“No!” Ibrido screamed through clenched teeth as the heat of his life was forced from him. “Please, stop. I beg of you. Please!”
Esprë didn’t respond, not with a single word. She fed the fire of all her frustrations and anger into her dragonmark and let the grave chill of death ripple down her arms and into her victim.
“Please,” Ibrido whispered as the light left his eyes, as they froze wide open, staring at the sky.
Esprë never uttered a word as she pulled her hands from the dragon-elf’s neck. The glow around him vanished, and what was left funneled back up her arms and disappeared. The dragonmark on her back that had itched for so long finally felt like it had been scratched.
Esprë looked down at the body beneath her and collapsed on top of it, sobbing. She wept for herself, for her lost innocence, and she wept for Ibrido as well. Sad as she was, she knew she wouldn’t have done anything differently. She’d had to kill the dragon-elf, whether she wanted to or not. Now that it was done, so permanently, she cried—she knew that not even her hot tears could thaw him back to life.
Burch heard Ibrido’s final scream and smiled. “One more bastard down,” he said. As he spoke, the dragon—one of its wings still smoking from its encounter with the ring of fire—soared past the ship’s bow and beat its wings toward Phoenix.
“One more to go.”
“We’re not going anywhere but down,” Te’oma said. “This airship is ready to explode!”
“We’re not leaving them,” Burch said, stabbing a finger at Phoenix as it scudded through the sky above. “Get this ship after that dragon, now!”
Te’oma shuddered, shaking her head. “We’ll never make it,” she said. “We’ll blow up in midair.”
Burch considered drawing his knife and threatening to kill the changeling. It would be a bad bluff though. If she could get a hold of herself long enough to think, she’d realize he couldn’t fly the ship himself.
Instead, he reached out and steadied her by the shoulders. “They need us,” he said. “If we don’t get up there, they’re all dead.”
The changeling refused to meet his gaze. “They’re dead either way,” she said. “There’s no way to stop that dragon. What good is it for us to toss our bodies onto the same pyre?”
Burch pulled Te’oma’s chin around so that he could look into her round white eyes. Gazing back into his black eyes seemed to calm her. She stopped shivering, she swallowed hard, and she took a deep breath.
“Don’t count us out yet,” Burch said, patting the crossbow hanging from its sling around his shoulder. “We still have one angle left.”
Te’oma exhaled through her nose and nodded. “All right,” she said, staring up at the dragon and the airship above them. “What do you need me to do?”
Even before Burch could speak, the ring of fire around the airship crackled louder than ever, and Keeper’s Claw leaped upward after its prey. The shifter grinned at the changeling as he took his crossbow in his hands again. “Just get me as close to that flying lizard as you can.”
Te’oma nodded, then furrowed her brow with concentration. To Burch, the resultant roar sounded as if the elemental creature in the ring of fire laughed with glee. Whether with them or at them, he couldn’t tell. He decided he didn’t care to know.
The ship soared up after the dragon, devouring the distance between them. Burch couldn’t tell for sure if they would catch up with Nithkorrh before it reached Phoenix, but the race would be close enough for him to hope.
Burch put an arm around Te’oma and escorted her to the ship’s bow. Out here, as far from the airship’s roaring ring as he could get, he had a much clearer field of fire. He knelt down and rested his crossbow against the gunwale and did his best to wait.
“Monja!” Xalt shouted back toward the bridge. “We need you here now!”
“This ship won’t pilot itself,” the halfling called back.
Esprë cursed and raced back toward the bridge. “Can you save them?” Esprë asked in a raw voice as she raced toward the wheel.
“With luck and a prayer,” Monja said, already halfway off the bridge. Her normally affable manner had turned dead serious. “Or two.”
The warforged knelt down next to Kandler and Sallah, staining his knees with their blood. He couldn’t tell whom all the crimson had spilled from, and at this point he didn’t guess it mattered. Both the justicar and the knight required aid, more than he could give. Only the shaman’s healing powers could save them now.
While Monja’s tiny feet padded toward him, Xalt helped Duro separate the two. Kandler’s skin had turned as white as the changeling’s, and he looked like he might pass out at any moment. Sallah’s complexion was not much better.
Xalt removed Sallah’s breastplate to inspect the damage. Ibrido’s sword had cut through her skin and bones. From the crimson dripping from her lips and the way she hacked out every breath, the warforged guessed she was bleeding into her lungs.
Xalt glanced at both of the humans as they raced toward death. He couldn’t tell who would cross the finish line first.
“Is there anything I can do?” Esprë shouted from the bridge, near hysterics.
Xalt felt bad for the young elf. For all her power, her dragonmark could only destroy life, the opposite of what they needed right now.
Monja glanced back and shook her head at Esprë’s request as she knelt down and began to pray. The halfling’s lips moved so fast that Xalt could only guess at the words, but he could see the golden glow granted to her by her gods begin to form around her hands.
Then the warforged heard the roar of a furious dragon coming fast off the starboard stern.
“I don’t suppose you can do something about that?” Duro yelled to the young elf.
Esprë stared back at the dragon as it came rushing up toward them. “I don’t think so,” she shouted.
“Keep pushing,” Burch said to Te’oma. “We’re gaining on him.”
The shifter glanced over his shoulder at the changeling, her eyes still closed, and saw the sweat beaded on her brow despite the chilly dusk air. He decided not to risk distracting her, and he went back to lining up an angle at Nithkorrh.
The dragon had dispensed with dodging about like it had before. Instead it put every bit of its effort into flying toward Phoenix as fast as its wings would take it. So far, the strategy had worked well. While Keeper’s Claw was gaining on the dragon, they still weren’t close enough that Burch felt he could risk a bolt.
As they neared the dragon, the gunwale started to tremble. For a moment, Burch thought he could compensate for it by lifting his crossbow up into his arms, but soon the entire airship began to shake as if every one of the boards that made it up might fly apart from each other at any second.
“What’s going on?” Burch said, standing up into a wide stance.
“The ship can’t take the speed!”
“Then slow it down. I can’t loose a bolt like this.”
The changeling grimaced for a moment. Burch noticed tears running down her cheeks. “I can’t!” she said. “The elemental won’t let me.” She opened her eyes. “It wants to destroy the ship.”
Burch cursed. He stared up at the dragon, wondering what to do next. Then he turned to Te’oma and said, “Quit fighting it then. Give it what it wants.”
The changeling’s jaw dropped.
Burch pointed up at Nithkorrh. “Tell it to ram the dragon.”
Kandler opened his eyes to see Monja looking down at him. Her smile faded instantly, though, as a dragon’s roar rattled the airship. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” she said glancing up, “at least for now.”
Kandler coughed out his thanks as he turned to look for Sallah, reaching out for her with his arm. She lay next to him, her chin and chest covered with blood.
“Is she—?” he started, thinking she was dead, wishing he could trade his life for hers.
The lady knight opened her emerald eyes and smiled at him. His heart leaped in his ches
t.
“Are you …?”
“Stiff and sore?” she said as she struggled to sit up. She nodded. “You?”
“Happier than I have any right to be.” He reached out and hugged her. As he did, he glanced around, searching for his daughter. He spied Esprë gazing down at him from behind the ship’s wheel.
“I saw what you did, kid,” he called. “You were great. If your mother—”
Esprë cut Kandler off with a scream. He whipped his head about to see Nithkorrh hovering over the ship. The dragon turned to glare down at the group of people gathered there at the ship’s bow.
“How thoughtful,” the dragon said. “Now I can kill you all at once.”
“Scatter!” Kandler yelled.
Xalt helped Sallah to her feet and pulled her to the port side of the ship, away from the others. Duro pushed Kandler in the other direction. Monja raced back toward the bridge.
Nithkorrh roared, then whipped back its neck in the way that Kandler now knew meant the beast was about to spit down at the ship. The justicar sprinted for the bridge, hoping to protect Esprë from the worst of the green acid. As he glared up defiantly at the dragon, Keeper’s Claw barreled into the beast and knocked it from its spot in the sky.
Kandler threw back his head and cheered louder than he had since the end of the Last War.
“Let’s get to the bridge!” Burch said. “When we smack that beast, we’ll want to be as far from it as we can.”
Te’oma raced ahead of the shifter along the length of the ship. He had to give her credit. He didn’t think she’d be brave enough to push the elemental in the right direction—or trust him enough to do what he asked.
When they reached the bridge, Burch pulled her down to hunker behind the wooden console where the now-useless wheel hung. The ship shook so violently that the shifter wondered if they’d make it to the dragon before coming apart.
Burch peeked out over the console and spotted the dragon hanging in the air in front of Keeper’s Claw, terrorizing the other airship below it. Nithkorrh’s roaring at Phoenix’s passengers drowned out the mad crackling of Keeper’s ring of fire. The airship rocketed straight at the dragon, its prow aiming for its heart like a massive lance.
Glancing a hair lower, Burch saw his friends scattering from the dragon, heading in all directions across Phoenix’s deck. They all seemed to be alive, although some were soaked in blood. He didn’t see Ibrido anywhere, which he hoped was a good sign.
As Keeper’s Claw neared, the dragon finally heard it coming and turned to face it. Burch swore, knowing this could not be good. Then an idea struck him cold and clear.
“Come on,” the shifter said, pulling Te’oma to her feet. “Spread those wings of yours. We’re leaving.”
“You’re insane,” the changeling said as he hauled her toward the ship’s stern, her cloak already morphing from black cloth into a set of batlike wings. “These aren’t strong enough to keep us both in the air.”
“They just need to slow us down,” Burch said, wrapping an arm around Te’oma’s waist as he leaped off the back of the airship.
The changeling screamed.
Just as they left Keeper’s Claw, she slammed into the dragon. The canny beast managed to avoid the ship’s prow, slipping up over her to smash into the upper restraining arc instead. Its furious roar rang throughout the mountains as it found its wings too tangled in the ship for it to fly, and it crashed into the bridge, right where Burch and Te’oma had been. The airship’s ring of fire flared again, like a bonfire fed a cartload of dry tinder, and the ship ground to a halt less than fifty yards past Phoenix.
The changeling’s wings beat madly to keep the two of them in the sky, but gravity was sure to win that battle. Holding on to Te’oma by her belt, Burch arched out and around and leveled his crossbow back at the ship. Drifting lower in the sky like a wounded bird wasn’t the best way to loose a bolt, but it beat riding an airship quaking like a toddler in a graveyard, and this time, the target stayed still.
Burch held the crossbow out in front of him at the end of his arm for a moment, waiting for the angle to appear. Then he pulled its trigger and loosed the bolt.
The shockbolt sailed straight toward Keeper’s Claw and smashed into its upper restraining arc, exploding against the curved length of rune-carved wood.
The dragon’s head poked up from the bridge on its long, sinuous neck, and it unleashed a low, evil laugh.
“You missed!” Te’oma cried.
Burch grinned to himself.
“I wasn’t aiming for the dragon.”
The upper restraining arc of Keeper’s Claw toppled forward over the bridge, trapping the dragon beneath it. As it fell, the magic inside it spilled out, and it released the monstrous elemental that had been trapped within its ring of fire for years.
The explosion engulfed the entire airship from stem to stern, including Nithkorrh. The dragon howled an unholy screech as the fire burned through its scales and flash-fried the flesh from its bones. Then it and the remains of the ship began a long, blazing descent to crash into the mountain far below, inscribing an arc across the heavens like a falling star.
The concussion from the blast knocked Te’oma and Burch senseless for a moment, but the changeling’s cloak-wings kept beating. When the shifter managed to clear his head, he saw the deck of Phoenix rising to meet him, and he heard a cheer go up from his friends.
Sitting on the deck of Phoenix, Kandler couldn’t believe he was still alive. He held Esprë on his lap and kissed the back of her head, not sure he could ever bring himself to let her go. Sallah sat next to him, leaning into him. Every now and then, he heard her whisper, “Thank the Flame.”
He looked at the people arranged around him and marveled at what they’d all been through. Burch paced back and forth at the bow, scouting the sky, making sure no other threats were coming their way. It seemed unlikely, but the shifter wasn’t willing to take anything for granted.
Monja stood on the spokes of the ship’s wheel again, pushing the ship gently toward the southwest, back in the direction of her homeland. The Talenta Plains stretched out before them, holding the promise of a respite if not an actual haven. Could anything protect them from the dangers that still threatened them? Certainly not the tribes of halfling barbarians over which Monja’s father ruled—if it could be said that anyone did.
Xalt sat in front of him, fawning over Esprë. The two had formed a quick bond back in Construct when Kandler had entrusted the warforged with his daughter’s welfare. That link had been cemented when Te’oma had stabbed Xalt in the back and kidnapped the young elf once again.
Kandler guessed that Esprë enjoyed the simplicity of the warforged’s outlook. Here was a creature with little or no history, no twisting lines of family politics full of intrigue. He was about as unlike an elf as you could get.
As for Xalt, perhaps he was just interested in children, having never been one himself. Like all warforged, he had come into the world fully grown, and to discover a person who was not only a child but had been one for longer than Xalt had been alive must have piqued his curiosity to no end.
Duro prowled the deck, reflecting on moments that left him thrilled and then dour. The dwarf grieved for all the good friends he’d lost today, but the thought that he’d helped rid his ancient homeland of the creature that had plagued it for so long pleased him more than he could express. Kandler wondered what the dwarf would do now. Was there anyone waiting for him back home? Or was he now without any ties at all?
Te’oma lay sprawled on her back in the middle of the deck. She hadn’t said much of anything since she and Burch had landed on Phoenix. Kandler was grateful to her for everything she’d done—he didn’t know if they’d have prevailed without her help—but he still wasn’t sure he could trust her. She’d been a strong ally when they’d faced a common foe, but now that the dragon was dead, he couldn’t tell what she might try next.
“Where to now, boss?” Burch said as he came up behind the
justicar. “Monja needs a direction.”
Kandler nodded. “Back to the Talenta Plains is fine for now,” he said. “If we can find the Wandering Inn again, we can lay in some more supplies and take a short break, get healthy before we head out again.”
“How about after that?”
That was the real question, wasn’t it? He’d not had long to think about this. Before, he’d thought maybe they’d go back to Sharn. He still had friends there, family even. In a place like the City of Towers, they could blend in, disappear, at least for a while.
He knew it wouldn’t last though. Eventually someone would find them: servants of Vol, agents of the dragon kings, even missionaries from the Undying Court.
“I’m tired,” he said, giving Esprë a squeeze, “tired of running, of hiding. It’s time we went on the offensive.”
“What do you mean?” Sallah asked, pushing herself up to sit on her own.
“These forces after Esprë, they’re never going to stop until they get their hands on her, right?”
“She could come to Thrane. She’d be welcome in Flamekeep, and the full complement of the Knights of the Silver Flame would work to protect her.”
Kandler shook his head. “That would only bring the dragons down on your heads.” He put up his hand to silence her objections. “I respect you and your friends, but can you believe they’d be able to withstand a full-out dragon assault? I’d rather not see all of Flamekeep burn on Esprë’s behalf.”
Sallah grimaced at the thought. “Where else do you suggest?” she asked. “Should we return to Mardakine? Or Metrol? Perhaps flee north across the Thunder Sea?”
Kandler shook his head. “There’s only one choice for us. We’ll find the Wandering Inn and outfit ourselves for a long voyage. Then we’ll head for Valenar.”
“The elf colony?” Esprë said. “I haven’t been there for decades. I don’t think I know anyone there any more.”
Kandler ruffled her hair. “That’s all right. That’s not our final stop.”
The Road to Death: The Lost Mark, Book 2 Page 31
