“It’s gone,” he said. “We can presumably fly our ships back through the channel and reach the sandy shore, but what then? Without our subtle matter or a way to produce more, theTammerland and theEphyra must be left behind. With no way to build cradles for them, they will be forced to sit atop the waves and later suffer the same fate as theIntrepidus. ”
“And if theIntrepidus perished because of the water, we dare not salvage anything from her, because it might only make matters worse,” Tyranny said.
Wigg shook his head. “I disagree,” he countered.
“Why?” Tristan asked.
“Probably the only damaged parts of her were those that touched the water,” Wigg answered. “As one looks at the ship from the waterline up, she seems sound.”
Before Tyranny could protest, the wizard quickly raised a hand, stopping her.
“But do not assume for a moment that we might dare to start dismantling her and taking her lumber back to our ships,” he added. “I’m fully aware that such drastic measures would require much fore-thought.”
Tristan was about to reply when a Minion officer came forward to salute him. “Pardon, Jin’Sai, ” he said, “but there is something you need to see.”
“What is it?” Tristan asked.
“Human remains,” the warrior answered solemnly. “And some that don’t look as human as the others. We also found unfamiliar weapons and other war materiel.”
“Show us,” Tristan ordered.
As the officer led the way back across the rocky ledge and toward the theIntrepidus, Tristan soon realized that the Minions must have flown up along her damaged hull and entered through one of the many smashed windows to gain entrance to the ship’s interior. He resolved to do the same.
“I want three of you to fly us up the side and help us enter through the windows,” he said. “Then you can lead us toward what you’ve found.”
The warrior saluted and beckoned two others near. They soon had Wigg, Tyranny, and Tristan in their arms and were soaring up the black sides of the great ship.
Tristan found that viewing the ship from this perspective was an eerie sensation. He also guessed that trying to navigate their way through the stricken ship would be even more disorienting, for they would have to walk along the inside of the port hull as they searched her. Finally reaching the first row of windows, the warriors helped the three explorers inside. They let Wigg, Tristan, and Tyranny go and watched them slide down the interior wall until they reached the deck below.
Tristan was the first to go. Narrowly missing some overturned crates along the way, he skidded down the wall feet first and landed with a thud against the joint where the wall met the deck. He came to his feet to find that he was standing directly in the floor joint, and staying upright was difficult. He then saw Tyranny and Wigg come skidding into the room in the same fashion. Finally the Minion search party followed. As Tyranny and Wigg collected themselves and the warriors formed ranks, Tristan looked around. Because of the brightly lit radiance stones shining down from the cavern ceiling, the interior of the ship had ample light.
The room they had entered was huge, and its odd angle gave one the sensation of being drunk. Because theIntrepidus lay on her port side at about a forty-five-degree pitch, everything was cockeyed. Tristan realized that one could attempt to scale the sloping walls to reach the windows, but after reaching only so far, he or she would invariably slide back down again to land in the joint where the ship’s sides met the deck. Nearly all the objects in the room had tumbled toward the joint to create a long line of debris that was piled high in many places.
It seemed that they had entered the ship’s armory. Tristan easily recognized the uses for the war weapons he saw scattered about, but their designs were unfamiliar to him. Covered in dust and dumped along the length of the floor joint lay examples of the most beautiful and exotic craftsmanship he had ever seen. Some of the longer weapons like lances and spears still lay in their holding racks lining the ship’s sides.
Then he saw some of the skeletons that the Minion officer had spoken of. They lay about in strange poses as if they had been tossed there by the fates, their joints often broken and lying at unnatural angles. To a man they wore magnificent gold breastplates and matching greaves and gauntlets. Iron spears, metal shields, and odd- looking gold helmets with cheek guards could be seen lying about. Strangely, the dust-laden images on the shields appeared to be eagles with outstretched wings. The skeletons’ leather battle sandals and warriors’ skirts had long ago fallen to dust, leaving little behind but faint imprints to tell Tristan what they had once been.
As everyone started exploring, Tristan walked a few paces forward while trying to keep his balance. The task was not an easy one. Spying a sheathed sword still in the grasp of a skeletal hand, he reached down to pick it up. As he did, the hand bones fell apart and the leather tooled scabbard turned to dust, leaving behind only the metal weapon it had once protected. Wiping the dust from the sword, Tristan held it to the light of the windows and regarded it with an expert eye.
The sword was beautiful and marvelously crafted. It was shorter than his dreggan, leading Tristan to believe that it was made more for stabbing than for swinging. It seemed to be forged of soft iron that had been strengthened with coal powder, a swordsmith’s technique that was also common in Eutracia. But this was no Eutracian sword.
The two-sided blade still remained exceptionally sharp and had a V-shaped tip. Rather than a blood groove running down the blade’s length, as on a dreggan, each edge of the blade sloped gently upward to form a ridge running down the center, which would cause blood and offal to slough off during battle. The rectangular hilt resting just above the silvery blade was made of solid onyx. The handle was a cylinder of solid ivory with carved finger grooves that perfectly fit Tristan’s grip. At the end of the handle was a round ball of shiny onyx that prevented the sword from slipping from the bearer’s grip.
Lifting the sword higher, Tristan spun it several times through the air. It produced a distinctive hum not unlike that of his dreggan, and because of its shorter length it whirled faster. The sword was impressive, perfectly balanced and no doubt very costly to produce. To whom this sword had once belonged he could not know, but one thing was certain. From the looks of their weapons and armor these dead soldiers had once been a force reckon to with, perhaps easily rivaling the expertise and savagery of his Minions.
As he lowered the sword, Tristan noticed an inscription on the blade. It read:
CARNIFEX MARCUS
LEGIONUS XXIII
The inscription had no meaning for him. Looking across the tilted room, he saw Wigg examining one of the many dusty skeletons.
“Wigg!” Tristan called out. “Please come here!”
Wigg looked up and carefully wended his way over to where Tristan stood. As the wizard neared, Tristan held the sword up.
“What do you make of this?” he asked.
Wigg shrugged. “They’re everywhere,” he answered. “They’re finely crafted, but that one doesn’t look different from the others.” It seemed clear that Wigg found the skeleton he had been examining far more interesting than the sword and that he wanted to return to it. “Is this the only reason you called me over?” he asked.
“This one has writing on the blade,” Tristan answered. “Can you tell me what it says?”
His interest piqued, the First Wizard took the sword into his hands and held it up to the light.
“Carnifex Marcus, Legionus Twenty-three,” he muttered thoughtfully. After thinking for a few moments he handed the sword back to Tristan.
“The root of the wordcarnifex likely signifies ‘murderer’ or ‘scoundrel,’” he said. “And the wordlegionus clearly means ‘legion,’ or some other variant of a word describing a sizable military force. ‘Marcus’ would be a man’s name. These markings doubtless identify the sword’s owner-one Marcus, the great murderer of the Twenty-third Legion, or words to that effect. I suspect that if we took the time to inspect all of these dusty old swords, we’d find that each one bears a similar inscription. Where did you find it?”
Tristan pointed to the skeleton from which he had taken the sword. Wigg walked to it, then beckoned Tristan to come nearer. Noticing what was going on, Tyranny wended her way through the debris to join them.
Tristan and Tyranny grimaced as Wigg calmly bent down, grasped the skeleton’s head, and gave it a sudden,
