she bound? Would she continue along the mist, heading somewhere in Darguun? Or soar over the Mournland to reach Valenar, perhaps? One of those possibilities, certainly, because otherwise…
Otherwise she was coming for him.
He scrambled to his feet and raced down the hill, no other thought in his mind than finding cover to get out of sight. What a splendid view the airship’s decks must offer, indeed! The whole landscape spread out below-one might even be able to make out a person on the ground! Especially if the crew had sighted him while he was still in the Mournland, where he would stand out from the barren ground like an ogre at a society gala.
Unfortunately, the land offered little in the way of cover. Crawling or crouching his way through tall grasses or crops might have helped him elude a pursuer on the ground, but it would do little to conceal him from the view of watchers on the airship. What shrubs there were held little more promise: they were scattered widely, so while he might be able to hide under one, he couldn’t move from there. So if they had already spotted him, hiding would just give them more time to reach him.
He jumped back down to the streambank and stopped, surveying the land again. The stream tumbled through a narrow, rocky ravine on its way down from the mountains. It probably passed very near Vathirond by the time it joined up with the Brey River and poured into Scions Sound. The ravine didn’t offer much in the way of cover, but it might be better than nothing. Gaven looked up to the sky.
The airship was much closer, and she flew considerably lower. That probably meant her crew had spotted him. He crouched back against the side of the ravine, trying to get out of sight. But he couldn’t find a position that blocked his own view of the airship. He cursed and clambered back up to the grassy bank.
“What am I doing?” he wondered aloud. “I have walked the Sky Caves of Thieren Kor. I sent Vaskar flying away with his tail between his legs. I will not hide any longer.”
He stood and waited as the airship drew closer.
“Fifty crowns!” Ossa slapped her hand on the bulwarks. “I told you we’d find him here!”
“And I told you I’m not a betting man,” Bordan retorted, peering through a spyglass. “But I have to admit that you were correct. It certainly seems that we’ve found our man.” He watched as Gaven tore down the hillside and crouched in a ravine. “He’s seen us. And he thinks to hide.”
“Where can he hide out here? Nothing but open field as far as the eye can see.”
“He appears to have reached the same conclusion.” Gaven had climbed out of the ravine and stood on the streambank, head high, watching the airship approach.
“Ha! We’ve got him!”
Ossa was a little too pleased with her victory, in Bordan’s opinion. Certainly it was reasonable to be concerned about the honor of House Kundarak after the dwarves allowed Gaven’s escape from Dreadhold. But part of the reason for Ossa’s crowing seemed to involve the fact that she had been right and Bordan-an heir of House Tharashk who bore the Mark of Finding-had been wrong. With every exclamation of triumph, Bordan heard an undertone of condemnation, as if the dwarf said, “If we’d taken the course you suggested, we’d still be chasing the dragon’s tail.” He had very quickly grown tired of Ossa’s voice.
“We don’t have him yet,” Bordan said, a little too sharply. “Remember what happened to the Sentinel Marshals.”
“What did happen to the Sentinel Marshals? I heard some sketchy reports, but I’m not clear on the details.”
“No one is. I think House Orien and House Deneith are trying to keep it quiet. I can hardly hold it against them. If they blame the storm, House Orien loses business-people won’t want to ride the lightning rail in a lightning storm. If they blame Gaven, House Deneith looks bad for letting such a dangerous fugitive escape again, and we all come under tremendous pressure to recapture him. The whole reason we’re in on this chase is that House Kundarak”-your House, he added in his mind-“wanted to keep the facts of his escape quiet as long as possible.”
“So it’s true,” Ossa breathed. “Just like when I chased him in Vathirond. Gaven caused the storm? Or he brought it down to the lightning rail?”
“So it appears. Evlan was definitely killed by lightning, and there was significant evidence of wind blowing through the cart. But just the one cart. It seems that Gaven was the center of the storm-and I don’t mean the calm eye of the hurricane.”
“These storm clouds, then…” Ossa gestured at the sky.
“Churning chaos!” Bordan swore. “The sky was clear when we spotted him!” He and Ossa gaped at each other for a moment, then Bordan whirled around and shouted to the pilot, “Take us down! Now!”
A roar of thunder overhead drowned out his last word but made his point just as effectively. Lightning danced around the prow of the airship as a gust of wind set her rocking wildly in the air. Bordan had to clutch the bulwarks to keep his feet as the pilot steered her in a sharp descent. The ground rushed up beneath them, and as they turned in their descent, Bordan lost sight of Gaven.
Instead of looking overboard, which made his stomach lurch, Bordan found comfort in watching the pilot. All around him, the crew retied broken ropes and retrieved spilled cargo, a whirlwind of activity. But the pilot was a still point in the chaos. His hands were white as they gripped the wheel, but no trace of panic was visible in his eyes. He exuded confidence and competence, which helped Bordan keep the terror from welling up in his own chest.
Thunder rolled and lightning crackled, and the pilot seemed locked in a war with the wind over control of the ship. Her timbers creaked, the ring of fire leaped wildly around her, something in the prow snapped loudly, but the pilot managed to keep her under control and bring her to the ground. A bump rocked the ship as some part of her keel touched the earth, then an ear-splitting crack as that something broke. The fiery ring disappeared as though the ship had sucked it in, and Bordan had to pull his hand off the bulwarks as it flared hot. The ship groaned loudly as she settled, then everything fell silent. Bordan watched a smile start to form at the corners of the pilot’s mouth.
A great shout went up from the crew, celebrating a safe landing. Their roar was answered by a rumble of thunder, then a series of deafening cracks as lightning struck the earth around them. Bordan’s eyes went wide as gouts of flame reached out from the ship toward each lightning strike, as if trying to join the heat of the lightning, before disappearing back into the wood. Bordan put a hesitant hand back on the bulwarks, found it perfectly cool and wet with rain, then jumped up to stand on it and look for Gaven.
A blast of wind dashed him from the bulwarks and clear of the grounded airship, landing him flat on his back in a field of rain-drenched grass. For a moment he could only lie there, staring up at the angry sky, straining to breathe and then to sit up. He raised his head, finally, just in time to see two bolts of lightning strike the airship. Flames leaped up on the deck in the lightning’s wake, and an instant later the entire ship erupted in an inferno. Bordan threw his arm across his face to shield it from the fire’s heat, and he rolled farther away from the ship.
Sailors jumped off the ship, some of them trailing flames or smoke as they came. Ignoring them, Bordan leaped to his feet and ran to the prow of the ship. As he neared it, the source of the attack finally came into view: Gaven hovered in the air, riding a column of swirling wind that blew dirt, leaves, and smoke in a cyclone around and beneath him. The fugitive’s long hair whipped around his face, and the dragonmark on his bare chest and neck crackled with lightning.
CHAPTER 32
Gaven was the storm-raw, destructive fury. Some part of him regretted wrecking the airship, damaging a thing of such beauty. Somewhere in his mind a voice cried out for the safety of the people on board. But that voice was drowned in thunder and roaring wind.
Lightning struck the downed airship, sparking new fires on the deck, splintering timbers and sending sailors hurtling overboard. He felt a knot of anger in his gut, rage that lashed out in great gusts and rumbling thunder to smash and burn and destroy. Fury that silenced every voice of reason and compassion in his heart.
Something caught his eye, movement at the edge of his vision, and he turned his head to see a man on the ground, running toward him. He held a sword in each hand, as though he thought he could cut through the cyclone that held Gaven aloft. Lightning followed Gaven’s glance, splitting the ground just behind the man, who tumbled into
