“Master Xain, I’ve a mind to fly to that village and rescue our friends,” Pherris said. The gnome captain marched toward Tristam, folding his arms behind his back as he paced across the deck. “I wonder if this ship is in any condition to survive such an adventure. What is your professional opinion?”
“She’ll hold together,” Tristam said. “As long as we don’t push her too hard or take any more direct hits. We won’t survive another battle with Moon.”
“Thank you, Master Xain,” Pherris said pertly. “Aeven, can you provide some sort of distraction when we reach the village?”
“I have called the storm,” Aeven said in her soft, musical voice. “It will fight beside us.” Overhead, the sky was already beginning to darken.
“Then let’s see about our missing crewmates,” Pherris said, stepping up to the ship’s controls. “All hands, prepare for takeoff.”
CHAPTER 23
The Ghost Talon encampment was engulfed in flame. Dozens of halflings ran past Seren as she approached the village, mostly fleeing on foot. Some carried bundles of possessions. Others carried injured friends or relatives. The occasional threehorn trundled past with a bleating cry. Many of the creatures had no riders, having broken free and stampeded away from the doomed settlement.
Hunters mounted on clawfoots either struggled to round up the fleeing dinosaurs or charged into the village to fight. The sleek silver shape of the Kenshi Zhann hovered above the spectacle. Plumes of lightning raked down from its bow, ravaging the village. Most of the Ghost Talons were not warriors, and those few who were had been no match for Moon’s incredible firepower. A dozen charred bodies lay at the outskirts of the village, lying beside their dead steeds. Shrieks echoed through the night, punctuated by the crack of thunder in the distant sky.
Seren caught sight of Omax and Eraina at the edge of the village. Koranth and two of his hunters were surrounded by seven of Marth’s heavily armed Cyran soldiers. The riders moved back to back, holding their spears defensively as they prepared to fight to the last.
“For Boldrei!” Eraina shouted defiantly and leapt into their midst. She whirled her spear in one hand and her short sword in the other, striking down one of the soldiers before the others even registered her presence.
Omax rumbled up beside her, his massive presence drawing immediate attention. One of the soldiers struck fiercely with his sword, striking the warforged across the chest with a shower of sparks. Omax shrugged off the blow and clapped his hands together heavily on each side of the man’s head.
Koranth looked up in surprise. The halfling’s anger that his prisoners had escaped was dispelled by a more practical reaction. “Ghost Talon warriors, to me!” he cried. His steed lunged forward, pinning another of the soldiers to the ground with one sharp claw. The other Cyrans a banded together, reappraising the situation now that the odds were not so clearly in their favor.
Seren ran forward to join her friends, dagger in hand, but a flash of lightning revealed an unexpected figure. Kiris Overwood was running into the village, heedless of the danger. Seren scowled. Had the wizard believed nothing that they had said? She’d expected at most that Kiris might simply run away once the others had left her behind, or that she might even help them fight Marth. Was she running back to join her mad hero? Seren hurried after her.
In the center of the village, the Seventh Moon had dropped a boarding ladder near Rossa’s tent, which remained mostly intact. Cyran soldiers were already hurriedly climbing back up the ladder, back onto the ship. Kiris was headed directly for them when Seren seized her by the shoulder. The wizard whirled around, only to find Seren’s dagger held near throat.
“Khyber, Kiris are you insane?” Seren asked. “Are you going back to him?”
“I have to, Seren,” she said desperately. “I have to try. I know the prophet is the one doing this, the one twisting him. If I leave him, who will keep him from becoming a monster?”
“He’s already a monster,” Seren said.
“No, there’s still hope,” Kiris said. “He hasn’t completed the Legacy yet.”
Seren’s eyes flicked past Kiris, toward the chief’s tent. The tent flap opened and Marth and Dalan stepped out. Dalan looked angry but unafraid. Marth held his amethyst wand in one hand and gestured at the boarding ladder. Dalan began to climb.
“They’re taking Dalan,” Seren said.
“I can stop him,” Kiris said, twisting away while Seren was distracted and running toward the tent. “I can reason with him!”
Several of Marth’s Cyran soldiers turned with weapons ready as Kiris ran toward them. Seren was a step behind, feeling impotent with only her dagger. Marth turned, staring at them with his ghostly white eyes. Kiris halted in her tracks.
“Hold, do not attack!” he shouted to the soldiers. “Kiris?” he called out.
“Marth, what are you doing?” Kiris cried, eyeing the soldiers warily. “The halflings are no threat to you!”
“They harbored our enemies, Kiris,” Marth said. “That makes them enemies.”
“Kiris, get away from him,” Seren warned as she crouched behind a pile of overturned crates.
“Seren?” Marth said with a faint sneer. “Is that you? You should have remained in Wroat, girl. Kiris, step away from the thief and join us. It is time to leave.”
“Is what she said true, Marth?” Kiris asked, voice shaking. “Did you kill Llaine?”
Marth frowned. His smooth face creased in thought, as if weighing his reply.
“I am sorry, Kiris,” he said.
A cone of green fire leapt from Marth’s wand. Seren leapt away, rolling between two small abandoned wagons. The smell of burning flesh seared the air. Seren looked back to see a twisting, burnt corpse curled in the road where Kiris had stood. Kiris hadn’t even had time to scream.
“Kill Seren Morisse,” Marth commanded his remaining troops, then turned to board his ship as well.
Seren searched desperately for a better hiding place as three soldiers charged after her. Seren dropped and rolled under a wagon as two crossbow bolts struck the wood with a dull thunk. The storm that had been building during their approach arrived with a fury. The sky exploded in rain. Savage winds tore across the village and Seren thanked the Sovereign Host for whatever coincidence had brought the sudden storm.
Seren rolled to her feet on the other side of the wagon, only to find herself facing four more of the mercenaries. Disoriented by the sudden storm, they turned to face her sluggishly just as a peal of thunder rocked the sky.
No, not thunder, Seren realized as the soldiers looked past her in terror. She felt a looming presence behind her. It was the metallic roar of a warforged. Omax held the other halfling wagon over his head with both hands. With a heave, he hurled it at the soldiers. Eraina, Koranth, and a half dozen mounted Ghost Talon hunters rallied to her side as well. The remaining Cyran soldiers stood in a line, readying their weapons. A bolt of lightning hammered down from Moon, blowing the other wagon to splinters and boiling the rain. A second bolt reduced Rossa’s tent to ashes.
“Retreat,” Eraina called, scowling up at the airship. “We can’t fight that airship!”
“Ghost Talons, take cover in the storm!” Koranth echoed, waving his javelin wildly.
Seren fell back, following the others just as the Cyrans withdrew to their ship. She followed the halflings into the shadows beyond the burning village.
“What about Dalan?” Seren shouted over the rain. She looked back over her shoulder to see the bright elemental ring of Moon lift into the sky and soar away.
“There is nothing we can do for him now,” Omax said.
“What have you done?” Koranth said, staring hopelessly at his village. “What have you brought upon us?”