A shadow like a giant’s finger pressed down through the mist above them. A single digit, massive in width, stretching up who knew how far. The air shuddered in concert with a basso rumble climbing up from inaudibility.
A fitting end to this ill-fated voyage, Anusha thought. Smashed into paste by the idle finger of some alien demigod.
She recognized the shape as it came clearer through the mist. They’d stared at it long enough from where they watched it on the Sea of Fallen Stars.
Xxiphu descended. Only at the last moment did it become clear the city wasn’t going to land on them. Instead, it settled itself into a nearby caldera. It dropped so smoothly into place, like a hand into a custom-tailored glove, that it must have been from where the city originally hailed.
Silence. All the noises that had earlier echoed across the plain were quiet. It was as if the entire place waited with bated breath.
Xxiphu’s sides stretched back up into the mist so far that its top, and the Eldest who squatted there, were hidden from view.
Thoster raised himself to both feet. His leg, the one that had been broken only moments before, supported the man’s weight, though it trembled.
Anusha was at a loss for words. She heard herself ask, “So, you can heal yourself now?” Her voice sounded frail.
“Must be another gift from my polluted heritage,” Thoster said. “I didn’t know about it.”
“Of course not …,” Anusha replied.
He cocked his head, listening.
“What?” she said.
He nodded. “The aboleths are satisfied to return to their ‘roost,’ ” he said.
He put a finger to his lips and leaned closer, “Someone comes,” he whispered into her ear.
Anusha raised her eyes to the towering obelisk’s zenith.
Thoster raised a finger and pointed much lower.
Light flared in a cavity pocking the city’s face. The opening was equal to the level of the crater rim Xxiphu rested in. Silhouetted in the glare were several figures, made tiny with distance. They emerged from the opening, and moved down the side of the pitched mound. Two were people, and one was a blot of darkness in the shape of the hound. Anusha supposed they were Malyanna, Taal, and Tamur the shadow mastiff.
Several aboleths squirmed from the cavity. A couple flew into the sky, and took up wide circuits like vultures over dying prey. Two more aboleths emerged, but they remained earthbound. They were hitched to a gnarled shape: Carnis, the Traitor.
“They’re coming nearly straight for us,” whispered the captain.
So they were. If they continued on their present course, they’d see Green Siren splayed across the ground. They might ignore it as a wreck. Then again, if they investigated …
“We can’t attack, if that’s what you’re thinking,” whispered Thoster. “I can barely hold myself up, let alone grip my sword. Assuming I can find it in this mess. I need to rest …”
Anusha’s pounding headache reinforced the captain’s statement. Hiding was their best option.
If only the mist were thicker.
Maybe it could be. Anusha concentrated, and pain smote her like a flail across the back of her head.
No. It was too much. She had pushed her ability beyond the limit, even for hiding.
“Stay here and be quiet,” Anusha said.
She crept back to where Yeva waited. The iron woman watched the procession grow closer.
“Any way you can conceal us?” Anusha asked.
“I’m already trying,” Yeva replied.
Anusha squinted. She saw that the mist around the ship did seem thicker than before. She glanced at Yeva. One of the woman’s hands was raised to her metallic temple.
The mist continued to thicken, so much so that Anusha finally lost sight of the approaching group.
Noises of something approaching easily penetrated the mist, though everything sounded slightly muffled.
Anusha heard a woman say, “Careful! Don’t let it bump so much! If you break off a piece, I’ll make a new skirt from your hides!” That had to be Malyanna.
“I don’t think they care,” a man replied. Taal’s voice, probably.
“They don’t, Taal, but don’t be pedantic,” came the woman’s voice. “It’d be a shame if they broke off the piece of Carnis holding the Key.”
“That would be a shame,” said Taal’s voice. Even through the fog, Anusha thought she detected a sardonic tone.
“Are you testing me, Taal?” Malyanna asked. “Here, so close to the goal we’ve worked so many decades to see fulfilled? Because if so, I can see this task through to its end without you.”
The mist swallowed whatever Taal said in return. The procession had moved past Green Siren and its lurking survivors.
After another few moments, Yeva slumped. The cottony white that surrounded the ship slowly peeled away.
Malyanna and her troupe once again resolved in the mist, but they were receding across the plain. The aboleths swimming through the air above them apparently had no interest in the detritus of a broken ship. Soon enough, distance would swallow them.
And then what? They were shipwrecked in a place so far from the world that most of the Wise probably didn’t know of its existence.
Without anyone to stop her, Malyanna would apply the Key to whatever foul gate she had in mind for it.
“No,” Anusha said.
“What?” asked Yeva.
“We have to go after them,” Anusha said. “We may be hurt and tired, but we have to try and stop them before they reach the Citadel of the Outer Void and the Far Manifold. It’s what we came here to do.”
“How?” said Yeva.
“I don’t know,” Anusha said, annoyed. “But they’ll be out of sight soon. We’ve come too far, sacrificed too much, to stop trying now.”
The captain made his way across the ruined planking until he stood with Anusha and Yeva.
“I heard what you said, Anusha,” he said, his voice tight. “I’m in. I got a debt to pay them. Vengeance for my ship. Even if it means my death, I owe my crew at least the attempt.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Anusha said.
“Don’t mention it,” he replied. “Now, if I could only find my sword.”
Yeva put a hand back to her temple, then pointed. “There,” she said.
The captain raised an eyebrow, but followed her directive. He bent and lifted away a section of sailcloth. His golemwork sword lay revealed. And stuck in a crevice between two collapsed barrels … “My hat!” he said.
“I wonder if I should leave my body here,” mused Anusha. “The dream capsule should stop anything that comes sniffing around.”
“No, bring it,” Yeva said. “We might go far enough to strain the limit of your link. Can you modify this encasement to give it handles? I can pull it behind me like a sledge.”
Anusha bent to the armor protecting her body. She was tired, but maybe she could manage what Yeva asked without collapsing … Yes! Two stanchion-like handles formed at one end of the capsule.
“You have incredible power, lass,” said Thoster. He nudged the armored case with his foot, moving it several inches. “Even in the short time I’ve known you, your abilities have waxed. A useful curiosity has become something quite different. You’re fashioning ‘real’ things out of nothing.”
“I suppose,” Anusha temporized.
The captain was correct, if she stopped to consider it; creating a solid object out of dream that waking people could interact with was something she wouldn’t have earlier even attempted. If she could make a case to protect her body against a great fall, what else could she make? She shook her head; the headache made it hard to think straight.
“And what about you?” Anusha finally replied. “You’ve got something strong in your blood, and now we find out that even a fatal drop only slows you down.”
The captain’s somber features didn’t change, but he nodded.
“Our enemies are receding,” said Yeva. “We need to go now.”
They lowered Anusha’s case over the side.
Without another word they set out in the direction Malyanna had taken. The eladrin had gotten so far ahead it was only just possible to see the aboleth that circled overhead-the mists had swallowed Malyanna and her companions.