“Fort Bones, you say,” Kandler said. As he spoke, he looked down into the basin. The waters had clouded through again. “How far north is this?”
“About seventy leagues,” Halpum said. “You can leave at first light.”
22
“How long do you plan to keep us here?” Te’oma demanded.
The changeling had awakened in the Fort Bones infirmary only minutes ago, the sun streaming in through the window, burning the sleep from her brain. She didn’t know how long she’d lain in that straw-ticked bed under its bleached white sheets. It amazed her that she was still alive. When the girl had crashed the airship into the ground, she’d been sure she would die.
In some ways, Te’oma wished she had died. It would be so much simpler that way. No more working for her shadowy masters, no more mourning for her dead child, no more hoping that she could somehow find a way to bring that child back to life. It would finally all be over.
Instead, she’d woken up in this strange room, guarded by a pair of fleshless skeletons draped in Karrnathi armor who’d immediately sounded an alarm. When she’d tried to get up, they’d sat on her chest. Weak as a blood-drained cat, she couldn’t summon the strength to resist them, and she’d lay pinned there until the dwarf—Berre Stonefist, the Captain of Bones—entered the room to interrogate her.
The skeletons still pressing into her with their uncushioned bones, Te’oma had thrashed about, looking for anyway out. Her eyes fell on the elf girl. As they did, Esprë leaped back as if stabbed, a tiny scream escaping from her lips before she covered them with a delicate hand.
“Help me!” Te’oma had said. “They’ll kill us both.”
The young elf had turned her back on her, huddling in the corner, trying to make herself as small as possible in some vain hope that Te’oma might then ignore her. Esprë had apparently heard enough of Te’oma’s lies.
Her body trapped, the changeling had probed around with her mind. Mentally, the skeletons were empty holes. She might as well have tried to telepathically approach her bedding instead.
Esprë’s mind shone out like a beacon, tempting Te’oma to attack it, almost daring her to dominate her. The changeling couldn’t muster the effort to break down the young elf’s defenses though. The mere effort wasted what little energy she had, and she sank farther into the bedding, giving up beneath the skeletons’ weight.
Then the dwarf walked in.
“How long do you plan to keep us here?” Te’oma demanded.
“Us?” Berre said. “You’re being a bit generous in your collection of others to your side.” She gestured toward Esprë. “I don’t think our young elf here cares for your extension of the word ‘us’ to include her. A better question would be, ‘How long do you plan to keep me here?’ I’d think.”
“Let me rephrase,” Te’oma snarled. “Am I your prisoner?”
A grin crept across the dwarf’s lips. “The bony beasties on your chest weren’t clue enough?”
“Why?” Te’oma said. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Ah.” Berre flashed a frown. “Then it seems we have a wee difference of opinion. This lass,” she jerked a thumb at Esprë, “claims you kidnapped her from her stepfather’s home on the other side of the Mournland and dragged her out here for the Host knows what reason.”
“Lies,” Te’oma said. “She’s my ward. She must have been hit on the head in the crash. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Is that so?” Berre raised her eyebrows at Te’oma. “You expect me to take the word of a changeling wearing the symbol of the Blood of Vol—a vile cult that’s been outlawed here in the fair land of Karrnath—over that of an innocent elf maiden?”
The dwarf leaned forward and whispered to the changeling. “Perhaps it’s you who’s been hit on the head.”
Desperate, Te’oma used her fear and her fury to reach down deep into her mind and hurl a mental blast at the Captain of Bones. If she could reach into the dwarf’s mind, twist it until Berre saw things her way, she might be able to get out of here yet. She stabbed forward blindly into the dwarf’s brain, hoping to strike something vital.
Berre fell forward, landing on her knees with a grunt. As she did, the two skeletons sitting on Te’oma reached down and began to pummel her in the face. Her concentration smashed, along with her nose, the changeling felt her assault against the dwarf melt like a sharp-tipped icicle in a hot forge.
Berre clambered back to her feet, wiping at a bit of blood trickling from her nose. “You damn yourself with your own actions,” she said. “Friendly folk don’t try to fry my brains.”
The Captain of Bones looked at the two skeletons still sitting atop the changeling. “If she tries to escape, if she tries to harm the girl—mentally or physically—then kill her.”
Then she turned her attention to the battered Te’oma. “Don’t worry yourself,” she said, menace dripping from every word. “You’ll be relieved of our hospitality soon enough. We’re due an airship with new supplies here shortly. Its captain will be only too happy to take you along with him back where he came.”
“Where is that?” Te’oma murmured between her busted lips.
“Korth,” Berre said. “I’m sure Kaius will get a charge out of you.”
Night had fallen when Te’oma awoke again, a rough hand on her shoulder. The light of a single lamp cast the room in sharp shadows, and for a moment she couldn’t see the face of the person looming over her.
“Back to torture me again?” she asked, assuming it was Berre who stood over her, framed in the lamplight. Then, as the effects of her long sleep sloughed from her mind, she realized that this person was twice the dwarf’s size.
“Your friends from Fort Zombie send their greetings,” the figure’s voice rasped. “It’s a pity you didn’t crash a bit farther to the west. You might have saved yourself a great deal of trouble.”
“Who are you?” the changeling asked.
The tension left her as she realized that this was the mole from the Blood of Vol that the Captain of Corpses had told Tan Du about as they’d passed through the Karrnathi border on their way to Mardakine so many weeks ago.
“Here, I am called Ibrido,” the figure said. As he spoke, he backed up into the light, and Te’oma saw a man dressed in a Karrnathi officer’s uniform. His dark eyes stared at her in the lamplight, never blinking once. “That doesn’t matter, though. What happened to your leader and the others, the vampires? We didn’t expect to find you wandering about with a single wisp of an elf.”
Te’oma thought back to how the people of Mardakine had made quick work of the Karrnathi zombies she and Tan Du had brought with them. They’d thought to overrun the tiny town fast, but they hadn’t realized that everyone of age in the place was a battle-hardened veteran of the Last War. They’d even lost part of Tan Du’s coven of vampire spawn before they’d managed to grab the girl and escape.
Then Kandler, Burch, and the knights had killed all but Tan Du and herself as they raced through the Mournland. Still, they might have been able to get away had they not encountered Majeeda, a mad elf who had slain the too-rude Tan Du with little more than a gesture. Te’oma had been lucky to escape with her life and even luckier to manage to capture Esprë again. It seemed her luck was still holding.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, waving off Ibrido’s concerns. “I have the bearer of the Lost Mark, and I’m on my way to bring her in.”
“You seek to reach the court of Vol herself?” the Karrn said. “Illmarrow Castle is a long way from here, and the Lich Queen is not patient.”