The Crucible of the Dragon God

'Dance!' she shouted into the Flagon's chimneypot. 'Dance, or die!'

There was a few second's silence and then a puzzled and weak reply came back

'Wotta you say? Who issa speaking, please?'

Kali couldn't believe it. 'Dolorosa, it's me.'

'Who issa me?'

'Kali!'

'Kali? Why arra you uppa the chimaney?'

'I'm not uppa the chimaney, woman! Dammit, Dolorosa, just listen…'

Kali explained what was happening — what she thought was happening, at least — and how it was imperative not only that the regulars stay inside the tavern but also that the Hells' Bellies keep on dancing. She explained also that she wouldn't be joining them for her memorial evening or any evening in the foreseeable future. As she did she tried as best she could to hide the excitement in her voice. For her one glimpse of the k'nid had sparked in her a familiar and — considering the alternative — quite welcome feeling: the thrill of the hunt. No, these things weren't natural and to her that shouted Old Races from the veritable treetops. So, she was off on her travels again, and she knew already what her first port of call was going to be, a certain market town and a certain half-ogur who just might have some theories as to what they dealing with.

All she had to do was get there. But was Horse up to it? After all, he'd had better days.

She should have known better than to even question the fact as, at that moment, as if sensing her impending departure, Horse's growl was clearly audible from his stable. Then the door buckled slightly on its hinges as he gave it a gentle nudge with his snout.

Kali worked her way back down the rooftops until she was above his stable and then, keeping her eye on the k'nid, stretched down to unbolt the door.

As Horse trotted slowly out, his armour flaring slightly at the creatures, Kali reversed the manoeuvre that had got her on the rooftops in the first place, flipping herself down onto Horse's back. Then she eased Horse out of the courtyard, keeping him at a walk as they passed through the ranks of k'nid, which growled softly as they passed. Horse, in turn, growled at them and Kali could feel every inch of his body tense, ready to activate his armour fully at the merest sign of movement from the predators. The vibrations from the Flagons, however, still seemed to be rendering them passive. Passing without harm into the open countryside beyond, Kali spurred Horse first into a trot and then the beginnings of a gallop. There were likely more k'nid out here, she thought, and away from the Flagons their behaviour might be a different story, so she suspected it was going to be an interesting journey to Gargas.

As she and Horse traversed the first couple of leagues she turned back in the direction of the Flagons and the peninsula beyond, thinking of where she would be if she hadn't become trapped in Munch's mine. Because the thought of meeting Merrit Moon had made her think of another meeting she should have had, a certain rendezvous in Malmkrug.

Killiam Slowhand was out there, somewhere in the overrun west, searching for his sister, and wherever he was she hoped he was all right, and that he'd had the sense to keep his head — and the rest of him — down.

Chapter Four

Despite the glowering and threatening presence of Querilous Fitch lurking behind him, Killiam Slowhand could not take his eyes of what was in front of him. He leaned forward against the rails of the airship, like the excited child he had been on the deck of a far different kind of ship, a lifetime ago. Then, the Merry B had entered the bustling harbour of Freiport after his father had been posted from Allantia to the mainland, and to leave that island with the promise of a new life full of adventure on the much larger peninsula — even if then he'd had no idea just how much — had filled him with awe and a sense of wonder that he could barely contain. That wonder had returned now and Slowhand gazed upward, his mouth open, unable to believe what he saw.

The parallel with Freiport was more than the sense of wonder, however, because the sights he saw here were in many ways similar to those of that long distant shipping port. Moving slowly into a vast, and only partly natural cavern, hundreds of feet inside solid rock, the airship on which he was being carried aloft was entering its own harbour.

'Amazing, isn't it?' Jenna said, joining him at the rail.

She spent a few seconds leaning in silence by his side, watching as the airship passed gantries and loading cranes and other such devices that projected from rock walls and then, staring ahead, towards a strange cradle- looking dock towards which the airship was heading. 'Before we came, no ship had docked here in thousands upon thousands of years. No one even knew it was here.'

Hardly surprising, Slowhand thought. Human ignorance of such places was common — how many people had heard of Martak, for one? — but he had to admit there was something different about the place they were entering now. Its location, its position, its isolation suggested to him that it hadn't merely become lost like its contemporaries but had always been designed to be lost. In other words, hidden away from the world, even when that world was capable of constructing such a wonder. But, if that was the case, whatever clandestine purpose it had served was long past. Apart from one isolated area that he could see above him, the harbour was neglected, derelict, ill-maintained. Rusted and warped metal beams framed and criss-crossed the cavern like malformed ribs, twisted and time warped gears lay idle in unused machines, and crates sitting in loading bays rotted away along with their contents. Most telling of all, however, was that there were three more airships like this one — or, at least, once upon a time, there had been — and Slowhand simultaneously frowned and gaped as he stared up at the bedraggled remains of what had once been equally wondrous machines. Their canopies were rotted away now and hanging in strips from metal skeletons which would never take to the skies again. Identifying symbols that hung half obscured upon the rotted cloth left the archer in no doubt as to what he was looking at.

This was the remains of an elven skyfleet.

'You were thinking of Freiport, weren't you?' Jenna said. 'The day we arrived?'

Slowhand stared at her, his surroundings momentarily forgotten. 'You remember?'

'Of course I remember, Killiam. The Faith would have gained nothing destroying that part of me they valued in the first place.'

'Your strategic skills?' Slowhand remembered the position she had held with the Freiport military. 'They — or was it just Fitch — destroyed something, though, eh? Your free will? Your choice to leave?'

Jenna stared at him, strangely hesitant for the first time since their reunion. 'Perhaps there were other reasons…'

'What?' Slowhand said, grabbing her arm and, as he did, part of her robe fell away to reveal a red choker around her neck inscribed with Final Faith runics. It was a wedding band.

'Outside, your man called you Captain Freel,' Slowhand said. 'Captain Freel. My Gods, you married one of them didn't you?'

Jenna pulled her arm away, straightened her robe. 'Sorry you weren't invited to the wedding, brother. The ceremony was in Scholten Cathedral. The Anointed Lord herself officiated.'

'And how voluntary was that, Jenna? Who is he, your husband? Is he here?'

'Lord of All, you never change, do you? No, Killiam, he isn't here. He's on special assignment, just like me.'

Just like you, Slowhand thought. And just like Konstantin Munch had been before the shit had hit the fan. 'Do you ever think,' he said, 'that the Final Faith has its fingers in too many pies?'

Again, Jenna hesitated. 'They… I…'

'What?' Slowhand demanded. But before Jenna could elaborate, the airship jarred suddenly and he realised that it had just entered the cradle they had been heading towards and that the cradle was, in fact, an elevator. Clamping them into position it then began to rise. Jenna pulled her arm away, suddenly all business once more.