Voyage of the Mourning Dawn: Heirs of Ash, Book 1

by Rich Wulf

  “Marth has deceived you, Kiris,” Eraina said. “If he truly wished to help Cyre, he would approach the nations of Khorvaire and ask their aid. King Boranel would gladly aid him if only to remove the Cyran refugees from his borders. Marth need not steal and murder to reach his goal. He chooses a path of evil.”

  Kiris laughed. “Is that so?” she asked. “Then which nation does your master, Dalan, represent? What good deed will he do when he finds the Legacy?”

  “Dalan is not my master,” Eraina said. “I seek only justice.”

  “Regardless, if you believe Dalan is any more honorable than Marth, or that the kings of Khorvaire can be entrusted with the Legacy, you are the one who is deluded. The surviving nations pretend to grieve for Cyre and offer its survivors what scraps they deign to spare, but they do not truly wish to see the Mournland restored. As far as they are concerned, the death of Cyre means one less enemy. If any of them gained the power of the Legacy, they would only use it against one another.”

  “Better Dalan than Marth,” Seren said. “I saw him kill Jamus Roland with my own eyes.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Kiris said, though the hesitation before she spoke betrayed her doubt. “I see your disgust. You think I am a fool, but we have come too far. I cannot allow myself to believe Marth is what you claim he is. I cannot turn against him.”

  “You are blind and pathetic,” Eraina said.

  “Am I?” Kiris asked, looking at the paladin. “Perhaps I believe he can become the hero he used to be. You embrace a killer who seeks redemption,” she pointed at the warforged. “Yet I do so and I am a fool?”

  “If he seeks redemption, shooting us down over Talenta is a curious way to start,” Omax said.

  “Then what if you are right?” Kiris asked. “What if Marth is a madman? If I turn against him it would be one more in a long chain of betrayals heaped upon him. What hope would there be for him then?”

  “You are a fool defending a murderer,” Eraina said.

  Kiris looked at the tip of Eraina’s spear. “I would think that a paladin of Boldrei would recognize the power of faith. Tell Dalan what I have said. I hope he will understand. I cannot help you, but neither will I tell Marth that you have been here.”

  “You misunderstand your situation, Overwood,” Eraina said. “I am a Sentinel Marshal. You have confessed to aiding a murder suspect. You will accompany us. I do not offer you a choice.”

  “You cannot force me to leave,” Kiris said.

  “Is that a threat?” Eraina asked, hefting her spear. “I do not fear your magic, wizard.”

  Seren took a step away from Kiris, moving closer to Omax.

  “I will not hurt you,” Kiris said. “Neither can you compel me to leave.”

  Eraina held the wizard’s gaze for several moments and then lowered the point of her spear. With a swift, deliberate movement, she scratched a gouge across the wards that protected the door. Outside, the shrieking of the creatures that haunted the Boneyard began to build.

  “What have you done, Marshal?” Kiris asked in horror.

  “I present a choice,” Eraina said, pointing her spear in the wizard’s direction. “You can leave the Boneyard with us, or you can remain here and see if these beasts offer you greater mercy than I do. Can you restore your wards before they arrive?”

  Kiris’s face paled. “I cannot,” she said, “but I would rather Marth find me here dead than betray him.”

  “Idiocy!” Eraina snapped, advancing on the wizard.

  “Wait,” Seren said, moving between them. “Dalan said you might not wish to help.” She took the sealed envelope from her pocket and offered it to Kiris. “He asked me to give you this.”

  The wizard accepted it with a pensive eye. She broke the seal and hurriedly tore it open, taking out the letter and letting the envelope fall to the floor. Her eyes moved across the page several times, as if she did not believe what she had read. Her expression grew slowly more troubled. Outside, the beasts drew closer.

  “We must leave now,” Omax warned, watching the door. “This is a bad place to be trapped.”

  “Ever the expert negotiator, Dalan,” Kiris said in a bitter, subdued voice. “Very well.” She creased the letter sharply and dropped it in the fire. She darted for her scattered scrolls, quickly gathering those that were most important and stuffing them into an empty bag. She hoisted the bag over one shoulder and stepped through the curtain. “Stay close. I know the way out.”

  Omax and Eraina followed. Seren remained a step behind, still stunned by the sudden change in Kiris’s demeanor. She glanced back at the discarded envelope, still bearing half a House Cannith seal, and the letter that now burned in the small fire.

  She wondered exactly what sort of promise Dalan had made.

  Kiris led them through the bone-littered paths to another narrow tunnel in a heap of enormous ribcages. Looking back the way they had come, she gestured nervously at the entrance.

  “This passes beneath the valley and will lead back out onto the plains, the way you came,” she said.

  “Then you go first, wizard,” Eraina said, watching Kiris.

  Kiris sighed. She reached for her pouch, causing Eraina to heft her spear. Kiris slowly drew a glowing stone from within.

  “It’s just a light, Marshal,” Kiris said.

  “Give me your bags and your pouches,” Eraina ordered.

  “If I meant you any harm with my magic, would I not have attacked you already?” Kiris asked.

  “If you mean no harm,” Eraina said, “there should be no harm in surrendering them.”

  Kiris opened her mouth to argue, but the shrieks of the Boneyard beasts drew closer. She quickly took the bag from her shoulder, stuffed her numerous belt pouches inside, and handed it to the paladin. Eraina absently passed it to Seren so that she could keep both hands on her spear. Seren pulled the bag over one shoulder, still stunned by the brusque change that had come over the paladin since they had found Kiris.

  “Lead the way,” Eraina said stiffly.

  Kiris entered the passage, holding her stone high to light the way. Seren entered after Eraina, leaving Omax to bring up the rear. The mad gibbering cries of the creatures drew nearer, passing almost directly overhead. Kiris looked back, the dim light of her stone painting ghastly shadows on her thin features. She placed a finger across her lips, though none truly needed the warning. After several tense moments the creatures continued on their hunt.

  The narrow tunnel twisted downward. The air was cold and dry beneath the Boneyard. The faint lime taste was much stronger here. Fine white powder covered the stone walls. Occasionally the light of Kiris’s stone would reflect upon a dragonmark scrawled upon the wall. The symbols would sometimes catch the light shine brilliantly in a mosaic of dazzling color, continuing to shimmer in the darkness for some time after they passed on.

  “It is just as well that you are forcing me to leave,” Kiris whispered. “I think the Prophecy has grown silent here anyway.”

  “Silent?” Seren asked.

  “The Draconic Prophecy is a thing of magic,” Kiris said. “Parts of it can be read only under certain conditions. It has taken me some time to understand it as Ashrem did, but one thing is clear. The writings here are incomplete. The tale is continued elsewhere.”

  “Where?” Eraina asked.

  Kiris looked back at Seren with a pained expression. “Why are the three of you working with Dalan on this? Surely you know that he’ll only surrender the Legacy to House Cannith. They will use it to amass power, selling it to the highest bidders. Have you thought nothing of the damage that would do?”

  “I don’t know anything about magic,” Seren answered, “but I know Marth murdered my friend.”

  “Keep walking,” Eraina said coldly.

  Kiris’s gaze flicked to the ground.

  “I can see that you hate me, Marshal,” Kiris said. “I know how your house and your goddess view the law. I could be no more despicable than if I had killed those men myse
lf. I can respect that, though I regret it. But why do you hate me so, Seren? I did not kill your friend, nor was I even aware that he existed.”

  “Because you were used,” Seren said. “You work for an evil man, yet you refuse to see it.”

  Kiris laughed. “Then we have much in common,” she said.

  “What are you talking about?” Seren said.

  “You would not believe me,” Kiris said. “No more than I believe you.”

  “All of us already know that Dalan d’Cannith is a manipulative weasel,” Eraina said. “Our alliance is one of mutual benefit, not blind subservience. Now be silent.”

  Kiris continued walking, head bowed. Their trek through the tunnels went on for over an hour, winding underneath the dead earth. At last, a sliver of light shone ahead and Kiris tucked her glowing stone back into her pocket. The tunnel opened on the plains at the foot of a mountain wall. They stepped out onto the soft grass, squinting painfully as their eyes adjusted to the afternoon sun. Kiris slumped against a stone, exhausted. Eraina stood near the wizard, carefully watching her for any attempt to escape. Seren took one of Gerith’s cloth tubes from her belt and fired it into the air to signal the halfling.

  Several minutes passed, with nothing but soft white clouds marking the sky overhead.

  “Something is wrong,” Omax said at last. “Gerith should have seen the smoke by now.”

  “Over here,” hissed a voice from behind them.

  Gerith crouched amid the uneven terrain at the foot of the mountain, looking harried and out of breath. He gestured to them impatiently, eyes fixed on the western horizon.

  Kiris looked up, eyes wide. “You brought a halfling with you?” she asked.

  “Gerith Snowshale, pleased to make your acquaintance,” Gerith said, offering a mischievous grin. “Now hurry. We need to get out of sight!”

  They climbed the rocky wall to join the scout just as the rapid footfalls of approaching clawfoots sounded across the plains.

  “We need to leave, quickly,” Kiris said. Over the rolling hills, a half dozen halfling hunters mounted on clawfoot dinosaurs galloped toward them. Seren recognized the one that rode at the head of the pack - Chief Rossa’s bodyguard, Koranth.

  “Ghost Talons,” Kiris whispered. “They’ve been spying on me for almost a year.”

  “Dalan made a deal with them for repairs when our ship crashed,” Eraina said. “He also offered to help them find you, though he did not intend to fulfill that bargain.”

  “The Ghost Talons follow me when I leave the Boneyard to trade for supplies,” Kiris said. “They even hire nonhalfling travelers to draw me out so they can question me. I was afraid your Gerith was one of them.”

  “They saw your flare, Seren,” Gerith said.

  “Sorry. I didn’t know they were following us,” Seren said.

  “I didn’t know either,” Gerith said. “I didn’t notice them following us until you went inside the Boneyard.”

  “Who are they working for?” Seren asked.

  “I do not know,” Kiris answered. “As long as I could avoid them, it was never a concern.”

  “If someone else is interested in what you’re doing here, I’m not surprised they hired the locals to keep an eye on you,” Gerith said. “The Talons are just the sort to take that job. They’re enterprising sorts.”

  “Enterprising?” Kiris said with a laugh. “You mean scavengers. They hide near the Boneyard because they know that even the Valenar avoid the accursed place. When and if the elves invade, the Ghost Talons can be the first to loot the battlefields. I do not know what interest they have in me. They could be working for anyone.”

  “Strange that halflings give you so much trouble,” Eraina said. “I’d think Marth and his followers could frighten them off for you.”

  Kiris hesitated. “I have not told Marth about the Ghost Talons,” she said. “I was … concerned that he might overreact.”

  “Kill them, you mean,” Eraina said. “So much for your faith in your hero.”

  Below, the Talons had gathered in a small circle just at the tunnel exit. One had dismounted and was studying the grass with a practiced eye. He looked back at Koranth and mumbled something too quiet for them to hear.

  “Servants of Dalan d’Cannith,” Koranth shouted in a clear voice. “I know that you can hear me; your tracks are fresh. Please reveal yourselves. We do not wish to do you harm. Chief Rossa is eager to see you return. He has dispatched his finest warriors to escort you back to the camp. Do not be afraid.”

  “More hmael?” Seren asked.

  Gerith nodded rapidly.

  “Should we fight them?” Eraina asked. “Six enemies aren’t such terrible odds. I’ve seen worse.”

  “I think you miscounted,” Gerith said. “I see twelve. Those clawfoots aren’t just ponies, Eraina.”

  Koranth continued to wait in uneasy silence, the last echoes of his voice still returning over the mountains. He gestured to his riders and two of them darted off, one in each direction, searching for them.

  “Incidentally, your master sends his greetings,” Koranth shouted. “He is well guarded by my loyal hunters, and will continue to be until you return safely to the Ghost Talons.”

  “So now it has come to threats,” Eraina said in a low growl. “They are holding Dalan.”

  “What do we do?” Seren asked.

  “Honestly, we may as well surrender,” Gerith said. “They’re all hunters and this is their territory. It’s only a matter of time before they find us.”

  “Can’t you escape on Blizzard?” Seren asked.

  “Sure,” Gerith said. “I can avoid Koranth and his amateurs forever, but Blizzard isn’t big enough to carry three humans, a warforged, and me.”

  Seren knelt and dropped Kiris’s bag, hurriedly digging through its contents. She removed the pouches of spell reagents and returned them to Kiris, leaving only the books and scrolls inside.

  “What are you doing, Seren?” Eraina asked.

  “We came here looking for Kiris because she could help us understand Ashrem’s work,” Seren said. “Maybe the halflings, or whoever they really work for, just want to get their hands on her work too.” She handed the bag to Gerith. “Can you get these back to Tristam without being seen?”

  “Of course,” Gerith said.

  “Those books are mine,” Kiris protested.

  “And if you let Gerith take them back to our ship, you have a chance of keeping them,” Seren said. “Koranth won’t give you an offer like that.”

  Kiris only shrugged in agreement and secured her reagent pouches to her belt.

  “You sure you’ll be all right?” Gerith asked, looking up at Seren in concern.

  “I don’t think Koranth wants to hurt us,” Seren said. “As long as he thinks he’s in control, we’ll have time to plan. If they really have taken Dalan prisoner, I’d be surprised if he hasn’t already come up with an escape plan.”

  “Good point,” Gerith said. “I hadn’t thought of that,” The halfling took the satchel and climbed onto Blizzard’s back. “Good luck to you, ladies. You too, Omax. Be safe.”

  Gerith whispered something curtly to his glidewing. The creature made several agile leaps up the rock face, away from the hunters and out of their view. There was only the subtle flap of leather and a blur of motion across the sky to mark his departure. Blizzard’s pale blue underbelly perfectly camouflaged it from below.

  “Are you lost?” Koranth shouted. “Are the plains so confusing? Shall I send my hunters to guide you to us?”

  “No need, we’re right here,” Seren shouted back.

  She stepped out of her hiding place, scaling down the rock wall carefully. Eraina, Kiris, and Omax followed. Koranth scrutinized each of them carefully, especially Omax, who stood at eye level to him even mounted on his steed. The other two roving hunters returned rapidly, their mounts moving with startling speed.

  “Dusty and bruised but not wounded,” Koranth said. “Rossa will be pleased that you
are in good health. Lady Overwood, I presume? We have been looking for you for a long time.”

  “What do you want with me?” Kiris asked.

  “That is Rossa’s business, not mine,” Koranth answered. He scanned the area briefly. “Where is your scout?”

  “He fled,” Seren said. “The Boneyard terrified him.”

  Koranth looked at Eraina. “Is that true, paladin?” he asked, looking at her shrewdly.

  “Gerith was quite terrified of the Boneyard’s curse,” Eraina said. “He left as quickly as he dared.”

  “That’s what they get for trusting a Snowshale,” said one of the other halflings. Koranth and the others laughed. Seren realized abruptly that the hunter had spoken in his native tongue, and that Tristam’s bracelet had translated the words.

  “Truly a pity,” Koranth said with a smug grin. “Never fear, we shall guide you back to our camp. You’ll have to walk, unfortunately. Our steeds are notoriously intolerant of unfamiliar riders.”

  Not to mention that if they tried to escape, the clawfoot riders could quickly run them down. Seren smiled at Koranth, trying not to be unnerved by the violence she detected just beneath his veneer of etiquette. Some of the other hunters were less subtle, scowling openly at her. She had the feeling that the Koranth was almost disappointed that they had chosen to surrender peacefully. The halfling gestured with his spear and moved his steed to one side, signaling for them to begin walking.

  The hunters rode in a loose circle around them as they traveled back to the Ghost Talon village. In time, the sun set and the hunters struck a rough camp in the shadows of a short cliff. The halflings began cooking the evening meal and pitching tents. Seren stepped forward and offered to help but was ordered to return to the others with a gesture and a curt word that Tristam’s bracelet didn’t understand. The message was clear. Their status as “guests” was merely a convenient illusion. They were prisoners. Seren returned to sit beside Omax, Eraina, and Kiris. Koranth arrived shortly afterward, depositing a pot of steaming beans, a jug of water, tin plates, and clay cups.