Panic threatened to choke Esprë. “I can fly the airship better than anyone,” she said. “You said so yourself. I don’t need anyone else. I can make it on my own.”
Kandler stared at Esprë, and now she realized she couldn’t read him either. She couldn’t tell if he was about to jump up and start yelling at her or if he’d just have Burch handle it for him.
“Thank you,” Kandler said, reaching up for Esprë. She fell to her knees next to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She hadn’t realized until then that she’d been trembling.
“What for?” she said. “Because I don’t want you to come along with me?”
Kandler stroked her long, blonde hair. “For wanting to save me,” he said. “For trying to see if there was a way you could do this on your own.”
“I—I just wanted to do the grown-up thing,” she said. Kandler smiled. “Even grown-ups know they need all the help they can get.”
12
“What in the name of the Silver Flame is that?” Sallah asked.
Kandler peered out over the airship’s gunwale. They’d been flying south for two days now, and these were the first words Sallah had said to them since she’d declared her intent to leave the Phoenix the next time the airship landed.
For that reason, Kandler had decided to avoid Krona Peak, the capitol of the Mror Holds, despite Duro’s pleas. Kandler declared that they already had plenty of supplies to make it to the southern coast, and he didn’t intend to stop for anything until they could see the sea. The dwarf had sulked for the better part of a day, but he’d perked up when they’d skirted the active volcano that towered over the southern end of the Ironroot Mountains.
“The Fist of Onatar,” Duro had said, gaping in astonishment at the reddish lava leaking out of the mountaintop. “It must be. I’ve heard of it my entire life but never set eyes upon it.”
“Onatar?” Xalt had said. “Is that not your god of artifice?” The warforged had managed to patch his arrow wound so well that Kandler might never have known it had been there.
“Aye, and of the forge. He usually appears as a dwarf smith, you know.”
“And as a brass dragon,” Monja had said.
That had been enough for Kandler to order the ship to give the mountain a wide berth.
From there, they’d steered clear of the mountains and kept over the burning sands of the Blade Desert, which followed the southwestern curve of the Endworld Mountains. This range stretched all the way to the ocean, and Kandler planned to follow it to its end.
As Kandler gazed down at the desert floor below, he spied what had upset Sallah. Below them sat a windswept, sandy valley tucked up next to the mountains, and bones covered it from one end to the other.
Even from as high up as the Phoenix scudded through the sky, Kandler could tell that these were bones. Scores of them stood as thick and tall as pine trees gathered as tight as a forest. He could pick out ribs, legs, arms, even wings. He spotted long, flat skulls too, some of which had to be as wide as a wagon and three times as long.
“Those things could have swallowed a threehorn whole,” Monja said, as she and the others joined Kandler at the rail.
Te’oma had the wheel, and when Kandler glanced back at her he saw her trying to crane her head high enough to see what all the commotion was about. He thought he saw her neck actually stretch a few inches.
The halfling turned to Burch, her eyes wide with awe. “Is this … ? It has to be,” she said.
The shifter nodded as he leaned far out over the gunwale. Kandler had to repress an urge to pull his friend back, even though he knew Burch could keep hold of the ship better than anyone. Instead he put an arm around Esprë, who’d put her head and arms over the railing.
“The Boneyard,” Burch said. “A dragon graveyard. Some say it’s leftover from the Dragon-Elf War, but that’s mostly Valenar elves boasting over ale.”
“They would peddle such lies,” Duro said gruffly. “Warmongers and glory hounds to a one.”
Esprë glared at Duro. W]jen the dwarf finally noticed, he blushed and said, “Or so I’ve heard.”
“My people believe that dragons once ruled the entire world,” Monja said. “They once flew as thick through the skies of Khorvaire as a cloud of bats.” She spoke in hushed, reverent tones. “This is where their eldest came to end their days, to mix their bones among their own kind.”
Kandler felt Esprë shudder beside him. Sallah noticed too.
“There are few such creatures in Khorvaire these days,” the lady knight said, a comforting hand on the young elf’s arm.
“Nithkorrh was enough,” Esprë said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Everyone else nodded.
“Should we go down?” Xalt asked.
Kandler and the others stared at the warforged in horror.
“You never disturb a graveyard,” Monja said. “Ever.”
“Why not?” Xalt sounded like all of his five years of age. Although he’d been made whole and full-grown, he’d not had nearly the world experiences of Kandler or even Esprë, and he could be ignorant about the strangest things.
Monja held her hands in front of her and spoke slowly, as if to a young child. “Because the living protect the dead. That’s especially true with the Boneyard. Those who disturb a dead dragon’s bones risk bringing down a living beast’s wrath.”
“Isn’t that what we want?” Xalt asked. “A dragon to fight?”
Burch snorted. “We don’t want just any random dragon to show up. We want the ones who want to toast our little girl here.”
“Don’t they all?”
“Do all warforged think the same?”
Xalt inclined his head. “I see.” He looked to Kandler. “Then how will we find the right dragons when we reach Argonnessen?”
Kandler scowled.
“Yes,” Sallah said, her hands on her hips. “Tell us.”
“I didn’t say it was a great plan,” he said before he walked away. “Just the best one we have.”
Kandler spat over the gunwale. The others had left him alone since they’d passed over the Boneyard. Perhaps the thought of so many dead dragons had sobered them. The thought that there were so many of the creatures to begin with shot ice through his guts. He wondered if he could really conceive how many of them there might be on an entire continent.
He glanced at Esprë. She sat on the deck below the raised bridge, soaking up the sunshine and chatting with Xalt and Duro. It warmed his heart to see her be able to put aside her cares, even if for a short time. All too soon, she wouldn’t have time for anything of the sort. None of them would.
Te’oma swooped overhead, and Kandler’s hand went to his sword. He left it there as she landed on the deck next to him.
“Spot anything?” he asked.
“Mostly a lot of sand,” Te’oma said. Her eyes turned the exact same shade of green as Sallah’s and twinkled at him. “But I did see one thing.”
Kandler watched Burch leap down from the bridge, where he’d been talking with Monja. The shifter sauntered over to them as if there wasn’t a thing in the world worth rushing for, and that made the justicar suspicious.
“What’s that?” he said, resolving to keep his eyes on the changeling.
Te’oma looked down at Kandler’s sword and allowed herself a tiny laugh. You have nothing to fear from me, the changeling’s voice said in his head.
In an instant, Kandler had his fangblade out, creasing the changeling’s throat. “I could have taken your head,” he said. “You leave mine alone, and I’ll leave yours.”
Te’oma leaned back, away from the blade, exposing a thin, red cut where the blade had been. “Understood,” she said.