“So how will we find the Seventh Moon?” Zed asked. “I know Aeven can guide us when we get close, but Sharn’s a big place.”
The sound of a heavy foot upon the bay ladder was followed by a second. Tristam looked up as Omax heaved himself onto the deck. The immense warforged stared out at the city, blue eyes gleaming. His metallic shoulders were tense; his clawed hands were balled into tight fists. Omax did not seem to take notice of anyone on the deck, quietly watching and waiting for something.
“Omax?” Tristam asked.
“That way,” the warforged said, pointing.
“How are you sure?” Tristam asked, staring at Omax uncertainly.”
The warforged shifted uncomfortably and looked at the others. “Tristam, I must discuss something with you privately,” he said.
“What’s wrong, Omax?” Tristam asked, closing the hatch of his cabin. The warforged awkwardly moved the life ring that was taking up much of one side of the small chamber. Tristam had kept the device following their escape from the Seventh Moon, restoring its enchantment on impulse in case it was ever needed.
The warforged folded his arms and leaned against the side of Tristam’s narrow bookcase. His gleaming eyes stared at the floor, unfocused. “I feel different, Tristam,” he said, hesitating as if he could not find the proper words. “Since the battle over Fort Ash I am … changed.”
“Changed?” Tristam asked.
“Do you remember when Marth activated the Legacy?” Omax asked.
“I remember you collapsed to trick him into thinking he had killed you,” Tristam said.
“That was no trick, Tristam,” Omax said. “Do you remember what I told you after you repaired me? Of what I sensed within the Dragon’s Eye?”
“You said you sensed something ancient and boundless,” Tristam replied.
Omax nodded. “When the Legacy’s energies washed over me, I felt it again. But more clearly this time. A power unlike any I have ever experienced. I felt a connection to some primal realm of pure magic, infused with the very fires of creation.”
“I suspected the Dragon’s Eye was some sort of gateway an alternate plane,” Tristam said. “Maybe that plane is nothing but energy. Whatever lies there is more potent than any magic we possess in Eberron. That’s why it overrules dimensional gateways and destroys all enchantments.”
“But I sensed that destruction is not its true purpose,” Omax said.
“Well, no,” Tristam said. “That’s something I’ve thought about a great deal. If my vision in Zul’nadn holds any truth at all, whatever entity first created the Eye used it defensively-to preserve Eberron. It wasn’t until the dragons created the Legacy that it was used as a weapon. The fact that it saved your life proves that its power can do a great deal more than destroy.”
“There is more,” Omax said.
“Go on, Omax,” Tristam replied.
“I sensed a vast and primitive intelligence,” he said. “Only for an instant, but that was long enough to overcome my senses. The energy that fuels the Legacy is indeed a living being, like the elementals that power our airships.”
Tristam was silent for a long time, pondering what Omax had said. “That must be why the containment cores serve as such effective anchors in our world,” he said. “Did you sense anything else, Omax? Does it have a name?”
“Why would it need a name?” Omax asked. “It has never known anything other than itself.”
“Stupid question, sorry,” Tristam said. “Were you able to communicate with it?”
“I was able to hear it,” Omax said, “Its power is unimaginable, but it seemed almost …” He struggled to find the correct word. “Innocent? The existence of our world fills it with curiosity. It wishes to know more.”
“Did you say anything to it?” Tristam asked.
Omax shrugged. “I wouldn’t even know how to begin communicating with such an entity. Everything was emotion and color. It touched my mind but, seeing I was not the one it sought, moved on.”
“Moved on?” Tristam asked.
“I received the impression that each time the Legacy is used, a part of this infinite being escapes into our world,” Omax said. “I do not know what happens after it arrives here, but it wished nothing to do with me. I find that since that day I am strangely depressed.”
“How so?” Tristam asked.
“For a brief instant I was one with the infinite, but it decided it wished nothing to do with me,” Omax said. “For one who has spent so much of his life seeking meaning, I find that I now feel terribly inadequate.”
“Probably a side effect of the magic,” Tristam said. “I have no idea what sort of long-term effects the Legacy’s energy will have on you, Omax. I wouldn’t worry about this.” Tristam smiled sheepishly, hoping that the words comforted his friend somewhat.
“If you say so, Tristam,” Omax said. “On a more positive note, exposure to the Legacy has strengthened my connection to Ashrem’s airships. Much as the Karia Naille can sense her sisters, I can now sense them as well. Strangely, my ability seems a great deal sharper. I sensed Karia Naille soaring to our rescue in the Harrowcrowns long before we ever saw her. I sense Kenshi Zhann now. She speeds toward Sharn barely a mile away from us.”
Tristam’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t expect her to be so close,” he said.
“Kenshi Zhann’s new elemental has had difficulty adjusting to its ship,” Omax said. “Her speed is greatly reduced from what we know.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Tristam said. He leaned toward the cabin porthole, staring out into the sky. “If the Seventh Moon is so close, we should be able to see her elemental ring. I don’t see anything.”
“Look higher,” Omax said.
Tristam crane his neck, looking through the porthole at an angle.
High above the Mourning Dawn, the sparkling golden lights of the Ring of Siberys gleamed in the night sky.
And there, so high in the sky that it almost appeared to be a star, a red ring of flame traced its course toward Sharn.
“Captain Gerriman, take us higher!” Tristam shouted, bursting out of his cabin and running toward the deck. “All hands, prepare for battle!”
Seren appeared beside him as he ran through the corridor. She smiled at him, and he found it a little harder to be afraid. He squeezed her hand gently and hurried onward to the deck. The others were swiftly gathering there. Gerith was tightening the harness on his glidewing. Eraina distributed flasks of alchemist fire to the others. Pherris’s gaze was locked on the red ring high above them as Karia Naille began to climb. A cold wind cut across the deck as the airship ascended.
“Khyber, why’s she riding so high?” Pherris said. A thin line of sweat beaded on his brow as he pushed the ship higher. “These ships aren’t built to sustain that sort of altitude.”
“He’s flying above the clouds so that I can summon no storm to hinder him,” Aeven said.
“That’s not the only reason,” Shaimin said. “Skyway.”
“Eh?” Pherris said, looking at the elf.
Shaimin pointed at the clouds. “Marth is headed for Skyway. The noble district.” Lights twinkled among the clouds. From below, the lights had seemed to be stars.
“Buildings?” Seren said, astonished. “The people live in the clouds?”
“The rich ones do,” Zed said, studying the clouds beside the elf. A large central cloud was encircled by many smaller floating islands. “Though they won’t stay up there for long if Marth reaches them. I bet he plans to drop the Skyway district on the city, then work his way down.”
The Kenshi Zhann had nearly reached the closest of the cloud islands.
“Damn it, Gerriman, doesn’t this ship go any faster?” Dalan demanded.
“Doing my best, Dalan,” Pherris said. “She’s not doing well in this thin air. She’s going to freeze up and drop if we keep this up. Aeven, any help you can provide would be much appreciated.”