Seren nodded and hurried off through the ship.
In the corridor adjoining the ship’s bridge, a Cyran soldier burst out of a cabin. He was only a year or two older than Seren. He held a sword in one hand and had a life ring slung over his shoulder. His eyes were wide with terror as he brandished the weapon at her.
“Please,” he whimpered, backing away from her. “I don’t want to fight. I just want out of here.”
“Go,” she said. She held out her empty hands to show she meant no harm. The man turned and ran away through the ship. She felt a strange sense of pity. So this was their enemy. These were the men who had served Marth. They weren’t monsters-just sad souls with nowhere else left to go. Had her life gone just a bit differently, she might have been in their place. She neither saw nor heard any other crew. Most of them had likely abandoned ship.
Seren pushed open the hatch to the bridge and stepped inside. Omax stood at the helm, his large hands grasping the controls. Unlike the Mourning Dawn, the Seventh Moon’s helm was contained inside a large bridge. One wall was clear glass, displaying the Sharn skyline. Beneath them, Skyway’s central island trembled. Glowing fractures continued to spread through the clouds like a spider’s web. Airships circled at a safe distance around the Moon, occasionally releasing bursts of lightning in their direction. The Brelish were clearly wary of the ship’s power but were afraid to approach too close.
The helmsman still lay on the floor where Shaimin had killed him. Next to him lay a second body, now covered in Shaimin’s cloak. A pair of familiar velvet boots poked out from beneath them. The pungent odor of burnt flesh hung on the air. She turned away, covering her mouth and gagging.
“He knew the sacrifice he was making, Seren,” Omax said. “I think Shaimin intended to return the life that he owed to Marth.”
She turned away, unable to look at the fallen elf. Why did it bother her so much? She had seen men die before, and she had hated Shaimin. The elf had almost killed her. He had been the last member of their makeshift crew that she would have expected to make such a sacrifice.
The Seventh Moon bucked again as another blast took her, throwing Seren off balance. Omax’s hands gripped the helm so tightly that she heard the wooden handles creak between his fingers. Skyway was so close now that Seren could see panicked people running through the streets.
“Do you know how to fly an airship, Omax?” Seren called out.
“No,” Omax said, “but I do not need to fly her. I need only find a place to crash her.”
“There!” Seren said, pointing ahead and to the left.
Behind a crumbling mansion, a grassy courtyard the size of a large park offered a relatively flat landing area. Omax nodded and fought with the helm, steering the crippled airship down. Seren glanced around for something on the bridge that she could hang on to when the ship crashed, but found only one thing. She clung to Omax. He removed one hand from the helm, holding her to his side.
With a deafening crash and a violent wrenching, the Seventh Moon collided with Skyway. Seren turned away as the forward wall shattered, showering them with broken glass and soft earth. The airship continued her forward motion, digging a deep gouge through the courtyard. A terrible shriek of tearing metal was the proud vessel’s death cry as she landed for the last time.
The ship’s bridge tilted at a wild angle. Omax’s grip on the controls had not wavered, nor did he even stagger when as the ship collided with the ground. He held Seren steady against him until the ship finally ground to a halt. He released her and backed away from the helm. The ship’s controls now had three grooves where the warforged’s hands had gripped them. Dirt from the ship’s nosedive now filled half the bridge.
“Tristam,” Seren said, looking back. The corridor leading to the bridge had partially collapsed, filled with flaming timber and twisted metal.
“Climb out through the porthole,” Omax said to her as he entered the corridor, shoving timbers aside. “I will find him.”
Seren moved as if to follow him, but Omax stopped her with a look.
“Please, Seren,” he said. “I will move more swiftly if I am not protecting you as well. Go.”
Seren clambered up the sloped heap of dirt and wreckage. She felt glass bite her hands and knees but ignored the pain as she heaved herself out of the airship. The ground beneath her feet trembled as Skyway began to crumble. She climbed out of the crater the Moon had left behind and looked back.
In the sky overhead, the Brelish airships had broken formation and spread out across Skyway. Seren reasoned that, with the attacker dealt with, they were hurrying to evacuate anyone they could before the island crashed. The Mourning Dawn was nowhere to be seen.
Half the airship had disintegrated on impact, leaving a trail of burning wood across the courtyard. The ship lay on her side. From here Seren could see the hole in her belly that Tristam had made during their first escape from the ship so long ago; the same room where Marth had died. Only one of the ship’s struts had survived impact. The tip of the arm still burned with a bright red fire; the ship’s elemental was still intact. As Seren watched, the red light grew brighter.
“Tristam, Omax,” Seren whispered as she watched helplessly. “Get out of there!”
The wreckage of the Seventh Moon shuddered. Plumes of red fire erupted from the hull. A loud, keening wail began from somewhere deep within the ship. It reminded Seren of the Fellmaw’s screams at Zul’nadn.
She caught a glimpse of a large figure leaping out of the hole in the ship’s belly with something heavy slumped over one shoulder, and then the Seventh Moon exploded in a sphere of brilliant white energy. Seren was thrown to the ground as the shockwave rolled over her. She could see nothing but white light. A sense of warmth suffused her, a sharp contrast to the bitter cold that always accompanied the Legacy’s use.
Then the light faded. The warmth subsided. Seren’s vision slowly returned. The ground no longer shook. The terrifying fissures that split the island receded and vanished entirely. Omax stood over her, beaten and scorched, but alive. He held Tristam’s body carefully in his arms.
“He is alive,” Omax said, “but only just.”
Seren nodded in relief, unable to speak. A familiar hum drew her eyes up. A burning ring of blue flame pierced the night above them.
TWENTY-SIX
Amazing,” Zed said. The inquisitive stood at the ship’s rail, staring out at Skyway. Far beneath them, the floating city district had completely stabilized. Bits of cloud that had vaporized when Marth had used the Legacy were beginning to regenerate. The Brelish fleet circled the district in a buzz of activity, making certain Skyway was stable and that no more attackers lay in wait. Above the Mourning Dawn, a massive Brelish warship hovered patiently. Its docking ladder hung only a few feet above their deck. Zed cast the ship a nervous look then turned to Omax.
“How did Tristam do it?”
“That which can destroy can also preserve,” the warforged said simply.
Zed looked at Omax curiously. The warforged paid him no mind, watching the skyline with rapt attention. Ijaac and Gerith stood at the rail watching in awe. Aeven’s head was bowed as she leaned against her figurehead. The dryad wept softly.
“Kenshi Zhann is free now,” she whispered.
“Where in Khyber is Shaimin?” Zed said, looking around the deck in irritation. “If that elf abandoned us again …”
“Shaimin perished on the Seventh Moon,” Omax said. “He sacrificed himself to delay Marth while we cleared the way to the ship’s core.”