Rich Wulf - Flight of the Dying Sun

“Ask Boldrei,” Zed said with a scowl. “Which way do we go, Omax?”

Omax pointed at the hatch at the far side of the deck. A half dozen Cyrans stood in a tight group in front of it, watching the fight but not moving from their post.

“Dalan will most likely be held there,” the warforged said.

An annoyed sneer creased Zed’s weathered features. He had hoped the confusion would leave Dalan’s cabin lightly guarded, but at least some of Marth’s soldiers were not fools. The Ghost Talons wouldn’t be much help. Zed couldn’t speak their language and they might not even listen if he could. The halflings didn’t care about Dalan d’Cannith. They just wanted to hurt Marth’s soldiers as much as possible.

“We need a distraction,” Zed said in a low voice. “Wait here out of sight. They probably won’t all chase me, but you should be able to handle whatever’s left. Don’t wait for me. Just grab Dalan and run.”

“You will not survive,” Omax said.

“Probably not,” Zed said, hefting his sword and preparing to charge. “I’ll think of something.”

Eraina opened her mouth to argue, but no words came. Omax turned and seized one of the huge crates lashed to the deck, lifted it with the sound of snapping ropes, and hurled it past Zed into the group of guards.

“They are distracted now,” the warforged said.

Omax released a savage metal roar and ran headlong into the scattering mercenaries. Two had already collapsed from the warforged’s improvised missile. A third fell when Omax’s heavy fists clapped together over his helmet. Sparks erupted as the others slashed at the warforged with their swords. Omax staggered beneath their attacks but did not fall. Zed rushed in beside him, cutting down one of the remaining soldiers and parrying an attack from another. Eraina was there as well, burying her spear in another soldier.

The last man glared at them, eyes narrowed in hate. “You d’Cannith pawns,” he said, sneering as he gripped his sword in both hands. “All we want to do is save our homeland. What do you fight for? Gold?”

“No,” Zed said, batting the man’s weapon away and clubbing him heavily across the face with the pommel of his sword. The soldier stumbled drunkenly. “Right now I’m just fighting to get you out of my way, but I like to keep things simple.” Zed punched the dazed soldier in the throat and pushed him aside.

“Dalan?” Omax called out, shoving through the dead and unconscious enemies into the room beyond. The warforged’s shimmering eyes illuminated the dark room with pale blue light. Dalan d’Cannith sat cross-legged on the floor. The fat guild master’s fine robes were now torn and stained with blood and soot. His face was bruised. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion. He looked up at them with exaggerated calm, as if unaware of his own pathetic state.

“A rescue?” he asked in a bored voice. “What were you thinking, Arthen? Whose ludicrous idea was this? Xain?”

“It has all the earmarks, doesn’t it?” Zed replied. “Now get up. We’re getting out of here.”

“You should have left me,” Dalan said, trembling as Omax pulled him to his feet.

“I agree,” Zed said. “You’re not worth it. But Tristam really wants to talk to you, and I kind of want to see how that turns out.”

“Do you need healing?” Eraina asked, extending a hand toward Dalan’s bruised face.

“Nothing urgent,” Dalan said, brushing her hand away. “Save your goddess’s favor. We may still need miracles.”

A hideous roar erupted from somewhere deep within the Moon . Sparks of red flame shone between the floorboards, and the entire vessel shuddered.

“Such as that, whatever that new catastrophe was,” Dalan said bleakly. “Xain is sabotaging the ship, isn’t he?”

“Maybe,” Zed said with a nervous cough.

Omax cocked his head. “The ship’s elemental has been freed from its bindings,” he whispered. “The Moon will not survive long.”

“Tristam was supposed to banish it back to its own world, not release it into ours,” Eraina said.

“Typical,” Dalan said with a sigh.

“They get angry when they break loose,” Zed said. “We’d better get out of here before that thing kills us all.”

“I am too weak to run,” Dalan said. “Leave me.”

Zed nodded at Omax.

The warforged reached out without another word, grabbing Dalan by the collar and tucking him limply under one arm. Zed ran back out onto the deck, searching the sky for the familiar green flaming ring. He saw her now, the Karia Naille , below and to the left of the Moon , flying as close as she dared.

“Go now!” Zed shouted.

Zed, Omax, and Eraina ran across the deck, ignoring the chaos. Cyran soldiers scrambled to save their ship. Halfling warriors rushed back to their glidewings, fleeing the doomed vessel. Neither enemy nor ally spared any moment of concern for them as Zed leapt over the rail. The magic of Tristam’s potion still lingered, carrying him upward, crossing the impossible distance between the two ships. He landed with a crash. Though nets had been stretched across the deck to catch them, his landing was not gentle. His sword tumbled from his hand and stars swam in his vision. Eraina landed just as he rose, crashing into him. Omax arrived more gracefully, not even needing the nets as he landed nimbly on his feet. The deck buckled under his arrival. The warforged dropped Dalan d’Cannith stiffly on the deck. The guild master’s eyes were wide as he stared back at the burning hulk from which they had escaped. Seventh Moon plummeted from the sky, her great size making her descent appear agonizingly slow. The Karia Naille dove, struggling to stay beneath the flaming hulk as she dropped.

“Welcome back, Master d’Cannith,” Pherris Gerriman said. Though his voice was casual, the gnome captain’s hands were tight on the ship’s controls. Sweat beaded on his temples. “I see that the rest of you have chosen, as usual, to spontaneously complicate my evening. I thought Tristam intended merely to cripple their ship, not destroy her.”

Fire burst from patches within the Moon ’s hull. The elemental ring that surrounded her was now broken in three places and blazed with purple lightning.

Zed shrugged as he retrieved his sword, shoving it back into its scabbard. “I dunno. That looks crippled to me.”

“Damn you, Xain!” Dalan shouted, glaring around him as he searched for the artificer. “How dare you take such foolish risks! You could have killed us all. You could have destroyed everything!”

“Tristam isn’t here,” Eraina said.

“Where is he?” Dalan demanded.

Omax pointed at the burning Moon .

“We can’t wait for him much longer,” Pherris said, eyeing the burning ship above them with a nervous frown. “I will not leave him behind, but that ship is going down fast.”

“Fly, Pherris,” said a soft voice from the ship’s bow. Aeven, the dryad, perched beside the figurehead that mirrored her delicate features. Though the rain slicked her golden hair and olive skin, she looked at the crew with a serene smile. “The wind tells me that Tristam Xain and Seren Morisse are safe.”

Pherris nodded rapidly. “Aye, Aeven.”

“ Mourning Dawn rejoices,” she added, “for Tristam has released her sister from the Dying Sun .” She turned her face back into the storm.

A triumphant growl surged through the Karia Naille ’s elemental ring, and for an instant it blazed pure white. The ship gained altitude, banking heavily to port and pulling away from the Dying Sun . The brilliant lightning and roaring thunder were answered with the violent explosive cries of the Moon ’s runaway elemental. The triumphant cheers of the Ghost Talon riders filled the night as Marth’s flagship plummeted.