Rise of the Seventh Moon: Heirs of Ash, Book 3

by Wulf, Rich

  “He swore our lives and honor were safe in his care, so long as his was safe in ours,” Zed said.

  “So when you led him into danger, he left,” Dalan said with a chuckle. “I’m surprised you let him get away with such a promise. It has loopholes large enough to fly this airship through.”

  “I realized that at the time,” Zed said. “We were desperate. Honestly I think I would have settled for ‘I promise not to kill you.’ We needed help that badly.”

  “Then why waste energy being angry at Shaimin?” Dalan asked. “He only acted to save himself. You have only yourself to blame if you expected more.”

  “I take it personally when people leave me to die,” Zed said.

  “If Zed has grown accustomed to allies who would risk themselves on his behalf,” Pherris said, looking back at Dalan, “I would hardly count that as a weakness, Master d’Cannith.”

  “A noble way of looking at things,” Dalan said. “I prefer to be more realistic. Shaimin d’Thuranni may be a self-centered murderer, but he knows Marth better than most of us. He is a worthy ally who could easily become a dangerous enemy. When we finish this, he’ll be out of our lives. Please don’t toss him over the side because of your bruised ego, Arthen. I don’t need his cousins hunting me in revenge.”

  Zed scowled.

  “How long until we reach Sharn, Captain?” Dalan asked.

  “No more than an hour,” Pherris replied.

  Dalan sighed. “I hope you have a good plan, Master Xain,” he said. “This ship still has no weapons. It would be tragic for us to follow Marth all this way only to watch him blast us from the sky.”

  Tristam nudged a large barrel with his foot and lifted the lid. It was filled with several small clay bottles. “Alchemist’s fire, in pressurized flasks,” Tristam said. “When thrown against a solid surface, they should explode. If we can get close enough to the Moon, they’ll give us an edge against Marth’s lightning.”

  “What about the Legacy?” Zed asked. “Won’t it just neutralize them?”

  Tristam shook his head. “Magic is a necessary component in their creation, but they aren’t inherently magical,” he said. “They’ll explode even if the Legacy goes off right next to them.” He carefully replaced the lid. “Just be careful. The bottles are somewhat fragile.”

  Zed and Dalan both took an unconscious step back. Pherris cast the barrel a wary glance from his place at the helm.

  “That isn’t all I’ve been working on, either,” Tristam added. “When I fought Marth over Nathyrr, he was carrying a black sphere like the one Norra gave me back in Zul’nadn. It acted as a remote focus for the Legacy’s power but protected him as well. It allowed him to use his own magic. I couldn’t study the effect for long, but I think I’ve been able to duplicate it.” He reached into his coat and drew out two small black glass spheres. “Aeven, one is for you.”

  The dryad looked at Tristam in surprise, then peered at the sphere suspiciously.

  “Please,” Tristam said, offering it to her. “Hold it close, and the Legacy won’t harm you.”

  The dryad took the sphere gingerly, clasping it between her small hands. “Thank you,” she said in a soft voice.

  “The other one’s for Omax?” Zed asked.

  “For me,” Tristam said, tucking the sphere back into his pocket. “Omax doesn’t need one. He was immune to the Legacy’s effects over Fort Ash.”

  “How?” Dalan asked.

  Tristam hesitated, running one hand through his unkempt hair. “I’m really not sure,” he said. “It has something to do with using the ship’s containment core to repair him. Somehow, a part of the Legacy’s power remained with him.”

  “What about Eraina?” Zed asked. “I don’t suppose you had time to make crystals for her as well?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Tristam said. “I made Aeven’s first since she would die without one.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Zed said, shrugging. “A paladin who can’t cope without his magic is no paladin at all.” Tristam couldn’t help but think that Zed’s expression was faintly amused.

  Tristam chewed his lip in thought, then turned suddenly to face Dalan. “Dalan, what did you mean earlier?” Tristam asked. “When you said the Legacy’s secret is not nearly as dangerous as it once was?”

  “Precisely what I said,” Dalan said. “The Legacy was a terrible danger to the world because it was unknown, unpredictable, and unstoppable. Now we know that its power is not absolute. The Mourning Dawn proved immune, and now you claim you can protect others as well. Given more time, I’m certain similar counters would be developed. The Legacy is not the invincible menace it once was.” The guildmaster smiled cynically. “I speak of generalities, of course. At the moment it’s still quite dangerous enough. Thousands of Sharn citizens will discover that if we are not triumphant.” Dalan folded his arms behind his back, pacing across the deck. His dog rose and followed him, scampering to get out of his way each time his master turned.

  “Nervous?” Tristam asked.

  “Afraid,” Dalan replied with a small laugh.

  “Afraid?” Zed asked in surprise.

  “I savor the sensation of power,” Dalan said. “I enjoy being in control. Yet I am useless in a confrontation such as this. All preparations have been made. In the final battle … there is no use for me. All I can do is trust that the rest of you are strong enough. There is absolutely nothing more I can do—and that fills me with fear.”

  “You could pray for us, Dalan,” Zed said.

  “I thought you were no longer a religious man, Arthen,” Dalan said.

  The inquisitive grinned.

  Tristam looked toward the southwest. The soaring towers of Sharn were now clearly visible on the horizon, though still a long distance away. The city truly was an awe-inspiring sight. The towers reached so high that the city was taller than it was wide.

  “So how will we find the Seventh Moon?” Zed asked. “I know Aeven can guide us when we get close, but Sharn’s a big place.”

  The sound of a heavy foot upon the bay ladder was followed by a second. Tristam looked up as Omax heaved himself onto the deck. The immense warforged stared out at the city, blue eyes gleaming. His metallic shoulders were tense; his clawed hands were balled into tight fists. Omax did not seem to take notice of anyone on the deck, quietly watching and waiting for something.

  “Omax?” Tristam asked.

  “That way,” the warforged said, pointing.

  “How are you sure?” Tristam asked, staring at Omax uncertainly.”

  The warforged shifted uncomfortably and looked at the others. “Tristam, I must discuss something with you privately,” he said.

  “What’s wrong, Omax?” Tristam asked, closing the hatch of his cabin. The warforged awkwardly moved the life ring that was taking up much of one side of the small chamber. Tristam had kept the device following their escape from the Seventh Moon, restoring its enchantment on impulse in case it was ever needed.

  The warforged folded his arms and leaned against the side of Tristam’s narrow bookcase. His gleaming eyes stared at the floor, unfocused. “I feel different, Tristam,” he said, hesitating as if he could not find the proper words. “Since the battle over Fort Ash I am … changed.”

  “Changed?” Tristam asked.

  “Do you remember when Marth activated the Legacy?” Omax asked.

  “I remember you collapsed to trick him into thinking he had killed you,” Tristam said.

  “That was no trick, Tristam,” Omax said. “Do you remember what I told you after you repaired me? Of what I sensed within the Dragon’s Eye?”

  “You said you sensed something ancient and boundless,” Tristam replied.

  Omax nodded. “When the Legacy’s energies washed over me, I felt it again. But more clearly this time. A power unlike any I have ever experienced. I felt a connection to some primal realm of pure magic, infused with the very fires of creation.”

  “I suspected the Dragon’s Eye was some sort of
gateway an alternate plane,” Tristam said. “Maybe that plane is nothing but energy. Whatever lies there is more potent than any magic we possess in Eberron. That’s why it overrules dimensional gateways and destroys all enchantments.”

  “But I sensed that destruction is not its true purpose,” Omax said.

  “Well, no,” Tristam said. “That’s something I’ve thought about a great deal. If my vision in Zul’nadn holds any truth at all, whatever entity first created the Eye used it defensively—to preserve Eberron. It wasn’t until the dragons created the Legacy that it was used as a weapon. The fact that it saved your life proves that its power can do a great deal more than destroy.”

  “There is more,” Omax said.

  “Go on, Omax,” Tristam replied.

  “I sensed a vast and primitive intelligence,” he said. “Only for an instant, but that was long enough to overcome my senses. The energy that fuels the Legacy is indeed a living being, like the elementals that power our airships.”

  Tristam was silent for a long time, pondering what Omax had said. “That must be why the containment cores serve as such effective anchors in our world,” he said. “Did you sense anything else, Omax? Does it have a name?”

  “Why would it need a name?” Omax asked. “It has never known anything other than itself.”

  “Stupid question, sorry,” Tristam said. “Were you able to communicate with it?”

  “I was able to hear it,” Omax said, “Its power is unimaginable, but it seemed almost …” He struggled to find the correct word. “Innocent? The existence of our world fills it with curiosity. It wishes to know more.”

  “Did you say anything to it?” Tristam asked.

  Omax shrugged. “I wouldn’t even know how to begin communicating with such an entity. Everything was emotion and color. It touched my mind but, seeing I was not the one it sought, moved on.”

  “Moved on?” Tristam asked.

  “I received the impression that each time the Legacy is used, a part of this infinite being escapes into our world,” Omax said. “I do not know what happens after it arrives here, but it wished nothing to do with me. I find that since that day I am strangely depressed.”

  “How so?” Tristam asked.

  “For a brief instant I was one with the infinite, but it decided it wished nothing to do with me,” Omax said. “For one who has spent so much of his life seeking meaning, I find that I now feel terribly inadequate.”

  “Probably a side effect of the magic,” Tristam said. “I have no idea what sort of long-term effects the Legacy’s energy will have on you, Omax. I wouldn’t worry about this.” Tristam smiled sheepishly, hoping that the words comforted his friend somewhat.

  “If you say so, Tristam,” Omax said. “On a more positive note, exposure to the Legacy has strengthened my connection to Ashrem’s airships. Much as the Karia Naille can sense her sisters, I can now sense them as well. Strangely, my ability seems a great deal sharper. I sensed Karia Naille soaring to our rescue in the Harrowcrowns long before we ever saw her. I sense Kenshi Zhann now. She speeds toward Sharn barely a mile away from us.”

  Tristam’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t expect her to be so close,” he said.

  “Kenshi Zhann’s new elemental has had difficulty adjusting to its ship,” Omax said. “Her speed is greatly reduced from what we know.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Tristam said. He leaned toward the cabin porthole, staring out into the sky. “If the Seventh Moon is so close, we should be able to see her elemental ring. I don’t see anything.”

  “Look higher,” Omax said.

  Tristam crane his neck, looking through the porthole at an angle.

  High above the Mourning Dawn, the sparkling golden lights of the Ring of Siberys gleamed in the night sky.

  And there, so high in the sky that it almost appeared to be a star, a red ring of flame traced its course toward Sharn.

  “Captain Gerriman, take us higher!” Tristam shouted, bursting out of his cabin and running toward the deck. “All hands, prepare for battle!”

  Seren appeared beside him as he ran through the corridor. She smiled at him, and he found it a little harder to be afraid. He squeezed her hand gently and hurried onward to the deck. The others were swiftly gathering there. Gerith was tightening the harness on his glidewing. Eraina distributed flasks of alchemist fire to the others. Pherris’s gaze was locked on the red ring high above them as Karia Naille began to climb. A cold wind cut across the deck as the airship ascended.

  “Khyber, why’s she riding so high?” Pherris said. A thin line of sweat beaded on his brow as he pushed the ship higher. “These ships aren’t built to sustain that sort of altitude.”

  “He’s flying above the clouds so that I can summon no storm to hinder him,” Aeven said.

  “That’s not the only reason,” Shaimin said. “Skyway.”

  “Eh?” Pherris said, looking at the elf.

  Shaimin pointed at the clouds. “Marth is headed for Skyway. The noble district.” Lights twinkled among the clouds. From below, the lights had seemed to be stars.

  “Buildings?” Seren said, astonished. “The people live in the clouds?”

  “The rich ones do,” Zed said, studying the clouds beside the elf. A large central cloud was encircled by many smaller floating islands. “Though they won’t stay up there for long if Marth reaches them. I bet he plans to drop the Skyway district on the city, then work his way down.”

  The Kenshi Zhann had nearly reached the closest of the cloud islands.

  “Damn it, Gerriman, doesn’t this ship go any faster?” Dalan demanded.

  “Doing my best, Dalan,” Pherris said. “She’s not doing well in this thin air. She’s going to freeze up and drop if we keep this up. Aeven, any help you can provide would be much appreciated.”

  The dryad looked up suddenly. She had been staring into the depths of the black glass sphere. “Aye, Captain,” she whispered. The wind picked up behind them, pushing them to greater speed.

  “I should go down there,” Gerith said, peering over the rail.

  “What are you talking about, Snowshale?” Dalan said.

  “All those people!” Gerith said, gesturing out at the city. “What if we can’t stop Marth? They need to know what’s about to happen! Someone has to warn them.”

  “You want to fly through Sharn on your glidewing and tell people the sky is falling?” Dalan asked.

  Gerith looked crestfallen. “When you put it that way, it just sounds stupid,” he said meekly.

  Ahead of them, the Seventh Moon dove toward the nearest edge of the massive floating island. A squadron of airships burst from the cloud cover as he approached, speeding toward him. The Seventh Moon banked and climbed higher as bolts of flame and arcs of electricity erupted from the ships.

  “Brelish warships,” Tristam said, running to the bow and staring out at the swarming vessels. “Draikus must have sent word ahead.”

  “Maybe they’ll buy us time to catch up,” Pherris said.

  “Or maybe they’ll just get themselves killed,” Zed replied.

  The air, though already bitterly cold, grew even colder as a shockwave of white energy erupted from the core of Marth’s ship. The Legacy’s power washed over the attacking airships. The elemental fire that supported a dozen of the closest vessels vanished in an instant. The remaining ships scattered, the fleet thrown into disarray by the Legacy’s incredible power. Terrified screams drifted upon the thin air as airships plummeted toward the city below. A gleaming fissure appeared in the shining clouds of Skyway. Cracks began to spread through the floating island.

  “Flame forgive us all,” Zed whispered. “We’re too late.”

  “Not yet,” Tristam said. “Skyway was built to be self sustaining. If we can stop him quickly, the island will repair itself.”

  “We aren’t going to catch him at this rate,” Pherris said.

  Even as he spoke, the Legacy’s wave washed over them and the Karia Naille gained speed.
The ship’s elemental ring burned pure white, crackling with raw energy. The airship surged higher, moving above and behind the Seventh Moon. Far beneath them, Tristam could see the Cyran soldiers on the deck shouting and pointing upward. Marth stood in their midst, his pale hair and face a marked contrast to the others.

  “We need to get closer,” Tristam said, holding his wand in one hand and a flask in the other.

  Pherris nodded, but even as the ship descended, the Moon banked suddenly to starboard. The Mourning Dawn soared on ahead, still descending.

  “He’s coming around,” Zed said.

  “Trying to get behind us so he can shoot us down,” Pherris muttered, fighting to mirror the Moon’s maneuver.

  The smaller airship struggled to veer about as the Moon came around behind her. A searing blast of electricity erupted from the warship’s bow, singing the Mourning Dawn’s hull. Tristam cursed. The winds were fierce this high above Sharn, rendering their flasks and crossbows nearly useless. Marth could elude them forever, whittling them down to nothing with his lightning. The Mourning Dawn was forced to gain altitude, pulling out of the Seventh Moon’s range.

  The Moon sped past them again, toward the heart of Skyway. Another burst of energy erupted from the ship’s heart as the Legacy activated a second time. The cracks that threatened the floating island began to spread. Tristam could see the taller buildings of Skyway tremble as a tremor shook the district.

  “If we get close, he’ll just circle around and blast us again,” Zed said. “We’ve got nothing to stop him at this altitude unless we just plan to crash into him.”

  Tristam looked up. An idea struck him.

  “Get him behind us again, Captain,” Tristam shouted, running back below deck, “but stay above him!”

  Pherris gave him a dubious look, but complied. The Mourning Dawn dove again. Moments later, another bolt of lightning narrowly missed its keel strut as the Moon moved to pursue again. Tristam emerged on the deck, holding the life ring he had taken from the Seventh Moon. He looked down at the pursuing airship and hefted the ring in one hand.