“Kandler!” Esprë sounded excited. “We’re here. I can’t see you.”
“Stand aside, child,” said Sallah. “The light of the Silver Flame will help here.”
Kandler saw a light come shimmering out of the darkness to his left. It burned away at the mist, and soon he could see Sallah’s sword flickering with its silvery fire.
“Have you tried your door?” Kandler asked.
“It’s locked,” Esprë said.
“Magically,” said Sallah. “And don’t think about trying to scale these walls.”
Kandler ran his hand along the stones near him. “Too smooth. I left my ropes in the saddlebags too.”
“What about the bed sheets?” asked Esprë.
Kandler snapped his finger. “Good thinking. I’ve got lots of them, plenty to reach the ground.”
“Are you sure?” Sallah said. “We don’t know what’s straight down from here. It could be that chasm or something even worse.”
“Worse than the chasm?” Esprë asked in disbelief.
“I don’t see where we have much of a choice,” said Kandler. “Majeeda’s several arrows shy of a full quiver. The longer we stay here, the better the chance that she’ll do something to us.”
“Sir Deothen will not abandon us in here,” Sallah said. “We need only wait for him and the others to come to our aid.”
“Even if they could somehow get across the chasm, Majeeda would spank them like babies. If they’re lucky, they’d end up here with us, which leaves us in the same spot.”
“So what do you propose?”
Kandler rubbed his chin for a moment. There were no good options, but one was clearly less worse than the others. “We have to give it a try. I’ll make a rope from the sheets over here. Get started over there too.”
“We’re going to use separate ropes?” Sallah asked.
“I’m coming over there first. If I get to the bottom and it’s safe, I’ll tug on the sheets. Then you can follow me down.”
“This is insane.”
“Welcome to the Mournland.”
Kandler went over to the beds, tore their dusty sheets from them, and began knotting them together. The sheets were old, and they had a musty scent that made him sneeze, but they were rough enough that he thought the knots would hold. He wondered how long it had been since someone had slept in them.
The justicar soon had a makeshift rope he was confident would be long enough reach to the ladies’ bedchamber. He needed something to weigh down one end of it, though, so he could throw it. He glanced around and on one of the nightstands he spotted a small statue, a bust of an elf carved from jade. As he picked it up, he wondered if it was a likeness of Majeeda in life. If so, she’d been beautiful. He tied the end of the sheet-rope around it and stepped over to the window.
“Ready,” Kandler said. Sallah’s sword reappeared at her window.
“We’re still working in here,” Esprë called out.
“I’ll give you a hand when I get over there. I only made enough to get from my room to yours.”
“We’re ready,” said Sallah.
Kandler leaned out the window and swung around the bust-weighted end of the sheets in a wide circle. “All right,” he said, “catch!”
The justicar flung the bust toward the sword. “Ow!” Sallah said. There was a clatter, and Kandler could see the knight’s sword almost fall away into the mist. When the bust hit the end of the sheet-rope’s length, it tugged hard. Kandler felt himself being pulled through the window, but he hauled himself back in at the last moment.
“You could say something when you tie a chamber pot into the end of something you’re throwing at me,” Sallah said.
“It was a jade bust,” said Kandler. “And now you know.” He hauled up the sheet and started swinging the bust around again to give it another try.
“Incoming!” the justicar said as he flung the bust over once more. This time, he heard a satisfying grunt on the other end.
“She got it!” said Esprë.
“Perfect. Now tie your end to something solid. I’m coming over.”
Kandler anchored his end of the sheet-rope to the nearest bed’s leg and tested it with his full weight. It held.
“Ready!” said Esprë.
“Here I come.”
Kandler pulled his legs over the edge of the window and looked down into the nothingness of the mists. For a moment, he wondered if this was what the realm of the dead looked like, then he rubbed his hands together, took a deep breath, grabbed the sheet-rope, and swung himself out.
The sheet-rope gave a bit under Kandler’s weight. He swung for a moment, trying to regain his equilibrium. When he was ready, he moved hand over hand along the rope.
The distance between the windows hadn’t seemed so far when Kandler made the rope. Throwing a jade bust the thirty feet or so was easy. Crossing the gap himself was a bit more treacherous.
Kandler was about halfway to his goal when he heard a sheet behind him start to give. The tearing noise pierced the mist-shrouded air like a shout. He recognized it and flung himself along the rope as fast as he could go.
The justicar only managed to get another swing in before the rope separated. It tore right where it had been rubbing against the corner of the windowsill, and Kandler fell.
Esprë screamed.
Kandler yelled as he swung out into the mists. He clung to the rope with all his might. When he reached the bottom of his swing, his hands slipped along the rough, musty sheets. The skin burned from the palms of his hands, but he held on tighter, trying to slow his descent.
Kandler’s grasp came to a knot in the sheet, and he stopped hard. His momentum kept going, though, and he swung far out away from the tower’s wall.
When Kandler reached the end of the swing, he breathed a sigh of relief, despite the pain in his hands and his arms. It turned into a gasp of fear as he swung back.
Kandler’s back slammed into the tower’s wall, knocking the air from his lungs and wrenching his arms. Still, he managed to hold on, and he hung there until he could breathe again, grateful that the swinging had stopped. The mists swirled hungrily below him, and for a moment Kandler considered letting them have him. Maybe Esprina would be waiting for him on the other side.
“Kandler!” Esprë said. The voice shocked Kandler out of his daze.
Sallah joined her. “Kandler!”
“All right,” the justicar said. He still had work to do here. He couldn’t leave Esprë and the others to the mad elf’s whims. He choked on his words until he cleared his throat. “I’m all right,” he said. “Be right up.”
Kandler stretched his shoulders a bit, testing to see if they would still work. He took a deep breath and started pulling himself hand over hand up the sheets. He had only made it a few feet when he heard the sheet start to tear again. This time, the sound came from above him.
It’s tearing!”
Esprë’s scream rang in Kandler’s head. He looked up and saw her reach out and grab the sheet just past the point where the rip had started.
“Kandler!” she screamed as she wrapped her little fingers around the rough fabric and pulled.
“Get off the rope!” Kandler said as he pulled himself higher. It was bad enough he was going to die here. He wasn’t going to drag his daughter down with him. “Esprë, you’re not big enough!”
Sallah shouldered the girl aside and snatched the tearing end of the sheet-rope from her. “I have you!” she said.
“Who’s got you?” he said. “Let go!”
Sallah ignored the justicar. She pulled on the rope with all her might, but it didn’t come up an inch. He was a full-sized, fully armed man, and he was just too heavy.
Esprë started to wail with fear. Kandler’s stomach turned. The girl had lost both her parents already, and now she was going to watch him fall to his doom. He kept climbing.
“Be quiet!” yelled Sallah.
Esprë’s wail ended as if Sallah had sliced through it with a s
word.
“Quick!” Sallah ordered. “Hand me the other rope!”
A moment later Esprë appeared at the window with rope that she and Sallah had been working on. She tossed it down to Kandler. “Here!” she said. “Grab hold!”
Kandler reached out and grabbed the other rope just as the first gave way. He had barely enough time to wrap it around his wrist before he fell. The other rope still had a lot of slack in it, and it snaked out the window after Kandler as he dropped away into the mist.
The rope finally played out and snapped tight, and Kandler felt as if his arm was pulled from its socket. He growled in pain and then felt himself swinging back toward the tower again. This time he was able to brace himself for the impact. He hit the hard stone, and his shoulder burned as if a red-hot brand had been shoved up his sleeve.
Kandler hung there at the end of the rope from his bad arm, trying to recover his strength. He couldn’t tell how far from the window he’d fallen or how close the ground might be. He thought he heard something wet and sticky far below—perhaps a beast smacking its lips over an anticipated meal or the bubbling of a pit full of tar.
“Pull!” Sallah shouted.
Kandler heard something above him crack. The image of a spitting bedpost flashed through his head, and he closed his eyes and thought of his wife.
The sheet jerked as whatever it was anchored to started to give, and pain lanced through Kandler’s arm. The agony jabbed him into action. He reached up with his good arm and started pulling himself up. Each time he used his left arm, his shoulder protested, but he kept climbing through the pain. He used his teeth to hold on to the sheets when his arm hurt too much. The musty smell reminded him of a funeral shroud, and he gagged at the taste.
The air behind Kandler grew warm, and he heard a noise like a crackling bonfire all around him. For a moment, he feared he was already dead, that the heat came from the Keeper welcoming him into the fiery afterlife. He wrapped the rope around his good arm and turned to meet his fate.
A large circle of fire cut through the mist straight for Kandler. Orange tongues of flame crackled as they pushed the ring closer. As Kandler watched, the ring grew larger and larger until it seemed it must be the maw of a dragon come to pluck him from the side of the tower wall.
Kandler grunted and started climbing again. He pulled himself up as best he could with his injured arm, fighting for every inch. He could feel Sallah and Esprë tugging on the sheet from above, but they weren’t able to move it. He heard Esprë screech in frustration, and his heart sank.
When the justicar glanced back again, he saw that it was hopeless. He’d gained a few feet, but the fiery ring looked large enough to swallow his house whole. There was no way to escape it. He clung to the rope with his teeth and hands, hoping to at least make the creature work for its meal.
Something large and heavy struck the tower below Kandler. The structure shook to its foundation. Esprë’s scream punctuated the smash.
The bedpost anchoring the sheet snapped, and Kandler fell, pulling the sheet after him.
“No!” Sallah shouted. Esprë let loose with a long, heartbroken wail.
Kandler kicked off from the wall as he fell, in a vain hope he might find some kind of water below to cushion his landing. After only a dozen feet, the justicar crashed onto something solid and flat. He cried out in agony and surprise.
Kandler reached out around him and felt the wooden planks of a deck swaying beneath him. “What?” he said, then he looked around and was struck dumb.
Half of the ring of fire towered over Kandler like a blazing rainbow, crackling as it burned where it hovered in the air. The flames forced back the mists, and he could see along the length of the ship’s deck on which he stood. The vessel looked like a large cutter but stretched out as if a giant had picked her up and pulled her hard at both ends so he could better hurl it through the air. Instead of sails, the ship had a carved wooden harness that arched high out of the bridge and hooked around the ring of fire at its apex.
Burch waved at Kandler from behind the ship’s wheel. “Ahoy, castaway!” the shifter called.
“Ahoy, the ship!” Kandler said as he struggled to his feet. The deck pitched beneath him. “Permission to come aboard?”
Burch barked out a laugh. “Granted!”
Kandler raced along the ship’s deck and up to the bridge. “How?” he asked. “Where?” He just stopped and stared at the shifter. “There’s a legend in this, I’m sure, but we have to get Esprë and Sallah out of the tower now.”
“Think that bang woke up Majeeda?” Burch asked with toothy grin. “I can’t steer this thing worth a damn.”
“Let me give it a shot,” Kandler said. He took the wheel from Burch and felt the polished wood in his hands. As he did, something poked around the corners of his mind.
“It’s the elemental,” Burch said. “The ring. It’s a creature made of pure fire.”
Although Kandler had never ridden an airship before, he understood the basic principles behind them. He reached out with his mind and urged the burning thing to move the ship higher. At first, it resisted, content to burn away in its mystical, circular cage, but eventually it gave in.
Kandler looked up at the window of the ladies’ bedchamber. He saw Esprë and Sallah gaping down at them, and he waved. Esprë squealed with joy.
Kandler noticed that the wheel didn’t move with the ship. It didn’t turn at all. It was just a conduit by which the ship’s pilot could reach the elemental that kept the thing aloft. He willed the ship to come to a stop at the window, but he misjudged the distance in the mist. The ship came to a crushing stop as the starboard railing caught under the window’s stone sill.
Kandler left the wheel and dashed over to the window. Burch was already there, taking Esprë from Sallah’s arms. Kandler reached out to help the lady knight over the railing too.
At that moment, the door to the bedchamber burst open. Majeeda came shuffling through as fast as her withered legs would carry her.
“No!” the deathless elf screeched. She reached out toward Kandler with a bony hand, raw energy arcing between her fingers.
Kandler grabbed Sallah by the arm and kicked at the stone windowsill with all his might. Already damaged by the ship, the sill gave way. Sallah fell into Kandler’s arms as the ship lurched toward the mist-shrouded sky. The two fell to the deck in a tangle of arms and legs.
“Stop!” Majeeda said. “I command you to stop! You must stop!”
The deathless elf screeched something unintelligible at the people on the ship, and each of them froze in place, unable to move a muscle. Kandler found himself lying underneath Sallah’s armored form, incapable of doing more than breathe at her. He couldn’t even blink.
The airship kept rising.
“No!” Majeeda shouted at the ship from below. “Don’t leave me here alone! You can’t!”
No one on the ship replied. Kandler had a lot of things he wanted to say to the insane wizard, but his tongue refused to move.
“Damn you all to Khyber then!” Majeeda said. “If you won’t stay, then you can all die!”
Kandler heard the wizard chanting again, and then something came crackling at them from be low.
A scorching explosion shook the entire ship, tossing it up and to port as if a whale had hit it from below. Kandler and Sallah tumbled across the deck toward the railing. They smashed into it hard, unable to brace themselves for the impact.
The ship pushed higher into the mist, faster than ever. As she righted herself, Kandler realized he was lying on top of Sallah at an awkward angle that threatened to break his wrist under her armored form.
The dark, cloying mist became thinner and lighter as the ship rose higher. Far below now, Majeeda screeched out in anguish. “Don’t leave me!” she said. “Please!”
The ship broke through the darkness of the mist and into the dimness of the Mournland’s overcast sky. After so long in Majeeda’s domain, even this weak light hurt Kandler’s eyes. He
winced, and in so doing realized he could move his eyes.
Kandler rolled off of Sallah, who scrambled away. He cast about for Esprë and spotted her several feet down the railing, rubbing her head. He dashed over to her and snatched her up in his arms.
Esprë wailed in fear as Kandler held her. “It’s all right,” he said to her, most of his body aching as he patted her on the back. Her sobs slowed as he spoke. “We’re safe now.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Sallah said. “I smell smoke.”
Kandler pointed up at the circle of fire that encircled the airship like a ring on a finger. “There’s fire all around here,” he said.
“Fire below, boss!” Burch called from the bridge. Kandler saw the shifter was leaning over the port side of the ship and looking at the hull.
Kandler dashed to the rail and stared downward. Flames billowed from the bottom of the ship.
The justicar sprinted up to the bridge, Esprë still in his arms. Burch already had his hands on the wheel.
“We have to bring her down,” Kandler said.
“We’re still going up,” Burch pointed out. “We have to stop that first.”
The shifter handed the wheel to Kandler. He put Esprë down and grasped the wheel in both hands. He reached out with his mind and felt the elemental out there, just like before. This time, though, the creature wanted nothing to do with him. It liked flying straight into the sky, away from Majeeda and her tower, and it wasn’t going to stop no matter how much Kandler might want it to.
Kandler tried again and again, but it was no good. “We’re in trouble,” he said to Burch. “How high are we?”
The shifter leaned over the back railing and looked down. “Fatally,” he said.
Kandler let go of the wheel and scanned the bridge, hunting for something, anything that would help. “Maybe we can toss a mooring line overboard,” he said.
“There’s nothing for it to catch on,” Sallah said as she joined them on the bridge.
“We can’t just go up forever,” Kandler said, striving to keep the panic from his voice. “It has to stop sometime.”
Marked for Death: The Lost Mark, Book 1 Page 19