Eraina climbed over the wall behind them, finishing much more quickly than Zed. Her eyes widened as she moved to crouch beside Arthen, studying the wide courtyard below. Dozens of Cyran soldiers moved about the fortress, hauling crates of weapons and supplies into a large silver airship docked in the center of the courtyard. The three huddled behind the inner wall, carefully avoiding notice from the soldiers below.
“That explains why the guard on the walls was so light,” Shaimin observed. “Marth is getting ready to move.” The elf looked at them curiously. “What’s wrong with you both?”
“We’ve seen that ship before,” Zed said. “That’s the Seventh Moon, Marth’s flagship.”
“And that is surprising why?” Shaimin asked.
“She shouldn’t be here,” Eraina said. “We saw that ship go down over the Talenta Plains. Tristam destroyed her elemental core.”
“They’re still securing the docking ropes,” Zed observed. “She hasn’t been here for long.”
“I wouldn’t be worried about an airship returning from the dead as much as I worry about the number of troops Marth has at his disposal. We have no idea how many troops Marth holds in reserve. This fortress could support a much larger force than we see here.” Shaimin looked back at Eraina and Zed with a pained expression. “As much as it disturbs me to admit this,” Shaimin said, “I can’t help but think that the authorities might be of some use here. Perhaps we should return to Nathyrr and leave an anonymous tip?”
“No,” Zed said. “Even if Draikus came out to investigate, we can’t risk it. Too many people know about the Legacy already. If it fell into the wrong hands, especially someone like Draikus, another Vathirond wouldn’t be far behind.”
Shaimin grunted. “So what is our next move?”
“Our first move should be getting out of sight before someone looks up and sees us hiding here,” Eraina said. She pointed at a nearby sentry tower.
The trio moved along the wall, running at a crouch to draw as little attention as possible from below. Shaimin gestured for them to wait as he stalked ahead, pressing his ear against the tower door, listening for any guards inside. After several moments he opened the door and waved them in, ducking out to drag the unconscious guard inside.
“Not even posting guards in his towers,” Shaimin said as he closed the door behind them and sat on a wooden stool. “He must be gathering his troops for something major.”
“That worries me,” Eraina said, sitting across from the elf. “He was very close to completing the Legacy before. What if Tristam and the others weren’t able to stop him?”
“We can’t let ourselves think that way, Eraina,” Zed said. He leaned against the wall, peering through a narrow window into the courtyard below. “If we believe that we’ve been beaten, then we will be. We have to hold out hope that the others are still out there.”
“Faith, Arthen?” Eraina asked. “Quite a change for you.”
Zed scowled. “I have faith in Tristam,” he said.
“So what do we do?” Eraina asked. “How do we find out what Marth is planning?”
“We could try to capture and interrogate some of his soldiers,” Zed said.
“No,” Shaimin replied. “For a moment let’s ignore the unlikely assumption that whichever random guard you knock over the head will know anything of use. Remember how a late messenger threw the Kenricksons into a paranoid fit? Imagine that, but worse. If more of his troops started disappearing, Marth would tear this place apart looking for you.” Shaimin smiled thinly. “Especially since he already knows you’re in the area, Arthen. We’re already on borrowed time. We have no idea when this guard is expected to report.” He nodded at the unconscious man.
Zed grimaced. “So what do you recommend we do? We can’t just walk up to Marth and ask him what he’s planning.”
“You cannot,” the assassin said, “but perhaps I can.”
“What?” Eraina said.
“Remember that as far as Marth is aware, I am still an assassin in his employ,” Shaimin said. “My quarry is an elusive one. It would not be out of the question for me to appear, requesting more information.”
“You really think Marth would allow you to walk into his supposedly secret headquarters and not question how you found him?” Eraina asked.
“Why not?” Shaimin asked. “He hired the best. He should expect that his secrets are not safe from me.”
“This is a foolish risk,” Eraina said. “He may simply kill you.”
“A fortuitous result for you, Deneith,” Shaimin said. “For such a twist of fate will free you of an unsettling allegiance with an untrustworthy assassin-and likely leave Marth gravely wounded for the attempt. Now, do either of you have a better idea?”
Eraina and Zed looked at one another in silence.
“Very well,” the elf said, rising and smoothing dust from his black clothing. “Wish me luck. If I do not return within two hours, assume I will not return at all.”
TWELVE
Infuriating.
Simply infuriating.
Marth stalked through the halls of Fort Ash, his pale eyes seething with anger. He held his amethyst wand in one fist, as if expecting an attack at any moment. The guards melted out of his path, offering fearful salutes as he passed. Helmsman Marcho followed Marth like a shadow; he knew better than to speak when the captain was in such a dark mood. Making his way to an office deep in the heart of the fort, Marth threw open the heavy wooden door and strode inside. Within, a heavyset officer sat at low desk, conversing with a nervous man in the light, worn leathers of a scout. They both glanced up as Marth entered, rising quickly and saluting.
“Captain Marth,” the officer said with a weak smile. “We did not expect you to return so quickly. Welcome home.”
Marth glared down at the smaller man. The scout quietly backed away, happy to let the officer take the brunt of the captain’s wrath. “I have no home, Commander Sholan,” Marth snapped. “I have a fortress. A military fortress engaged in a campaign of utmost secrecy. Is that not so?”
“That is so, Captain,” Sholan said, unable to meet Marth’s gaze.
“Then why is it that your subordinates report that Zed Arthen has been sighted in the area?” Marth demanded.
“The situation should have been dealt with,” Sholan replied. “I issued orders to Nathyrr. Arthen was to be apprehended and killed.”
Marth sneered. “Was to be?” the changeling repeated. “Explain that.”
Commander Sholan glanced at the scout, then back at his captain. “Scout Arristan, tell the captain what you told me.”
“No,” Marth said. “You tell me, Commander Sholan. The security of Fort Ash was, after all, made your responsibility.”
Sholan swallowed with some difficulty and looked into his captain’s pale eyes. “After Yarold Kenrickson reported Arthen’s presence in Nathyrr, I dispatched a messenger with orders to kill Arthen, sparing effort to interrogate him only as a secondary measure. The messenger never returned, so I sent Scout Arristan to investigate.”
“And?” Marth prompted.
“Everyone in the mortuary was dead,” Sholan said gravely. “Of Arthen himself there was no trace. He has apparently vanished from the city.”
Marth’s eyes widened. Such wholesale slaughter seemed out of character for Zed Arthen, but it certainly wasn’t beyond the man’s ability.
“Sholan, do you realize what you have done?” Marth asked.
“Let me make amends, Captain,” Sholan said plaintively. “I can dispatch more troops to Nathyrr. They will find Arthen, interrogate him, kill him.”
“You are too late,” Marth replied. “Khyber, the man is a former paladin and an inquisitive! Who did you think you were dealing with? By now he likely knows exactly where Fort Ash is and has forwarded the information to our enemies in House Cannith. You should have directed all of your resources toward his death the moment you knew he was in the area. The entire security of this facility has been compromised, due to your incompetence. After I return from Sharn we’ll have to strip this base entirely.”