The Road to Death

39

Esprë stared at the cabin door for a long time. Violent dreams had disturbed her sleep enough that she felt as if she’d never shut her eyes. She might still be trying to rest if a skeleton hadn’t brought her a bland bowl of steaming gruel and a skin full of water sometime after dawn. She’d forced herself to eat it, all of it, not knowing how long it might be to her next meal.

Then she sat on the couch and stared at the door. It was thin but solid, polished with a mahogany finish, just like the wood in the rest of the room. A shiny, brass doorknob stuck out of the right side of the door, and matching hinges lined the left side. It opened inward, and a brass sliding bolt and catch sat high on the door’s right side to give the captain his privacy.

Esprë considered locking herself in the room and refusing to come out, but that would mean getting rid of her two skeleton guards first. They watched her without pause, their blank eye sockets following her wherever she went. At first, it made her skin crawl, but by the time she woke up this morning, she could ignore it.

The young elf stood up, and the skeletons shifted in anticipation of accompanying her. Their bones rattled in their ill-fitting armor.

Esprë strode to the door and flung it open. The wind that swirled through the room now had a way to go, and it blew past her, shoving her out on to the airship’s main deck.

She gazed out over the deck and into the blue sky beyond. Karrnathi skeletons moved about the place like termites on an old log, busy and silent, performing the dozens of jobs necessary to keep such a massive craft in perfect shape. Some of them swabbed the deck, while others checked the actions on the ballistae mounts that lined the gunwales, keeping them in top condition. Another team of skeletons inspected the restraining arcs that held in place a massive, roaring ring of fire that spanned at least twice as wide as that around Phoenix.

Esprë wondered about the creature trapped in that ring, how powerful it must be, and how angry. She hoped to take the ship’s wheel sometime and learn more about it. She’d come to enjoy working with the elemental that drove Phoenix, coaxing it to move the ship as she wished because it had decided it liked her. She took pride in the fact she’d been able to forge that kind of friendship with the thing. Trapped elementals rarely cared for their masters and often refused to serve those who could not somehow massage their massive egos.

She wondered how Ibrido flew the ship. None of the skeletons could manage it, she knew. It required a forceful personality, which they didn’t have.

She spied the dragon-elf standing on the bridge and decided to satisfy her curiosity. She strode across the deck, the winds whipping through her clothes, snapping her long hair around her like a golden banner in a storm.

Ibrido spotted her crossing the ship and waited for her on the deck. As she neared, she saw his hands gripped the ship’s wheel like it was a weapon. She thought he might tear the thing off and hurl it into the ring if it disobeyed him.

She wondered, for a moment, what might have happened to the bosun, but she put such thoughts out of her head. If the man was dead, she could do nothing for him. If he was alive, then all the better.

“Good,” Ibrido said as Esprë climbed the stairs to the bridge. “I feared you might spend the entire trip in the cabin. This is a view that no one should miss.”

Esprë turned to look in the direction the airship charged, and her breath caught in her chest. There, on the horizon, a range of high, snow-capped mountains stretched before her. Below the pure, white peaks, the steep slopes turned a rusty red before tumbling down into leagues of rolling foothills covered with green grasses and the occasional stand of trees. Feathery wisps of clouds, lit a glowing gold by the sun rising behind them, spiraled high in the sky over the mountain-tops, which seemed to stretch from one side of the world to the other.

“Where are we?” she said when she could speak again. She clutched her arms around her for warmth. While the sun promised to heat the land later in the day, standing on the deck reminded her how cool the sky could be.

“We are flying over Karrnath still,” Ibrido said. He seemed almost careless about her presence, and his confidence irritated Esprë. She wished she could detect even a hint of fear about him, fear of her nascent powers.

“What are those?” she said, pointing out at the mountains. “I mean, what are they called?”

“The Ironroot Mountains. They mark where Karrnath ends and the lands of the dwarf clans begin. They call the region the Mror Holds, and for the most part their word is law there.”

“Is that where we’re going?” Esprë held her breath as she waited for the dragon-elf’s answer. Would he keep his plans a secret, or would his arrogance loosen his tongue, she wondered.

“It is but the first step on our journey,” he said. “We must report in to my superior here in Khorvaire.”

“Who is that?”

“Does it matter?”

Esprë looked up at the dragon-elf, who stood a good two feet taller than her. He stared down at her with suspicious eyes.

“Just curious about my fate,” she said.

“You could say the same of any of us.”

Ibrido returned his attention to the horizon again. Esprë noticed that he hadn’t any hair for the wind to ruffle, although it wobbled through the small ridges of horns that ran back from between his eyes and over his wide, batlike ears. They seemed like eyebrows, and their slant gave him an evil, savage look even when he was in a good mood. They fit him well.

“What does your superior want with me?” she asked.

“The last time the Mark of Death appeared, it triggered a crusade that ended with the death of an entire house of elves.”

“Why?” Esprë said, horrified.

“To make sure it would never arise again.” He looked askance at her. “It seems they missed at least one of your ancestors.”

“Wouldn’t it be simpler just to kill me?” she asked. She knew she wouldn’t like the answer to this, whatever it was, but she had to know why she still lived.

“If they were only interested in picking the Mark of Death like a weed any time it appeared. They want to tear it out by the roots. To do that, they need to learn everything they can about you and your elf family.”

“I don’t have any family,” Esprë said, “just Kandler, and he’s no elf. My blood parents are dead.”

“They had parents and aunts and uncles and cousins. Any of them might also be able to produce an offspring with the Mark of Death, just like you. They must all be exterminated.”

Esprë felt the need to vomit. The thought that her dragonmark could bring doom to anyone related to her in any way—everyone! She couldn’t bear it.

“I don’t know any of my relatives,” she said, “not even their names. We moved to Khorvaire when I was too young to remember.”

“Even if that’s true, it matters not. My masters have powerful spells they can weave to learn your history and that of your line. Once they have you in their clutches, they can begin their inquest. This time, they will not make the same mistake. No one will be missed.”

“The Undying Court will never let you get away with it,” Esprë said. “This will mean war.”

Ibrido snorted at that. “You are an amusing child,” he said. “How unfortunate that you know so little about the forces that whirl around you.”

“What do you mean?” Esprë said.

“Who do you think helped destroy the Mark of Death the last time?”