by Matt Forbeck
"Supplying a ship isn’t like popping into the market for a quick bite,” Monja said, perched next to her on the gunwale. "It’s going to be a long journey, across the sea. The water alone will be too heavy for them to carry. They’ll have to hire a wagon.”
Espre hated the way the halfling sat on the railing. She always felt that the little shaman would go tumbling off to the ground. True, they were only a couple dozen feet in the air—just high enough to keep the ring of fire from burning the grass below—but such a fall would still hurt and could even kill. If she hadn’t been standing at the wheel, she would have reached over and plucked Monja from the gunwale, but she knew if she let go of the controls the airship would probably buck the halfling off before Espre could reach her.
"I wish we could have just sailed the ship to Pitchwall.” Espre slumped against the wheel.
"Airships are great for travel, but they attract too much
attention,” said Monja. "We need less of that right now. Remember how smoothly everything went in Aerie?”
"Burch said there are only a few hundred people in I’itchwall. How dangerous can they be?”
"If they’re either afraid or greedy? Very. Humans are notorious for thinking about their skins and their purses far too much. Best to avoid it altogether, I say.”
Espre sighed. The others had all agreed with Monja, and hours ago Kandler, Burch, Te’oma, and Sallah had set out for the little village of Pitchwall on their own. That left Espre with Xalt and Monja, lolling about in the floating airship as the craft hovered behind series of low hills that separated her from Pitchwall and the ocean beyond.
"I thought Q’barra was full of monsters,” Espre said.
"It was,” said Xalt who stood next to Espre, "but after the Last War began, a Cyran duke came here to found his own nation, a place separate from the battles that ravaged the rest of the continent.”
Espre and Monja stared at the warforged. The young elf thought the warforged would have smiled if he’d been able to move his mouth in that way. Instead, he cocked his head at them and said, "History lessons were part of my training. My instructors thought it would motivate the warforged to fight better if we had an idea of the reasons why we fought. They meant to help us put the battlefield into context.” "Did it work?” Monja said.
"No. Just the opposite. Once I understood what had caused the war, it seemed more senseless than ever. That’s when they decided to make me an artificer and trained me to repair my fellow warforged.” As he spoke, Xalt’s hand wandered up to his thick, severed finger, which he wore on a lanyard around his neck.
"What else do you know about Q’barra?” Espre asked, eager to help the warforged get his mind off his injury.
"Many of the same thunder lizards that roam the Talenta Plains live here too, alongside the largest lizardfolk civilization on the continent. They often attack the settlers from the Five Nations who come here, most of which are the roughest sorts of refugees who band together only as long as it takes to repel each raid.”
"Why are we here again?” Monja asked.
Espre stared out into the distance. A few lines of smoke curling from far beyond the hills in the distance marked the direction of the town. "Where are they?” she said.
"Do you have any idea where we are?” Sallah asked.
Kandler ignored her and snapped the reins again. The team of three horses drawing the wagon surged forward, pulling the vehicle’s wide-tracked wheels along the narrow path that was only barely drier than the surrounding wetlands.
"We re not stuck in the swamp yet,” he said. "That’s all I care about.” He twisted his head around to look for Burch. "Did we lose them yet?”
Crouched atop barrels of water and other supplies they’d procured from that shady merchant in Pitchwall, the shifter sat scanning the sky. It had been a long time since Kandler had felt like washing his hands after cutting a deal with someone, but Sliford’s oily handshake had made that happen.
"They’re three of them up there still,” Burch said. "They’re hanging back a bit.”
"Just waiting for the right moment,” Te’oma said.
She’d morphed into a copy of Burch right now. In the village, she'd resumed the look of Shawda again. Now that they were in for a fight, though, she seemed to have duplicated Burch to throw their attackers off a bit.
Seeing the two Burches next to each other had rattled Sallah at first, who’d said a quick prayer to the Silver Flame when she’d first noticed. Burch, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he’d taken to calling the changeling "Lady Burch.”
Kandler didn’t care. He’d known Burch long enough that Te’oma couldn’t fool him for an instant. Her voice, her stance, even her eyes, were all wrong—at least to someone looking for his best friend.
"They’re moving up,” Burch said. He held his voice even as he raised his crossbow and took aim at the sky.
Kandler wanted to keep his eyes on the road ahead—such as it was—but he decided to trust the horses for a moment and peek back at the sky. Three winged thunder lizards hung there above them, their white-scaled skins hard to pick out against the clouds in the sky.
They reminded Kandler of the glidewings they’d ridden from the Wandering Inn to Fort Bones, but Burch—who’d called them soarwings—had said they were even larger. Without any means of comparison at this distance, Kandler could only trust his friend's judgment. The fact that each of them looked to be carrying a lizardman lent the claim credence.
"Duck!” Te’oma cried. The changeling flung herself from the wagon as its wheels squelched through the muddy terrain. Her bloodwings burst open before she hit the ground, and an instant later they started to carry her into the sky.
Kandler saw none of that though. The sudden appearance of a feathered spear right next to him jarred his concentration. It embedded itself deep into the wooden plant on which Kandler sat. A half foot to the right, and it would have run him through. He snapped the reins again—harder.
"Uh-oh,” said Monja. The halfling twisted about on the gunwale and stood upon it, staring out toward where the village of Pitchwall was supposed to be.
"What?” said Espre. "What’s that supposed to mean?”
The halfling raised a tiny finger and pointed up at the sky to the east. Following the gesture with her eyes, Espre’s spotted three shapes moving in the sky above the hills.
"They look like birds,” Xalt said.
Monja scowled as she leaped down to the bridge’s deck. "Those are soarwings, and they have riders. This can only mean trouble."
"Maybe they are escorting the others back to the ship,” Xalt said in a more than normally helpful tone.
"Or chasing them,” said Espre. "Are they coming this way?”
The sharp-eyed Monja nodded. "And they’re armed. I just saw one throw a spear.”
"They must have spotted us by now,” said Xalt. "The ring of fire can be seen for miles from the air.”
"That’ll make them even more desperate to finish their job before we can stop them,” Monja said. "Get this boat moving!” she shouted at Espre. "We’ll be too late!”
Chapter
32
The wagon tipped hard to the left as Kandler wrenched the reins, forcing the horses to weave back and forth harder than even the twisting the path ahead demanded. If those three bandits were going to keep taking cheap shots at them, he refused to sit still and make it easy for them.
Burch’s crossbow twanged just as they came out of the turn, and the shifter cursed. "Wide and high,” he said back to Kandler. "You’re not making this easy on me.”
"You’re the better aim,” the justicar said. "You can handle it.”
"Your faith is inspiring.”
Burch ratcheted his crossbow back and slammed another bolt home. "When we’re about to hit a smooth patch, let me know.”
"How about a smooth-er patch?” Kandler didn’t see anything like level ground ahead, much less smooth.
"It’ll have to do
.”
"I feel so useless,” Sallah said. The lady knight pulled her sword half out of its sheath.
"Put it away!” Kandler said. "It only gives them something to aim at.”
With a determined set to her chin, Sallah brought the blade free, and it burst into flames. "That doesn’t sound so useless to me,” she said.
She turned in her seat and stood on her knees, then she waved the burning sword at the soarwings as they dove nearer. The lizardmen atop the beasts had decided that they needed to get closer for a good throw. They couldn’t have too many more of those spears up there with them, Kandler told himself. From now on, they’d have to make each attack count.
"Get down!” Kandler said to Sallah.
He tried to reach out and grab her with his free hand, but she just shoved his attempt aside. Then the wagon reached another turn in the road, and he needed both hands on the reins again.
"That’s great,” Burch said. "Nothing like bait to bring them closer.”
"Who’s hunting whom here?” Kandler asked.
"I’ll let you know when this is over.”
The crossbow twanged again, and a horrible cry pierced the sky. Kandler glanced up and spotted a lizardman tumbling through the air, the soarwing above him now riderless.
"One down, two to go,” Burch said.
"Where’s Te’oma?” Kandler said.
"Run off again,” said Sallah. "As always. She’s not much for a fight.”
"She did save Monja,” Burch pointed out.
"How convenient that it took her away from the battle with the Stillborn.”
"Did you see the crest on that creature’s sash?” Burch said, pointing a clawed finger at the falling lizardman as he smashed into the swamp with a horrible smack. "It showed a boar’s head on a blue field.”
"Just like the one over Sliford’s door,” Kandler said. "Should have guessed.”
"We paid handsomely for our goods,” Sallah said, aghast. "How dare he?”
"If it works, he gets his stuff back, plus he gets to keep our gold,” Burch said. "Plus anything else we might have, like that pretty sword of yours. Even if he just sold the news about us to those lizardmen, it’s a good deal for him.”
"Damn,” Kandler said. "You just can’t trust a slimy merchant in a hotbed of iniquity anymore.”
"Are you mocking me?” Sallah asked.
"Never mock a lady with a burning sword.”
A spear thumped into the wagon behind Kandler, and Burch yelped. The justicar heard the sound of dripping fluids, but he couldn’t turn to look at that moment. "Burch!” he shouted. "You all right?”
"Those thin-tailed bastards busted open that cask of Brelish brandy!” the shifter said with a growl. "For that, they're going to pay!”
Trapped in the wagon, Te’oma had felt like a bound chicken waiting for the axe to fall. Here, up in the air, she was safe and free—or so it seemed. So far, the lizardmen had ignored her for the laden wagon bouncing along the swamp road at top speed.
It only made sense. They were after the goods and the gold. If one of the travelers got away, they cared little. They could always track her down and kill her later at their leisure. The swamps, after all, were their home.
Te’oma considered soaring straight up at the flying lizards, but she knew that the great creatures would tear her apart. Even from this distance she could see that their long, sharp claws could shred her wings with a single swipe, leaving her to fall to her doom.
Instead, she let a thermal updraft from the swamp push her higher in the air. She flew in a long spiral of tight circles that brought her up, up, up, toward the sun as it poked out through a break in the clouds.
Should she do something to help the others? Perhaps just getting herself out of harm’s way was enough for now. Maybe she could go to the airship and rally the others to the wagon’s defense.
Then she saw the Phoenix moving toward her—toward the two remaining soarwings and their riders. The airship’s ring of fire blazed bright and strong, even in the direct sunlight. Te’oma wondered what the lizardmen would make of that sight.
She kept climbing higher and higher into the sheltering sky.
"What do I do?” Espre said as she brought the ship to bear on the two soarwings. She, Xalt, and Monja had cheered when Burch’s bolt had knocked one of the lizardmen from the sky, but that joy had not lasted long.
"Ram them!” Monja said.
"That’s insane!” Espre glanced around for Xalt to give her some moral support on this issue, but he had disappeared.
"Do you have a better idea?” the halfling asked. "I don’t think your dragonmark will work on them from here.”
Espre stared at Monja for a moment, then set her jaw and reached out with her mind to push the airship forward at top speed. "All right,” she said. "They’ll never knowwhat hit them.”
"You missed!” Sallah said to Burch after the shifter’s crossbow twanged again.
Kandler gritted his teeth as they charged over a low hill and down the other side. The horses were getting winded. He didn’t know how much more they could take of this.
The more tired the horses got, the more likely they would make a mistake. At this speed, if one of them stumbled and fell, it might take the whole wagon with it. While the supplies were replaceable, Kandler didn’t relish the thought of having to go back into Pitchwall and go through this all over again.
Also, they’d been relying on the gold that Sallah and other Knights of the Silver Flame had brought with them on their quest. Kandler didn’t know just how much of it was left, but he knew it couldn’t last forever.
"Think yhat you want,” Burch said. "Not every attack is meant to kill—not directly.”
"You’re hoping to knock them from the air with the whizzing sound the bolts make as they pass right by?”
"Something like that.”
Kandler spotted a clearing up ahead. It seemed like as good a place as any to make a stand. He couldn’t just drive the wagon straight up on to the airship. They’d have to put an end to the race sooner or later, and he preferred to do so on his own terms.
"I’m pulling in,” Kandler shouted. "Dive under the wagon to take cover. Make them come to us!”
"I’d like that,” Sallah said, still brandishing her sword at the two soarwings circling in the sky. "I’m tired of playing this game on their terms.”
Then a spear appeared in the back of one of the horses, stabbing straight through, and the beast went down.
Chapter
33
Hard to starboard!” Xalt called from the airship’s bow. The two long-necked soarwings had split up and dove further down as Espre came at them. She couldn’t see them under the tip of the bow, so the warforged had run ahead to serve as her eyes.
She coaxed the ship into a tight circle that peeled off down and to the right. As she did, one of the soarwings spun into view, and she aimed straight for it.
The deck pitched sharply under her feet, and she gripped the wheel tighter to keep from flipping forward on to the main deck below. She heard Monja yowl in protest as she lost her footing, but when she glanced toward the halfling, she saw that the shaman had been forethoughtful enough to grab one of the leather straps on the bridge’s console before she’d fallen.
"There’s no way I’m going to be able to hit that thing,” Espre said.
As if to prove her point, the soarwing flung itself out of the airship’s path and rolled off to the port. Espre tried to follow it, but it zoomed away underneath her, and she
lost track of it again.
"Where’d it go?” she asked, scanning the sky. A dull panic gripped her as she thought of the soarwing swooping in from some unknown angle and plucking her from the bridge.
Te’oma spun in an almost lazy circle and watched the attack unfold below her. It seemed like some distant image in a scrying pool, something that was happening far away and that could not possibly have any effect upon her. It would be so easy to just keep riding that t
hermal until it took her far from the reach of the lizardmen, the people on the ground, the ones on the airship, and even from Vol herself.
But to do that would be to admit defeat, to acknowledge that the Lich Queen had beaten her. While the changeling knew she had no hope of standing directly against such a powerful figure, she was still determined to do what she could to become a thorn in the horrible monster’s bony side—metaphorically, at least. To do that, she needed to keep Espre alive but out of Vol’s reach for as long as she could.
The fact that this might help redeem Te’oma for all the ills she’d done in her life had not escaped her, but since the gods had never seemed to care for her, she didn’t care about them. Who would the redemption be for? Her? The spirit of her dead daughter?
Sometimes Te’oma wondered if her daughter watched over her from beyond the grave. If so, did she wish her well or ill? The changeling had never been much of a mother, and she wouldn’t be surprised if the girl had grown up hating her.
Despite that, Te’oma had always loved her daughter, even if she hadn’t known how to raise her. She’d known that giving her up had been wrong, and in her lowest moments
she’d considered going back for her.
Once she'd gone so far as to track the girl down. She'd met her in the street, posing as a doddering old woman who’d confused the girl for her own daughter. She’d not even known her name, but she’d recognized the people who had taken her in.
As they walked down the street, they’d each put their arms around her and laughed with her in such a loving way. Te’oma’s heart had nearly burst with jealousy at the sight. She’d tried to summon up some gratitude for the fact that they’d taken in this stranger’s infant and raised her to be healthy and happy, but the bitterness at everything she’d missed—of her own accord, which only made it worse— drowned all that out.
As the elderly woman, Te’oma had stumbled into the girl’s path, and the kind child had reached out to lend her a hand. When they’d touched, the feel of the girl’s hand on her own had nearly reduced Te’oma to tears. She'd been grateful that she’d chosen to use a form in which such strange and sudden displays of emotion wouldn’t seem so out of place.
