matter,” Stormgate began, “I look forward to seeing you in the sky.” Then he spun on his heels and strode off toward Oberon, his windjammer.

It dwarfed everything else in the yard. The massive airship had four engines and was more than ten times the size of Vesper. It boasted a twenty man crew, and the deck was large enough to hold all the stags, dames, and whelps he could catch.

Fashionably undead. She looked down at her black nail polish. Just who does he think he is? The more Lilith looked at the colossal vessel, the more she hated him. “You really think this will work, father?”

“It’ll work. And when it does, I can’t wait to see the look on that smug bastard’s face.”

Alaric came back panting, his shirt ringed with sweat. “Beg your pardon, Mr. Waldron. The corral is finished.”

“Excellent work, my boy. You may well be the world's fastest fence builder. Now would you kindly set up those four large crates inside, and then load the two smaller ones on Vesper? Oh, and those fuel barrels as well. Careful now.”

“Yes, sir.” Alaric nodded and went back about his work. At least he was good for something.

Her father smiled. “Nice boy. Strong as an ox.”

“And dumb as a brick,” she replied.

Her father had just lifted a finger to retort, when a trumpet sounded. Men began hopping down from their clippers, ketches, and skiffs. Everyone arrayed in a neat line to watch the Baroness Skylar Von Draven and her procession. The common folk began filtering in behind her, setting up tables and chairs, filling out the shipyard.

The Baroness rode in upon the most regal griffin Lilith had ever seen. It was a stag, with antlers wider and taller than any elk’s. His wings were a shimmering silver, and his feathered mane stood up in a fierce display. His coat had a healthy sheen that accented every contour in his feline musculature. Lilith wondered if she’d see his match today. A girl could hope.

Alaric arrived huffing and puffing. “Did I miss it?”

“Quiet, oaf.”

But Alaric didn’t hear her; he was too busy staring at the griffin. “How do you suppose they domesticate them?”

Her father gave him a knowing smile and twisted the ends of his mustache. “Oh, it’s not as tricky as you’d think. They use a tranquilizer to make them docile first. Gently comb their coat. Feed them a few mice. It takes time, but they actually aren’t so hard to train once you gain their trust.”

The Baroness and her colonnade came to a halt. She turned to the crowd and addressed spectators and contestants alike. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the annual migration of the griffin. All crews in today’s competition will have until sundown to round up as many griffins as your kennels will hold. After which, my stablemaster will inspect and price out the top 100 stags, dames, and whelps. The rest are to be released back into the wild. As is custom, the winner of this year’s competition will feast at the high table during tonight’s celebration. Best of luck to you all. Let the Sky Gala begin!”

With that, the Baroness began orchestrating the setup of the feast, while the crews raced to their ships, keen to begin the hunt.

Lilith looked eagerly to her father. A smile crept across his weathered face. “Ok, Lily. You know what to do.”

She grinned back at him for a moment. Then her excitement got the better of her. “Come on, Alaric!”

Together they boarded Vesper. Alaric opened the fuel barrels and looked inside. “No coal, no wood… What is this?”

“Fertilizer, you oaf. Now get shoveling!”

He did, and before Lilith knew it, they were several hundred feet in the air. The sky was full of airships big and small. The faint sound of cannon fire reported in the distance. Some lucky crew had already loosed their first net.

Oberon was a dark cloud in the sky, moving with slow confidence. Lord Stormgate’s tactic, as everyone knew, was simply to fill and empty his ship three times. With all of the smaller ships unable to hold more than two or three griffins before returning to the kennels, they were all at a severe disadvantage. In fact, no one else was hoping to win. Only to land a stag or two that would fetch a good price from the stablemaster.

So while Oberon was firing nets and filling her deck, the other ships squabbled for scraps. Ketches would pair off, running a net between them to snare small groups. Fleets of clippers would use their speed to cut nets and steal catches. It turned into a real mess after a while, most of the ships spending equal time attempting to sabotage one another.

But Lilith and her father had come up with another plan. Something that had never been tried before.

“So what’s with the mice?” Alaric asked.

Lilith stared at him like a vampire considering its prey.

“In the crates. I heard them squeaking. I mean, everyone knows that griffins love eating mice, but we aren’t seriously going to throw mice out and hope to attract them are we? I didn’t want to say anything before… but Vesper doesn’t have nets, it doesn’t have cutters, how are we supposed to land any griffins? And why doesn’t Mr. Renwick have any kennels? How is an open corral with crates of mice going to keep them from flying away once they’ve eaten?”

“The crates on the ship aren’t full of mice, oaf. Now stop talking, and help me spot some griffins.”

A few moments passed in silence. Distant airships shot across the sky everywhere she looked. They scattered groups of griffins and chased them down one by one. All Lilith needed was a decent sized herd that hadn’t been disturbed yet.

“There!” Alaric shouted, pointing. “Behind that wisp of cloud!”

Lilith squinted, but she couldn’t see any—wait, no, there they were! The farm boy was right. “Pull those fins around, get us headed out in front of them!”

“But—”

“Just do it, oaf! And be quick about it!” She kept her eyes on the herd ahead. They were sailing directly out in front of them. Her heart starting pounding louder than the cannon fire in the distance. Closer… closer. It was almost time to see if their plan would pay off. “Are you ready to see what’s in the crates, oaf?”

Alaric smiled. She nodded and he pried open the top of the first crate. The moment the lid came off the air around them began to fill with a crackling blackness.

“Bats!?” Alaric’s smile remained, but his face was masked with confusion. He ducked low into the skiff, and Lilith did likewise. The bats went screeching into the sky, falling behind the ship. Through the clutter of flapping wings, she thought she saw the leader of the herd turn toward their skiff.

When the trail thinned behind them, Lilith leaned over the crate and removed another lid from inside. A second wave of bats came rushing from the crate, and the trail turned into a dark cloud. She ducked again. The air around them was thick with flying rodents. When she ventured to stand she found herself surrounded on all sides by wild griffins. It was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

“It’s working!” Alaric cried, his smile widening. This time it was contagious. She couldn’t help but join him. It really was working!

“Now, all we have to do is lure them down into the corral,” Lilith said, pointing back toward the shipyard. But Alaric was already steering them through the path of another herd. Within moments, the number of griffins flying with them had doubled. Lilith bit her lower lip. Maybe he wasn’t such a stupid oaf after all.

“More bats!” he demanded. Apparently he had taken control at some point. It caught her off guard. But he was right, they needed more bats. She pulled the last interior lid from the first crate and released the remainder. Bats and griffins seemed to be everywhere. It was as if the entire sky had been dipped in tar and sprinkled with spiders. The writhing mass blacked out everything around them.

Then suddenly a swatch of sky opened up behind Vesper. A pair of ketches had flown across their wake, netting several griffins from their herd in one pass.

“No!” Lilith turned to watch as the two airships sped away. But before they went far, she heard the sound of creaking wood. Then the back ends tore off of both kethes and the netting fell free. Pieces of splintered wood spiraled down as the crew bailed out and opened their chutes.

It was just too full. No one had ever been able to catch an entire herd. It just hadn’t been possible before now. In their success, they’d caught the attention of several clippers. The ships were moving in fast, trying to pick off individual griffins. But no matter how many nets they fired, the herd didn’t seem to thin.

At some point Alaric had wheeled Vesper around and set a course for the corral. It was a good thing, because it looked like they had every griffin within five miles hot on their trail. This had to be the biggest catch in the history of the Sky Gala. Lilith was so happy, she could kiss him. She wouldn’t. But she could.

They were getting close. She could just start to make out the corral on the ground below. But the bats were thinning out again. If she didn’t open the second crate now she might lose the entire swarm. She prised her fingers against the lid, but it would not budge. She tried again, strained. Nothing. “Alaric!” It was the first time she actually said his name, she realized.

He was beside her in a flash and tore the lid from the crate. Bats flooded the sky, washing everything in black. Nothing could stop them now.

Together they’d bring these griffins back to father. He’d get his name back. No more selling guano to farmers for fertilizer. No more bat rookery. Well, maybe a bat rookery. After today, it was going to be a very lucrative business. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Idris Stormgate’s face.

“Tranquilizer,” Alaric said, his face suddenly lighting up. “You laced the mice in the crates on the ground with that tranquilizer.”

He was smarter than he looked. Maybe she would kiss him. Maybe. Once they landed.

The Oberon appeared out of nowhere, veering toward them. It moved as slow and terrible as a continent, and was turning right into their path. The massive windjammer seemed to grow in size faster than it had any right to, looming over them as they barreled toward it.

"Alaric! Turn! TURN!!!"