The others all murmured their assent. Seren did likewise, impressed that Tristam could show such focus and leadership in a crisis.
“What do we do about Marth?” Gerith asked.
“Kill him,” Zed said. “Not like he doesn’t have it coming.”
“Just do what you can, Gerith,” Tristam said. “We’re not really there to fight. Getting Dalan back and getting out safely is our real priority.” He turned back toward the bow of the ship. “Now get ready, everyone. We’re getting close.”
A blur of light was visible in the distance, the glow of Moon’s elemental fire gleaming through the storm. Pherris turned the ship’s wheel and Karia Naille soared skyward. Churning mist covered the deck as the ship pierced the clouds. It was bitterly cold up here. Seren felt her teeth begin to chatter. The clouds grew thicker, until eventually even Moon’s flaming ring could barely be seen.
“She’s just below us now,” Pherris said, and gestured to Gerith.
The halfling climbed onto his glidewing and shouted to the others. Koranth mounted his own steed and lifted his javelin in one hand. The creatures leapt from the deck, extending their wings with a synchronized snap. They soared down through the clouds, and soon after they vanished she heard Koranth’s defiant cry.
“For the honor of the Ghost Talon!”
The sound of crashing steel and startled cries followed. Pherris worked the helm again and Karia Naille dipped down from the clouds. Moon appeared dangerously close, beneath and just ahead of them. Her forward deck was already covered with Cyran soldiers battling halfling hunters.
“Now!” Tristam said, tossing aside the cork from his potion and throwing back the contents.
Seren drank her potion, as did the others. She winced at the chalky taste, but she immediately felt lighter, more energetic.
“It’s better with rum, but we were fresh out,” Tristam said with a weak grin. “Just aim yourself at the other ship and jump. It’s easier than it looks.”
“Unless you miss,” Zed said.
“Yeah,” Tristam said. “Don’t miss.” He drew his sword and leapt from the deck.
Seren stood and watched for a brief, awestruck moment. Tristam soared through the air between the two ships, moving with eerie grace. Omax and Zed were next. The massive warforged and the stocky man with his large sword looked almost comical as they soared through the void. Eraina patted Seren’s shoulder encouragingly and followed. Not allowing herself any more time to think about what she was about to do, Seren leapt from the ship’s deck.
The wind rushed by with a keening howl. She felt weightless as she hung in the air, the distance so great it was difficult to tell she was moving at all. When she looked down, she saw only clouds. Then the moment was past, and she landed lightly on the deck of Moon. She looked back the way she had come, at Karia Naille hovering high above them.
“Don’t worry,” Tristam said. “We don’t have to jump that. Pherris will move closer when he sees our signal.”
“Unless we die,” Zed said, hefting his sword with both hands.
“Yeah,” Tristam said. “Don’t die!”
Zed cackled. “Good luck, Xain.”
“Good luck, all of you,” Tristam answered as they stormed off across the deck. A Cyran soldier stepped around the corner and opened his mouth in alarm, but fell silent as a backhand slap from Omax sent him crashing limp into the wall.
“I have another sketch of the map if you need to see the way, Seren,” Tristam said, reaching for his pocket.
“Memorized it,” she said, moving past him and slipping through an open hatch in the deck.
She dropped into a darkened bay stacked with crates and barrels. The sounds of the storm and fighting were greatly muffled, interrupted only by the noisy thud of Tristam landing beside her. She gestured for him to wait and stalked ahead. The bay narrowed to a smaller passage. It was similar to the design of Karia Naille, albeit on a larger scale. She pressed herself between a beam and the wall just as one of the cabin doors opened, releasing three startled soldiers who ran past toward the upper deck, oblivious to her. Once they were gone, she gestured to Tristam and they moved down the passage.
A closed door led to the ship’s central containment chamber, guarded by a single soldier. The guard held his sword in one hand, looking around nervously as he protected the door. Seren drew her dagger and looked at Tristam.
Tristam shook his head and stepped forward from the shadows. The guard whirled with a start just as Tristam hurled a handful of dust in the man’s face. The guard blinked, staggered, and slumped to the floor.
“Only sleeping,” Tristam said, examining the door. “These men are just soldiers, Seren. I don’t want to kill them if we don’t have to. They’re only following Marth because they have nothing else left.” He looked up at her. “I don’t sense any wards on this door. Do you think you can pick the lock?”
Seren studied the lock briefly, then looked back the way they came. She cocked her head slightly, listening to the chaotic melee above. Seeing no one nearby, she stepped back and kicked the door sharply, jarring it off one hinge and shattering the lock. Tristam stared at her blankly.
“Picked,” she said.
Tristam didn’t argue. He hurried into the room beyond. The large chamber was filled with shining brass runes and shimmering crystals. A large square of the floor was transparent glass, displaying a murky purple cloudscape below them. A cylindrical black column stood in the center of the chamber, radiating heat.
“That’s it,” Tristam said. “That cylinder contains the crystal that binds the ship’s elemental to this plane.”
“What are you going to do?” Seren asked.
“Send her home,” Tristam said. He took a small tube from his pocket and unfolded it into a four-foot ivory rod, engraved with runes and capped with a square of shimmering jade. He held the staff in both hands and closed his eyes, concentrating as he turned in a slow circle and concentrated on the crystal chamber.
“Why not just blast the housing with your wand?” Seren asked.
“Because that would just release the elemental into this room, not send her back to his home plane,” Tristam said. “After years of servitude, they tend to be quite angry-and we don’t want to be here for that.”
Tristam opened his eyes when the door at the far side of the core chamber opened. Seren quickly darted behind the door, preparing to ambush whoever entered. A tall man in long purple robes stepped inside, long, white hair spilling over his shoulders. Tristam dropped the rod and quickly produced his ivory wand, releasing a bolt of crackling lightning at the changeling. When the smoke cleared, Marth was unharmed. An aura of magical power shimmered around him.
“Impressive but uncalled for, Tristam,” the changeling said. “I was prepared for your coming, and I only wish to talk. Had I wanted to kill you, I would have left more soldiers here. After all, crippling the heart of my ship would have been your only real chance of escape.”
Tristam’s scowl faded, replaced by a look of startled recognition. “Your voice,” he said. “Orren?”
“If it pleases you,” Marth said. The changeling’s features shifted to that of a thin young man with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. “Orren Thardis is an old name, given by an old friend. I’d hoped to offer you the same thing Ashrem offered me-a new life.”
“What are you talking about?” Tristam said, backing away.
“Dalan brought you into his quest only when he realized I would not be his pawn,” Marth said. “When he realizes you are worthier than that, he will betray you as he betrayed me. He holds you back, Tristam. He forces you to underestimate your own talent because he fears that you will become something greater than he can control-just as he could never control his uncle. He wants you to waste your life waiting for an opportunity that will never come, and all the while he reaps the fruits of your genius.”