The steward knocked on the door to his stateroom. "Here is your dinner, Sir. You have about twenty minutes before the weather hits."

  Tui turned from his tiny desk tucked into the curving wall of the airship. "Thanks Lim, please set it here."

  Tui was a large-framed man, with a perpetually worried face and skin the color of dark chocolate. His wiry, black hair was close-cropped in an attempt to hide streaks of gray. He had large, ink-stained hands and the beginnings of a belly from too much time behind a desk.

  Lim the steward was low-caste, with the flat nose and wide cheekbones typical of mountain tribes. He wore a smartly tailored uniform with shiny brass buttons. He set the tray down on the edge of the desk.

  A bowl of clear broth and two chunks of fish were arranged along with some spiced rice cakes. An essence pill was set off to the side. Tui sighed and took off his spectacles, closing the ledgers.

  The essence pill was clearly low quality, and the impurities would probably give him indigestion. Tui could live with that. He had selected the airline for its broad-minded employment policies rather than its cuisine.

  He ate quickly, downing his dinner and the pill. He rang the bell for the steward.

  The airship hit some turbulence just as Lim was picking up the tray. The whole ship jounced, sending the plates crashing into Tui's lap. The remnants of his meal spattered his silk traveling robes. He felt the broth run warmly into his slipper.

  The blood drained from Lim's face. "Master! I am so sorry." With trembling hands, he restacked the dishes on the tray and dabbed ineffectually at Tui's robe with a napkin.

  "Lim, I'm fine," soothed Tui. He gently brushed Lim’s hands away. "These things happen." His calming words did not affect the distraught steward. “Why don’t you take those dishes away, and send someone in the morning to take this to the laundry” Nodding vigorously, the steward left the room.

  Tui sighed. The hospitality staff would be a pain for the rest of the trip. They would be obsequious in their efforts to atone for the mishap. Tui hated fawning.

  He gathered his ledgers, packing them neatly into their chest. He changed into clean robes and made his way to his hammock. There he settled in to wait out the storm.

  Meditating, he reached with his spiritual sense and drew the essence from the pill he had just eaten. He felt the storm hit, the airship shuddering as the wind flung it around.

  Deep in his meditation, the movement was something he noticed but was not bothered by. He fed the essence carefully to the small sparks of qi in his dantian. The sparks grew larger, and a few more appeared. The qi flickered around like fireflies. Upon completing the absorption, Tui began to doze, trying to ignore the increasingly violent shudders.

  The airship bucked wildly and Tui was flung from the hammock. Light burst behind his eyes as his head crashed into the deck. Teeth smashed through his lip and his mouth filled with the bright coppery taste of blood.

  The cold awareness that something was terribly wrong flooded through him. Tui struggled to his knees. The lamp was extinguished, the room pitch black. The airship was moving strangely, heaving in a slow rolling motion. He could hear the snapping of spars and tearing of fabric. Somebody was screaming. Either from pain or terror, Tui couldn’t tell.

  The lack of light was disorienting and terrifying, and the floor was at an odd angle. He crawled forward, feeling ahead with careful hands. It didn’t take long to find the door. For once, Tui appreciated the tiny stateroom.

  Water was seeping in under the door. When Tui turned the latch, the door banged open and six inches of water flooded into the room. The passageway was still lit with a lantern, which swung from its bracket on the wall. He sloshed his way up the passage toward the exit, holding himself steady against the wall.

  Tui realized the screaming had ceased. All he could hear was the sound of groaning timber and sloshing water. He opened the door and the icy hand of terror gripped his stomach.

  The airship lay in the ocean, heeled up at an angle. Most of the living quarters were underwater. The gas bag was half empty and flapped noisily in the fierce wind. It was settled with half over the deck and half in the white-capped sea.

  He could see a figure swimming weakly in the water. He looked around for a way to help and spotted a coil of rope near the railing. He fought his way up the inclined deck. He was about two feet away when the deck suddenly shifted, throwing him against the railing. A yawning pit opened in his stomach as he desperately grasped at the rail, but he overbalanced and flipped straight over.

  Tui fell screaming into the roiling sea below. He smashed into the cold water and it closed over his head. He thrashed his way back to the surface, gasping for breath. He fought to keep his head above the water, but it was too much for him. The wind-driven waves disoriented him.

  His lungs burned and he struggled for air. His mind was clouded, and he could see nothing with the black water swirling around him. He tried to swim, but his limbs were sluggish and his robe heavy. His heart thudded in his ears. He was going to drown.

  When his flailing hands brushed a spar, he grasped it desperately. The long pole was floating freely, snapped off at one end. Abruptly a flash of lightning lit the sky, allowing him a glimpse of the airship. Thunder smashed the air. The vessel was listing sharply to one side. The gas bag was torn open and flapping. The airship was moving, blown away by the gale.

  He gripped the spar tightly. The swells lifted him soaring into the sky, then dropped him deep into valleys. More lightning lit up the night. The airship was out of sight and there was nothing around but the angry sea.

  Tui lashed himself to the spar with his belt with fumbling hands already numb with cold. His head throbbed in pain.

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  With his spiritual sense, Tui reached into his dantian for a spark of qi and began guiding it carefully along the conduit to the third meridian, located in his heart. He was not a physical man, preferring the more cerebral existence as an auditor for the Department of Interior. At this moment he felt a pang of regret for his sedentary lifestyle. A bit more practice would have made this much easier.

  The chill was making it hard to concentrate and he had little practice using this conduit. The spark wavered erratically through the pathways. Slowly, carefully, he guided it along, finally dropping it into his heart meridian.

  Warmth crept into his chest and then outwards to his limbs, along with a gradual increase in strength. He clung to the spar like a barnacle, his renewed vigor easing the strain on his body. Hours passed as he refreshed his strength as needed.

  Over the howling wind, Tui caught the sound of roaring surf. He peered out, searching, waiting for the next lightning strike. It came with a crash and the world lit up. There was land! Not far off, perhaps half a league or so.

  The huge ocean swells pushed him gradually nearer. As he neared the beach, he untied his belt from the spar. The waves were storm-driven and huge. He tried to time his approach, but there was no control in this chaos. A wave crushed Tui into the depths, ripping the spar from his aching hands. It tumbled him, dashing the breath from his lungs. Something sharp raked his shoulder as he spun like a feather in a whirlwind. Then he was thrust up onto the sand. The water drew away and he staggered up the slope before another wave could strike.

  His lungs were burning. He coughed, struggling to catch his breath. Around him the storm continued to rage, splatters of cold rain pelting his face. He stumbled farther up the beach, barely able to stand.

  It was difficult to walk with the sand sucking at his feet. Once he was safer, he dropped back to the ground, shaking uncontrollably. He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. As he calmed, he felt his heart thumping in his chest, the blood coursing through his veins. His breathing slowed and the pain in his shoulder drifted into the background. Utterly exhausted, he slept.

  Tui woke slowly. He opened his eyes and looked around. The storm had passed, but the sky was still overcast. A tiny sliver of sun was showing, lighting the horizon with an orange glow. Waves crashed gently on the shoreline, and birds were filling the air with their calls.

  He found he could move, albeit stiffly. He rolled over, groaning, and sat up. He was covered in sand. The robes which marked his high caste were soaked and crusted with grit. His shoulder was stiff and caked in dried blood. He rubbed gingerly at it and winced. His lip was fat and swollen. The inside of his mouth was ragged where it met his teeth. He probed his split lip with his tongue. His mouth was dry.

  He was very thirsty.

  He glanced around to get his bearings. The beach ended about fifty paces from the shore, where palm trees waved. Beyond them lay a jungle of thick green foliage and dark shadows.

  Tui stood up stiffly and walked along the water's edge. Somewhere along this beach would be some fresh water. The tide line stretched out before him, broken only by occasional rocks poking through the sand. The sand was wet beneath his toes, firm enough to make walking easy.

  As the sun rose, the air began to heat up. Tui's thirst was a burning fire in his throat. Coupled with his exhaustion, it took a constant effort to shamble forward. After a half hour of forcing himself onwards, he came upon a stream flowing lazily over smooth stones.

  He splashed in face-first, soaking the fresh water into his pores. He held the water in his mouth and felt the joyful ache of it against his torn lip. Tui took long, slow sips, the parched dryness of his throat suddenly a distant memory.

  Tui scrubbed at his skin, removing the sand and crusty salt. He probed his wounds with gentle fingers and carefully rinsed them. Stripping down, he washed his robes and underwear, then spread them out to dry. Then he splashed back into the stream and floated lazily on his back.

  As the sun rose higher, Tui got a better understanding of his situation. He was on a volcanic island. It was not large, maybe two leagues across. The rim of the caldera looked to be about an hour's hike inland. He felt refreshed after drinking and he decided to follow the stream inland.

  After half an hour, Tui emerged from a dense canopy into a rocky clearing. A few meters ahead was a small waterfall. Pervasive energy filled the air around the falls, marking it as a natural font of spiritual essence. Bright purple orchids grew up on the face of the rocks. Great tufts of lemongrass grew from the banks.

  The pervasive energy changed the plants around the stream, infusing them with essence. Consuming these plants would have chaotic effects on the animals that ate them. Sometimes they grew cancerous tumors and died shortly after. Sometimes the beasts went through an awakening of sorts and gained a strange cunning, a queer intelligence.

  Essence fonts like this were natural treasures, kept secret and well-guarded. Families passed the locations down through generations, like heirlooms. Carefully husbanding these resources allowed one's qi to grow many times faster than consuming essence pills. The energy here was pure. There were no contamination or pollutants which all essence pills contained to some degree.

  Tui restrained himself to a quiet smile over the discovery, instead of leaping for joy like part of him wanted to.

  His mind flicked back to his academy studies decades past. He considered what type of spirit formation would allow him to maximize the utility of this site, using available resources. He had never actually built an essence-gathering formation before, but he had learned the theory. After all, some primitive aboriginal tribes had worked some remarkable feats of essence manipulation. Surely an educated man like himself could achieve something similar.

  Tui decided to return to the waterfall once he had obtained suitable materials and continued his hike up the hillside. He was hoping to see signs of humanity once he gained some altitude.

  Eventually, the vegetation gave way to bare stone. The ground was dry and dusty, littered here and there with rocks and boulders. Tui picked his way through with care, as the ground was painful on his bare feet. The air grew warmer as he climbed out of the trees into the sunlight. The muggy heat pressed down on him like a blanket.

  Tui stood on the caldera rim, gazing out over the whole island laid out below. Off the coast, a barrier reef encircled most of the island. A small lake had formed in the center of the crater and a jungle surrounded it. The far rim of the caldera had collapsed, leaving a horseshoe-shaped ridge, with open views to the other side of the island.

  There was no sign of people. No smoke, or visible buildings. A bubble of despair welled up in the pit of his stomach. As he suspected, he was alone.

  A flock of wild parrots flew overhead, calling loudly. They were bright red in coloration, with black wing tips and yellow bills. Their shrieks echoed across the jungle, echoing from the caldera walls.

  Tui turned his gaze back in the direction he'd come from, searching for any sign of the airship.

  It had been a huge flying machine, held aloft by an enormous hydrogen gas bag. It was propelled by cunning formations that magnified the effect of the pilot's qi to push it efficiently through the air. The craft was built specifically to navigate tremendous distances. The hull had been designed to withstand the battering of atmospheric storms and to shrug off direct lightning strikes.

  He wondered what had brought it down. What had caused the crash? He marveled at his own survival. He had been cast out to sea, then washed up on these strange shores. Tui feared for the crew and the other passengers. He had avoided thinking about them until now.

  Tui was struck by a wave of emotion. A reaction to his terrifying ordeal. His wonder at finding himself alive. His despair at finding himself alone on the island. He collapsed to the ground and wept.