“It isn’t,” Zed said. “Eover was a human, stationed in the city of Melthir on the southern border of Cyre. During a siege by the Darguun goblin armies, Eover was placed in command of a commando unit, sent outside the walls to harass and delay their attackers. During a particularly brutal part of the siege, Eover’s wife, Kresthian, was wounded by a goblin arrow. She took fever, reverting to her natural changeling form. The townspeople panicked, believing that she was a Darguuni spy. Her two sons, also changelings, died failing to protect her from the angry mob. Three days later, Eover Halloran returned. The goblin assault had been turned aside, but rather than a hero’s welcome, he returned to find that his commanding officer, Lieutenant Kieran, had condoned the murder of his wife and sons as necessary casualties of war.”
“By the Host,” Eraina whispered.
“Eover was to be detained for questioning, but he fled,” Zed went on. “Over the course of the next several days, Lieutenant Kieran and six members of his command staff, all of whom had supported the changeling deaths, were methodically murdered. Eover, also secretly a changeling, assumed the identities of the men he killed as he worked his way through the chain of command. He was ultimately captured and brought before the Cyran military court by Ashrem d’Cannith. During his trial, Eover demanded to be recognized by his true changeling name.”
“Marth,” Tristam said.
Zed nodded.
Seren looked up at Tristam. The artificer stared at Zed with a mix of confusion, surprise, and anger.
“What happened next?” Tristam asked.
“The records are incomplete,” Zed said. “By Cyran law, the changeling should have been executed, but there’s no record of it. I’m not sure if that part of the record simply wasn’t recovered from Cyre, if Shaimin just didn’t find it, or if it never happened.”
“Crimes?” Gerith asked. “What crimes? Marth’s own comrades killed his wife and children while he was saving their city. Killing those soldiers wasn’t a crime. That was justice. I feel sorry for him.”
“I’m sure we all share varying degrees of sympathy, but it does not change the truth,” Dalan said. “The fact is that Marth was a war criminal well before he began his pursuit of the Legacy. Further, my uncle clearly knew him for what he was. Why would Ashrem knowingly associate with such a person, much less give him command of one of his airships? I knew the old fool was idealistic, but embracing a murderer seems excessive.”
“Excessive?” Gerith asked. The little halfling’s face was hot. “In Marth’s place I’d have done the same thing. I’d have killed every one of them.”
“Then you’re a fool as well, Snowshale,” Dalan said. “There are avenues of revenge that do not involve wanton murder.”
“None of this has anything to do with what we’re doing here,” Tristam said sharply. Gerith and Tristam looked at Tristam in surprise. “We need to figure out what we’re doing next.”
“I confess it would grant me a degree of comfort if I knew where I was flying this ship,” Pherris agreed.
“Well, we know Marth has an unstable replica of the Legacy,” Eraina said. “It won’t be long before he uses it again.”
“But we still don’t know what he intends to do with it,” Dalan said. “While he is certainly an individual quite capable of wanton destruction, such random violence does not seem his style. He must have a greater plan.”
“Marth is working to fulfill a part of the Draconic Prophecy,” Tristam announced. “I saw the future in Zul’nadn.”
The crew all looked at Tristam in surprise. Even Gerith peered over from his course, if only momentarily.
“What are you talking about, Tristam?” Dalan asked.
“Ijaac, you remember the vision I had in the ruins?” Tristam asked.
Ijaac nodded silently.
“I saw a mortal conqueror,” Tristam said. “He tempered the Legacy in the Dragon’s Eye and used it to strike down the mortal nations in the name of peace.”
“Seems an odd way to find peace,” Ijaac said, scratching his beard thoughtfully.
“Graves are peaceful,” Aeven noted.
“I still don’t see it,” Dalan said. “Marth is a logical, methodical person. Why would he follow some vague shadow of what might be?”
“It’s the Draconic Prophecy, Dalan,” Eraina said. “It isn’t what might be. It’s what will be.”
“So say a thousand street corner prophets,” Dalan said. “I still don’t see it. You can twist any happenstance to fit a prophecy, if it is vague enough. The Draconic Prophecy is not known for clarity. Why would he embrace such nonsense?”
“Marth isn’t working alone,” Tristam said. “The dragon who guarded Zul’nadn mentioned Marth’s master, a prophet named Zamiel. Zamiel has somehow convinced Marth that this vision of the future is reality.”
“I remember the dragon saying that,” Ijaac said, smiling happily for having added to the conversation.
“Marth mentioned the name ‘Zamiel’ before we escaped Seventh Moon,” Seren said.
“Marshal Killian spoke of a Zamiel shortly before his death,” Eraina said. “He said that the prophet would ignite the war anew, and the world would be as we remembered it.”
“You are all children in the eyes of this world,” Aeven said, her cool voice carrying easily over the rushing wind. “Your Last War raged for more than a century. To a warrior such as Marth, this age of peace is a strange and alien thing. The War was all he knew. He wishes to return the world to what he believes is its natural state.”
“An intriguing observation, Aeven,” Dalan replied. “Still, I don’t know why Marth would reignite the War unless he stood to benefit.”
“Not everyone thinks the way you do, Dalan,” Zed said.
“They do,” Dalan replied. “They just don’t realize it.”
“I don’t really care,” Seren spoke up. “Does it really matter why Marth wants to start a new war? Or why this Zamiel is helping him? Or whether the Prophecy is right or wrong? All that matters is that we stop Marth before he kills anyone else.”
The crew said nothing for several moments.
“Well said, Miss Morisse,” Gerith said at last. “I think we can all agree on that. So what is our next move?”
“If we want to find Marth’s base of operations, the Harrowcrowns seem our best bet,” Eraina said.
“No,” Tristam said. “We need to go to Metrol.”
“The Mournland?” Zed asked, shocked. “Why in Khyber would we go there?”
“Tristam is determined to locate the wreckage of Albena Tors,” Dalan explained.
“I believe Ashrem used Dying Sun’s elemental core to stabilize and sustain the Legacy,” Tristam said. “We need to find that ship, or at least keep Marth from finding it. Now that Zul’nadn is gone, Dying Sun is Marth’s only hope to complete the Legacy.”
“It is too great a coincidence that Marth was already in New Cyre when we arrived,” Omax said. “Even he cannot travel so swiftly. Perhaps he is preparing to enter the Mournland as well?”
“If he does, we still have an advantage,” Tristam said. “Marth still doesn’t have an airship. We can get there first.”
“Assuming Marth doesn’t simply teleport there ahead of us,” Dalan said. “He’s proven capable of such feats.”
“Unlikely,” Tristam said. “From what I’ve read, magic is dangerously unstable in the Mournland. Metrol is said to be particularly wild zone. Teleportation is risky even under normal conditions. Blindly teleporting that far into the mists would be suicidal.”
“Then wouldn’t we be taking similar risks, flying an airship in there?” Dalan asked. “Karia Naille is powered by magic.”
“No,” Pherris answered. “Mourning Dawn’s elemental core is well-shielded. I’ll give us a safer trip than anyone else can guarantee in that twisted place.”
“Interesting,” Dalan said. “Now we’ve gone from having no options to having too many. Do we search for Marth’s base or recover Dying Sun?”
“This isn’t a choice, Dalan,” Tristam said. “It’s only a matter of time before Marth recovers the Sun himself.”