Nyam leaned back in the darkness with a snort of disgust. “Yes, the Claw seems insubstantial as mist, but it is very real. It has infiltrated so many places yet is always hard to confront. The religion and philosophy behind its Order is the Blood of Vol. You’ve witnessed its disgusting powers. Its adherents worship an ancient line of undead, believing it to be the true path to divinity. And they use blood in their rituals to sustain their power and immortality.”
“Caerzaal is one such servant?”
“Yes. Blood is power. You carry the Crimson Talisman, which he craves. If its power could be corrupted to serve the Claw, to infuse their undead servants, it would give them unthinkable resources.”
“The Claw’s agents stirred up the rabble army and the undead warriors and took Marazanath, my family, so that Caerzaal could win the talisman?”
“Never underestimate it, Vaddi. The Keepers have kept it safe for centuries. Its true powers are untried. Our view is that they should remain so.”
Vaddi listened to the distant hum of the elemental fire that powered the ship. Could he trust this peddler? How could he know he was not working for his own ends?
“And what of Cellester?” he said at last, lowering his voice. “What do you know of him?”
“A strange one. He, too, has power. He seems like an ally.”
“But you don’t trust him?”
“My life has taught me to be very cautious.”
“My father trusted him. Before I was born, Cellester exchanged his loyalty to his Church for service to House Orien. My father said that Cellester held his Church to be one of falsehoods and treachery, riddled with corruption.”
“He served the Church of the Silver Flame, the church militant, did he not?”
Vaddi was surprised that Nyam knew this but did not comment. “Yes. I know little about it, although it is renowned for its hatred of the Claw.”
“Indeed. But power corrupts all but the most devout. Even in Thrane, where the Church has its seat of power, there are those who put themselves and their own profit ahead of the Church’s cause. The celebrated paladin Kazzerand himself is one such creature. Publicly he is loyal to the Church, but privately he builds his own empire. He was no friend to your father. Don’t be surprised if Marazanath becomes his. The rabble army won’t hold it for long.”
Vaddi was about to press Nyam for more information, but there was a sudden lurch of the ship, as if it had either hit a freak air current or been struck by some other force. There were distant shouts.
“How long was I unconscious?”
“Two days and nights. It’s dawn out there.”
“No wonder I’m so hungry. What’s happening?”
As if in answer, the door to their chamber rattled and shook. They both got to their feet, conscious of the fact that they had been stripped of their weapons. In a moment the door groaned and then three of its panels snapped in half and the door banged in on its hinges. A figure was limned in the pale wash of dawn. It was the cleric.
Nyam chuckled, reaching for his broad hat, which had been thrown into the room with him.
“Cellester!” said Vaddi.
“No time for explanations. Follow me and find yourselves some fresh blades.”
The ship seemed to be wallowing like a sea vessel in heavy waves. Nyam and Vaddi were quick to follow the cleric along the narrow corridor. There was no sign of any guards.
“The ship is under attack,” Cellester said. “Our erstwhile captors are all up on deck, fighting for their lives.”
“Attack?” Nyam gaped. “From whom?”
“We must be well out over the Talenta Plains,” said Cellester, “so my guess is we’ve run into a war party of halflings.”
“Is that good?” said Vaddi.
Nyam grimaced. “Uh, probably not.”
They made their way cautiously to the steps up to the first deck.
“They’ll raid anything and anyone crossing their lands. All craft are fair game to them. They’re their own masters, but they won’t have any sympathies with us. Cellester is right. We’ll need fresh swords!”
A shout of pain from above presaged the appearance of one of their captors, a burly fellow who came tumbling down the wooden steps, his neck and chest riddled with arrows.
“Those are indeed halflings arrows,” said Nyam.
The man crumpled, eyes wide in death, sword clattering beside him.
“I’ll take this one.” Nyam lifted the blade.
Cellester nodded. “Very well. You can lead us up.”
“Wouldn’t it be safer down here, until the dust has settled?”
“Not if the ship plummets to earth.”
Nyam’s grin melted. “Uh, no. The halflings wouldn’t know how to fly it if they did take it over. They’ll just strip it of anything of value and abandon it.”
They went up to the deck to find absolute chaos. A dozen of their captors were dead, riddled with arrows, some with short spears pinning them to the deck. What few other passengers had survived had evidently gone below. Vaddi and Cellester took the nearest fallen swords and turned to look out at the skies around the ship.
Vaddi drew in his breath. There was a swarm of large, bird-like reptiles surrounding the Cloudclipper, and riding them, mostly singly but in some cases in twos and threes, were the ferocious halflings of the Talenta Plains. Whooping and yelling with evident delight, they were unleashing wave after wave of arrows into the defenders of the ship, their extraordinary dexterity in both flying and fighting amazing to behold. Vaddi had to duck quickly to avoid being pinned to the deck.
“Glidewings!” said Nyam.
Vaddi was fascinated by the creatures, which had long, toothy beaks and a head crest, with sharp talons that looked capable of dragging a man off his feet. The halflings sat astride them on exotic saddles, wrought with the most exquisite decoration. But Vaddi had no time to take any more in as a score of the halflings had already leaped aboard and were engaged in a ferocious fight with the warriors. Although they were not much bigger than human children, the halflings tore into their opponents with such abandoned enthusiasm that the warriors struggled to keep them at bay. The entire deck seemed to be covered in clashing combatants.
“Are you sure we wouldn’t have been better off below?” said Nyam.
But there was no time to discuss it. A group of halflings rushed at them, blades swinging. Vaddi met the first of them. This was so very different to the training ground. He was facing a swift death. He knew that. The halflings who cut at him wasted no time in going for a kill, and Vaddi realized there was not a great deal of finesse to his opponent’s method of attack. Vaddi picked his moment, sidestepped, and plunged his own steel into the halfling’s gut. It fell, only to be replaced by another.
The battle raged for long minutes, and although the three of them cut down many halflings, covering their backs as they fought, they knew that a prolonged attack would be impossible to stem.
“Can you see what’s happening in the pilot’s tower?” Cellester shouted during a brief lull.
“Our captors still hold it,” called Nyam. “Locked themselves in, I think.”
“If the halflings kill the pilot and the crew, we’re finished!”
They redoubled their efforts to cut through the halflings, but most who had boarded the craft were more intent on looting than on continuing the fight. Most of the warriors were dead or too badly wounded to fight on. The glidewings still surrounded the craft, but their fliers were no longer raining down arrows.
Cellester led his companions to the pilot’s tower. The door had been ripped aside, leaning at an angle across the deck. Three of their original captors were inside with the pilot. They raised their blades, expecting to be attacked.
The leading warrior spat. “One step more, cleric, and the pilot dies.”
“Then we all die,” said Cellester.
“Yes, we all die.”
Nyam pushed forward. “Somehow I don’t think your paymaster would take much pleasure from that. Were wanted alive.”