We Help The Helpless Part 1

National Novel Writing Month is a yearly event in which participants challenge themselves to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days and nights of literary abandon.  Being the person I am, I jumped at the opportunity.  I present We Help The Helpless , a Fantasy novel with absolutely no editing or revising.

Open air was crisp, chilling, and charged with some kind of unidentifiable energy.  Muran took a deep breath, savoring the taste.  This was his first expedition to another continent, and the good airship Cloudglide the first airship he'd ever set foot on.

Muran du Crescendo was a performer, a trickster, a (supposedly) ex-conman, and his appearance supported this.  His lithe frame, thin and pointed face, sharp eyes, and tapered ears all indicated that he was a reltan: a close relative of humanity, frailer in body but comelier and sharper in mind.  His outfit possessed flair without being frighteningly loud; a dark red overcoat over a plain black shirt, a distinctive rust-red cap over his long black hair, and practical brown leather pants tucked into knee-high boots.

Above him, the sound of the arcane-powered engine whined as it reinflated the support balloon.  The hum of propellors and creaking of ropes created its own symphony in Muran's mind.

Muran walked to the railing of the ship and peered over, brushing his straight black hair out of his eyes and behind his tapered ear.  Far, far below the ship, barely visible behind the layers of clouds and wist, the faint green glow at the core of Orbahlen could be seen.

"Careful there, mister.  You don't look like the kind who could grip the railing for long if you got blown off the edge."  Muran glanced behind him.  The ship's captain grinned toothily at him, a shiny black pipe clamped between his teeth.  The captain was an avian, one of the seven "intelligent" species on Orbahlen; the avians were essentially anthropomorphic birds, retaining the physical prowess and fragility of their ancestors.  Conventional wisdom held them to have the most inherent talent for running an airship.

"Sorry about that.  I'm a little awestruck by all this, you see."  Muran's smile adjusted itself into the bare-faced wonder of a humbly amazed traveler.

"Don't blame yah.  There's something about open air," the captain paused to take a deep breath, "that jolts you.  Some say it's the danger, but others, well..." the captain grinned conspiratorially.

Muran raised his eyebrows in curiousity.  "What do others say, then?"

"Well, you know that it's Amma's energy that keeps the world together, right?" The captain asked.

"Of course.  Everyone knows the Goddess's Grace."  Muran murmured.

"Well, there's a tale that says that in open air, there's nothin' to stop her power from reachin' all the way up.  Just bein' here is fillin' us with raw lifestuff.  Course, the same could be said about everythin' in open air."

Muran nodded in understanding.  A muffled burst of shouting distracted him.  He turned towards the source of the noise; at the same moment, someone burst out of the door leading to the airship's Flame Arcanum engine.

"-CAN'T FRIGGEN BELIEVE THESE IDIOTS!  THE TRI-RUNE SYSTEM HAS BEEN OUTDATED FOR MONTHS!" the newcomer finished.  He was almost four feet tall and looked like a lizard wearing mechanic's clothing and walking on two legs; in fact, he was a devial, another one of the Seven Species.  They were half the size of most of the other races, but mind-boggingly talented in the magical arts.

Muran smiled widely.  This particular devial was his friend and long-time adventuring companion Rivet Soldereye.  The two of them had spent over three years saving each other's necks; to adventurers like them, that was as good as being a blood relative.

Rivet took a deep breath of the air and visibly calmed down.  He nodded politely to the captain then stalked over to Muran to resume his rant.  The captain wisely decided to go check on things below deck.

"Muran, you wouldn't believe this ship.  I've spotted 3,457 design flaws in the engine room alone!  What the hell were you thinking when you signed us onto this expedition?!"  Rivet folded his arms and stared at the reltan impatiently.

"Well, old friend-"
"I'm not old!"
"- longtime friend, it was really the only one that was offering space.  All of the more prestigious expeditions have large official guards and their own backup engineers.  Besides, you know my traveling preferences."

"You mean you prefer it either free, or as a paying job." Rivet said sourly.

"Sorry to disappoint.  I'm sure that if the airship somehow breaks down in a way that doesn't kill us all, you'll be able to correct everything in the process of repairing it."

Rivet scratched his scaly lower jaw.  "You know, you got a point.  Not that I want us to crash, or anything."

Muran shook his head.  "Careful.  Speaking flippantly like that is a good way to bait the goddess of fate."

Rivet rolled his eyes.  "Gimme a friggen break, Muran.  Like they care about the two of us."

Muran shook his head.  "Possibly, but fate loves a story, and phrases like 'Nothing could possibly go wrong' are the perfect setups for ironic disasters.  They're pointless, they display a significant amount of shortsightedness, and they just sound cheesy."

Rivet walked over to the railing and leaned against it.  "... You know, I just realized I haven't asked you yet this week.  What's the big idea this time?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Muran said with gratuitous surprise and ignorance.  This conversation was a well-worn path for the two of them.

"Why're we going on this expedition to Alutol?  You've never been much of an explorer before.  On a new continent with new cultures, you'll be out of your element-"

"-says you-" Muran murmured.

"-and besides money, and knowledge I guess, there doesn't seem much to gain."

"Knowledge isn't enough?"  Muran actually looked surprised.

Rivet considered this.  "Depends on how you're going to use it.  Knowledge for its own sake-" Rivet spat out the phrase like it was a curse "- is entirely pointless."

Muran nodded.  "Well, of course.  You could say I'm planning for the long-term.  Any knowledge, given time, can become useful.  And establishing new contacts and friendships, especially when they're so distant, is something that requires knowledge."

Rivet sighed.  "You know, sometimes I wonder if you're secretly a criminal mastermind and I'm just helping you establish your financial empire."

Muran smiled and shrugged. "I don't think I have the ruthlessness for that, and besides, I risk my life too often to run anything effectively."

Rivet gave him a look.

At that moment, the entire ship was shaken violently by a massive blast of wind.  Rivet was blown over the railing, and Muran dived for his hand.  As he grasped the devial's wrist, he grabbed desperately for one of the ship's safety ropes.  Muran gasped in pain as the weight of his friend jolted through his entire body; if felt like every muscle from his waist up was screaming in pain.

A moment later the ship tilted back in the other direction; suddenly, Muran was falling and Rivet was back on the ship.  A moment before weightlessness took him, he felt two arms grab him from under his shoulders.  He glanced back, and say Rivet clinging determinedly to him with both hands; a strange apparatus on his back had sunk hooks and spikes into the ship's woodwork, rooting the devial to the spot.

After what seemed like forever, the ship finally tilted back into its upright position, still shaking violently in the suddenly-arrived gale.

"STORM!" Muran shouted at Rivet through the howling wind.  Rivet nodded, and the two slowly made their way to the safety harnesses near the ship's main cabin.  As they pulled the straps around themselves, a thunderous roar temporarily drowned out the storm.

Muran glanced at Rivet, who's eyes had gone white with fear.  He turned his head and tried to see the source of the noise through the blinding rain.

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated something immense that appeared to be swimming through the air.  As thunder cracked through the sky, another bolt of lightning appeared, this time from the front of the swimming thing; Muran caught a brief glimpse of some kind of horn before a jolt of the ship slammed his head against the woodwork.  Darkness overtook him.

...

Muran blinked awake from unconsciousness.  He'd done this several times before, so he waited for the process to go through all the steps.  First was awareness of all the injuries he'd recently sustained (by the feel of things, broken or dislocated left leg, slight concussion, large wound on chest sprained wrist, sore everything.)  Next was the memories of what had happened before he'd been knocked out.  He dwelt on the immense horned creature for a few moments; he knew he'd heard about things like that, leviathans that could crush a ship in a single beat of their wings.  Once he'd finished analyzing that, Muran began to observe his surroundings.

It was quiet, but there was the whisper of a breeze and the occasional sounds of wildlife.  The smell was of burned-out fire.  Pain was temporarily overriding taste and touch.  Finally, Muran risked opening his eyes.

Nearby, Rivet dozed next the the ashes of a fire; a couple other crewman slept fitfully in various positions.  Some of the wreckage had been repurposed into a makeshift shelter.

Muran considered sitting up, and decided against it.  He might have missed some injuries in his initial analysis, and didn't want to disturb anything if he could help it.  He settled for a pained groan.

Rivet shot awake.  "Thank Amma, you're alive!" he shouted.

"Ugh, don't shout," Muran muttered. "I just realized I have a splitting headache on top of everything else."
"Can't help you with that."  Rivet sat back down and sighed.  "We know we're on Alutol, at least, but none of us know the local flora or fauna.  I managed to gather the mats for a Wand of Mending from the wreck, but I don't have the energy to actually make the damn thing."

"Did the crash attract any intelligent attention?"  Muran tried to sit up.  Yep, sprained wrist he thought to himself as he fell back to the ground.

"As a matter of fact... yeah.  The main researcher got killed though, and none of us speak the language, so we've just been cowering here, but there is someone watching us."

"Appearance?" Muran asked.

"Weird.  Lots of light cloth, hard to see against the rocks here.  She's just staring at us.  I think there was another one earlier, but they left while I was helping with some of the crew's wounds."

Muran thought about this for a bit.  "Well, lets rest.  Once you get the energy to make that wand and get the rest of us on our feet, I'll think of something."

Rivet nodded.  Muran slipped back in darkness, forcing his pain to give way to sleep.

Word Count: 1,789