He glanced north to where huge storm clouds were beginning to build on the horizon, sifting down through the peaks toward the Inkrim. A change in the weather was coming, and it did not favor their efforts. If they failed to get a ladder down soon, given the nature of storms in that region, it might not be possible to try again for days.
He looked down again at the Urdas, trying to think how to force them to move back from the walls of the tower. He could do some things safely with the wishsong, but he did not want to risk trying too much after so many years of no practice. The magic was powerful and at times unpredictable. Using it the wrong way could prove disastrous. If it failed to respond as intended, it might send them all crashing down with the airship.
The wind gusted across his face again, and suddenly he remembered that the Druids favored using the elements as allies in their wielding of magic. Perhaps he could do the same here.
He brought up the wishsong in a soft hum, calling it to life, feeling it come awake and then flood through him with a slow, rising heat. He kept his gaze fixed on the scene below as he began to give the magic a shape and a form, a sense and a purpose. He found the wind currents that preceded the coming storm and stirred in the magic. The currents gained force and consistency, and as they gusted about him they began to take on a new intensity. What had begun as a series of uneven bursts now became a steady blow. Changes of pitch evened and slowly built into a howl that suggested the cresting of a tidal wave.
The Urdas began looking around in confusion and then in fear. A storm of that kind wasn’t something they understood. They were unfamiliar with winds of such magnitude. They crouched lower, and then began to back away from the tower toward the deep woods, their superstitious nature warning them that the elements were spirit–driven.
Bek built on the power of his magic, adding fresh layers, giving the wind an extraordinary sound and feel, a roar that began to shake trees and earth alike. He did not look back at Rue, trusting her to continue Swijt Sure’s descent, to understand what he was doing and not be frightened by it. He didn’t know what the Druids were thinking, but he couldn’t spare time to worry about them. He had the wind tearing across the landscape by then, scattering the Urdas in all directions, their determination to stand fast shattered.
Then the treetops were right below them, and the outer walls of the tower became visible through the gaps. He risked a quick glance back at Trefen Morys and Bellizen and saw them dropping the rope ladder over the side of the railing, down to the besieged Trolls. Almost immediately bulky forms began to emerge, scrambling from their concealment, some helping others, all of them moving swiftly for the ladder. But then they ducked back again, unable to advance. Bek felt his strength beginning to fail, and forced himself to push harder to keep the wind in place. The Trolls had still not begun to climb the ladder, and the Urdas were beginning to reemerge from the trees. Rue was yelling something at him, but he couldn’t hear what. He intensified the magic once more, feeling his hold on it slipping away.
Then Bellizen was beside him, frantic. «Your magic is too strong, Bek! The force of the wind is keeping the Trolls from climbing the ladder!»
He realized it was true, that his efforts at keeping the Urdas at bay were keeping the Trolls pinned down, as well. Rue must have been trying to tell him as much. He slowed his efforts, letting the wind diminish. Within the ruins of the tower, the Trolls recognized their opportunity and scrambled for the ladder. The Urdas, in response, rushed to stop them.
There was nothing more Bek could do to help. Any further use of the magic to intensify the wind would do as much damage as good. The Trolls would have to make it on their own. He kept the wind in place a few moments longer, tuning its sound to an earsplitting shriek in an effort to frighten the Urdas. But the
Inkrim natives were no longer intimidated, having seen what was happening and become newly enraged at the thought of losing the intruders to an airship rescue. They came at the Trolls in waves, weapons loosing, the air filling with missiles. Two of the Trolls were struck, and one fell to his death. The others pressed on, climbing steadily through the hail of fire, helping each other as they did so. One of them, he saw, carried a smaller figure tucked under one arm, a squat blocky form that could only be a Dwarf.
Then the Trolls were over the side of the railing and on board the ship, and Rue was lifting away, taking them quickly out of range of their attackers. Bek broke off his efforts with the wishsong, now thoroughly spent, and hurried over to the newcomers. Seven Trolls and a Dwarf, he saw. The Dwarf wrestled free of the Troll who was carrying him and stood clinging to the rail, breathing hard.
« Tagwen?» Bek asked, coming up to him.
Tagwen looked over, his face ashen and his mouth a tight line. There was blood on his neck and right arm from wounds, and his clothing was torn and soiled.
He blinked rapidly at Bek. «I don’t ever want to come to this place again!» he snapped. «Not ever!»
Then he fainted.
Ihere was no time for an exchange of information or for anything but making a quick escape from the fast–approaching storm. If it caught up with them over the Inkrim, their efforts to get free of the Urdas might come to nothing. With Bek at the helm, Rue and Trefen Morys worked the draws and light sheaths by hand to gain speed and maneuverability, heading south and west toward the relative safety of the mountain peaks below the clouds and winds building north.Swift Sure skated hard across the long stretch of the valley, buffeted and tossed as storm winds gusted ahead of rain and dark skies. Lightning began to flash in the heart of the encroaching dark, and thunder rumbled ominously across the heavens in long, crackling peals.
On the decks below the pilothouse, Bellizen worked on the injured Rock Trolls. Two of them were badly hurt, wounded by Urda weapons. According to Kermadec, who had managed to say a few words to Bek beforeSwift Sure set sail, his little company had tried to slip past the Urdas during the night, convinced that any attempt at fighting to get free was useless. By then, Pen had been gone for almost a day, and they were desperate to find a way to help him. But the Urdas, furious at what they perceived to be a deliberate violation of sacred ground, had been keeping close watch on the intruders and had no intention of letting them escape. They reacted swiftly to the attempt, catching them out in the open and killing two outright. The surviving Trolls and Tagwen had fled into the tower, where they had remained, trapped and under attack.
Rain struck Swift Sure a broadside blow that sent her scudding sideways across the roof of the forest. Bek righted her quickly, trying not to think about Pen and what had happened in the ruins days earlier, concentrating instead on getting them across the valley to the relative safety of the mountains. Inside the peaks, they could find protection from the storm and cross into the valleys beyond. But the rain descended in torrents, inundating the decks and those clustered on them, leaving the entire ship sodden and dripping. Visibility was dropping fast, and Bek turned the ship farther south in an effort to run before the storm and remain clear of its impenetrable shroud of rain and mist.
Then lightning struck the mainmast, dancing down its length and along the conductors to the hull, sparking and flashing in the near dark. The Trolls flattened themselves against the deck until Bellizen signaled for help to get the injured below. Staggering across the slick wood with their burdens, the Trolls did as she asked, and soon everyone had disappeared below, leaving Bek, Rue, and Trefen Morys to sail the airship.