Lost mark 3 The Queen of Death: (3 page)

As the airship neared the dock, which jutted out a dozen yards from the building’s face, a squad of dwarves padded out from a wide set of doors in the middle of the place. They fanned out along the wood-railed edge and signaled their readiness to catch a mooring line and tie it fast. ,
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Kandler spotted a sign swinging free over the place’s door. It depicted a winged dwarf diving into the open air. The words emblazoned below it in crystal letters set into the dark, weathered wood read The Flying Leap.

The justicar tossed a coil of rope to one of the waiting dwarves, and Burch did the same. Before their fellows had even moored the ship tight, the others dwarves toted out a wide, railed gangplank and tossed it out to hook onto the
Phoenix’s
port rail.

Duro leaped up on to the plank and sauntered down to the open dock. Sallah and Espre stood at the railing, waiting for Kandler and Burch. Monja peered out over the wheel now, having taken it from Espre, and Xalt stood next to her, peering down over the ship’s aft rail as if he could plumb the abyss with his unblinking ebony eyes.

"Hail and well met! ” a deep voice from inside the building boomed. A white-haired dwarf with a loose, bushy beard stomped out after it, grinning up at the newcomers. "Welcome to my hang-out!”

Duro met the dwarf at the bottom of the gangplank, and they grasped each other’s arms in greeting.

"Krangel Mrothdalt of Clan Nroth,” the elderly dwarf said. Despite his years, he seemed hale enough to take Duro in two falls out of three.

"Duro Darumnakt of Clan Drakyager. These are my friends. Treat them as you would a fellow dwarf.”

The snow-haired dwarf raised a craggy eyebrow. "Drakyager, eh? How does the dragon treat you?”

Duro beamed at his host. "Nithkorrh is no more. These folk slew the dragon, blasting his cursed corpse from the sky.”

Every dwarf on the platform—and a number more peering out at the newcomers through the windows that lined the building’s front—stared at Kandler and the others in disbelief. For a moment, Kandler feared the dwarves might pluck the gangplank from under him, just as he’d started to lead Espre on to it. Then Krangel tossed back his head and laughed.

"Excellent!” the host said, clapping Duro on the back hard enough to make Kandler wince. "That tale alone might be enough to pay for your cots here tonight—even more if it’s true!”

Kandler sighed with relief then took Espre by the hand and led her down to the dock. Sallah followed close on his heels, with Burch right behind.

Kandler looked back to see Xalt and Monja waving at them as they disembarked. He scanned the sky, but the changeling seemed to have disappeared. Perhaps she’d taken her leave of them, but Kandler couldn’t believe she’d go that easily. He wasn’t that lucky.

"Come in! Come in!” Krangel said. "I’ve never seen such a motley crew in such dire need of a cold ale!”

Chapter

4

T
eoma spun high above the Goradra Gap, letting her wings carry her higher and higher as she circled on the warm updraft flowing up from the depths. She hadn’t felt safe sleeping in the hold with the others, so she’d curled up on the deck, her back to the ship’s console and her cloak wrapped tight around her. Although the others hadn’t said anything, she could sense their gratitude that she’d chosen to bed down away from them.

Although Te’oma had risked her life to help save Espre, she’d been the one who put the young elf into such dangerous circumstances in the first place. Never mind the fact that she’d done so in a desperate attempt to convince the Lich Queen to bring her long-dead daughter back from Dolurrh. To these people—and to Kandler and Burch in particular—she was an irredeemable villain who could never be trusted.

In truth, this didn’t bother Te’oma much. As a changeling, she’d had few friends throughout her life, and she didn’t see the need for them. She preferred to stand on her own at all times, as life had long since taught her that relying on anyone else would only lead to disastrous disappointments.

The only person Te’oma had ever loved had been her daughter, and she’d done a poor job of caring for her. She’d left her to be raised by others, and they hadn’t protected the shapeshifting girl from the deadly fury of an angry mob.

Although Te’oma had not spent much time in her daughter’s presence, she’d established a telepathic link with the girl from the first possible moment, and she’d kept in contact with the girl every day since. No matter how far apart Te'oma’s journeys placed them, she could always reach out and converse with her daughter’s mind.

Te’oma was a thousand miles away the day her daughter died. She’d known that trouble had been brewing, but she had no way to reach the girl in time. Her daughter died with her screams echoing in Te’oma’s head.

When the first rays of the sun broke over the lowest points of the Ironroot Mountains, Te’oma had been dreaming about her daughter. She woke to find that she’d been weeping in her sleep. This sort of thing happened to her far too often these days, which was yet another reason for her to sleep away from the others.

"Are you hurt?” Espre had said.

Te’oma had looked up to see the young elf peering at her over the bridge’s inside railing. She had known her face probably looked wet and puffy, but in a flash she’d morphed it back into its standard, unreadable state.

"Never better,” she’d said. She’d stood and let her cloak unfurl around her, the leathery edges flapping in the breeze as it spread out into wide, batlike wings.

"Wait,” Espre had said before the changeling could flap away.

Te’oma had leaped into the air and turned about, her wings beating fast enough to keep her hovering the air before the bridge. Xalt, the warforged, had stood beside the girl, his hand on a knife tucked into his belt. Espre had kept her hands on the wheel, keeping the airship on an even keel.

The elf-maid had stared up at the changeling for a moment then opened her mouth and said, "Thanks.”

Te’oma had nodded and flung herself high into the air. Whirling her way around the barely restrained elemental ring of fire that encircled the ship, she peeled off into the sky and let the wind carry her away.

The changeling spent more than an hour swirling and soaring through the sky on her own, always keeping the airship within sight. For a long while, she’d considered finding a tailwind and riding it to wherever it might take her, letting fate determine her path. She’d done that for much of her life, wandering wherever her whims led her, using her shapeshifting powers to slip in and out of places nearly unseen.

Te’oma rarely made any sort of impression on those she left behind. She stayed in one place just long enough to grab some rest and steal whatever she needed, then moved on. Most of her victims never even realized they’d been robbed.

After taking part in this strange adventure, in helping the others slay a dragon, she didn’t know if she could go back to that. She knew that if she left she’d likely never see the others again, never take part in the end of this amazing tale.

Of course, she still had the telepathic bond she’d forged with Espre. Through that, she could keep in touch with the girl and discover her ultimate fate. When she thought of that, though, and the likely outcome—the elf-maid’s death—she didn't think she could stand to go through feel-ing a girl die like that again.

She mulled over severing the bond, but that would cut her off from the girl. She didn’t know if she could bear that either. She’d been prepared to try, though, right up until Espre had said that single word to her as she left the ship.

Damn, damn, damn, Te’oma thought as she turned back toward the
Phoenix,
fighting a headwind. A fool never takes the easy way.

Fortunately, the ship had been heading in her direction the entire time. If the changeling hadn't known better, she’d have thought the ship had been chasing her instead of heading straight along the edge of the mountain range.

As the ship reached the Goradra Gap, Te’oma raced ahead of her, spiraling higher into the air whenever she found a thermal she could ride. Her wings tired easily, and only by working with the winds rather than against them could she remain aloft for long.

Te’oma spotted the Flying Leap clutched tight to the canyon’s northern wall and knew that this would be the
Phoenix’s
destination. She spied lookouts stationed in blinds high atop the ridge, and she guessed that they would relay news of the airship’s arrival to the dwarves below in plenty of time for them to be ready for her arrival.

Hoping the lookouts might think her nothing more than an eagle or hawk, Te’oma flapped off to the east, directly along the seam of the Goradra Gap. This put her on a direct path toward the blinding sun, which soon hid her form from anyone scouring the sky for her from the direction of the Flying Leap.

Te’oma opened her wings there and let them take her in broad, sweeping circles over the gaping, bottomless chasm. When she looked down, it felt like she might be spiraling about over a starless sky. All she had to do to let it take her would be to fold her wings against her, to let them envelope her in their warmth, and allow gravity to establish its hold on her once more.

Instead, she wrenched her gaze back toward the Flying

Leap. She watched as the a number of the people on the
Phoenix
strode down a gangway and stood talking with a clutch of dwarves on a dock that stuck out into the unprotected air like a wooden giant’s tongue.

From this distance, she couldn’t be sure who had left the ship and who had stayed behind. Espre stood shorter than most, but so did the dwarf and the halfling. She could distinguish Sallah by the way the sun glinted off her armor as she stood on the dock, but the others were harder to pick out. Soon she gave up trying.

Only two people remained on the ship, while five disappeared inside the inn. Te’oma considered sweeping down to join them, but the thought of having to deal with twitchy dwarves kept her away.

Then a body fell from one of the lookout blinds. It tumbled down into the gap without a sound, its limbs flinging about as it spun helplessly.

Te’oma guessed that whoever it happened to be was already dead. She tore her gaze away from the first body just in time to spy a second one plummeting out of the other blind.

Te’oma hovered in the air, hanging there on her flapping wings, staring at the blinds. A rope spilled out of one and then the other. The ends of each landed atop the slanted roof of the Flying Leap. No one stood on the deck any longer, and the pair of figures on the bridge of the
Phoenix
seemed oblivious to the danger, their backs turned to the inn as they gazed over the airship’s other side at the vast, magnificent canyon beyond.

A handful of figures slipped out of each of the blinds and down the ropes. They zipped down the lines and lit on the inn’s roof like finches finding fresh perches. Even from her spot hanging in the sky, though, Te’oma could tell these were murderous birds of prey.

Chapter

5

E
spre had never been in a dwarf inn before. Ibrido had led her through the abandoned halls under Mount Darumkrak, but that didn’t count. The only dwarves she’d seen there had been Duro and his compatriots, the warriors charged with the defense of the dragon’s lair. Hospitality had been the least of their concerns.

She looked around, eyes wide, as she strode into the place at Kandler’s side. For a moment, she had an urge to hold his hand, but she suppressed it. She’d been through too much lately to think of herself as a child anymore, no matter how much she might yearn for the comforts of childhood.

The floor of the inn commanded Espre’s attention first. The dock outside the inn had been fashioned from wood, as had the roof, face, and every other part of the building that jutted out from the front of the canyon’s sheer face. Inside, though, the entire floor seemed to be made from a single, large flat stone cut to a perfectly flat surface.

Espre couldn’t guess at what kind of dwarf architecture had been employed to keep the floor from toppling into the abyss. Perhaps it had been a natural shelf on the cliff face, or maybe the dwarves of Clan Nroth had carted up piece after piece and fitted them together so tight that no eye could find a seam.

The walls of the rear part of the inn’s main hall were made of the same stone, and every surface bore some sort of carving, either runes or artistic depictions of the history of the clan or perhaps just Krangel’s direct line. A dozen wooden tables squatted about the place, each of them made for customers with the dimension of dwarves. While Espre could sit at one of these comfortably enough, she had to stifle a giggle at the thought of how Kandler, Burch, or especially Sallah would look perched atop the tiny, sturdy chairs sitting around the tables.

"Come in! ” Krangel said. "It’s not often we get outsiders around here.” The snow-haired dwarf cocked a finger at a young dwarf behind the low, marble-topped bar. "Raumeese! Bring out the big folk’s table!”

The dwarf, who’d been staring at the newcomers in stunned silence, leaped to his feet and scurried out of the room. The other patrons in the room—perhaps a dozen dwarves—snorted at Raumeese as he left. A few of them nodded a greeting to Espre and the others if they happened to catch their eyes, but the others returned to their food and drink.