by Matt Forbeck
Kandler looked to Burch. "Probably Taer Shantara,” the shifter said. "It’s one of the six forts that stretch around the last stable border Valenar had. The warclans always try pressing out farther—into Q’barra and the Talenta Plains these days—but geography and weather always tar up their supply lines. Besides which, none of the Valenar elves want to bother with guarding a supply caravan instead of being in the thick of things, so eventually they run out of food and water and come galloping home.”
Te’oma stared at the shifter. He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. "I think that’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say in one stretch,” she said.
"You’re not usually worth talking to.”
"Are we headed for Taer Shantara?” Sallah said. "It seems it would be a logical place to gather supplies for your journey across the sea.”
Kandler noticed that she hadn’t included herself in that journey.
Burch shook his shaggy head. "The elves at Shantara are too war-crazy, and those riders are sure to get there before us to warn that we’re the vanguard of an invasion from the north.” He held up a hand to cut off protest. "True or not, it doesn’t matter. Better to pass them by for Aerie instead.” "That sounds like my kind of place,” said Duro. "Clear mountain air and filled with eagle-riding dwarves, I’m sure!”
Burch snorted. "It’s the westernmost Valenar fort, the favorite launching pad for raids into Q’barra. It sits in the foothills at the very end of the Endworld Mountains, overlooking the sea. It’s our last chance to stop.”
"Assuming the elves there don’t decide that we’re the leaders of an invading force too,” said Sallah.
Burch smiled, showing his pointed fangs. "Last chances are last chances,” he said.
Chapter
14
Let me do the talking,” Burch signaled as he and Kandler threw the Phoenix’s mooring lines out to the elves standing on the cliffside dock.
Kandler nodded. He’d never been to this part ofValenar before, and he trusted the shifter’s judgment. He didn’t want any trouble here, just to stock up with plenty of supplies and head out over the Dragonreach, which beckoned beyond. His instincts told him that the longer they waited before making the trip the harder it would be.
"This doesn’t look much like what I expected,” said Espre. She’d stuck close to him ever since they’d spotted the warclan and its riders.
The thought of exposing her to a society of elves bothered him a bit. Since Esprina had died, they’d had precious little contact with elves. None but Espre had lived in Mardakine. Esprina had never sought the company of her own kind, instead preferring to surround herself—and by extension her daughter—with all sorts of people, mostly human.
"I love the human perspective,” Esprina had once said to Kandler. "It’s so fresh and immediate. There’s a touch of innocence to it, which you’d expect in people so young, but that just makes it all the more precious.”
She’d never wanted to talk much about why she’d left Aerenal. It had happened decades before Kandler had been born, when Espre had been just an infant. Whatever the reason, she hadn’t tarried in Valenar either, despite landing there when she reached Khorvaire.
"Your mother and you didn’t spend long here,” Kandler said.
Espre shook her blond head. "We spent less than a week in the capital, Taer Valaestas. Just long enough to get our bearings. I barely remember it. Then we were off for Cyre.”
A gangplank thrust out from the dock and over the airship’s gunwale. Burch went down it first, with Kandler and Espre close behind. Sallah and Monja came after them, leaving Xalt, Duro, and Te’oma on the airship.
Te’oma had morphed herself to look like Shawda, the last woman who’d shown up dead in Mardakine before the changeling had come to town with Tan Du and his vampire spawn. Kandler respected that the changeling didn’t want to call any attention to herself—any changeling would have done so in a village like this—but her choice of disguise riled him. He saw tears well up in Espre’s eyes every time her eyes happened to fall on the false Shawda, and that made him want to stomp over to Te’oma and beat her face into another shape.
Kandler feared, though, that the sight of such a conflict might send Espre right over the edge. It had turned out that Espre’s dragonmark had caused her to kill a number of people in Mardakine while she’d been sleeping. Shawda—the mother of the girl’s best friend, Norra—had been the last of these, and Espre and the rest of the people of Mardakine had seen the woman’s body only after the Knights of the Silver Flame had hacked it to pieces. Seeing a copy of the woman standing on the bridge of the Phoenix, her hands wrapped around the wheel, turned Kandler’s stomach.
Still, if Espre could manage to ignore it, then so would he. At least with the changeling staying on the ship with Duro and Xalt, they wouldn’t have to put up with it much longer.
As Kandler and Espre reached the dock, he glanced around. The Phoenixhad come upon Aerie from its northern edge, and the land there sloped up gently to the only gate set in the fort’s tall stone walls. A horsed patrol galloped out onto the dusty road there as the airship came in for a landing.
The southern wall of Aerie looked out over a sheer cliff that fell more than a hundred feet to the wide, fertile plains below. Beyond these gentle lands, Kandler could see a long shore of white sand at which the roaring waters of the Thunder Sea began.
As the elves who founded this place came up from that wide beach and crossed the untamed lands, this spot must have seemed like perfect place for a band of warriors to build a nest. From here, they could watch over all the lands around, like hungry birds hunting for prey.
At Burch’s instruction, Te’oma swung the airship out around the fort, far out of catapult range from the place’s walls. Then she came up slowly and easily to the airship dock that topped a short section of the southern wall, jutting out over the precipitous drop. The elves there flashed a welcoming signal—or so Burch said—and Te’oma brought the ship in to moor.
Kandler spoke fluent Elven, which had come in handy both as an agent of the Citadel and in courting his wife. He and Espre sometimes used it as a code in front of the ignorant, but it would not serve them well that way here, where everyone would speak the tongue better than they.
As he, Espre, Sallah, and Monja waited on the dock, Kandler nudged his stepdaughter. Jerking his head toward Burch, who stood talking with a stern elf dressed in full battle regalia, he shot Espre a questioning look. She shrugged.
Kandler noticed that every one of the elves he’d seen so far wore a suit of armor and some kind of weaponry. The dockworkers favored spears or short swords, but the lookouts further down the wall in each direction carried longbows and stood nearby loaded ballistae and catapults that were ready to loose their loads at anyone so bold as to invade the space around the fort without permission.
Every piece of equipment bore fine filigree run through with images of death and war, and they looked delicate by human standards. Kandler knew, though, that they’d likely been made by the finest smiths and crafters. Valenar elves never made anything cheap or fragile. By comparison, the Phoenix seemed like a crude bit of hackwork churned out in a mill staffed by idiotic children.
The buildings of Aerie might have seemed ridiculously ornate to the untrained eye. Kandler knew that they would stand up to an assault better than all but the best fortifications in the Five Kingdoms. He spied few balconies or terraces built to take advantage of the spectacular views to the south. Those he did see were framed with trellises and colonnades that let in vast amounts of sky. They would also, however, protect from any attacks from above, whether by airship or some other means. The people of Aerie took their security seriously, as they should, given their proximity to the frontier nation of Q’barra, the border of which lay scant miles to the east.
"I do not care for this place,” Sallah said quietly.
Monja nodded in agreement, her head bobbing like that of a small child. "A fort like this can quickly change
from a haven to a trap.”
Burch bowed to the elf he’d been talking to then trotted back to the others. Try as he might, Kandler could not read the shifter’s face. He’d known Burch long enough to realize that this was not a good thing.
"The dockmaster welcomes us to Aerie,” Burch said. "Just how welcome are we?” Kandler asked.
Burch pointed at the heavy weaponry mounted on the turrets nearest the airship. "Those aren’t for show,” he said. "I’m told the elves who staff them don’t care much for dwarves and have itchy trigger fingers.”
Espre gasped. "Shouldn’t we bring Duro with us then?” she said. "We can’t just leave him out there to be shot down.” Burch smiled. "He’s safer there than he would be in the fort. At least out there an elf would have to work at it to pick a fight with him. Here, he’d find himself in a tangle inside an hour.
"Have you located lodgings for us?” Sallah asked.
Burch cocked his head at her. "We’re staying on the ship.” "You may be,” Sallah said, "but once you leave, I will need a place to sleep, unless you can help me arrange for passage out of here before the rest of you depart.”
Kandler winced inside, but Burch took it all in stride. "I’ll see what I can do,” the shifter said.
Kandler hoped his friend wouldn’t go out of his way to succeed.
"What about supplies?” Kandler asked. "I’d like to get underway as soon as we can.” He avoided Sallah’s gaze as he spoke.
Burch grimaced. "They don’t always sell supplies to outsiders, but they’re under orders to deal with us as if we were citizens of Aerenal.”
"How’s that?” Kandler asked, suspicious.
He glanced around and saw the dockmaster regarding him with an imperious smirk. An awful lot of the weaponry on these battlements seemed like it could be pointed at him as easily as the Phoenix.
"There’s someone here—someone important—who wants to have a word with us.”
"And this elf has enough pull to get us access to the supplies we need?”
Burch nodded. "If we go see him right now.”
Kandler narrowed his eyes at the shifter. "Who is it?” "Name’s Ledenstrae.”
Kandler felt his head spin, and he heard Espre gasp in shock.
"My father?” she whispered.
Chapter
15
Espre hadn't objected when Kandler ordered her back onto the Phoenix. Whether she thought it was the right idea or was just too stunned to object, he couldn’t tell. Either way, she had let Monja lead her back onto the airship without comment.
"Take us to Ledenstrae,” Kandler said to the dockmaster in Elven.
The dockmaster stared cold-eyed at Kandler from under his high-crested helm—a crimson feather topping its crest of polished brass—and gave Kandler a thin-lipped sneer. "My orders are to bring you all to him at once.”
Kandler’s fangsword leaped from its scabbard and parted the air just over the dockmaster’s head. The sword returned home before any of the nearby elves could even reach for their blades. The feather from the dockmaster’s helmet flipped before his eyes as it floated to the ground.
"We’ll be enough,” Kandler said.
He’d wanted to take the elf’s head off, and he’d had to fight with himself to keep it from happening. Spilling the dockmaster’s blood wouldn’t get him what he wanted: supplies and a good northerly wind to send them on their way.
The dockmaster pursed his lips as he tried not to display being impressed. "Very well,” he said, using the common tongue. His thick accent betrayed how rarely he saw fit to use the language, and from the sour look on his face it seemed to leave a rancid taste in his mouth. "Your friends will stay here.”
Kandler knew they’d be safer on the Phoenix than in Aerie. With a little luck, the airship might be able to make a clean getaway in a pinch, especially if the first rounds from the large weapons in the turrets went wide of the craft’s restraining arches. Such weapons packed a devastating punch, but they took forever to reload, and the Phoenix had proven she could take a devastating amount of punishment and still remain skyworthy.
The justicar gestured for the dockmaster to lead the way. The proud elf with the featherless helmet marched them down off the battlements and into the fortified village.
Unlike most of the wartime cities Kandler had walked through, Aerie had clean, sharp lines. Each street, building, and square had been planned out before the first stone had been laid. Everywhere the justicar looked, the best way in and out of any given area seemed painfully clear.
"Who would build such a place?” Sallah asked. "The moment invaders managed to breach the walls, they would have an easy path to every important building in the town.”
The dockmaster scoffed at the lady knight and her companions. "These walls never have been breached, and they never shall. The warriors in this region are dogs scratching at our doors—if they manage to crawl that close.”
"Tell you what,” Burch said, his eyes constantly scanning the walls and roofs for the best angles for a shot with the crossbow that hung against his back, "How about you just shut your pointy yap until we get where we’re going?”
They continued on in silence until they reached the foot of a tall building. Its ivory-colored walls soared high into the air, the top of it invisible from the street. "The ambassador’s chambers occupy the upper three floors,” the dockmaster said.
The guards standing at the building’s entrance swept aside for the dockmaster and his guests, holding open a large brass door on which an elf skeleton in exquisite robes had been carved in bas relief. Inside, a massive foyer with a high, plastered ceiling occupied the entire floor, except for a large basket set off behind a short fence created by a semicircle of ebony ropes. The dockmaster led Kandler, Burch, and Sallah to the basket and removed one of the ropes so they could climb into it.
The elf then replaced the rope, putting it between himself and the visitors. "Please give the ambassador my regards.” He glared at Burch then. "I hope we meet again, under less pleasant circumstances.”
Then the dockmaster spat out the Elven word for "up,” and the basket began to rise into the air toward a wide hole in the alabaster ceiling. The hole became a timber-lined cylinder that encased the basket like a dart in a blowgun as it ascended.
Sallah clutched Kandler’s arm as they entered the hole, the only lighting coming from the occasional doorways they passed. Each of these stood closed, though their centers featured panes of stained glass that depicted skulls, bones, and other images of death. Kandler reached out to hold the lady knight’s arm, but that seemed to bring her back to her senses. She drew her holy sword and held it aloft, its silver flames illuminating the dark shaft.
The ceiling of the shaft soon came into view, and the basket stopped shy of it, close enough that Sallah had to lower her sword to prevent scorching the plaster above. The north wall had a door in it, and as soon as the basket came to a halt, the door opened outward.
Sallah stepped out through the door, and Kandler and Burch followed her. They emerged into a magnificent room with high, vaulted ceilings. Weapons and trophies of war decorated the walls: spears, swords, bows, each tainted with blood. Skulls lifted from creatures of all sorts, from pixies on up to a bulette, hung from lacquered panels engraved with their details in a fine, elvish script.
The room let out onto a balcony, and a white-haired elf stood there in its entrance, framed in the streaming sunlight. He wore light robes of black linen that left his arms and legs exposed down to his bare feet. The contrast of the fabric against his snowy skin made him seem paler than a changeling. As he stepped into the room, his eyes seemed to glow a sickly yellow.
Kandler recognized the elf as Ledenstrae. Esprina had described her husband as looking exactly like this, and every time she had, she’d shuddered. Kandler felt a sympathetic shiver run down his spine. He missed his wife more than ever at that moment.
The justicar looked over at Sallah. He knew he would miss her too. These
might well be the last few hours he would ever spend with her. Perhaps once everything with Espre had been resolved one way or the other, he might find a way to get to Thrane. If he could make his way to Flamekeep, he knew he would be able to locate her.
"Welcome,” the elf said, raising an open hand in greeting. He addressed the justicar directly and ignored the others. "I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Kandler. I'm glad to finally have the chance. It is intriguing how destiny plays with our lives, is it not?”
"Destiny didn’t bring me here,” Kandler said. "Your dockmaster did—on your orders. I’d rather be loading up my airship right now and leaving this place behind.”
'Tour airship?” the elf said with a wry grin.
Kandler ignored the condescending tone. "So you’re an ambassador now? I always heard you were an elf of leisure.” Ledenstrae arched his brows, noting the point that Kandler had scored against him. "My family is well-connected within the political spheres in Aerenal. It had finally become time for me to put those connections to use—for the greater good of our society.”
Kandler glared at the elf. "What do you want?” Ledenstrae feigned shock. "Is it so unusual to want to meet someone with whom I have so much in common? After all, I understand we were both married to the same . . . lady—if I can use that term for someone who absconded to this wretched land of yours with my daughter.”
"She hated you.”
Ledenstrae smiled without a trace of warmth. "Does it matter? Ours was an arranged marriage, a union joined on behalf of our society’s interests in building wealth and good breeds, In that, it succeeded admirably—or so I’m told. After all, I haven’t seen my daughter since shortly after she was born.”
"She hasn’t missed you.”
"I think we should let her judge that for herself. I want you to bring her to me.”
"Why would I want to do that?”
Ledenstrae shrugged. "I care little for what you may want. Espre is mine, and I intend to reassert my claim as her father and bring her back with me to Aerenal.”
"No damned way—”