Jess Lebow - The Darksteel Eye

“Too much moonlight?”

“Skin isn’t like metal,” explained Glissa.

“I am finding that out.” Bosh held up his bandaged hands.

“Yeah, well, razor vines aren’t the only thing that can damage flesh. Moonlight can too.”

“How?” asked the golem.

“Yes, how?” The wolf sounded curious as well.

Glissa looked up at Slobad.

“Don’t look here, crazy elf. You said it, huh?”

“Well,” the elf grabbed her chin, thinking hard. “You know how when the moons are in convergence, the plates of the plains get hot?”

Bosh nodded. “Yes, my frame can get hot too.”

The elf lifted her finger in the air. “Right. Why is that?”

Bosh shrugged, nearly tossing Slobad from his shoulders. “I do not know.”

Glissa frowned. “Well, I don’t know either, but it happens, right?”

Everyone nodded.

“Well, skin gets hot too, only when it gets hot, it-”

“Expands,” interjected Bosh. “I understand. It is just like metal.”

“Not exactly,” said the elf.

Bosh looked out over a barren patch of plain, where there was no razor grass. The hexagonal plates that formed the ground were bowing up, like bubbles in a swamp. The iron golem pointed to them.

“See,” he said, “just like that.”

Everyone looked.

“What’s happening there?” asked Al-Hayat.

“You not know?” asked Slobad. “Slobad think magical beasts know everything, huh?”

The wolf looked up at the goblin. Glissa thought she detected a sneer on his lips. “I’ve never been out of the Tangle. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Oh,” grunted the goblin. “You just like crazy elf when Slobad find her, huh? Don’t worry.” He hitched his thumb toward his chest. “Goblin teach you everything, huh?”

“It is caused by the convergence,” explained Bosh, ignoring Slobad. “The metal plates expand when they are hot. Since they are joined so tightly, they have no room to move. They bend.” He nodded to the section of plain he had pointed to earlier. “Like that.”

“Oh,” said the wolf.

“Yes, but that’s not what happens to skin.” Glissa seemed frustrated.

“It gets hot,” said Bosh.

“Yes, and when it gets hot, it burns, like fire roasts meat.”

Bosh nodded slowly. “So the moonlight cooks flesh.”

Glissa shrugged. “Well, yes.”

“I do not want to be cooked,” said the golem.

“Golem not taste good anyway, huh?” chirped Slobad.

Al-Hayat let out a low growl. “Maybe not,” he said, lifting his muzzle toward the sky, “but someone is willing to test your theory, goblin.”

Bosh followed Al-Hayat’s nose to a patch of dark blotches in the sky. “What is that?”

Glissa strained her eyes against the glare of the moons.

“It looks like a pack of large plains birds or a group of small dragons.”

“They’re artifact wings with vedalken riders,” answered the wolf.

“Hey,” squealed Slobad, “how you know what vedalken looks like, huh?”

The wolf kept his eyes on the slowly growing forms ahead of them. “I have fought with them before.”

“In the Tangle?” asked Glissa.

The wolf nodded. “But out here, we have no trees for cover.”

Bosh stopped moving and lifted Slobad from his shoulder. “No,” he said, “but they do not have their sea or their fortress.” He turned to look at the wolf. “And they do not know about you.”

Pontifex flexed his fingers. First in his right hand then his left. Between them, he gripped the handle of his hover guard glider. It was a simple device, not unlike the unmanned aerophins. A lightweight, hollow frame was constructed in the shape of a bird’s wings. Between this frame was stretched a fine woven-metal fabric that billowed slightly in the wind. The whole thing was attached to the rider’s back with a set of straps and a buckle.

To Pontifex’s left rode Marek, to his right, Orland. Behind the three followed four dozen of Marek’s finest elite guardsmen.

Pontifex looked to his left. “Do you see them?”

Marek nodded. “The human woman doesn’t appear to be with them.”

“That doesn’t matter now,” replied the vedalken lord. “We’re after the elf girl.”

“The Guardian will be very pleased that we’ve brought her in,” interjected Orland. “The vedalken people will be well rewarded for our service.”

Pontifex smiled. “Yes. Yes indeed.”

“My lord,” said Marek, pointing down at the group of foot travelers. “They have some sort of beast with them.”

Pontifex narrowed his eyes. The reflection of the moons’ light off the metallic plain made it hard to pick up shapes and impossible to distinguish colors. It did, however, appear as if the elf rode atop some large creature. “If she thinks she can outrun us with her mount, she’s mistaken.”

Marek nodded. “What should you have us do?”

Pontifex glanced back at his troops then looked back down on the elf girl and her party.

“We split up,” he said. “Marek, you take two dozen warriors and swoop around behind them.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder toward Orland. “The councilor and I will keep the rest of the men and hold here. When we see you’re in position, we’ll swoop down from both sides, surrounding them.”

“As you wish,” Marek placed his fingers to the front of his mask in a salute to Pontifex. “My lord.” He did the same to Orland. “Councilor.” Then he was off.

Pontifex looked at the warrior with resentment. When he saw the smile on Orland’s face, he changed his mind. Marek was smart. He had learned from Pontifex, and this gesture of recognition to the new councilor would set the man at ease, making him easier to manipulate-or kill-when the time came. A feeling of tremendous pride filled the vedalken lord, and he smiled. Without even a word, his trusted bodyguard had picked up on the plan and played along perfectly.

Lifting the handle on his glider toward the clouds, Pontifex rose higher and made a gentle curving turn.

“Where are we going?” asked Orland, beside his leader.

“Nowhere,” replied Pontifex, steering around. “We’re circling.” He smiled. “Circling our prey.”

* * * * *

“What they doing, huh?” asked Slobad.

“Looks like they’re splitting up,” replied Glissa.

All four intently watched the flying figures as they broke up into two smaller groups. One appeared to be retreating.

Slobad tugged on Glissa’s arm. “They leaving. Scared of Slobad and his golem, huh?”

“No,” said the wolf, “they’re trying to surround us.”

Glissa felt panic fill her chest. They were out in the open. The only thing they could possibly use for cover was a large patch of razor grass that looked as if it had been recently mowed down by a gang of hungry threshers. If they ran hard, they could reach a fuller patch of grass, but even if they made it, they’d have to fight both the vedalken and the sharp-edged foliage.

“What do we do?” she asked, more to the heavens than to anyone in particular.

“We run, huh?”

Glissa looked up at the flyers. Already the splinter group was nearly overhead. The other group had completed a full circle and was beginning a second.

“No,” she said. “They move too fast. We’ll never out run them.”

Bosh’s voice rumbled in the light breeze. “We might be able to get out from in between them,” he said. “That might give us a better chance, if we only have to fight half of them at one time.”

“That’s a good idea,” said the wolf. “Under the glare of the moons, it’ll be hard for them to see us. If we stay near the razor grass and stick close together that could buy us some more time.”