“On you or us?” said Kandler. “Aren’t you going to kill us either way?”
“You are good and valiant foes,” Superior said. “If you put down your swords, I guarantee you passage from this land.”
“We will die before we submit to you again,” Deothen said. “You tricked us into lowering our weapons once. We will not fall for such chicanery again.”
“I promised you passage from this land,” Superior said with a chuckle that raised Kandler’s hackles. “I just didn’t mention it would be into the afterlife—assuming you have those souls you believe in so much.”
“Step a little closer,” Kandler said, brandishing his blade. “I’ll give you a chance to tour the next world yourself.”
A shadow fell over the combatants. Even in the dimness of the Mournland, Kandler felt the change. He stabbed out at Superior, testing the warforged’s skill, and glanced into the sky as the inevitable parry came.
A smile split Kandler’s face as he looked back into Superior’s eyes. “Surprise,” he said.
The shadow grew larger around them. Superior stepped back out of Kandler’s range and looked up to see what had made the justicar so happy. He gasped and staggered back.
The other warforged looked up to see what had their leader’s attention. As one, they goggled at the airship as she sailed down at them from out of the sky.
“Scatter!” Kandler shouted. “The ring’s coming right for us!”
The warforged turned and ran. Brendis and Sallah started to follow, but Kandler reached out and hauled them back. “That was just to scare them off. Stick close to me. We’re hitching a ride as soon as that thing come down low enough.”
Sallah pointed to the rope ladder dangling down from the side of the ship. “We can’t all climb that at once. They’ll cut us to pieces.”
“That’s not the only way to get on that ship.” Kandler’s stomach flipped as he spoke. While he was thrilled to not be executed, the thought of Esprë diving so bravely into danger made him nauseous. He hoped Burch was with her.
Deothen stared at the justicar. “Where, by the light of the Flame, did you find an airship?”
Kandler herded the crew over to one side of where he thought the ship would land. “It wasn’t through a life of prayer,” he said.
Brendis stared at Sallah. “It’s the prophecy,” he said. “Only a fate as large as yours could command such fortune.”
“Quit yapping and get ready to jump on the lower arch when it hits the ground,” Kandler said. He didn’t know if the arch would come that close to the ground, but he hoped that Esprë and Burch would brave it.
“When it hits the ground?” Sallah said. “If that arch breaks, the entire ship might explode.”
“It’s that or the warforgeds’ blades. Take your pick.”
“I’ll go with you if I may,” said Xalt. Kandler could hear the pain in the warforged’s voice. “I think I’ve worn out my welcome here.”
Kandler glanced at the greaser and grinned. “It’s the least we can do.”
As the ship neared the ground, Kandler shoved the others ahead of him toward the fiery ring’s lower arch. “Hit it hard, and hold on tight!”
Superior looked back from the edge of camp where he’d fled and realized what was happening. “No!” he shouted. He launched himself toward the ship. The other warforged held back, unwilling to risk their lives to take on a flying ship in hand-to-hand combat.
The ship smashed into the ground with a loud crunch. The ring of fire flared out and scorched the nearby earth. A couple of warforged who had crept too close were engulfed in the flames, burned to metal-clad crisps before they had a chance to scream.
The rest of the warforged scattered before the landing—except for Superior. He charged at the escaping prisoners and slashed at them with it blade.
Kandler turned to face the warforged leader. He needed to buy the others some time or Superior would cut them all down as they fled. He parried the first blow, but Superior lowered his shoulder and plowed him back into the dirt. The justicar’s head landed less than a foot from the ring of fire.
“Get off!” Kandler roared at the creature trying to crush him. As the pair struggled, the others clambered onto the fiery ring’s lower restraining arch. Sallah boosted the battered knights and the wounded Xalt up ahead of her, then turned her attention to Kandler’s plight.
The justicar struggled to escape, but Superior laid into him with all its weight, pinning him down. It was all he could do to draw a ragged breath.
Kandler had a hand on the warforged’s sword arm, trying to keep the creature from impaling him on its blade. But he was no match for Superior’s strength, and the warforged pressed the tip of its sword inexorably toward the justicar’s throat.
Kandler knew he had to do something fast. He looked up and saw the ring of fire roaring only a few scant feet from his head. His hair smoldering from the heat, Kandler rolled away from the fiery ring as hard as he could. Determined to prevent his victim from getting away, Superior pressed back in the other direction with his full bulk
Instead of continuing to struggle against the warforged atop him, Kandler switched directions and allowed Superior’s momentum to carry the warforged over him and into the fire. Immediately, Superior realized his mistake and clawed at Kandler to try to prevent himself from rolling over into the ring, but it was too late.
Superior screamed as the flames swallowed its head and shoulders. He tried to pull free from the fire, but Kandler held him there, the skin on his hands and arms blistering.
“See you in Dolurrh,” Kandler said as he shoved Superior off him. He scrambled away from the fiery ring and toward the restraining arch.
Sallah saw the justicar coming. She pounced upon the arch herself and reached back to give Kandler a hand up.
“Go, go, go!” Kandler shouted as soon as his feet left the ground. The airship leaped into the air. As she went, the carved wood of the mystic arch creaked, complaining about the abuse of the landing and the load of its passengers, but it held.
As the ship gained altitude, the warforged in the camp peeked out of their hiding places. Some of them brought out bows.
“Archers!” Sallah shouted out above the noise of the raging fire.
Kandler smiled despite himself and shouted, “Hold on!”
The airship lurched skyward and leaned to port. Arrows whizzed past. The few that found any mark either lodged themselves in the restraining arch or incinerated on contact with the ring of fire. As the ship raced away, Kandler waved the warforged camp a heartfelt goodbye.
Just when Kandler began to relax, the maimed warforged who had risked his life to save the intruders slipped out toward the edge of the restraining arch. He hung from a corner of the arch for a split second, his feet swinging free in the sky. Kandler’s free hand darted out to him, catching him before he fell. Seeing the justicar’s predicament, Sallah grabbed the back of his belt with her free hand.
“Let go!” Xalt said. “I will survive the fall.”
“And then they’ll kill you,” said Kandler.
With Sallah holding onto his belt, the justicar reached out with both hands and pulled the warforged in. It wasn’t until later that he realized how easily he’d trusted the knight with his life.
An arrow bounced off Xalt’s carapace as he scrambled atop the arch. Xalt clung to the justicar with both arms as the ship veered back and forth in an effort to protect those on the arch from the arrows.
The airship soon sailed over the crest of the nearest hill and out of sight of the camp. She stopped bobbing and weaving, and Kandler extricated himself from the warforged’s viselike embrace.
The justicar looked out at the blasted hills of the Mournland below as a stiff breeze ruffled the green-gray grass that lined them like a day-old beard. The sky grew darker by the moment, and it would soon be pitch black again.
As the airship’s fiery ring propelled them forward, Kandler looked at the others in its hot, flickering l
ight. Sallah tended to Brendis’s wounds while a battered Deothen looked on, waiting for the younger knights to be healed before he would call attention to his own injuries. Xalt held his severed finger in his good hand, examining both it and the damaged hand as he looked for a way to match them together.
Kandler stood and balanced on the restraining arch as the airship lowered itself into a hollow several miles away from the warforged camp. He leaped to the ground and helped the others to the turf and then up the rope ladder to the ship’s deck. He climbed up last. When he reached the top of the ladder, Esprë met him with a hug neither of them ever wanted to break.
“Glad to see you,” he said. She looked up at him then backed away long enough for him to climb over the railing.
Kandler looked up at the bridge, and Burch waved down at him. The justicar strode up to his old friend, Esprë under his arm, and clapped him on the back. “Did you do all that fancy flying?” he asked.
The shifter smiled. “You have Esprë to blame. That was some sharp stunt, pup.”
Kandler gave Esprë a proud hug. “You did great,” he said. “You saved us all.”
Esprë didn’t say a word. She just beamed up at Kandler, soaking up his adoration. The justicar looked up at the ring of fire blazing overhead. From there, against the darkening clouds, it reminded him of the Rings of Siberys that soared across Eberron’s night sky.
“So where now?” Kandler said. “Back to Mardakine?”
The shifter shook his head. “Others might think different.” He jerked his head toward the knights on the main deck, where they huddled around Xalt.
Kandler left Esprë at the wheel. “I’ll be right back.”
As the justicar strode over to the knights, he saw Deothen shaking his head. “I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do,” the senior knight told Xalt. “At least not until we get to Flamekeep.”
The artificer held up his wounded arm, the finger back in place. For a moment, Kandler thought that the knights had been able to reattach the digit, but then Xalt pulled the finger from his hand and stuffed it into a pouch on the inside of his white tabard.
“You say the clerics there can repair such damage?” the warforged said in a hopeful tone.
“The favors of the Silver Flame are available to all those willing to open their hearts and minds to its sacred light,” said Deothen.
“Careful,” Kandler said as he approached. “Give them a chance, and these knights will induct you into their order.”
“Would that be so bad?” Xalt asked, his wide obsidian eyes focused on the justicar like those of an innocent puppy. “I wouldn’t think so.”
“I don’t speak ill of my traveling companions,” Kandler said with a smile.
The warforged just looked at him, confused.
“Our undying thanks to you for all your help,” Deothen said to Kandler. “Without your aid, not only would we have failed in our mission, we would all be dead, I’m sure.”
“Don’t thank me,” the justicar said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the people on the bridge. “Without Burch and Esprë, I’d have died alongside you.”
“I’ll express our gratitude to them as well when I put in our traveling orders.”
“What orders?” Kandler said. He peered into Deothen’s eyes and glanced at the other knights. Brendis refused to meet his gaze, and Sallah looked away.
“We need to return to Thrane at once,” Deothen said. “We have rescued the girl, and now we must take her to Flamekeep.”
Kandler eyed the senior knight. “Do you even know that she bears the dragonmark you’re looking for?”
Deothen shook his head. “No one has seen this mark in centuries. With a ship like this at our disposal, we can be in Flamekeep in a matter of days, and the scholars there can confirm or deny my suspicions.”
Kandler did not like the way this conversation was going. “I don’t recall giving you ownership of this vessel,” he said.
Deothen smiled. “Of course. You and your friend found her, and for that we are appreciative. However, we must commandeer her. Once we are in Flamekeep, you will be paid handsomely for your troubles.”
“I’m not interested in going to Flamekeep,” Kandler said. “I have a girl here that I need to get home. Don’t tell me you propose to ‘commandeer’ her, too.”
Deothen raised his eyebrows at that. “Of course not. However, if she proves to have the Mark of Death on her, then she will need our protection. She will not be safe in Mardakine. You must understand that. There is no place safer for her than Flamekeep.”
“How convenient for the Church of Silver Flame.” Kandler could not keep the sarcasm from his voice.
Deothen’s face turned red. “What else would you propose?” he asked. “Returning to Mardakine? Do you think they will welcome you back with open arms? When we left, the town was in a shambles, which may have been the only thing that kept the people from forgetting that you were supposed to be imprisoned.”
“Mardak would have let me out once he cooled down.”
“He’s no longer alive to rescind his orders—nor is his wife.”
“Rislinto wouldn’t keep me in chains.”
“Is he in charge now?”
Kandler could see that Deothen sensed he was winning the argument here. The knight continued to press his point.
“What about that boy, Pradak? Does he inherit his father’s position now? If so, do you think he’ll be as forgiving?”
Kandler had heard enough. He put up a hand to cut the knight off. “You’re missing the point. Esprë is my daughter, and you’re not taking her anywhere. Also, Burch and I found this ship. She’s ours to do with as we like.”
“Stole her, you mean,” said Brendis, who turned an accusing glare on the justicar.
Kandler stared at the young knight. He couldn’t believe he was hearing this. “From a crazed wizard who was holding us prisoner,” he said. “Who had taken her from people she killed.”
Deothen reached out and put a hand on Kandler’s shoulder. “For the good of the world, we must return to Flamekeep straight away. There is no higher priority. And if not for the world, it really is best for the girl.”
Kandler looked over at Sallah, but she continued to avoid his gaze. He’d hoped that she would be on his side at least.
“If you like, we can drop you off in Mardakine on our way to Flamekeep,” Deothen said softly.
The justicar shrugged Deothen’s hand from his shoulder. “Esprë is coming with me,” he said. “We’re going south, to Sharn. I know people in the City of Towers who can help us. We’ll drop you off anywhere along the route that you like.”
With nothing more to say, Kandler turned his back on the knights to return to the bridge. He’d only made one step when he heard swords being drawn.
“You must be joking,” the justicar said as he turned back around to face three blazing blades. He gaped at Deothen. “I thought you were supposed to be the good guys.”
The gray-haired knight flushed with shame, but he refused to back down. He nodded at Brendis, and the young knight stepped forward to strip Kandler of his weapons.
“Sometimes,” Deothen said, “you must commit a wrong to further the greater good.”
“As long as you get to decide which good is greater, right?”
“What’s up, boss?” Burch called down from the bridge, where he stood next to Esprë, who peeked out over the wheel. He had his crossbow out and pointed at the knights.
Kandler looked to Deothen. “Are you going to threaten my life to get him to surrender?”
Deothen tapped Kandler in the center of his chest with the tip of his blazing blade. The hot metal seared a black mark into the justicar’s shirt. “I hoped we could be more civilized than that.”
“We just need to go to Flamekeep,” Sallah said, her eyes begging Kandler to be reasonable. “All of us. I swear to you, this is the right thing for your daughter. I understand how you might disagree, but please think about it. Is
that worth dying over?”
Kandler shook his head at her sadly then turned to look back at his daughter and friend standing on the airship’s bridge. “The question is whether it’s worth killing over.”
Te’oma’s heart skipped several beats when the hatch to the hold opened. She scurried back into the darkness, as far toward the bow as she could, and waited. She willed her skin, hair, teeth—even the whites of her eyes—to turn black. Her clothes remained the same nebulous color, but there was little she could do about that. She pulled a dull, black knife from her belt and held it before her, ready to strike from the inky shadows.
The justicar entered the hold first, slipping down the steep wooden steps, the shifter close behind. In the flickering light from the ring of fire that cascaded through the open hatch, the changeling could see that neither of them were armed. When the two friends reached the hold’s floor, they looked up at someone through the hatchway.
“How long are you going to keep us down here?” Kandler asked.
“At this speed, we should reach Flamekeep in a matter of days,” said Deothen’s voice, tinged with regret.
A waterskin fell through the open hatch, a pack right behind it. “Most of our supplies ran off with our horses,” Deothen said. “Make this last.”
The hatch closed, plunging the hold into total darkness. Kandler fumbled around near the stern. “I thought I saw—ah!”
He uncovered the lens of an everbright lantern set in the ceiling, and that end of the hold flooded with light. Te’oma didn’t move a muscle, striving to blend in with the shadows that still surrounded her.
The hold was sparse but not bare. Hammocks made of netted ropes lined a short walkway that ran the length of most of the hold. Kandler picked up the waterskin and pack and then walked over and rolled into one of the hammocks. The ropes cradled him, and he swung gently with the movement of the airship.
“Should have let me shoot, boss,” Burch said as he paced through the airship’s tight hold. The floor curved up sharply to where the changeling hid, and the shifter never came close to her, turning aside and going back the other way instead. “That old knight’d be dead.”
Marked for Death: The Lost Mark, Book 1 Page 23
