“That doesn’t matter now.  We have to get out of here.”  Vilhylm said, “Now how do we activate this portal?”  He stepped across the silver circle in the floor and vanished.

The others followed close on his heels.  When they arrived on the other side, an alarm bell was ringing and the sound of running footsteps echoed in the foyer outside.  Voices shouted back and forth adding to the chaos.

“Intruders!  Just when the Masters are gone!”

“Where could they be?  We must find them and put a stop to their thieving!”

“There’ll be a promotion in this for certain.”

“Is this a test?”

“Are they trying to see how we handle an emergency?  I’ll show them I can handle myself.”

Vilhylm stood near the door, his spear in his hand.  “It looks bad out there.”  He said, not turning around.

“You can put me down.”  Callindra said, her voice weak but steady.

Tryst incanted a spell, laying more healing magic upon her and let her stand on her own.  She gripped Brightfang in both hands, facing the doorway with a determined grimace on her face.  In spite of the singed hair and lines of healing scars sutured by Brightstar vines, Callindra looked fiercer than they had ever seen her.

“Nobody is going to lock me up again.”  She said in a flat voice, “If we have to fight our way out, so be it.”

“There are too many of them.”  Vilhylm said, “Even if they’re weak they would overpower us by sheer weight of numbers.”

“Leave this to me.”  Cronos’s Master said in his dry voice.  “As long as you do not touch any of them or speak aloud you will be able to pass unseen among them.  Please ensure that you bring my apprentice with you; this will likely exhaust him to the point of unconsciousness.”

Cronos’s eyes flashed, and azure power expanded out from him in a gossamer blanket that settled over them all.  Callindra blinked in surprise; her brothers faded from her sight completely.  There was a soft crash of chainmaile armor and scabbarded swords hitting the granite floor and she groped towards it.

Even as she found Cronos’s comatose form, other hands began to lift him.  She stifled a cry, remembering the warning not to speak.  One of the others must have picked him up.  The door crashed open and a wild-eyed apprentice in hastily donned armor dashed down the corridor, a large hammer held in both hands.

Feeling slightly out of focus, Callindra wove through the mass of running people taking special care to avoid touching anyone.  It was surreal and she felt like it was all just a strange dream.  She was sure some of it was the shock from her kidnapping, injuries and healing, but being this close to people who were hunting for her and knowing they had no idea how close she stood to them nearly made her break out into hysterical laughter.

She escaped into the courtyard and then broke into the street.  Once she was clear, she ran for all she was worth, not knowing where she was going and not caring as long as it was away.  After a panicked rush, Callindra ducked into an alley breathing heavily and trembling in every limb.  The spell that kept her invisible dissipated.

Beside her, wavering lines in the air flickered and she brought Brightfang up in a sweeping stroke that she only barely managed to stop before it took Vilhylm’s head from his shoulders.  He smiled at her, “Looks like we had the same intuition.”

Callindra almost stabbed him when she flung her arms around him, hugging tightly for a moment before letting go and stepping back with an embarrassed expression on her face.  “You came for me. Thank you.”

Vilhylm looked surprised for an instant, “Of course we came for you.  How could you even doubt it?”

She shivered, “They were so powerful and nobody knew where I was…”

“Easy Callindra, don’t dwell on it right now.  Let’s get you back to the inn and get you cleaned up.”  He said soothingly.

“I don’t want to go back there.”  She said, “Can we just go somewhere else?”

“All your things are there.”  Said Vilhylm, “Your armor, your clothes, your money and everything you own other than that sword are there.”

“He is all I need.”  She said, her voice hard.  “Nobody will ever take him away from me again.”

“We don’t have to go back.”  Another voice said, and Tryst stepped into the alley with Cronos over his shoulder.  “I will take you to the chapter house.  Vilhylm can go and collect our belongings from the Golden Mantle.”

“Let me help you.”  Callindra said, moving to his side.

“You can barely walk on your own.”  He said shortly, “Just follow along and keep that sword under the cloak. For the love of all that is holy keep the cloak closed and put the hood up, you’ll get us all caught.”

They moved through the town, keeping to alleys and less traveled streets.  Once a street urchin approached looking for a handout, but a stern look from Tryst sent him running before Callindra managed to disentangle herself from her cloak and the unfamiliar length of chain now attached to her sword.

Tryst brought them to a small door at the side of an imposingly large structure and knocked with his dagger hilt.  A face blocked the light on the other side of an arrow slit, closely followed by a stern woman’s voice.

“If you require sanctuary you may come in by the front gate.”  She said, “This door is for the Member’s dormitory.”

“I am Tryst Te’Chern and although I am not a resident here I am in need of shelter for myself and my family.”

“You were in with the Lady earlier today?  The one from our Chapter House in Arkasia?”  She inquired.

“Yes.  My sister was taken by our enemies and my brother was injured in the rescue.”  He said, “You’re sister Lacrel aren’t you?”

“Tryst.  We don’t need this.”  Callindra rasped, her voice rough.  “I’ve walked for a mile tonight, I’ll walk another.”  She turned to go, the winds gusting weakly around her with weak but insistent anger.  Her borrowed cloak blew wide, revealing her naked, wounded body with the chain on her wrist and the strange profusion of flowering vines growing where she had been whipped, burned and cut.

“By the Ancient One!”  Lacrel said, throwing the door wide.  “Get in here immediately!”

“You’ve changed your mind?”  Callindra asked, turning to glare at her.  “Just because of these few scratches?”

“I am sorry.  I allowed my prejudice to delay your entry and care.”  Said Lacrel, “I will submit myself for penance if you wish, but please come inside.”

“Normally I would make an issue of it, but I’m too gods damned exhausted.”  Callindra said, “I’ll gladly forgive you if you just give me a safe bed to sleep in.”  Larcel and Tryst caught her just before she hit the ground.

“We have to find that secret door.”  Tryst said, “Ignore the girl, she isn’t our first priority.”

They moved into the bathing room, checking for hidden triggers and eventually located a section of wall that slid sideways to reveal a narrow servant’s stair.  As promised, it led directly to a hallway that went to the stables on one side and the wine cellar on the other.

“If she wasn’t lying about this, odds are good she was telling the truth about the rest.”  Vilhylm mused, “Perhaps we should go and investigate this Guild eh?”

“Gods and Demons she wasn’t talking about The Order was she?”  Cronos swore, “I don’t think we can stand against the Weaponmage’s Guild.”

“I am sure I can talk to them.  My religious order has quite a bit of influence in this city.”  Tryst sighed, “Besides we don’t even know if that’s what she meant or not.”

“Time’s wasting.”  Vilhylm said shortly.  He had taken off his mask but seemed to be nearly uncontrollably twitchy.  “Let’s move.”

They ran through the streets, eventually arriving at a section of the city that had Chapter Houses facilities for various mercenary companies.  They stopped in front of a courtyard with high walls.  The symbol of two whips crossed behind a huge hammer was painted boldly on the door.  Tryst went to knock on it with a maile clad fist, but Cronos pulled him back.

“Wait brother.  We should think about this first.  If they’ve captured Callindra, they’re not to be trusted.  We shouldn’t even give them the benefit of thinking that they’ll play fair.”

“How else are we going to get in?”  Tryst demanded.

“There’s always another way in.”  Vilhylm said with a vulpine smile.  “Usually a side or back entrance.  Let’s see what secrets this place has to give up.”

The back of the compound was a working forge.  Errand runners came and went bearing sacks of coin in and leaving with leather wrapped bundles, warriors brought weapons to be sharpened and armor to be mended.  It was easy to slip into the stream of people coming and going.

Once inside, they took stock of the busy courtyard.  There were three forges working full blast, the air was hot and dozens of people stood around waiting for their turn to have weapons sharpened or armor repaired.  The boys and girls striving at and around the forges paused for a moment as a side door opened.

A pair of men walked from the door, a huge ogre of a man with a massive hammer strapped to his back and a slim blade of a man with a whip coiled on either hip.  What brought their attention was the fact that the skinny man had a small, brilliantly white flower tucked behind his ear.  Brightstar flowers didn’t bloom this time of year.

“Did you see-“ Cronos began.

“That flower-“ Vilhylm said.

“They have her.” Said Tryst grimly, “I don’t know where but they have her.”

As one, Vilhylm and Tryst started for the pair but the usually hot headed Cronos restrained them.  “Hey.  They’re leaving.  Now might be our only chance.  If she’s still alive that is.”

The other two restrained themselves and managed to stay inconspicuous enough that the busy people around them ignored their presence.  There were enough other folk clamoring for their attention that the workers in the yard were happy to ignore them.

Cronos led his brothers up to the door and to his amazement found it unlocked.  They quickly slipped through into a spacious, quiet foyer.  A fountain that looked like a quite realistic erupting volcano, complete with heat and sound stood in the center.  Murals covered the walls, showing fantastic scenes of landscapes where trees, grasses and stones were made of small humanoid figures bent and twisted into impossible shapes.  The floor was polished granite and, as impossible is it seemed, appeared to be one solid piece.

There were two exits, one a grand archway and the other a simple, small door camouflaged to match the painting so closely they wouldn’t have seen it had it not been for the dim lighting of the foyer and the dull glow of light shining through the crack.

“She’s behind there.”  Cronos said in the dry, cold voice of his Master.  “I can feel it, and she is necessary for this fight.  You must save your battle sister or be forsaken by the Gods themselves.”

Tryst shivered, feeling the full force of the old man’s eyes staring out through the young man’s face.  “Of course we’re going to save her.”  He said, his voice sounding strained.  “That’s what we came here for.”

“Then be about it damn you.”  Said the voice that wasn’t Cronos’s, “This kind of thing takes a toll upon my apprentice and I would think it a shame for him to perish because of your slothful behavior.”

“How do we open the door?”  Vilhylm asked, “I can’t pick the lock, that kind of thing was more Callindra’s style.”

“I certainly don’t know anything about that.”  Tryst said, “We can’t break it down without attracting attention.”

“Have you tried just opening the god rotting door?”  Cronos said, reaching out an pushing the door open.  “Come now, my time is limited and I fear you shall need my assistance.”

They entered, finding themselves in a hallway lit by matching sets of torches that lined the walls.  Closer inspection revealed that what had at first appeared to be torches were actually whips, the wrapped leather hanging down and glowing with flickering golden flames.  The last set had guttering emerald fire instead of gold.

“I don’t like this.”  Tryst said, looking at the last pair of whips.  “I really don’t like this.”

“Grow a spine.”  Cronos rasped, “They’re just dying weapons.  Now if I am feeling the Power here correctly there is a circle nearby that will transport you to another portion of this place.”

They moved ahead cautiously and found a circle of silver set in the solid granite of the floor.  Cronos walked confidently ahead and vanished.  After a moment’s hesitation, the other two followed.  The room the found themselves in was brightly lit, various implements were laid out in neat rows on clean white marble tables.  Tiny knives, saws, pliers and other instruments that could have been for surgery, torture or dissection shared space with dozens of hammers and other heavy tools that were obviously designed for work on a blacksmith’s forge.

Cronos was halfway across the room, heading for a doorway that glowed a dull red instead of the bright white of the one they were in.  The other two hurried to catch up, and upon passing through the doorway stopped in shock.  Callindra was strung up by her wrists, hanging from a fine shining silvery chain that connected to a pair of manacles of the same metal.

To one side was an anvil set up next to a sluggishly moving river of molten rock.  Drips of lava fell from a crack in the stone ceiling of the chamber, falling with a sizzling hiss on the girl’s forehead.  She was naked but for the multitude of Brightstar vines that grew and twined about her, trying in vain to heal the terrible wounds that cut across her body.

“By the four Winds that’s a welcome sight!”  Callindra said, removing Brightfang’s baldric from her back and beginning to unbuckle her armor.

“Greetins, I’m Tallie an you must be th young warrior lass what’s in need of a good soak an scrub.”  The maid said, favoring her with a dimple cheeked smile.  “Th wine is cold an th water’s hot.  I’ll wash yer back an help with gettin yer hair brushed out.  Jest get otta that sweat soaked mess an we’ll get ya sommat clean ta wear in th meantime.”

Callindra was already halfway out of her leathers, the pauldrons had been unbuckled and she was struggling with a strap on the breastplate.  “Can you get this strap for me Tallie?  I’ve been having trouble with it since taking an injury a few days ago.  Shoulder is bedamned stiff.”

“Sure an I’ll take th blade out ta be sharpened an oiled if ya like.”  The other woman came close, looking very light and sure on her feet in spite of her plump frame.  When Callindra snatched Brightfang’s sheath from the floor and clasped him to her chest, Tallie stepped back, her mouth in a surprised O.

“He stays with me.”  She said, more sharply than she intended.  Shaking her head, she sighed.  “I’m sorry, it’s just… I don’t like being parted from him and I don’t allow anyone else to sharpen or take care of him.  That’s an interesting accent, what part of the Realm are you from?”

Accepting the change of subject with aplomb, Tallie smiled.  “I’m from th Isles of Ravenshir Lady warrior.  Nae part a th Realm such as it is really.  For all we pay a bit a tribute ta th King now and again, we’re a fierce independent lot ye ken?”

“That’s off the coast in the Drakenmore Sea right?”  Callindra asked, letting Tallie unbuckle her armor and help her out of the sweat stained padding beneath.

“Oh aye, not so far from here by ship, but quite a distance nonetheless.  Where’d ya get fresh Brightstar flowers this time a year?”  Asked Tallie, tugging at the twining vines of the Tiara Jorda had given her.

“That’s a long story – ow!”  Callindra winced, “I should have explained, they don’t come out.  They’re… rooted in my scalp it’s –OW!  Curse it Tallie they don’t come out!  It’s magic.”

“Gods an Demons.”  Tallie breathed, her eyes wide. “Now that’s a sight sure an it is.  Where’d ya come by a thing like tha?”

“It was a gift.”  She said, stripping out of the rest of her clothes. “I don’t really want to talk about it.  It doesn’t get in the way of brushing, braiding or whatnot.”

“Not ta worry lass.  I’ll shut me gob an get ya clean.”  She helped Callindra scrub her body with hot soapy water while sitting on a stool before rinsing off and climbing into the tub with fresh herbs floating in it.

Callindra relaxed into water just barely cool enough to touch with a contented sigh, allowing Tallie to knead scented oils into her hair.  “You jest lay back an relax lass.”  She said, “Have a drink a chilled wine an I’ll be back with a robe fer ya afore th water gets cool.”

The wine was cold, and the bath was hot.  She had just had a wonderful scalp massage and in spite of the slight pinching of Jorda’s gift on her head, Callindra allowed herself to slip into a drowsy state of slumber.

A figure entered into her vision from the left side.  A man wearing black leather armor stared down at her.  “Is she out?”

“Oh aye.  Ain’t gonna be movin fer a few hours.”  Tallie said.

“Good.  You’ve earned your … pardon.  I’ll tell them.”  The man said, “You have done as you were told.”

The last thing Callindra could see before her eyelids became lead weights was the concerned face of her maid.  The young woman’s voice was tinged with worry, even though it was faint and distorted through her drugged haze.  “You ain’t gonna hurt her right?  That’s what ya said afore.  Just gonna ask her about th man what broke some laws right?”

“Yeah.”  The man’s voice dripped false sincerity.  “Sure, I ain’t gonna hurt the little bitch.  Run along to Vex and give him this.”  There was a clink as a bag of coins changed hands.

–

Trumpets blared and drums rumbled; the gates of Gauntlgrym opened to admit the triumphant return of Storgar and the warriors he’d led to stop the advance of Krrakathanak.  Some of the warriors had wanted to remove the beast’s head and their leader hadn’t been able to bring himself to deny them.  So many of their comrades had fallen in the fight.  Their grisly trophy was carried on a stretcher made of six tower shields lashed together and required eight of the strongest warriors to carry.

From his vantage high on the Shieldwall where he waited with his mother, Durrak could feel the very earth tremble with the roar of approval that went up from the assembled Dwarves.  Nearly the entire city had turned out into the square between the outer gate and the Shieldwall.  In spite of the noise, he could still hear Brenlena’s voice.

“I knew he would be victorious.  I knew it in my bones that he would come back to me.” She sounded fiercely proud, but he could also see tears glistening in her eyes.

Durrak himself had no compunction about expressing his joy and relief at seeing his father return.  He shouted as loud as the others assembled and tears streamed down his face into the beginnings of his adult beard.  Storgar had been gone for six months and there had been little or no word from his party.

As the war band drew closer, Durrak’s voice faded away.  He saw the way his father walked; as carefully as a mountain cat stalking prey.  His eyes were searching the crowd, never stopping for more than a moment anywhere and his right hand kept straying to the hilt of the massive blade strapped to his back.  Something was wrong with him.

“Mother.  Do you see that?”  Durrak asked.

“Your father’s triumphant return!  This is a day that will be written in the annals of the Caverstorm family.”  She said, her voice vibrating with pride.  “Nothing can spoil this moment.”

He quieted, deciding to allow her to enjoy the feeling.  He didn’t feel her elation or triumph though.  All he could feel was dread.  The memory of the Moragainnag’s arthritic finger pointing at him made Durrak shiver.  Something was happening and this homecoming was central to it.  He was central to it.

A blast of foul air raced up the valley, alarm bells tolling in its wake.  Vast black wings blotted out the sun and a roar of pure rage and hatred shook the very stones under his feet.

“To the walls!  Battle stations!  Secure the city!”  Brenlena shouted.

Storgar turned towards the vast dragon, massive Greatsword raised in both hands.  His battle standard flying above his head, snapping from the end of a war spear.  Behind him, the doors of their mountain fortress slammed closed.  The sound boomed, a death knell for the brave warriors outside as the dragon landed on the outer wall.

“YOU INSOLENT WORMS WILL PAY FOR YOUR TRANSGRESSION.” The dragon’s terrible voice drove Durrak to his knees, tears of sheer terror rolling down his cheeks and soaking into his beard.  “YOU DARE TO BRING MY LIFEMATE’S HEAD BACK LIKE A BATTLE TROPHY AFTER YOU MURDER HIM WHILE HE SLUMBERED.”

Durrak could not stay to listen.  The overwhelming force of the monster’s presence drove him deep into the mountain.  He ran without thought and when he came to himself it was because of the intense heat of the Adamantine Forge.  A thought exploded into the forefront of his mind.

“Maegera!”  He shouted, “We need you!”

“IS IT TIME AGAIN?”  The Demon of the forge rumbled.  “IS IT TIME FOR THE WAR AGAIN?”

“Yes!”  Durrak cried, “There’s a dragon outside the gates and it’s going to kill my father and –“

“TINY DISPUTES AND MEANINGLESS FIGHTS MEAN NOTHING LITTLE MAGGOT.”  Maegera interrupted him.  “YOU WILL KNOW WHEN THE WAR BEGINS, FOR THE WORLD WILL BURN.”

“No, you must help!”  Durrak said, fear making his voice shrill.

“I AM NOT YOURS TO COMMAND LITTLE MAGGOT!  YOU DO NOT SEND ME TO FIGHT YOUR ENEMIES.  FIGHT YOUR OWN BATTLES OR DIE TRYING.”  The massive demon tilted its head to one side as though listening, “SOMETHING CALLS…”

A swirl of black butterflies in a profusion of different sizes swirled around Maegera’s horned head, thousands of them dancing on the currents of superheated air that surrounded him.  One of them floated down and Durrak reached out to touch it, confused in spite of himself.  The butterfly’s wing cut his hand to the bone and he could see they were made of unimaginably thin sheets of metal.

“Maegera.  Bringer of fire and destruction.  I summon thee with the power granted me by thy father and thy mother.  I summon thee by the power of the blades I have forged.  I summon thee with the promise of rest until the War begins again.”  A voice boomed hollowly through the Adamantine Forge.

“YOU DARE REQUEST MY PRESENCE ONCE AGAIN?”  Maegera rumbled.  “I THOUGHT I HAD KILLED YOU THE LAST TIME YOU SUMMONED ME FORTH FROM A DWARVEN KINGDOM.”

“Belach, the greatest smith to put his hand on a hammer don’t get killed by his forge fire!  Felix is still bitching about me stealing you last time ain’t he?”  The voice asked, barking a laugh.  “This ain’t a request or a theft anyway.  It’s a gods damned summoning.”

Twin loops of chain made from something that looked like ice exploded from the swarming cloud of butterflies, one catching around each of Maegera’s huge black horns.  He leaned back, almost seeming to gather himself to strike out, his wings mantling like a hawk about to take flight and with a flash and flurry of razor sharp black winged butterflies he simply disappeared.

“FIGHT YOUR OWN BATTLES LITTLE MAGGOT.”  His voice echoed throughout the chamber, even after his body faded away.  “THE WAR IS COMING AND YOU MUST FIGHT OR PERISH.”

The heat of the Adamantine Forge faded and Durrak shivered in the chill that descended swiftly on the chamber.  He saw an opening beyond where Maegera had been standing moments before.  One of the strange metal butterflies was floating into a passageway that he could just barely see.  With determination to survive, he made his way into that tunnel.

Everyone looked at her, and Callindra realized that she had been speaking as though she was in charge.  She pretended not to notice their scrutiny and puffed on her borrowed pipe.  Wiping away a tear that was threatening to spill from her eye, she adjusted herself on the cushions, settling Brightfang’s sheath more comfortably and shifting her injured leg.

“Well Lass.  Ya gotta point there.”  Malachi said. “I been captain a this ship for fifty years an it’s hard ta think about givin him up.”  He patted the floor fondly, “But I suppose all things come ta pass.”

“Give up your ship?”  She asked, confused.  “What do you mean give up your ship?”

“When I was designin this beauty a century ago I…”  He trailed off, looking at the expressions on their faces.  “Well it’s a long story an ya probably don’t want ta hear it now.  Suffice it ta say I needed a power source and Jorda gave me one.  Asked me ta keep it until tha ones she tasked would come for it.”

“She gave you a power source?”  Tryst asked, raising a golden eyebrow.  “What do you mean?”

“Ahhh.. maybe it’s better ta show ya.”  Malachi said, standing and moving toward the door.

“I’ll be fine.”  Callindra said, waving off her brother’s moves to help her.  “I’ve got to learn to move when I’m all messed up or else I’ll be easy prey any time I’ve been hurt.”  She struggled to her feet, wincing in pain and looked up to see approval in Malachi’s eyes.  He didn’t say a word, instead striding out of the cabin toward the ladder leading to the hold.

They followed him in silence other than the occasional grunt of discomfort as their injuries were strained by a difficult step.  Callindra did her best on the ladder, although the pain of bending her knee sent tears trickling down her face she made it to the bottom without assistance.

It was hot and loud below decks.  The scents of burning coal and hot metal, both old and stale assaulted her nose. Callindra sneezed so hard that the blast of air knocked Cronos off his feet as he stepped off the ladder.  He looked at her in surprise, shaking his head.

“Sorry, I guess something in the air is tickling my nose.”  She said, wincing.

Malachi gave her an inscrutable look, his mouth frowning slightly around the stem of his pipe.  “We ain’t burned coal since Jorda entrusted us with her gift, but the smell does still linger.  Some folk I knew once were sensitive to it like that.”

“Did the Goddess give you a piece of the clay mold that made the original human?”  Tryst breathed, “Why would she do such a thing?”

“Betimes the best place to hide sommat important be in plain sight.”  The Dwarf rumbled, “Sides which I ain’t in one place for more’n a day or so.  Nobbut would ever suspect it to be used in such a way.”

A whirring, clattering sound dominated all the other sounds as they approached the center of the ship.  In front of them, a complicated latticework of steel cables and wooden beams moved in steady rhythm.  This was the contraption that allowed the ship to fly.  At its heart was what appeared to be the lower torso of a human working a treadle at a furious rate.

“What in the name of the Absent Gods is that?”  Vilhylm said, staring at the strange sight.

“This be the heart a the Grungie and a marvel of engineering.”  Malachi said with a wide grin.  “But afore I had the legs he ran on coal and steam and quite frankly did no function as well as he could have.  Of course it ain’t just the wings, there’s a fair bit of wind magic at play as well.”

“Are they always so… big?”  Callindra asked, “The other bits aren’t really to scale.  Gods and demons, I don’t even know if we could carry them.  We certainly couldn’t hide the bedamned things.”  She paused, as if digesting what he had just said.  “Did you just say wind magic?”

“Indeed I did.  That was a gift from another, slightly less friendly Immortal.”  Malachi said, his eyes turning flat.  “But that ain’t a story I share.”

“Was his name Glarian?  No, can’t be… you said Immortal.”  She sighed, and a mischievous breeze untied the ribbon holding her hair in place, allowing it to fan out around her head.  The flowering vines growing through it smelled sweet.  “My Master is no God, he’s just an old man.  A talented and powerful one, but an old man nonetheless.  If he was a God he wouldn’t need rescuing.”

Malachi was looking at her with a strange expression on his face that was hard to read.  “I’m sure he ain’t the one I knew.  His bargains have more’n one sharp edge.  There ain’t a safe way to hold them.”

“If we take this artifact will your ship still be able to fly?”  Cronos asked, looking up from where he was inspecting the apparatus.  “It looks like it will, and handily at that.  You hardly need the support of these.  They just make it more convenient.”

“Not entirely true.”  The Dwarf said, a bit defensively.  “But also I was charged with handing over the artifact to the hero’s the Goddess had in mind when she put it in my care.”

Wordlessly, Tryst brought the small hand seemingly made of clay from his belt pouch and held it in his hand.  It spun around one full turn before stopping pointing directly at the legs powering the airship.  The thumb and all fingers but the index curled in as it ceased moving.

“I think that’s likely all the proof you need.”  Tryst said quietly.

After looking between them all for a few tense moments, Malachi sighed.  “You’re all so young.  I expected… well… when we land outside Denoria in two days’ time I’ll surrender the legs to you like I was charged to.”

Callindra blinked in surprise.  Now that the tension of the moment had passed, she processed what he had said.  “Two days to Denoria?  That can’t be, Denoria is at least two week’s travel away!”

Malachi chuckled, obviously happy to tout his ships’ prowess.  “This here lassie will cover the distance in less than two days but I don’t want to land her in the city so you’ll have to walk the last half day.”

A gentle knock at the door made her relax slightly.  The voice that followed even more.

“Callindra?  Battle sister?  Are you awake?”  Tryst asked, his words muffled by the thick oak.

“Tryst.  I’m glad you warned me it was you.”  She said, her voice quiet and raspy, “I might have acted rashly otherwise.”

“I thought as much.”  He said, a smile in his voice.  “It’s almost like I know you or something.”

She lowered Brightfang and her body remembered its fatigue.  By using her blade and the wall for support she managed not to fall over outright.  As it was she had to stagger back to the bed and sit heavily.  “Well.  Are you coming in or not?”

Tryst entered, a slight frown creasing his brow.  “How are you feeling?”

“Like a spring breeze playing about in the daisies.”  She said, but then let herself relax and leaned back against the wall.  “Actually I’m famished.  What are the odds of a meal?”

“I’m sure I can find something.”  He said with a smile, “It is good that you are hungry, it’s a sign that you’re on the mend.  You took a nasty knock to the head.  I will see what I can get for you.”

Tryst was halfway out the door when her stomach rumbled like a thunderstorm, “I don’t know that you need to cook it first.”

He chuckled as he went out and Callindra closed her eyes, trying to get her limbs under control.  Her head wouldn’t stop throbbing and it was difficult to keep her thoughts focused.  The ship lurched hard to one side, throwing her to the floor.  Only her nearly inhuman reflexes saved her from cutting herself again, although she managed to smack her head on the floor, sending stars careening through her vision.

She got to her feet, stumbling drunkenly and wobbled to the door.  As her hand touched the latch, the sounds of combat erupted from outside.  Inhuman screeching accompanied battle cries and screams of pain, each one a lance into her temples.

Dragging herself to the door, she drew Brightfang and gritted her teeth against the pain throbbing in her head.  Kicking the door open, she ran out into the sunlight in nothing but her smallclothes.

The scene outside was chaos.  Beasts with the heads of deer and the bodies of eagles were swooping down upon the crew.  Her companions were battling them, and they were losing.  One of the monsters stooped toward her, wings folded in a delta shape.  With a snarl of defiance, Callindra whipped Brightfang in a series of flashing arcs.  A blast of air carrying the sharpened knives of frigid Nordji, the North Wind tore into the thing, shredding its wings and sending it tumbling from the sky.

A string of curses blistered the air and the ship heeled dangerously over to one side.  One of the sails was partially cut to ribbons and a large swath of the rigging hung as though sliced by a huge sword.  Oops.  Before she could react, another voice barked out orders and a dozen crossbows fired in unison.  Two more of the creatures fell from the sky, flapping weakly as their injuries kept them from maintaining altitude.

There were at least another dozen of them still in the air and a pair of them landed on the deck of the ship amidst the crossbowmen as they frantically worked the cranks on their weapons to reload.  They should, she thought idly have fired in ranks, not all together.  Her thoughts snapped back to the horrible reality of the situation when one of the monsters reached its head out and bit the nearest man’s face off with fanged teeth.

The spray of blood galvanized Callindra into action.  Ignoring the complaints of her body and the strange lurching motion of the ship underfoot, she sprinted across the deck and swung her sword with every fiber of strength she possessed.  As the creature raised its bloody muzzle from its grizzly repast, Brightfang hacked its head clean from its shoulders.  Its companion lunged forward, jaws gaping and Callindra threw her arm up in defense, an automatic and futile gesture.

The instant before it tore her arm off, a hammer the size of her head slammed into the monster’s body with the sound of breaking bones.  It fell sideways, twitching pitifully and the hammer was jerked back toward the one who had thrown it courtesy of a thin silver chain connected to its haft.  Before the monster recovered, Callindra dispatched it with a thrust of her sword.

A heavy weight slammed into her back and fire erupted down her spine.  She tried to roll with the blow, the effort sending another burst of pain through her injured back.  Her shirt fell open and her breast band, having been cut clean through fell to tangle around her legs.  To Callindra’s horror, Brightfang clattered from her hand and skittered toward the edge of the ship.

With a desperate cry, she flung herself recklessly across the deck.  Her hands reached for her blade’s hilt, missing him by a finger’s breadth and she keened in fear as he teetered on the edge of the deck.  With a desperate effort, she gripped the wood with her bare toes and lunged forward, one hand grabbing the sword by the blade just as it fell off the ship and the other gripping the rail.

The edge but deep into her right hand, but she refused to let go, even as she could feel tendons parting.  Letting go of the rail, Callindra took hold of the hilt, not paying attention to the danger as her body began to slide toward the edge.  Her right hand flopped uselessly when she tried to reach for the rail.  The ship lurched and she began to fall, only extreme luck and agility allowing her to hook her knee around one of the railing supports.

One of the monsters dove at her as she dangled from the side of the ship and she swung her blade with precise fury, severing one of the joints that kept a wing functional and sending it into a spin that carried it away from her.  Fire seemed to be burning in her knee joint and she felt dizzy from the various injuries she had sustained.  She tried to reach back, but without her right hand she couldn’t get a proper grip.

A large hand with short powerful fingers grasped her forearm just as she began to fall in earnest, pulling her back to safety.  “I told yeh, yer a bedamned fool girl.”  Callindra looked up into the eyes of the Dwarf who had saved her life.

“Yeah.  Probably.”  She said, and gratefully succumbed to unconsciousness.