Мэтт Форбек - The Queen of Death

Kandler stared up into the darkness a while longer. When the lightning flashed again, the silhouette no long hung over the ship.

The justicar glanced back at the bridge and saw Esprë peering over the console at him. The thought that the dragons might come to them now and destroy the airship without even accosting them, like predators cruising the skies for their next meal, infuriated him. He refused to let this happen.

Kandler hadn’t come all this way just to let some flying, scaled monster knock him out of the sky. He headed for the bow. When he reached the ship’s stem, he grabbed the gunwale with both hands then threw back his head and shouted at the creature stalking them.

“I know you’re out there! We’re coming to your home.

Even if you knock us from the sky, I’ll swim the rest of the way to your lair, and I’ll shove my sword right through your front damned doors!”

Kandler fell silent for a moment. He’d hoped that the dragon—if that’s what it had been—would show itself. Nothing—only the raging storm and the hiss of rain dying on the ring of fire.

“Come out, you coward!” he shouted. “Show yourself so I can tear off your wings like the gnat you are!”

“What do you hope to accomplish?” Xalt said.

The warforged’s interruption startled Kandler, and he stepped back from the rail.

“I figure we can either wait for the bastards to try to kill us, or we can shame them into leaving us alone.”

“Do dragons feel shame?”

Kandler grinned. “I’m not sure, but I know I don’t—at least when it comes to this.”

Xalt stared at Kandler with his unblinking obsidian eyes. Then he tossed back his head and shouted, “Come out, you coward!”

Kandler joined right in. As far as he could tell, the dragon never came back.

“Boss,” Burch said, popping his head in through the open hatch. “Got dragons dead ahead.”

Kandler leaped out of the hammock in the hold in which he’d been trying to sleep. He’d not had much success. As they grew closer to Argonnessen, the idea of closing his eyes, even for a moment, seemed insane. Now, with the call to action finally being sounded, he breathed a sigh of relief.

The justicar clambered up onto the main deck and trotted after the shifter, who led him straight to the bow.

“Xalt spotted it a few minutes ago,” Burch said, pointing off toward the southeastern horizon. “Took me a while to figure out what they are.”

Kandler shaded his eyes and spied what the shifter meant for him to see instantly. Two winged shapes spiraled about in the cloudless sky. From their silhouettes, they seemed to be dragons, but from such a distance Kandler couldn’t be sure.

“Positive?” Kandler asked.

“About three quarters,” Burch said. “Either way, it’s trouble. If they’re not dragons, they’re still something we’re going to have to deal with. They’re right in our path.” “Can’t we just go around them?”

“It’s a big sky,” Sallah said, as she strolled up the deck behind them. “Trying to avoid them would add dozens of miles to our trip.”

Kandler met her eyes. She’d kept her distance from him ever since the Phoenix had left Khorvaire behind. He couldn’t help but think she blamed him for the fact that they were out here crossing the Dragonreach. He doubted she gave Esprë much credit for having her own mind.

He would have talked with her about it, but he’d wanted to do so privately. She’d always managed to find herself other company, though, and she’d pointedly refused to acknowledge his hints that he’d prefer to speak with her alone.

“I didn’t think you were that eager to reach Argonnessen,” he said to her.

She grimaced. “We are doomed to die on this fool’s quest. Where it happens does not matter much.”

“I never thought you to be so casual about your death.” Sallah shrugged. “Death by one dragon’s talons is just as good as another.”

“It’s all in the timing,” Burch said. “I prefer to put it off as long as possible.”

“Think there’s any chance they haven’t spotted us?” Kandler asked the shifter.

Burch pointedly looked up at the ring of fire that encircled the airship. “Doubt it.”

“The Phoenix is a wonderful craft,” Xalt said as he joined them, “but she is not subtle.”

Kandler stared off at the dragons. They already seemed to be coming closer. Sometimes they flew toward the airship, sometimes not, but they never went farther away. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry to reach the Phoenix, but Kandler supposed they had all the time in the world.

“You’re wondering if we can take them,” Sallah said, astonishment tainting her voice. “You’re insane.”

Kandler had to admit that the thought had crossed his mind—but not to her. Not now, at least.

“We need to speak with them somehow. We can’t assume every dragon we meet is a threat.”

Monja snorted. “What else can they be? Creatures that large, old, and cruel can crush the bunch of us and barely notice. They’re born threats.”

“That makes all of this utterly hopeless, doesn’t it?” asked Sallah. Kandler hoped that he didn’t hear a note of sour triumph in her voice.

“Does anyone here really think we have a chance of beating them, much less surviving this trip?” Te’oma said. “If we’re going to die, I vote for getting it over in a relatively painless way.”

“I don’t recall anyone asking for a vote on the matter,”

I

Sallah said.

“This is a dictatorship,” Kandler said, “not a democracy— and none of you is in charge.”

“And you are?” asked Te’oma.

Kandler shook his head. “Esprë’s the one in charge here,” he said. “It’s her fate were all wrapped up in. We should be taking her orders from here.”

“I agree,” said Sallah. The others nodded as well.

“So,” Kandler asked, “where is she?”

As one, the justicar and the others turned around to see Esprë, who stood alone at the wheel. She smiled at them and waved when she saw them, and they each gave her a half-hearted wave in return.

After a tense moment, Kandler strode off toward his stepdaughter. The others fell into line behind him, and soon all of them gathered on the bridge around the girl.

“What do you say?” Kandler asked Esprë. “Do we try to go around them or just head straight in?”

The girl stroked her chin for a moment. Kandler could see that, despite the horrible danger they might soon be in, she enjoyed this: the attention, the power, the fact that people not only asked her questions but hung waiting for the answers. Then something terrible dawned on her, and she pointed off toward the dragons.

“I don’t think it’s our choice anymore,” she said. “Look.”

Kandler turned about to do just that, and he saw that the dragons had gotten much larger. Worse yet, they had given up on the pretense that they hadn’t yet seen the airship. They were headed straight for her.

The creatures closed with the Phoenix with terrifying speed. Kandler supposed that if they and the airship raced toward each other it would add their speeds together, a dizzying prospect for sure. He could hardly imagine what might happen to either the airship or the dragons if they collided at such speeds. That was enough, though, for him to start formulating a plan for pulling off just that if need be.

As the dragons drew closer, they moved from beneath the shadow of a cloud. A brilliant beam of sunlight glinted off their steely scales and splashed across their widespread wings, transforming them from darkened silhouettes into crimson-painted monsters of the mightiest kind.