Don Bassingthwaite - The Grieving Tree

One of the red Eberron shards embedded in the scales of his leg flared suddenly and seemed to burn. Darkness flared around them, as if the world had been turned inside out and what had been bright was made black.

“I have flown through a plane of shadow to reach you,” Dah’mir had said when he first appeared on Lightning on Water .

Vennet could see nothing but dim forms as they whisked through the weird dark skies, but the shadow winds were as talkative as the winds of Eberron. What about the reward Dah’mir promised you? they asked. What about wealth and power?

Vennet laughed, the speed of their passage snatching his breath from between his teeth. “I have my reward!” he said.

Chain looked up as Singe climbed down the ladder-like steps of the aft hold of Lightning on Water . “Look at you,” said the bounty hunter. “Dressed up like you’re trying to impress someone.”

In the glow of the everbright lantern that lit the hold, Singe tugged on the hem of the vest he had bought during their last few hours in Zarash’ak, part of a sturdy but stylish outfit well suited to the part of a traveling scholar. “I can tell it’s working,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve come down here and you haven’t cursed me.”

Chain’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve stopped during daylight this time. We must be in Vralkek. You’ll be leaving soon. The next time I see you I’ll have a sword in my hand.”

Singe cocked his head and gave Chain a long look, then drew his rapier.

“Back up,” he ordered.

Chain shuffled backward as far as he could, pulling tight the chains that shackled him to a strong bolt embedded in the deck. Singe leaned cautiously close to examine the heavy padlock that held the chains. The first time Singe had come to inspect his bonds, Chain had tried to use the slack in the chain to attack him. The wizard had demonstrated to him that while he wasn’t quite as fast Dandra, he was fast enough to avoid a clumsy attack. A stinging blow from the flat of his blade had left the bounty hunter sitting uncomfortably for two days.

Whatever worries, he might have had, however, Chain’s bonds were just as they had been when they’d bound him almost a week ago. Bolt, lock, and chain were still solid. The same shackles had once held Ashi prisoner, and if the hunter’s strength hadn’t been enough to free her, Singe was certain Chain’s wouldn’t be either. He stepped back. Chain eased forward and squatted on the deck, glaring up at him. Singe clenched his teeth at the man’s blunt rage. There was nothing else to say. They’d reassured Chain that Marolis and Karth would let him go at Sharn, and had apologized-though Chain didn’t make it easy-that this had been necessary.

He stepped back toward the steep stairs, keeping his eyes on Chain. When he was safely out of reach, he sheathed his rapier and turned away.

“I’ll be coming for you!” Chain called after him.

The others were waiting on deck. “How’s our friend?” asked Geth.

“He says hello-oh, and that he’ll be coming for us.”

Geth snorted. “Let him.” He closed his right fist in a clash of metal. The shifter had donned his great gauntlet. The black metal gave back a dull gleam in the early afternoon sunlight. He was also wearing a coat stitched with wide bands of heavy leather, a sort of light armor that had been another of Singe’s purchases in Zarash’ak. The coat was less for protection and more for show: the color of the fabric underneath the leather bands was similar enough to Singe’s new outfit to be suggestive of livery. Geth hated it. Singe thought it made him-and Orshok, Natrac, and Ashi, all of whom had similar clothing-look more professional and intimidating.

Dandra had another opinion. “Sometimes kalashtar who share the same lineage deliberately wear clothes in matching designs and colors,” she’d said when Singe had first coaxed their companions to wear the new gear.

“And?” Singe had asked.

“It looks like they’re trying too hard,” Dandra had told him. She’d kept to her own distinctive clothing.

Karth came trotting along the deck. “We’ve hailed one of the local boats. She’s alongside, waiting to take you ashore,” he said. He offered Singe his hand. “Olladra’s fortune,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Singe, returning his grip. They’d told Karth and Marolis most of their story-they owed the crew of Lightning on Water that much at the very least-though they’d left out the truth of Dah’mir’s nature and of his experiments on kalashtar. Karth and Marolis would tell their own tale to the ministers of House Lyrandar. Singe, Dandra, and Geth had all agreed there were some things the great house didn’t need to know.

The others said their good-byes as well, though Karth reserved his most heartfelt farewells for Dandra and Orshok-Dandra because she had freed him and Marolis, Orshok because his prayers had helped the rest of the crew overcome Dah’mir’s power. As they made their way to where a ladder had been thrown over the ship’s rail, other members of the crew clustered around the young druid, offering their thanks. Orshok flushed at the attention and scrambled quickly over the side and down to the waiting boat to escape it. Singe was the last one down the ladder. He waved to Marolis-the half-elf had stayed at the ship’s wheel, holding the ship steady for their disembarking-then shook hands with Karth again.

“Good luck with the ministers of Lyrandar,” he said. “Be careful of Chain. I think he might try something.”

Karth grinned. “He’s on a ship that’s soon going to be leagues away from land again. What can he do? We’re not going to let anything keep us from getting to Sharn.”

Singe squeezed his hand. “Good man.” He let go and clambered down the ladder.

The boat below was nothing more than an open top fishing craft that smelled strongly of last week’s catch. Between him, the five others, and the four weathered half-orcs that were her crew, the boat was crowded. Singe crouched with Orshok and Natrac in the stern as the crew of the little boat pulled hard on the oars, taking them away from Lightning on Water and toward the rugged coast of Droaam. Orshok was still staring at the ship, watching her in fascination. When the fishing boat had pulled far enough away, Singe heard Marolis shout. A moment later, the great elemental ring that drove the ship churned as a gale blasted out of it. The sleek ship moved again, slowly at first but quickly picking up speed. As she headed back out to the open ocean, moving faster and faster, her hull rose up out of the water to reveal the two great running fins normally hidden below the water line. The narrow profile of the fins allowed the ship to cut through the waves with the greatest possible speed.

Orshok’s eyes were wide. Singe slapped him on the shoulder. “Turn around, Orshok. Have a look at Vralkek.”

“In a moment,” the orc said distantly.

Natrac laughed. “Give him a chance, Singe. You only see things for the first time once.”

The wizard shrugged, then turned to survey Vralkek for himself. Marolis had brought Lightning on Water as close in as he dared without knowing more about the port’s harbor. It had been more than close enough. Compared to Zarash’ak, Vralkek was nothing, its waterfront largely empty. It had more in common with distant Yrlag, far away where the lonely western coast of the Shadow Marches met the southern fringe of the Eldeen Reaches. Yrlag had, so Geth had been told by Adolan, once been the westernmost outpost of the Dhakaani Empire and that heritage still showed in tremendous works of ancient engineering and crumbling ruins. Singe could see some of those same elements in Vralkek, but apparently more had befallen the port since Dhakaan’s end than had befallen Yrlag. What ruins were visible were in worse condition. An old stone pier was nearly hidden beneath a tangle of rickety wood. What he had thought to be a partially submerged shoal was, he realized as they passed it and drew into the harbor proper, actually the broken and age-rounded remains of a mighty breakwall.