Lindon refused to let her escape so easily. From the pocket of his vest, he withdrew the long, bamboo flute. Still lying on the rotted wood, Lindon began to draw on the harmonic web through his music. He didn’t blow into the flute as one normally would. Using magic, he formed notes on the instrument as he inhaled the song.
A rush of wind slammed headlong into Kemora. The notes of an eerie melody crashed against her with waves of resistance, before being sucked past and into Lindon’s flute. Kemora leaned into the wind just to take a few precious steps. The notes of music increased, drowning out all other noise as the wind picked up around the halfling. Any human-sized creature might have made progress through the waves of sound. Kemora’s small stature wasn’t enough to fight against the gale. The halfling soon crawled on hands and knees.
It wasn’t enough. She started to slide backwards while at the same time clawing the deck for any handholds. She screamed for her cohorts to assist her. It seemed as if the musical force took away her voice. The rush of wind pushed her back towards the waiting human.
* * * * *
Out of the corner of his vision, Trestan saw Savannah at Revwar’s side. Her miraculous prayer could be heard as Revwar’s neck began to recuperate. There was no time to worry about it. Trestan was closing the last few steps to Katressa even as the half-elf lifted her head, finally realizing the danger of her predicament. She scrambled to find a firm grip even as soft, rotted wood ripped apart beneath her weight. Part of the deck and more of the railing snapped apart. Cat’s lower body dropped over the edge and out of sight as her arms clawed at anything that seemed solid. Boards that had stood firm for several hundred years became soft and crumbly. The shattered railing was enough weight to rip a section of the hull and the deck outwards as it caved under gravity. Shattered boards and tarnished metal fixtures tumbled off into the sky below.
Cat’s boots kicked against the sides of the hull. Anything her hands grabbed peeled away under her weight. The railing dipped until a large section snapped completely off. She got one hand on a deck board that snapped, dropping her a few inches before she could find another temporary handhold. The top rows of boards forming the rim of the hull began to loosen in sequence.
As pieces of Doranil Star tore free they rode the wind currents until fading into the soft haze of clouds below. The observation deck didn’t even have an opening below where she was struggling. She desperately searched for anything solid as she slipped below the level of the sundeck.
Trestan hurriedly removed his protective gauntlets as he got close. The deck degenerated into a mess of broken boards forming a gouge in the side of the vessel. Trestan dove to the deck, flattening out his weight over more space. The wooden deck groaned under his weight as he reached out for her.
The top of her head and her frightened, emerald eyes came back into view as she pulled upwards. “Cat, I’m here. Take my hand!”
She locked her eyes on his offered hand. Trestan stretched out, head and shoulders extended over an open area. With a grunt of effort, Cat used the crumbling boards to make one desperate surge forward. There was the briefest touch of her soft hand against his fingertips before she fell again.
Trestan’s hand clamped shut on empty air. She screamed only briefly. Trestan worried he lost her, but saw she retained a grip on a lower board. Trestan tried to wiggle closer to the precipice, as he watched her slender fingers hold on for life.
* * * * *
Jentan Mollamos had wand in hand as he glanced over the situation his charming face a mask of calm despite the conflict. His magic could do little against the throng of angry mages scrambling over broken masts. The cleric named Sondra was still wrapped in the illusion inspired by his words. The paladin and half-elf woman were sufficiently distracted. Revwar had suffered a crippling injury, but even now the abbess of Death was healing the wound. One immediate threat existed by the side of the hold, where Kemora was dragged against her will towards the minstrel Jentan loathed.
The best illusions were always mixed with some aspect of realism. Jentan began to allow his words to carry on the night air. Arcane syllables floated along the winds, attracted to the sound funnel that pulled at the halfling. The minstrel saw the halfling’s sword being carried along the vortex, sliding across the deck point-first towards his face.
Lindon broke concentration as he rolled to one side. The insubstantial mirage of the sword slid past and disappeared. Kemora skittered away from the man, her real sword sheathed at her hip. Before Lindon could resume his song, he saw the mentalist raising the wand in his direction. Legs still hindered by the bolo cord, Lindon rolled to avoid the first blast of energy.
Jentan redirected his wand even as Lindon put the bamboo flute to his lips. A reverberating tune of high pitched noises came from the instrument. This time, the streak of magic deflected off of an unseen barrier created by sound, dispersing into the night sky.
Kemora, short legs pumping, ran past the mentalist. “I’m ready, let’s go!”
The domid paid no attention to the kneeling cleric as she vaulted the side of the levitation boat. The smaller craft sat on the edge, moored by one final rope that kept it from drifting away. Kemora’s head barely peered over the rim of the escape craft as she watched the approach of Korrelothar and the rest of the wizards.
Savannah scolded the halfling, “How dare you try to leave without the relics? They are the reason for being here.”
Kemora whined in displeasure, “But they fell in the hold with that red-haired wench. We barely have time to get out alive.”
As if to accentuate the point, Jentan was firing another blast from his wand out towards Korrelothar and the approaching mob. The founding member of the Brotherhood of the Circles guild avoided the searing energy at the expense of his aim. Korrelothar’s fireball roared over the heads of the band only to scorch the figurehead at the bow.
Revwar was the only one that could act fast enough to make good their escape. His yellow eyes swept over them. “All of you get in the boat. I will get the relics and push us off.”
Savannah and Jentan retreated to the boat under a hail of wizard bolts and lightening blasts. The worshipper of DeLaris felt the heat as one spell seared through a portion of her armor. Kemora made room, although the domid cringed at seeing the open sky that was to be their escape route.
Since Savannah and Jentan were the only two offering spells in response to the firestorm of mages, Revwar was left unhindered when approaching the hold. The youth with the red hair was sprawled across a pile of supplies. The woman moved, although her face was a bloody mess from Savannah’s flail. Her hands pawed a cloth bag lying with her among the crates. Through a tear in the bag, Revwar could make out a shade of green hidden inside.
The elf wizard recited a spell that bestowed upon him the ability of flight. His robes spread like wings as he floated into the hold. Montanya barely made out a dark shape against a darker sky. One good eye stared at the wizard even as her hands clutched the bag. Any words she might have tried to say were lost in the broken mess of bones in her mouth.
Revwar easily batted her hand away with his, and tucked the top of the bag into his belt. As an afterthought, he decided to claim a spoil of battle that would help his relations with one of his allies. Looking at the golden locket around her neck, the elf was reminded how much halflings such as Kemora liked shiny trinkets. His slender fingers, augmented by spells to achieve strength far above his own, reached down and jerked the amulet’s chain off Montanya’s neck with a snap. Montanya’s throat could only give a mournful groaning protest as Revwar took to flight once again, taking the precious heirloom from her.
Revwar soared to the deck just in time. Barrages of spells from the mage guild blasted a false image of the boat Jentan enspelled into their minds. As soon as the explosive energies ripped through the false image, the mistake became apparent. Revwar felt a thrown dagger glance harmlessly off his magical robe. Lindon stood nearby, over the cut strands of the bolo cord.
T
he elf wizard used his gift of flight to skim across the deck to his allies. “Hold on tight!”
The air nearly rushed from all of them as Revwar slammed into the side of the levitation boat with his augmented strength, forcing it over the edge. Revwar sprawled across the inside of the boat after rolling over the side. The band of four drifted on currents of magic as the boat slowly began sinking below the level of the deck…
…sinking straight downwards from the spot it had left the bow as the momentum of the divine chariot carried the larger ship past it, bringing the members of the mage guild closer.
…sinking very slowly as wands, staves, and hands wrapped in the flames of evocations pointed at the easy target floating off to the side.
Savannah ignored protests as she crawled her heavy armor across arms and legs to reach the front of the boat. “Hold on or prepare to meet DeLaris! I’m getting us away from that heathen ship.”
At the bow hummed the globe of holy water which lent its miracle to the lifeboat. The abbess Savannah knew she could block the levitation effect temporarily, although the results could be disastrous. She hooked one leg under a wooden slat meant to serve as a seat as her hands firmly closed around the orb.
Her voice chanted the holy words of the Death Goddess. Immediately, the globe at the fore dimmed. The craft lost its magical cushion, dropping like a rock. Words were lost over the rush of air as they fell. Comets of fire, ice, and lightening ripped apart the air where they had floated a moment before. The Brotherhood of the Circles, as well as the nobles floating along in their own escape craft, noted the fall of the levitation boat. Savannah, Kemora, Jentan and Revwar gripped the craft with pale knuckles as the clouds rose up to meet them.
As they dropped into the dark mist, Savannah ceased chanting. Theoretically, the holy globe would light and resume the cushion of air that would halt their plummet.
Theoretically…
* * * * *
Trestan winced as he felt the weakened wood beneath him sag dangerously. He eased himself forward, listening to the groaning complaints offered by the weakened deck. Looking down at Cat, hanging on by her fingers to a solitary strong board, Trestan dared to push himself a little further.
“Don’t chance it, Trestan. I don’t want you falling also.”
Cat’s long, raven hair blew across her face as she looked back up at her love. Behind her, nothing outlined her head except the distant, insubstantial gray clouds. Tenuous as her grip was, she didn’t try to find any more toeholds. Only a smooth hull curled away where her legs dangled.
Trestan reached down, barely touching her left knuckles. “Reach for me, Cat. This is as far as I can stretch.”
Cat swallowed hard as she looked at his hand dangling above her one good handhold. Faithful’s Companion glinted at her from his fingers. She was scared but if she did nothing her arms would give out soon.
With a grunt of effort, she tried to throw her body up enough to catch his hand. Her right fingers held tight to the hull as she felt his hand grab her left. They were joined, hand in hand, in a precarious position on the edge of disaster.
Trestan started to strain with the effort of pulling Cat up. The wood beneath him split and cracked under the effort. For one awful moment, it seemed like the deck was about to give away under the weight of Trestan and his armor.
“Stop, Trestan!” Cat huffed, panting from all the exertion. Trestan did stop, holding steady as he considered his own delicate predicament. For a moment she seemed to be looking past him into the night sky, or towards whatever gods watched down on adventurous fools. The half-elf’s emerald eyes beseeched his, “Just hold me for a moment. I’m going to shift my weight to that hand, and I’ll need you to hold strong.”
Trestan nodded, anchoring himself as best that he could. Cat released the hull with her free hand. He expected her to jump up for a better handhold, instead she surprised him. While he held firm to her left hand, her right hand moved to the unusual bracer she had strapped there. All her weight suspended from his grip. Trestan gritted his teeth as he strained to maintain the hold and his position on the deck.
Cat’s nimble fingers worked at the buttons holding the fabric in place over the odd lump on her bracer. She undid the first one. She continued on to the next button, panting in effort, instead of trying to find any better hold on the ship. Soon the second was free, and her fingers fiddled with the last.
Trestan was slowly sliding closer to the edge. He felt the end of a board splinter away beneath his shoulder. “Cat, get a grip somewhere, I’m sliding.”
“Almost…” she started to say, then a loud crack sounded from beneath the young paladin. The third button came free even as Cat felt Trestan on the verge of going over the edge. She slapped her right hand against a board, barely finding purchase with her fingers. Her eyes widened in fear as she saw the deck crumbling beneath Trestan.
“I’m ok, I’m safe. Let go and help yourself lest you fall.”
Trestan had to trust her. He allowed her hand to slip from his fingers as he reached back for a better grip on a board. It came not a moment too soon, before a portion of the deck snapped loose and fell away.
The loose wood came apart under Cat’s fingers, taking her last firm hold on the ship, and she fell. Trestan’s outstretched hand reached in vain even as she dropped out of reach.
His mind screamed denial even as her receding emerald eyes were framed by her trailing raven tresses. Her arms remained outstretched to him, as if she could bring him comfort in that moment when he was losing the most precious thing in the world.
Katressa…
She gave a shout as she fell. “Fifteen!”
Trestan barely had time to puzzle that last word, when he saw the surprise hidden under the bulge in her bracer. A grappling hook unfolded as it launched back towards the ship, trailing a cord of thin rope. The hook went over Trestan’s head, entangling itself in a yardarm and rigging. The rope snapped taut almost immediately. The weakened yardarm gave a groan from the sudden weight.
Katressa dangled at the end of that slim lifeline, below the bottom of the hull.
Trestan had almost forgotten his own precarious position until a strong set of arms pulled him back from the edge. Lindon of Orlaun helped Trestan into a sitting position. Under that wide-brimmed hat was a look of concern.
Cat’s plight did not go unnoticed either. Members of the mage guild were still looking over the hull at where Revwar’s party had made their hasty escape. Many looked on helplessly, but Korrelothar jumped off of the deck, robes spreading out like wings as Revwar’s flight spell had done. The guild wizard floated easily on the high winds as he gracefully descended. For the half-elf, an angel came out of the heavens to save her. Cat tearfully accepted his embrace as he took her into his arms, her own arms allowed to relax. Korrelothar bore her back up to the deck with his spell.
The adventuress, normally very sure of her footing, went weak in the knees when Trestan reached her. Lindon, Korrelothar, and the rest of the mages standing nearby busied themselves with the other issues at hand as Trestan and Cat tearfully embraced. The relic thieves were gone, but the crew still had to save the last few people on board from the fate of the dying ship.
CHAPTER 21 “Abandon Ship”
“So that is what you had hidden…”
Cat quickly hushed Trestan, holding a finger to his lips as she showed him the bracer. Underneath a shroud, now only partially covered by it, sat a gleaming metallic disk the size of a coin. It was mounted on the bracer behind where the grappling hook rested. After Trestan had gotten a good look, Cat silently buttoned the fabric back over the disk, hiding it once again.
“Let me guess,” Trestan offered, “That is a small version of the gnomish lifting device.”
Cat let loose a mischievous smile. “Ever since we encountered that one back on the island, I had some thoughts toward other uses for it. I found some gnomes who made this version for me.”
Trestan knew the dangers associated with the
magical disk, which could propel people or objects into the air or across level surfaces using a strong cushion of air. The first use they had seen for one was a lift that could propel people up a shaft to different levels of a keep. The maximum number of gnomish-equivalent floors it could project an item was fifteen…which explained Cat’s use of that word as she was falling. The disk reacted to the command in her voice, launching the unfolding grappling hook hidden in her bracer up fifteen gnomish-equivalent levels. Petrow had wanted to take the larger version they had discovered years ago, but it was a very dangerous item because one had to avoid saying the wrong words. After Petrow was catapulted several meters when it mistook the word ‘to’ for ‘two’, he finally agreed to leave the dangerous item behind.
Trestan asked Cat, “Isn’t that a dangerous thing to have strapped to your arm?”
Cat tapped a slender finger against the fabric covering the disk. “That’s why I have it covered with this. It’s also magic, dampening sound to the point where the disk won’t hear commands unless I unbutton and pull back the cover.”
“Ingenious.” A voice commented.
Korrelothar stood beside them, admiring the design of the bracer. He raised his eyes to encompass both of them, extending his arms out to their shoulders. “I’m told that while we were enjoying in festivities, the two of you were fighting below to save the ship and the relics.”
Trestan shrugged sadly as he spoke, “They got away.”
“Taking the relics with them.” Korrelothar nodded. The elf gave Trestan a reassuring squeeze. “But not from lack of effort on behalf of the two of you. You are indeed the appointed guardians and were more vigilant at it than my guild brothers.”
His words seemed little comfort to the couple. They had worked and suffered, only to see their efforts fall short. Korrelothar felt the weakness of the deck beneath them, and urged them to think of the present. “The relics will have to wait for another time. At the moment we are still in a predicament. There is nay assurance that the clerics of Ganden can keep us afloat for much longer. We must get everyone off the vessel.”
The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith Page 33