The warforged leader stepped back and nodded at the warforged standing guard over Kandler and the knights.
“Kill them.”
The moment the justicar, the shifter, and that lady knight left the airship, Te’oma saw her chance. She’d spotted the airship scudding across the gray Mournland sky toward her soon after it entered the air over the hills north of the crazed wizard’s tower, and she’d hidden under some low brush until the thing sailed by.
So far, this had turned out to be a lucky day for Te’oma. First, the old elf wizard had rid her of Tan Du. He’d been a useful ally in the Mournland, but entirely too unstable. One more mishap on their mission, and Te’oma knew she’d have been the vampire’s next meal. Then the justicar and the lady knight arrived at the tower and provided her with cover for her escape. And when racing away from the other knights, she’d spotted the warforged patrol before they found her. Dismounting and sending Te’oma’s horse on alone to gallop past the patrol had been a stroke of genius. It left the changeling without a mount, but it alerted the patrol to the presence of the knights in time for them to form a hasty ambush.
Once the knights had all been captured, Te’oma had been at a loss for what to do. Without Esprë, she had failed at her mission, so going home was out of the question. In any case, without a mount she faced a long, hard walk out of the Mournland. More than one traveler had stepped into the mists around the borders of the place never to be seen again.
Then she spotted the airship. She didn’t know who was driving it, but she decided against hailing the captain and pleading for a ride. Using her mental powers, she projected her senses aboard the ship’s deck for a look around. Once she saw Esprë and Kandler behind the wheel, she knew her instincts had been good.
The ship moved slow but with purpose. Te’oma guessed that the people aboard were hunting for the other knights. Once the ship had passed overhead, she followed, trying to stay as close as possible without being seen. This soon proved impossible, but no one ever looked back to see her sprinting after the ship, racing up and down the hillsides as she worked to keep them in sight.
When the ship came to a stop, Te’oma crept up the side of the hill and peered over the edge. She watched and listened as the adults threw the rope ladder down and disembarked from the airship. She waited for them to disappear over the crest of the next hill before she stood up.
The changeling padded down into the hollow in which the airship was nestled and then up the other side to where the end of the rope ladder had been. When she got there, she morphed her form until she looked something like one of the Knights of the Silver Flame that had chased her out here—the young one with the blond hair. Her clothes wouldn’t change, but she’d just have to deal with that.
Te’oma peeked over the edge of the hill to make sure that Kandler and the others were long gone, then she whistled up to the ship’s deck. “Hello?” she called. “Anyone there?”
The changeling had to call out three times before Esprë poked her nose over the ship’s railing.
“What do you want?” she said.
“Thank the Flame you’re there!” said Te’oma. “I just ran into your father, and he sent me back here. They’re off to rescue the others.”
“Why aren’t you?”
The changeling patted her leg. “They cut me pretty good. I can’t move well enough for a fight. I barely made it here.”
“Why are you dressed like that? What happened to your armor?”
“Warforged took it,” said Te’oma. “They’d already killed the changeling, so I took her clothes.”
The girl chewed on her lip for a moment, thinking all this over.
“What do you want?” Esprë asked. Te’oma could hear the suspicion in the girl’s voice.
The changeling gazed up at the girl as innocently as she could. “Could you throw down a ladder? I think I could make it up. Once I get on the ship, I should be all right.”
Esprë narrowed her eyes at the knight standing below. “What’s the password?” she said.
Te’oma had heard Kandler’s parting words to the girl. The psion thought she remembered the name of Esprë’s mother from when she’d scanned the girl’s mind before, but she did it once more to be safe.
“Esprina,” the changeling said.
Esprë frowned, thought a moment more, then finally picked up the rope ladder and unfurled it over the railing. It landed right before the changeling’s feet.
Te’oma climbed up the ladder and bounded aboard the airship. She gazed all around and took it in. “What an amazing craft!” she said. “I’ve never been on anything like it.”
“What’s your name?” Esprë asked.
“Mardak,” the changeling said as she pulled up the ladder behind her.
The girl’s jaw dropped.
“Wait,” Te’oma said. “That’s not right, is it?” She looked at Esprë. “It’s, um, Levritt.”
Esprë screamed.
Te’oma snatched up the girl in her arms and clamped a hand over her mouth. Esprë kicked and thrashed about like a beast in a net. Te’oma reached out with her mind and tapped the girl’s brain hard. She fell limp in the changeling’s hands.
Te’oma lay the girl down on the deck and said to her. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I can keep doing that all day if you like.”
Esprë blinked and sat up. She looked at the changeling, still in the form of a blond knight, and said, “It’s you again, isn’t it?”
The changeling smiled at the girl. “You just can’t get rid of me, can you?”
Esprë stuck out her bottom lip. “Am I your hostage again?”
Te’oma shifted back to her normal form as she reached out and tousled Esprë’s hair. “Let’s just say we’re going for a ride together.”
“What about Kandler and Burch and the knights?”
“They’re not invited. This trip is just you and me.” The changeling glanced around at the airship, at the ring of fire that encircled it. “At least we’ll be traveling in style.”
Esprë drew in a breath to scream, and Te’oma put a single finger over the girl’s mouth. “Ah-ah-ah,” the changeling said. “None of that. Play nice now, or I’ll tap your brain again. We have many miles ahead of us, and screaming for help every chance you get will grow tiresome very fast.” The changeling stared into Esprë’s sky-blue eyes. “If I take my hand from your mouth, do you promise not to scream?”
The girl hesitated for a moment before she nodded. Te’oma removed her hand.
“Now,” the changeling said. “How do you operate this thing?”
Esprë shrugged. “They didn’t tell me. Kandler barely lets me drive a wagon around Mardakine.”
Te’oma curled her lip at the girl. “Yet they left you here all alone?”
“They knew there could be fighting where they went.”
The changeling shook her head in disbelief. “I suppose,” she said. “I wouldn’t have left you here.”
Esprë cocked her head at Te’oma. “What would you have done?”
“Left those other knights to rot. They’re doomed as it is. No reason to put your heads on the block next to them.”
“You’d leave your friends to die?”
“I don’t have any friends.” As the words left her lips, Te’oma realized they were true. She felt a pang of regret at this, but she shoved it aside.
“What about the vampires?” Esprë pressed.
“What about them?”
“Weren’t they your friends?”
Te’oma laughed. The girl’s ability to surprise her was delightful. “Vampires don’t have friends. Not among the living.”
“Are you alive?”
Te’oma goggled at the girl. “I’m a changeling not a zombie. I breathe. I bleed the same as you.”
Esprë thought about that for a moment. “I’ve never met a changeling before.”
“Maybe you have and didn’t know it.”
“I doubt it.”
&n
bsp; “What about Gurn?”
Esprë’s eyes grew as large as a pair of moons. “The baker? That couldn’t be!”
Te’oma smirked. “Think whatever you like. You’ll never know now, will you?”
The girl considered this for a moment before she spoke. “He never kidnapped me,” she said.
“We’re not all so talented.”
“Esprë!” a voice called out from below.
Te’oma dropped to one knee and swung the girl around in front of her, a hand clamped over her mouth. “Vol’s black blood!” she said. “It’s that shifter.”
Te’oma knew she could take no chances, so she stunned the girl with her mind again. When she let her go, Esprë stood there quietly, her mouth slack and her eyes blank.
“Esprë, toss down the ladder!” Burch said. “We got big trouble and no time!”
Te’oma whispered into the girl’s ear as she reached into her mind and mentally wiped the last several minutes from her brain. “As far as you’re concerned, I was never here,” she said softly, “but I’ll be seeing you soon.”
With that, the changeling padded off to a hatchway and slipped down into the hold below the main deck. She didn’t like letting the shifter back onboard, but she knew she couldn’t fly the airship by herself. Better to stowaway and get a free ride out of the Mournland than to have to walk out alone.
Kandler stood on his knees and waited to die. He figured it was only a matter of moments before the new Superior gave the order. He wondered if Burch was still alive, and if so, what was keeping him.
“Don’t do it!” Xalt said to the warforged guards standing behind the kneeling prisoners. “I’m warning you.”
Superior stared at Xalt for a moment then threw his head back and let loose a tinny laugh. “I’m impressed, greaser,” he said. “I didn’t think you had that much metal in you.”
“I’d hoped you were better than the last Superior. It seems I was wrong. Your soul is twisted.”
Superior shook his head. “You spent too much time among the breathers,” he said. “They built us, put a sword in our hands, and pushed us out the door to kill. It’s what we were made for. It’s what we’re good at. We have no souls. Soldiers don’t need souls. They just get in the way of what we need to do. Maybe that explains it. You weren’t created to kill. You were built to fix. You’re a patch instead of a blade.”
While Superior ranted on, Kandler looked around for a way out. As he turned his head, the guard behind him slapped him across the face. It felt like getting smacked with the flat of a sword.
Superior didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe your makers gave you a soul,” he said to Xalt. “They wanted you to care about the rest of us. Otherwise, you’d just cower behind a rock while we died, calling for you to help us. I hope that soul rests easy inside of you. The rest of us, we don’t want them. We don’t need them. We just need these trespassers dead.”
“Say what you like, Superior,” Xalt said as he tapped a thick metal finger against its chestplate. “There’s something that moves us more than the magic that first sparked life in our shells. I’ve seen it in every one of us. I’ve even seen it in you. As your ‘greaser,’ I see us each at our lowest points, when we need someone, when we’re in pain. I see how the others come by as I work on a fallen friend, wanting to know if there’s a chance. I’ve watched you all grieve at funerals held over our lost compatriots’ graves. I’ve seen souls—in all of us.”
Kandler stared at the artificer. He had never known warforged to be so eloquent. Until now, he’d only met them on the field of battle. There they seemed like nothing more than remorseless killing machines. At the moment, Kandler believed Xalt would be shedding tears if he could.
“Call it what you will,” Xalt continued. “Deny that you even have one. But my soul cries out against this injustice.”
Superior slapped a massive, three-fingered hand over its face and shook its head. “Justice is a breather concept,” he said. “It means nothing in the Mournland.”
“It means nothing to you.”
Superior nodded. “In the end, it’s the same thing. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with Bastard.”
“I could go straight to the Lord of Blades.”
“Let me know when you do. I’d like to add your head to my collection.” Superior turned to the guards standing over the kneeling prisoners.
“Is there a means of appeal?” Deothen asked.
Superior waved the question off. “Don’t let this greaser give you hope. This is your end.”
“Go ahead and kill us,” Kandler said. He wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but he hoped it would buy him and the knights a bit more time. “You warforged are all cowards. We couldn’t expect a fate better than this.”
Superior folded its arms across its chest. “Cowards? Who attacked us out of nowhere? Who invaded our camp?”
“We came to save our friends.”
“By killing us?”
“You killed Levritt. It seems death is the only thing you understand.”
Superior stood as still as a statue then unfolded its arms. “What would you have me do? Release you so we can slay you in the heat of battle? Would that satisfy your breather sense of justice?”
As Kandler shook his head, an idea blossomed. It was crazy, but he didn’t see how he had anything to lose other than the chance to be the first one executed. “I challenge you to a duel, one on one. If you win, you can do with us as you wish. If I win, you let us go.”
Superior stood stock still again. Kandler was unable to read the creature, no matter how he tried. Then the warforged shook its head at the justicar.
“You must think they made me with half a mind.” Superior looked up at the guards over the prisoners and said. “Kill them.”
“No!” Xalt said.
The guards raised their swords high in the air.
Xalt held out its clenched fist. A wide band of gold shone on its thick, outside finger, a ring forged for a warforged. “Stop!” he said.
Superior scoffed, but the guards stayed frozen with their arms in the air. After a moment, the warforged leader lost his patience.
“What’s going on?” Superior said. “Kill them!” He tried to point at the prisoners, but his hand couldn’t move either.
Xalt walked up to Superior and flicked a finger into the center of the leader’s face. It rang like a muffled bell.
“You!” Superior growled. “What have you done, greaser?”
Xalt turned to the prisoners and gestured for them to rise. Sallah and Brendis looked to Deothen for guidance. Kandler jumped to his feet and helped the old man to stand. The other knights rose, and Sallah freed Brendis from his bonds as Kandler untied Deothen.
“Xalt!” Superior said.
The artificer in the grubby tabard turned back to Superior. “You mean, ‘greaser?’ ” he said. “You called me that to disparage me. You never thought much of me until something broke on you. Until you needed me.”
“Undo this, Xalt,” Superior said, desperation creeping into its voice. “It’s not too late. I understand your frustration. Put an end to this, and all will be forgiven.”
“I don’t need your forgiveness,” Xalt said. “I wanted respect, from you and the others.” He put his hands to the sides of its head. “How I ever expected to get that, I don’t know. That’s how we got into this situation. It’s why you insisted on killing these people. You don’t respect any life but your own!”
“Xalt. I am … I am sorry.”
“You’re a bad liar.” Xalt knelt down and picked up the prisoners’ swords. Deothen’s staff lay among them. The warforged handed them back to their owners one by one. “You’d better go now,” he told them. “They won’t be frozen for much longer.”
“What did you do to them?” said Kandler.
Xalt chuckled. “A little invention of my own. I worked on everyone in this camp at one point or another. It wasn’t hard to guess that I might want a fail-safe ins
talled on each of them at some point.”
Kandler clapped the warforged on the back. “Smart,” he said.
“Not smart enough!” Superior said. He drew his sword.
Xalt stood stunned, frozen to the spot like most of the other warforged around. “H-how?” he said.
Kandler brought his blade up to parry Superior’s blow, but it wasn’t aimed at him. Instead, it sliced into Xalt’s hand. The thick finger bearing the golden ring tumbled into the dirt.
“You think I didn’t see what you did?” Superior raged at the maimed warforged. “I found what you implanted into me. I removed it weeks ago.”
“But—but …” Xalt stared at its unmoving finger lying on the ground.
“I faked being frozen when you betrayed us,” Superior said. “I wanted to give you a chance to redeem yourself. I believed you were still one of us.”
Kandler spun about, his blade at the ready. The other warforged were no longer frozen. They surrounded him and the knights.
“You made your choice, greaser,” Superior said. “You chose to stand with the breathers. Now you’re going to die with them.”
Kandler slashed at Superior with his blade, but the warforged leader stepped back and waited for his fellows to join in. The justicar took advantage of the momentary space to reach down and scoop up Xalt’s severed finger. It was cool to the touch, wet with whatever fluid passed for warforged blood, and not as heavy as Kandler had expected.
The knights formed a tight circle, covering each other’s back. Sallah reached out and pulled Kandler in to join them. As he fell back, he grabbed Xalt by the collar of its grease-stained tabard and pulled him into the circle’s center. He was busy binding his wound, trying to staunch the flow of his own blood.
While the other warforged surrounded Kandler and the knights, their swords rattling in anticipation of the coming fight, the justicar tossed Xalt his loose finger. The greaser caught it with his good hand, bobbled it for a moment, and then cradled it close to its chest.
“Surrender!” Superior said. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
Marked for Death: The Lost Mark, Book 1 Page 22
