But before they could begin their retreat a shiver passed through the stones surrounding the island and the ground seemed to sway beneath their feet.
With a noise like a great door slamming the curtain of magical energy fell. Belck raised his staff and cried out a word that no human mouth could ever have formulated as the standing stones began to explode, one by one.
As burning fragments of rock showered them, the crew turned and ran for the shelter of the tunnel, Silus shielding Katya's body with his own, crying out in agony as shrapnel scored his shoulders. He saw Kelos turn and start to gesture with his hands as he attempted to weave the beginnings of a defensive spell. But when the Chadassa started to swarm across the island towards them, he too turned and fled.
Dunsany and Father Maylan were the last to the tunnel and, turning, they saw that the Chadassa were closing the distance to them fast.
'Kelos, is there anything that you can do?' Dunsany shouted, above the roar of the advancing creatures.
'Get clear of the entrance.' Kelos said, his hands on the rock walls, his fingers seeming to sink into the stone. ' Go! '
Dunsany joined the rest of the crew as they fled and, as the darkness of the tunnel swallowed them, a great wave of force slammed them to the floor as the roof of the cave collapsed. They covered their heads as a hot wind rolled over them and the sound of falling rock filled the tunnel.
And then the thunder of stones stopped and there was just the creak and groan of rock settling into new configurations.
For a moment they lay in absolute darkness, listening to each other's breathing. Silus reached out and found Katya's hand, a sigh of relief escaping his lips when she returned his grasp. Behind him he could hear Jacquinto and his friends swearing as they checked themselves for injuries. Emuel was sobbing to himself and muttering prayers.
'Kelos?' Dunsany called.
And they all listened, hoping for the sound of footsteps that would tell them that the mage was safe, but Dunsany's voice echoed away into emptiness.
'Kelos?' Dunsany called again, the threat of tears now in his voice.
From out of the darkness a light bobbed towards them and Silus was reminded of the corpse lamps that haunted the swamps on the borders of Nurn, for the face that the unreal glow illuminated certainly seemed to be that of a ghast or revenant. The lined features that drifted down the tunnel were a spectral white and a groan escaped from the cracked lips of the unholy vision. An icy chill touched Silus as the ghastly creature drew near.
'Dunsany?' It said, and a pale hand reached out towards him. 'Water.'
Dunsany handed the pallid vision his flask and, as it poured the water over its features, the rock dust was washed away and Kelos stood before them, shaking.
Dunsany embraced him with a fierce hug.
Kelos smiled weakly and sipped from the flask. 'The tunnel entrance has been sealed. I'm afraid that leaves us with only one means of escape.'
'The Llothriall?' Dunsany said.
Kelos nodded and the crew began to prepare themselves for the voyage.
The Final Faith ship was skirting Sarcre when a thunderous boom echoed through the channels of the archipelago. Brother Philip noted that the dome of magical energy that he had observed covering one of the smaller islands had come down. He passed the telescope to Inquisitor Mandrias and signalled for the First Mate.
'Can you ask the Captain whether he can take us closer to the island with the volcano?'
'I'll relay your instructions at once Father, though some of the channels here may be too narrow for the ship.'
'I'm sure that men of your calibre will be able handle it.' Brother Philip said before turning to the short, dark haired man at his side. 'You think that the disturbances point to the source of our fugitives?'
'I wouldn't be surprised.' Inquisitor Mandrias said. 'Fitch's investigations suggested that it was towards Sarcre that Kelos was last seen heading.'
The ship groaned as it leaned hard to starboard. As it cleared a jagged bluff the island came fully into view and Mandrias leaned into the side of the vessel as he strained forward with the telescope.
Even without the aid of the glass, Brother Philip could see a multitude of dark shapes swarming across the island and he thought he knew what they were. He had seen such creatures before, observed them tearing into a band of thieves at the Turnitia docks. It had been Brother Philip who had helped to secure one of those same creatures for the Faith's dungeons at Scholten.
'Chadassa?' he said.
'Yes,' Inquistor Mandrias breathed. 'A lot of them. But why on earth would they be going after Kelos and Dunsany?'
'It seems that they have made more enemies than just the Faith.'
There was another explosion and the side of the volcano spat out a cascade of rocks.
Inquisitor Mandrias passed the telescope back to Brother Philip. 'It looks like the Chadassa have them trapped. Should we call in the attack ships? We can pick off the creatures and then go after the fugitives. The Llothriall must be somewhere nearby. We could have this all wrapped up by evensong.'
As Brother Philip considered his options there was the sound of claws on wood as something clambered up the side of the ship. Above him the rigging creaked and he saw a dark shape leap from one rope to the next. He turned as a shipmate screamed, his cry cut off by a wet gurgle as dark claws punched through his torso. The mariner's body fell as the creature behind him rose to its full height. An overpowering smell of rotting fish and sulphur washed across the ship as more Chadassa stepped onto deck, their clawed feet gouging rough channels into the wood.
Neither Brother Philip nor Inquisitor Mandrias had time to go for their swords before the creatures were upon them.
Chapter Eight
Emuel closed his eyes and opened his mouth. His lungs filled with air and then his throat contracted as he hit the note. He held the delicate pitch for almost a full minute, during which time the gem shuddered, threads of magical energy pouring from its many facets and through the channels of power woven through the Llothriall. At the height of the note Emuel took a short breath before segueing into the cascade of lyrical resonances that formed the first verse of the ancient elf song.
The ship shuddered in response, like a lover in the first throws of an orgasm or as one touched by the voice of the Lord of All, as Emuel had been when he first heard the call in a tiny chapel in the foothills of the Drakengrat mountains.
Even though the song he sung was that of an ancient heathen race, Emuel couldn't but help be moved by its ethereal beauty, and it was this that he offered up to his Lord; hoping that He too would see to the heart of the music and the sincerity of Emuel's soul.
Two decks above, Dunsany rejoiced in the feeling of the wheel in his hands. Too long a time had passed since he had been in control of a ship. You never forget your sea-legs, that's what he'd learned as an apprentice sailor and as the boat began to roll gently beneath him, he instinctively adjusted himself to its pitch.
Above him, the smugglers — Jacquinto and his comrades — moved through the rigging. They had taken to the ropes immediately, moving between the masts with the surety and grace of those well used to a life at sea. The sails billowed around them, the shimmering cloth moving with a supernatural silence as it caught and played the winds. As they left the shelter of the lagoon and entered the fierce seas, Dunsany worried that the smugglers would be hurled from their nests, but the Llothriall was calm and graceful, effortlessly cutting through the churning waves.
Silus paced the main deck, appalled at the apparent lack of concern from the rest of the crew in response to their hurried flight. He threw a worried look back at the island, urging the ship onwards, as, with a surreal calm, the Llothriall entered waters that hadn't seen a manned vessel for thousands of years.
