The fabric ran smooth and clean under Minerva's fingers. "How remarkable," she murmured. "Tell me, what do you call it?"
"Artificial silk," the Imp replied promptly.
"Er..."
"We're still trying out alternative names," the Imp allowed. "But it's artificial, and it's meant to replace silk. Costs a fraction of the price, too. Elastic, durable, quite resilient, and, being synthetic, holds little interest to mildew and moths."
"How does it fare in a fire?"
"It melts," the Imp said. "Try not to be wearing it when basking in open flames."
Always a hazard to self-proclaimed witches. Minerva turned her attention to the knapsack itself, in which the artificial silk had been compactly folded. "And this mechanism... I need only pull the leather strap here, am I correct? Upon which the parachute deploys and saves me from an unfortunate tumble?"
"In theory," the Imp said. "Obviously the optimum condition is not to have to use it at all."
"No doubt." Minerva glanced up at the hot air balloon, already inflated and idle, straining gently against the ropes that held it earthbound. Dawn, arriving later in this time of year, was just now peeking over the horizon, through cloudless skies.
A good day for ballooning. After the initial demonstration by the Imp on its flight-worthiness, Minerva had taken her familiar aside for a few refreshers on the concept of restraint in dramatic displays. Further testing had therefore been restricted to pre-dawn or late evening flights, which had helped reduce the number of spectators.
This particular flight had been planned for the past two days, culminating in a night of sleepless preparation just a few hours prior. The Imp had found this launching site, in an abandoned field overseen by the weather-eaten ruins of a farmhouse. Minerva wondered if the previous residents had left of their own accord, in years long past.
The balloon basket was sporting some new additions, in the form of a set of rudders or sails, made of the same artificial silk stretched over a thin wooden frame.
"I thought it might help with steering," the Imp explained, following Minerva's gaze. "Otherwise, you'll have to rely on the prevailing winds. The sails should be manipulable through your magical threads."
Minerva wiggled her fingers. The sails squeaked back and forth. "Do they work?"
"Not very well," the Imp said. "I doubt they'll make much of a difference, to be frank. Still, it might prove minutely useful." She looked worriedly at the balloon. "I must reiterate that the wind maps we've drawn up are only preliminary, and you'll have to take further readings once you're up there."
"Which is why this is only a test flight," Minerva said, fastening the last buckle on the parachute harness around her waist. "I'll just be circling Youkai Mountain without landing, and return here after I'm done. Are you sure you won't be joining me up there?"
"With all due respect, milady Margatroid, you don't pay me enough for that."
Alice emerged from the farmhouse, sturdily trying to suppress a yawn. She held a battered nautical spyglass in one hand, while a pair of opera glasses was looped on a string around her neck. Wordlessly, she unhooked the opera glasses and handed them to Minerva, before lidding her eyes, swaying slightly as she dozed on her feet.
"In the event that you feel compelled to land on the mountain," the Imp continued, "I cannot guarantee that you'll be able to take flight again. You'll have to find your own way back; I hope you recall the runes for the Shadowed Paths?"
"Light into dark and dark into light," Minerva recited. "Which should find me back at our residence in the forest. Where comes this newfound worry, Imp?"
"I'd hoped to spend more time with our balloon," the Imp complained. "More trials, and some way to give it more mobility. Instead, we are left with this huge, slow, ungainly thing..."
"... which you've dyed in garish blue and green and gold, for some bizarre reason," Minerva muttered.
"They are your colours, are they not?"
"Advertisement may be done with more subtlety, Imp. What would people think of some enormous blue and yellow sign floating in the skies?"
"They'd call it the spirit of innovation," the Imp replied promptly.
"Nevertheless." Minerva ran through a mental checklist of the makeshift safety procedures they had invented out of whole cloth. She was dressed warmly, to ward against both season and altitude. A dark strip of real silk was tucked into her collar, to wrap around her eyes should the sun's glare be overwhelming. Thick leather gloves, capable of withstanding intense heat for a brief moment. Loose yet secure clothing, including a pair of ancient riding trousers, as well as Persian slippers in case of any emergencies where heavy footwear would be inconvenient. A waistband, with several slim tubes carefully sealed and attached. "For this flight, I am only going up to observe Youkai Mountain from the air. Should any unforeseen circumstance arise, the signal flares we have arranged should suffice for communication. Alice?"
Alice blinked awake, and saluted.
"I'll be relying on you to keep a look-out for the balloon, and any flares I might send up. In the meantime, it would be very helpful if you could sketch out the balloon's path on the charts, for later review."
Alice nodded firmly, clutching the spyglass in her hands.
"Marvelous." Minerva climbed into the tiny wicker basket underneath the engorged spheroid of cloth above her. A small, steady fire was already burning, fueled by a supply of gas in a sturdy cylinder; a set of bellows and valves allowed her to moderate the flame. "Imp, if you would do the honours?"
The Imp paused at one of the four stakes anchoring the balloon. "Are you quite certain of this?"
"If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly. Up we go, then."
As the Imp darted to the other stakes to release the ropes, Minerva started dumping out the sandbags that had helped weigh the balloon down. The entire contraption quickly began to rise; Minerva managed a cheerful wave at Alice, who was staring up at the balloon in appreciative awe. No matter how many times Alice had seen this performance, she never seemed to get bored by it.
The principles of ballooning were fairly well-understood, and Minerva encountered no significant deviations from the established records of similar experiences as she ascended. A few tentative adjustments to the sails produced no discernable result, to Minerva's disappointment.
Several small apertures had been cut into the top of the balloon's envelope, each sealed by a flap that could be opened via Minerva's magical puppet-strings. When opened, these allowed the hot air to escape and the balloon to drop into a lower air current, or to rotate the balloon to a new facing. Increasing the flame momentarily would provide a corresponding increase to buoyancy, allowing access to higher currents.
What were the implications of the Coriolis again? Winds pushing to the right upon ascent, wasn't it? Minerva crouched, unfolding a carefully-copied wind chart, double-checking her assumptions. While the Imp had worked on the balloon itself, the others had begun an observation regimen of the winds in the valley of Gensokyo. Alice's dexterity and skill allowed her to produce hundreds of tiny brightly-coloured paper balloons, each gossamer-thin to reduce weight. Hydrogen for lift had been provided by Minerva, using the electrolysis of water. No doubt these discarded guide balloons were scattered across the face of Youkai Mountain, causing much consternation among its residents, be they youkai, tengu, or bewildered goats.
The readings thus obtained were odd but consistent, and fairly comprehensive. In theory, all Minerva had to do was to maneuver the balloon skilfully enough to catch these wind currents.
Simple, but rather time-consuming, as Minerva puffed more hot air into the envelope, settling down to wait for its results.
From this height, Gensokyo seemed like a patchwork quilt of fields and forests, hemmed in by the mountain ranges. Much of it was farmland, raising crops of one variety or another, all to feed the hungry village where most of the humans dwelled. Mostly dormant, of course; harvest time had come and gone, and the food had been stored safely away for the coming year. A few winter wheat fields still showed signs of defiant activity, awaiting a spring harvest.
Minerva brought the opera glasses to her eyes, her vision clear in the crystalline air. The village was waking up, and tiny human-shaped figures were gathering in the main square. Quite probably there to watch the foreign magician's balloon take flight once more, although this time untethered.
Still using the opera glasses, Minerva traced the path of the river tributary that flowed through the village, giving it most of its water. The tributary joined the main river some distance away, where it meandered off into the distance, most likely to the sea. Once, Minerva had read an account of local superstitions of the afterlife in Gensokyo. What had that river been called? Not the Styx, but something similar, complete with a ferryman. Coins had also been required for payment, lest Charon refuse to take the dearly undeparted.
Aya would have been able to afford such a fee easily. Minerva wondered if the Child of Miare was charged extra for a return ticket.
And what price are you willing to pay to bring her back, Minerva Margatroid?
Minerva's telescopic inspection swung towards the foot of Youkai Mountain. That large lake must be the one where she had met the fairy; the mists were clear at this time of day, but Minerva's view of the elusive opposite shore was blocked by several outcroppings from the mountain itself. Well, maybe next time she could take a closer look.
The balloon was flagging, as the air within the envelope cooled. Minerva shot a stern glance at the gas burner, which obediently flared up once again.
From this distance and angle, Youkai Mountain was a breathtaking beauty of nature. Sparkling waterfalls could be seen cascading from its heights, feeding rivers and lakes and ponds. White frost took the place of the riot of colours that would have been seen in any other season on the trees. The occasional sudden splash of evergreens rose unexpectedly from the bare forests.
The top of the mountain was still too far up to see, which was odd; Minerva was fairly certain, based on her calculations, that she'd be nearing the peak any time now.
Curiouser and curiouser.
Minerva pumped the bellows, eking more height from the balloon. The air was thinning, if clear and bracingly cold; Minerva sucked in a deep breath, trying to dislodge the popping in her ears.
How high was Youkai Mountain, anyway? Minerva tried to recall what she had learned of Japanese geography, idly consulted in the early days of her fateful trip to this strange and rather irritating land. The tallest mountain in Japan was one Mount Fuji, which was about... ten thousand feet? Twelve thousand? Youkai Mountain seemed to be at least that height, by Minerva's increasingly unsettled estimates.
Mount Fuji was a volcano too, as a stray unpleasant thought reminded Minerva. An active one, which was said to have ever-burning smoke due to some ancient emperor or other burning the elixir of immortality there... one way of disposing of temptation, that. Much more romantic than tossing in sacrificial virgins to appease the angry mountain god.
Up, and up. Was Youkai Mountain another active volcano? If it decided to erupt, that would technically fulfill her quest to save the humans of Gensokyo from monsters. It would also have every human in Gensokyo and quite a large part of the surrounding area dead from the aftermath of an eruption, but that was another problem entirely, and one Minerva would not have to solve herself. Perhaps it would be widely reported back in Europe, the way the explosion at that volcano in the Dutch East Indies had been a few years back. Krakatoa, if she remembered the name.
An image flashed through her mind: Alice, even now conscientiously observing the path of Minerva's balloon, and, like everyone else in Gensokyo, under the shadow of the hypothetical volcano of Youkai Mountain. Minerva grimly pushed aside all frivolous speculation, and maintained her efforts to gain even more altitude.
The wind charts were useless now, since Minerva had not expected Youkai Mountain to seem bigger from the top than from the bottom. No readings had been taken for this height; thankfully, the peak of Youkai Mountain was just becoming visible. There seemed to be something of a plateau near the top, which would make a suitable landing site for some future expedition.
Minerva focused her binoculars on a collection of black dots spiralling up from the mountainside. Blackbirds, although she was too far away to see the details. As luck would have it, the balloon had caught a wind that was bringing it closer to the mountain. Just a little while more, and Minerva could find out just what it was that had caused this flock of birds to take flight. Crows in winter...
A peculiar ripping noise from very close by tore Minerva's attention away from the blackbirds. She glanced down to see a large ragged hole in one of the sails, now made even more useless.
Minerva barely had time to puzzle this one out when the balloon basket jerked with several impacts to the envelope, each accompanied by a similar noise, as with a hard object fired with some force through thin cloth. Minerva stared up in horror at the open sky visible through several fresh entry and exit wounds in the balloon envelope.
Crows in winter were most certainly an ill omen, especially if they turned out to be youkai.
The balloon was dropping quickly; Minerva opened the envelope flaps to speed its descent, hopefully out of range from whatever artillery the youkai of the mountain might send her way next. Such a large and gaudy balloon could hardly present a more tempting target, although Minerva had yet to hear any thundercracks confirming the presence of cannons. Were the youkai sending these roundshots at her through main force? Some sort of advanced catapult? Or was it simply youkai magic?
Whatever the case, it was best to leave this little experiment to its fate. Minerva glanced down at the madly-wheeling landscape below, and wished she hadn't.
No way around it. Minerva stepped onto the rim of the wicker basket, braced her legs under her, and leapt into the wind.
Calm, now. There was nothing between herself and the rather final embrace of the earth, save for her own rational, logical intellect, which should not even be taxed to any extent, since the only action it needed to oversee was the grasping of that little leather strap, followed by a firm yank.
There was certainly no reason for this to be the most difficult thing Minerva ever had cause to do, despite what the pounding of blood in her ears and the blankness of her mind was implying.
Grasp, yank. Easy as that. Grasp...
Minerva just about managed not to bite her tongue, as the sudden jerk of an arrested fall indicated the successful deployment of her parachute. She was still falling, of course, but no longer terminally, and there was a fairly good chance that she might survive this adventure.
The balloon was still somewhere above her, but gaining fast. It appeared to have rather more holes than when Minerva had left it.
Bemused, Minerva watched as what appeared to be a streak of bright light traced a path towards the balloon. Apparently the mountain youkai were using incendiary shots now, which ought to react inconveniently with the container of hydrogen gas...
The explosion was not unexpected. The sudden shockwave was, in that brief instant before Minerva realized that the winds buffeting her were from some other source entirely. Somehow, the youkai of the mountain were able to control the element of air, the fact of which had probably been in some report or entry in the Gensokyo Chronicles somewhere, had Minerva been able to recall it some hours ago when it would have been of more help.
Now, however, she was caught helplessly in these gales, and the world spun dizzily, parachute fighting hard to save its owner's life from these unexpected interferences. Of course, the parachute might probably be of better use placed above her, rather than somewhere below...
A horrific series of snaps and cracks heralded the entrance of Minerva and parachute into the forest canopy just below. There was just enough time to silently curse all youkai and mountains and combinations thereof everywhere, as the first flight of youkai hunter and foreign English witch Minerva Margatroid ended ignominiously in a tree.
-----
When Minerva drifted awake from her unplanned unconsciousness, she was quite surprised to find that she was still alive.
Not only that, but there did not seem to be any broken bones around her person. She was feeling rather bruised, scratched, and generally worse for wear, but she had no significant injuries to complain of.
Sadly, the good news ended there. Minerva was tangled in an effective mesh of parachute cords, hanging suspended from the branches of a maliciously sturdy tree, facing up at the sky. Her right arm was trapped painfully behind her back; some experimental struggling only succeeded in a listless swinging, accompanied by sharp spikes of pain.
With the limited mobility of her left hand, she managed to scrabble around her waistband, until she found the signal flare she was looking for. With a dextrous flick of her fingers and a covert spark, a small rocket shot up towards the sky, before detonating in a rather pretty firework display. Number three, green: I am unharmed but stranded. Please collect me with all due haste and decorum.
Minerva craned her neck, trying to catch sight of the ground. It seemed intimidatingly far.
Maybe a careful descent? All she needed to do was to find purchase on a handy tree branch, after all. Minerva kicked her legs out, hoping to gain some swing on the pendulum. She had somehow mislaid one of her slippers during that mad parachute jump; now the other inadvertently worked itself loose, and tumbled past her to the ground.
Minerva took a deep breath, and swore vociferously in English. Somehow, it made her feel better.
"What I find quite interesting," Violet Hearn said in that same language, her voice wafting from somewhere behind Minerva's head, "is how your accent changes when you are, shall I say, less than mannerly. Yorkshire?"
"Lancashire," Minerva said shortly, reverting to her usual pronunciation as per Oxford.
"Ah, I see. I should have thought about it more. A trifle more, I surmise."
"Miss Violet Hearn, you are a complication, an encumbrance, a hindrance, a problem, an obstacle; you are unwanted, undesired, unsought, objectionable, outrageous, wicked, reprehensible, you are quite simply not welcome, and were I not stuck upside-down in a tree I would beat you to death with my grimoire. What the devil were you doing at the autumn festival?"
"Checking in on little Alice," Violet replied placidly, apparently unperturbed by Minerva's splenetic venting. Minerva strained the limits of her movement to catch a glimpse of Violet seated comfortably on what seemed to be thin air, floating easily without visible means of support. "I realize my word may not be sufficient for your reassurance, but please believe me when I say that I mean her no harm."
Minerva returned to contemplating her current entanglement, and any possible routes of escape. "And did you meet her?"
"Well, yes. I asked her to follow me, quite innocently, to a less crowded area, where I could ascertain a few details." Violet sighed. "Alice complied at first. Then she kicked me in the shins and ran away."
"Ha." Minerva's right arm had gone to sleep. She continued working at the tangles with her other arm regardless.
"Among those details I was attempting to verify," Violet continued sharply, "was why other youkai seemed to be drawn to her. I was aware of one such youkai also present at the festival, a creature of darkness, who sometimes takes the form of a young girl."
"Is that so?"
"Yes; I may have to take some steps on that issue. In any case, I had hoped to protect young Alice from the youkai's predations, but Alice's little rebellion incapacitated me long enough for an infelicitous interception."
The knot Minerva had been trying to undo slipped out of her fingers; she hissed through her teeth in frustration.
"What have you been trying to do?" Violet asked, curious. "I must say the balloon was quite eye-catching, if ultimately unproductive."
"Learning to fly," Minerva said. "Unsuccessfully."
"If you intend to scale Youkai Mountain," Violet said, "you must find a more nimble form of flight. A clumsy balloon simply will not do."
"One of da Vinci's ornithopters, perhaps?"
"You may be more right than you imagine in your none too gentle sarcasms, Miss Margatroid. But no. I was speaking of your status as a magician, possibly the greatest magician in the world."
"Are you implying that I should find a broomstick to levitate upon?"
"This is Gensokyo, Miss Margatroid. If you wish to make real progress here, you should be prepared to believe in the impossible."
"Oh, just one impossible thing? Sometimes I've believed as many as six," Minerva snapped. "Before breakfast."
"Which no doubt speaks to the breadth of your imagination. Of course, as a mortal human, you might need some assistance. Some sort of focus, to channel your energies upon. You may find the practice far easier than the initial theories."
"I shall take your advice under consideration." Minerva wriggled. "Are there any further surprises in store? Are artillery fire and freak weather patterns all I have to deal with from the youkai of the mountain?"
"Mm, not all, but they are the most common. You might wish to consult with the young lady of Hieda before you venture forth."
"Necromancy is not something I wish to take up at this point, Miss Hearn."
So absorbed was Minerva in untangling herself that she almost missed the sharp intake of breath. By the time she managed to twist around to face Violet, the floating woman had reasserted her usual expression of a smile. This one, however, seemed to have been hastily donned, revealing the presence of something less friendly, less human, behind the mask.
"I do beg your pardon," Violet said, reciting each word carefully. "I believe I am somewhat behind the times on current events. Has anything happened to Hieda no Aya?"
"Aya-san accompanied us... me... to the nameless hill of lilies of the valley. To rescue Alice." Minerva swallowed a fresh dose of bitter guilt. "She did not survive."
"I see. I... see. Do excuse me, Miss Margatroid. I must... please, do excuse me."
Minerva twisted around again. She was alone; no sign of Violet's presence remained.
How very odd. Violet the omniscient could not see the fall of every sparrow, after all. Had Aya messed up Violet's plans by dying inconveniently early?
And what was it worth to have done so, Miss Margatroid?
Minerva was brought back from her thoughts by the thousands of needles stabbing into her right arm, or so it felt like. She resumed her futile struggle. When this failed to achieve any result, she turned her eyes to the skies, and swore.
Presently, it began to snow.
When the Imp and Alice finally found her, Minerva was covered with a fine dusting of snowflakes, and had just finished with her latest volley of curses, searching her vocabulary for more.
"You really shouldn't use language like that in the presence of children," the Imp noted.
Alice, for her part, simply stared at Minerva's predicament, before clamping her hands over her mouth, eyes wide, not quite able to conceal the strangled, choked sounds.
"Do be quiet," Minerva growled wearily, "and help me get down from here."
