The Road to Death

45

Kandler knew Burch would be the first to spot Keeper’s Claw. The shifter had been peering out at the horizon for hours, scanning every spot in the distance in the hopes of somehow finding the airship. With his keen vision, he had the best chance of spying it of anyone, so he kept at it no matter how tired his eyes might get from staring into the midday sun.

From what Te’oma had relayed from Esprë, they knew it would be somewhere along the front range of the Ironroot Mountains, in a portion traditionally occupied by Clan Drakyager. This meant little to Kandler, who couldn’t keep track of the various clans of the Mror Holds without a diagram, but Burch knew who they were. Monja did too, although she’d never met any of them in person before.

From what Burch and Monja had said, the Drakyager dwarves were a solitary lot, bitter about their fall from power so many centuries ago. Still, they were determined to live up to their hereditary duties, which included trying to reclaim their ancient homeland deep within the mountains and to protect the rest of the clans of the Iron Council from an ancient and evil dragon that had set up housekeeping far beneath their homes so long ago.

“Yeah,” Burch had said, “they made some kind of deal with the dragon, believe it or not—a black one, scales darker than its soul. They kept him fed and protected, and he left them alone. Course, that didn’t stop the orcs from killing most of them a while back.”

“No one cried a tear for them,” Monja had said. “A dragon like that doesn’t get by on munching potatoes and carrots, after all.”

“What happened to the dragon after Clan Drakyager got run off, then?” Kandler had asked.

Burch had shrugged. “Dragons can go a long time without eating much,” he’d said. “They just get hungrier and hungrier.”

“And when they can’t take it any more?” Sallah had asked.

Monja had frowned. “I’ve never heard of a dragon dying from starvation.”

When Burch spotted the Keeper’s Claw right along the mountains under which the dragon supposedly lived, Kandler’s heart pumped with a mixture of hope and dread. His daughter had to be around here somewhere, but a hungry dragon might be there too.

“There it is, boss,” Burch said, pointing at a twinkling bit of orange glowing partway up a mountain. “Ready and waiting for us.”

Kandler slapped his friend on the back in thanks and jogged back along the deck to talk with Sallah on the bridge. The lady knight had done most of the flying since they’d left Fort Bones. Phoenix seemed to respond to her well. She was a natural pilot, almost as talented as Esprë, who’d surprised Kandler with her easy command of the airship.

“Found something?” Sallah asked, a tentative smile on her lips.

Kandler nodded and pointed at the tiny light that Burch had found. “That’s either the airship or the biggest bonfire I’ve ever seen. Either way, we need to check it out. Take her up high. Try to mask our approach by keeping the sun directly behind us.”

“Aye, captain,” Sallah said with a grin. Although the wheel in her hands didn’t move—couldn’t move, in fact—the ship tilted in the direction Kandler had pointed, and it picked up momentum. “Full speed ahead.”

Kandler squinted at her. “ ‘Aye, captain?’ ”

“I’ve always wanted to say that. Thrane doesn’t border any seas—we have rivers, lakes, and sounds, but mostly I stayed off them, so I never really had a chance.”

“Ever?”

“Not before now.”

Kandler leaned in and kissed the lady knight on the cheek. He could have sworn she blushed at the attention, but it could have just been the wind on her face.

He wondered why Sallah had pulled away from him when they were in the Mournland but was willing to accept his affections now. Did she think he’d finally gotten over his love for Esprina?

As much as Kandler felt himself starting to care for Sallah, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to ignore his feelings about Esprina, no matter how long gone she might be. He and Burch had buried her in that grave in the Mournland, but his love for her couldn’t be covered up so easily. He didn’t think he could ever give it all up. It was too much a part of who he was.

“What are we going to do when we catch up to Keeper’s Claw?” Xalt asked.

The warforged had stood at the back of the bridge so quietly that Kandler had forgotten he was there. He wondered if warforged could shut themselves off and turn themselves back on at will. He’d never seen another living creature stay so still for so long.

“We’ll attack and bring them down,” he said.

“A Karrnathi warship with a full contingent of skeletal soldiers? Do you think that’s possible?”

“Do you have another plan?”

“Suicide is not a plan.”

The fact that Xalt valued his artificial life just as much as anyone else—perhaps more, it seemed—struck Kandler hard. The warforged had a point. Dying in the attempt to rescue Esprë wouldn’t help her.

Kandler knew from the start of all this that he’d be willing to do anything for his daughter, even die for her, if it meant she would be safe and free. The others, though, might not have that blind, unconditional love for the young elf. Burch did, Kandler thought. The shifter had been his best friend for so long—before he’d met Esprina, even. Since the beautiful elf’s death, Burch had been even more than just a friend. He’d become a part of Kandler and Esprë’s family, sometimes as much of a father to the young elf as he’d been, especially in those early months after Esprë’s mother’s death. Kandler hadn’t been much use to anyone in those days, and Burch had watched over Esprë until the justicar could stand to get back into the world again.

Sallah had her orders. The Keeper of the Flame herself had charged the lady knight with finding the bearer of the Lost Mark. She’d lost so much on this journey already that she could never turn back now. The ghosts of her father and her other fellow knights pushed her on, more than any growing affection for Kandler could, he knew.

Xalt and Monja, though, didn’t have the pressing need of the others to be here. Kandler didn’t know why they’d follow him into what could be a quick but terrifying death. What drove them on?

Kandler put his hand on the warforged’s shoulder. “If you don’t want to go through with this, I understand,” he said. “You’ve already done more for us than you had to.”

He looked over at Monja, who climbed up on to the bridge at that moment to learn the news Kandler had brought from Burch. She’d been watching the changeling, but her curiosity seemed to have gotten the better of her.

Xalt stepped back, forcing Kandler’s hand from his shoulder, and the warforged’s jaw dropped. “You think I want out of this now?” he asked. “You think I am a coward who would abandon friends in the time of their greatest need? I didn’t have to do any of this.”

Kandler flushed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I—I don’t want to force you into risking your life for my daughter.” He looked down at the halfling shaman. “The same goes for you. If you like, we’ll drop you off here. If we survive, we’ll come back for you. Otherwise, I’m sure you can find your way home.”

The halfling shaman furrowed her brow at the justicar, then crooked her finger for him to come lower so she could speak to him directly. He knelt in front of her, and she reached out and took his face in her small, childlike hands—smaller, even, than Esprë’s.

“Don’t be a fool,” she said. She glanced up at Xalt and then stared long and hard into Kandler’s eyes. “You insult us both with your offer.”

She smiled at him then. “I’m not here for you,” she said. “I’m here for your daughter. It’s more than repaying my debt to Burch. He saved my life once, but not because he owed me anything—just because it was the right thing to do.”

Kandler felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked to see it belonged to Xalt—the one missing the thick finger the warforged had lost saving Kandler and his friends once before.

“This …” Xalt said. “Saving Esprë is the right thing to do.”

Kandler nodded and stood, a grim look on his face as he stared at them both.

“Damn you two for being right.”

Burch stepped up on to the bridge then. “I don’t think she’s on the ship, boss,” he said.

Kandler spun on the shifter. “How’s that?”

Burch pointed back at Keeper’s Claw, toward which they zoomed with amazing speed. “There’s only a few skeletons left there, and they’re not moving. They’re waiting for something.”

“Like for Ibrido to return,” Kandler said.

He leaped over the bridge’s railing and landed next to Te’oma. The changeling stood there, still chained to the deck by her neck and wrists, staring out at the ship they approached.

“She’s in danger,” Te’oma said.

“How long have you known?” Kandler grabbed the chain that led to her collar and rattled it. “How long?”

“Does it matter?” she said, her head bowed. “She’s beyond our help now.”

Kandler reached up and yanked back the changeling’s head by the back of her collar. He snarled at her, his face close enough to hers that he could have bitten her nose off. “What does that mean?”

He noticed then that Te’oma had been crying. His heart fell down past his toes and tumbled through the airship toward the ground far below.

“What does that mean?” he hissed.

“She’s still … alive,” the changeling said, choking on the collar as she spoke.

Kandler released her, and she fell forward on her knees, tugging the collar from around her throat. “She’s in the mountain. Ibrido is taking her down to present her to his master.”

“Why?” Kandler asked. Stories of dragons devouring young virgins roiled through his head.

“I don’t know,” Te’oma said, glaring up at him. “If Esprë can’t figure it out, how should I?”

Kandler growled down at the changeling. “You’re the telepath around here.”

“All I know is what Esprë tells me,” she said, tears streaming down her face again. Kandler couldn’t tell if they were in rage against him or for some more horrible reason.

Kandler tried to calm himself. “What does she tell you now?” he asked. “What’s happening to her?”

Te’oma stared up at the justicar, weeping openly now, her mouth twisted into a grimace of grief and fear. “ ‘It’s coming,’ is all she can say right now. ‘It’s coming! It’s coming! It’s coming!’ ”

The changeling let loose a skull-rattling shriek. “Oh, no!” she said. “No, no, no, no, no.” Her voice was barely more than a murmur now, and Kandler had to strain to hear her words.

“No,” Te’oma said, her voice as raw as an open wound. “It’s here.”