trimmed the sails as much as he could, trying to catch as much air as possible.
It was a near thing, but the flier managed a safe landing just outside the north gate of Elenth. The pilot leapt out of the flier, carrying a wooden box. He was met by a lieutenant at the gate, who took the box from him and lashed it to his saddle, then mounted and raced into the city, knocking down a frightened fruit seller as he passed.
The lieutenant whipped around a corner and rode directly up the outside stairs to the rooftop garden of a townhouse in the middle of the city. When he reached the top, his comrades were still setting up the catapult.
'What's wrong with you?' shouted the lieutenant. 'This should have been set up last night!'
'It only just arrived,' grumbled the sergeant in charge of the assembly. 'We've been having trouble with the supply lanes. Saboteurs everywhere.'
'What saboteurs?' said the lieutenant, dismounting and untying the box.
'Arcadians, if you can believe it,' said the sergeant, pulling hard on a rope threaded through the catapult. 'Damndest thing,' he said. 'Suddenly seem to be everywhere.'
'Well, that doesn't matter. Once we've annihilated the Seelie, there'll be plenty of time to deal with them.'
The lieutenant placed the box carefully on the ground and unlatched it. Inside were two dark objects, not much bigger than oranges. They were rough globules, and they pulsed to the touch.
'That's it, then?' said the sergeant, breathing heavily, afraid to touch them.
'That's the Einswrath,' said the lieutenant. 'You may fire when ready.'
The sergeant gingerly reached out and picked one up. It was heavy.
'Hurry!' he shouted to his men.
'This should be quite a show,' said the lieutenant.
We await and fear your release.
-Chthonic prayer
ilverdun led the way along the road. To either side there was only the unsettling emptiness. Before them was the great black castle, imposing and-frankly-terrifying. Silverdun kept his eyes on the road.
Ironfoot caught up to him and they walked in step, with Sela and Faella just behind. Silverdun looked down at Ironfoot's boots; they kicked up small clouds of dust from the road.
'Why do they call you Ironfoot, anyway?' Silverdun asked.
Ironfoot looked at him. 'When I was a boy I used to trip a lot.'
'Ah,' said Silverdun. 'I was hoping it was something more menacing than that.'
'I take it back then,' said Ironfoot. 'I once kicked a man in the head so hard that he forgot his name.'
'Much better.'
'Does anyone feel something strange?' asked Sela.
Silverdun looked back at her. 'That implies that there's some part of this that isn't strange.'
'I've got the oddest sensation,' said Sela. 'As though I'm being pushed backward, but I can't feel a wind.'
Now that she said it, Silverdun could feel it as well. It was slight, but noticeable. As though a light breeze he couldn't feel was blowing into his face. Or perhaps more like the heat from a distant fire radiating toward him. But it was not fire or air that was pushing against them. It was their own re.
'The queen's alabaster ass,' said Silverdun. 'Do you know what I think?'
'What?' said Faella.
'I think that castle is made of iron.'
'What?' said Ironfoot. 'That's impossible.'
'I've had a few run-ins with iron, friend. Trust me. That's what you're feeling.'
By the time they reached the bottom of the stair, the sensation of being pushed backward was unmistakable. It was becoming difficult to walk. And as if that weren't enough, the steps themselves presented a problem. They were each waist high, and there were easily a hundred of them.
'Stairs for giants, said Silverdun.
