The Queen of Death

2

“You sure know how to win ’em over, boss,” Burch said as he padded up behind Kandler, who stood at the ship’s prow, staring out at the ice-capped mountains beyond.

“I’m a soldier, not a diplomat.”

Burch showed his teeth. “That’s clear.”

The two stood silent for a moment.

“How long until they mutiny?” Kandler asked.

Burch grunted. “Not sure. Figure we got at least three on our side—you, me, and Esprë. Sallah thinks you’re nuts, and Te’oma—well, she’s hard to figure, but she probably does too. Monja, she’ll follow my lead, at least until we hit the sea. Same for Xalt, though he’ll stick around until the ship falls apart.”

The shifter leaned out over the railing to inspect the rune-carved restraining arcs that held in place the ring of elemental fire that kept the Phoenix aloft. “Which might not be all that long the way she’s looking.”

“That’s five for us and two against. I should have taken a vote.”

Burch shook his head. “Wouldn’t have changed anything.

Thought she liked you better than that though.”

Kandler ignored Burch’s leer. “How long until we reach the Gap?”

The shifter stared out at the mountains and said, “Another day. Maybe a bit more.”

Kandler looked back and saw Duro coming up behind them.

“Don’t tell me you’re still planning to head to Goradra,” the dwarf said. “I know we’ve not known each other all that long, but please don’t tell me that.”

“What’s wrong with the Gap?” Kandler said.

Duro eyed Burch before responding. “Haven’t you told him anything about it?”

“It’s a big hole in the ground,” Kandler said. “We re in an airship.”

“It’s not just a big hole,” Duro said. “It’s the deepest hole in the world. It tumbles down so far that sunlight can’t ever reach the bottom, even at high noon. They say it doesn’t stop until it hits Khyber itself.”

“Who says that?” asked Burch.

“Everyone.”

“Everyone?” Burch smiled. “I don’t say that.”

“You know what I mean.” The dwarf scowled. Kandler saw that he’d hoped Burch would help him talk some sense into the justicar, but the shifter had turned against him instead.

“Have you been there?” Burch said. “I have. Looked right down into that pit.”

“You say it doesn’t reach Khyber?” Duro said, daring the shifter to gainsay him.

“I didn’t say that either.”

“Stop playing—”

“It doesn’t matter. If it does reach Khyber, it’s so far down that the demons there would take years to climb up it, and you’d see them coming a mile away.”

“What about falling into it?” Duro said with a shiver. “You could tumble through that bottomless shaft for hours.”

“Thought you said it bottomed out in Khyber?” Burch smiled. “Either way, it doesn’t matter if it’s a hundred feet down or a hundred thousand. You fall that far, you’re dead when you land. A longer fall just gives you more time to think about it.”

Duro’s eyelids twitched. “Can’t we just resupply someplace else? Why bother with Gaptown?”

“It’s right out there in the open,” Kandler said. “It’s easy to reach by airship. Anything else in this area means a dwarf settlement, and that means crawling deep under the mountains.”

“My people will welcome us at any of our homes along the entire range. You would be my honored guests. As the slayers of Nithkorrh, we would be welcomed as heroes and treated like kings.”

Kandler shook his head. “It’s tempting, but if we stop moving, we become a target. We can’t afford to waste that much time.”

Duro looked hurt. “Time spent in a dwarf city is never a waste—it’s an investment. If you could see the halls of Krona Peak, you would find yourself drawn to spending hour upon hour contemplating their stark beauty. The works of mankind have nothing to compare.”

“Time to meditate upon the wonders of dwarf society is exactly what we don’t have.”

“Krona Peak lies right along our path. If we proceed along the Ironroot Mountains here, we will practically pass over it.”

Kandler gazed down at the dwarf for a moment. “If you want us to drop you off there—”

Duro cut him off with a sharp snap of his head. “Not at all. I would only suggest—”

“Why not?” said Burch. “Come with us, and the best you can hope for’s to choose which kind of dragon tears off your head.”

Duro snorted. “I am not some child to be frightened by such talk. If you thought so little of our chances, would you bring the elfling along with you?”

Kandler glared at the dwarf. “There’s no safer place for her than with me.”

“Even when you fly into the dragons’ collective maw? We could leave her with my people. They would care for her as their own. Then we could assault the dragons, free from the fear that she might be killed in the effort.”

“You’d still come with us then?” Kandler asked, trying not to sound so surprised.

Duro smiled wide beneath his bushy beard. “I am no coward. I spent years guarding the den of that damned dragon beneath my clan’s mountain. Now that job is over, and I find that I have an itch to see the world beyond. I can think of no better calling than to save a youngling by battling even more dragons in open combat.”

“You’re sunstruck,” said Burch. “I’ve seen it in dwarves before. All that time stuck in those dark caves, you get a taste of fresh air and you go mad.”

Duro’s grin never slackened. “Think what you will. Some of my clan might agree with you. I might once have too, but if my insanity can serve a greater purpose, then so be it.”

“We’ll try Goradra first,” said Kandler. “If that doesn’t pan out for supplies, we’ll make a quick stop at Krona Peak.” He glanced between the dwarf and the shifter. They both nodded at him, content for now.

“You don’t have to listen to him, you know,” Sallah said to Esprë.

The girl stared up at the lady knight. Up in the thin, cold air, the warmth of the clear, bright sun only managed to take the edge off the chill, but Sallah never seemed to notice it. Did the knight’s Silver Flame burn so warmly in her as to ward off all such discomforts?

As Esprë shuddered in the open breeze swirling around and through her, Xalt came up from behind her and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. “I found this in the hold,” he said. “Some of the workers at Fort Bones must have been sleeping there between shifts.”

The elf smiled her thanks at the warforged and reached out to caress his metallic cheek.

“You are older than he,” Sallah said. “You are ready to come of age yourself and make your own decisions.”

Esprë nodded. She heard the wisdom in Sallah’s words, but the knight’s clear desire to bring the elf back to Flamekeep made her wary.

“Do you love him?” Esprë asked.

Sallah froze. She wore her defiance on her taut lips and her jutted chin. When she spoke again, though, her face relaxed, and she looked more human in a way that Esprë knew that Xalt could never have managed.

“I believe I do,” said Sallah. “My head swirls about as if caught in a whirlwind when I am with him.”

“That’s just the altitude,” Te’oma said as she slipped up behind the others.

Sallah scowled at the changeling. “You are fortunate that we didn’t dump you overboard the moment the dragon died. After all you’ve done—”

“That’s gratitude for you,” Te’oma said, arching a pale eyebrow. She ran a finger along Xalt’s back, right where she had plunged a dagger into him back in the warforged city of Construct. “You’d think saving everyone’s lives would change a few minds.”

“Burch brought down that dragon,” Sallah said. “You only saved his life because he clung so tightly to you that you had no choice.”

Te’oma’s face blurred for a moment, and Sallah found herself staring into her father’s eyes. “Does the Silver Flame not teach us to forgive?”

Esprë stepped between the two as Sallah’s sword leaped from its scabbard and burst into flames. She knew that the knight would not harm her, but she didn’t know how long she could manage to keep the pair apart.

Sallah held her blazing blade before her. “You desecrate my father’s memory,” she spat at the changeling, “and you tempt death by mocking me with it.”

“Perhaps,” Te’oma said, taking Sallah’s own form instead, “you’d prefer to look your hypocrisy in the face.” Esprë flung her arms up to protect herself from the enraged knight. As she did, she felt the changeling’s presence behind her disappear. Then something heavy thudded against the ground.

Esprë spun about and spied Te’oma lying face down on the deck, Xalt’s heavy form atop her. The warforged had the changeling’s arm twisted behind her back, and her face—her own face now—contorted in pain.

“You shall cease to take our forms,” Xalt said, “or those of people we love. If you do so again, I will be forced to mark you so that we can always tell you apart from those others.” “How will you manage that?” Te’oma said, sneering through the pain as the warforged gave her arm a terrible wrench.

“I do not think your powers allow you to replace a missing limb.”

“That’s enough,” Esprë said. She felt the dragonmark on her back start to itch. “You made your point.”

Xalt looked into the elf’s eyes and let the changeling go.

He jumped back to his feet and let Te’oma pull herself up on her own.

“We need to work together,” Esprë said. “When you hope to take on a force made of dragons, you need all the friends you can get.”

Despite this, Esprë refused to lend Te’oma a hand up. She recalled too well how the changeling had kidnapped her and intended to trade her to the Lich Queen in exchange for the resurrection of her own long-dead daughter.

“True,” Sallah said, “but we also need to remove every other enemy in our way.”

With that, the lady knight stalked off, sheathing her blade as she went.

“Thank you,” Te’oma said to Esprë.

“Don’t,” the elf said. “I don’t like you any more than she does. In other circumstances, I’d let her and Xalt toss you overboard.”

“Why don’t you?” Te’oma asked.