The Fading Dream_ Thorn of Breland - Keith Baker [29]
Cadrel nodded. He drew a wand from his belt. Drix stared into the ocean, clinging to the boat. “I don’t feel it,” he said. “The water’s empty.”
“Would you bet your life on that?” Thorn yelled, shouting over the ocean spray.
“Yes,” Drix said. He picked up the oar that had fallen to the bottom of the boat, smiling slightly. “We’re safe now.”
I’m not sensing anything either, Steel said. The power of the elemental is fading. I’m not sensing any other significant magical signatures.
“Wouldn’t it be shielded from divination?” Thorn said.
“Possibly,” Cadrel said. He was watching the ocean, tracking any ripples with his wand. The boiling water was settling down. “Maybe it was destroyed in the blast.”
Unlikely, Steel said. Breachers were designed to bring down elemental vessels. They were built to survive it.
“I suppose.” The waters were calm, and there was no sign of metal in the depths. “If it really was an old weapon, I suppose it makes sense … crippling shipping but allowing civilians to escape.”
“What else could it be?” Cadrel said. “Seaside was one of our important ports. Naturally it was defended. With the Mourning … well, you’ll have to forgive us if disabling old weapons hasn’t been at the top of our list of priorities.”
“I suppose,” Thorn said. “It’s just … Shargon’s Tooth was designed to evade just that sort of defense. It’s shielded against basic divinations. For that breacher to find us, we must have bumped right into it. And the breacher itself has just been out here, unsupported, for five years; it can’t be in top condition.”
“I don’t see a better explanation,” Cadrel said. “It’s damned inconvenient for us, to be certain. We’d best hope these elves can help us home.”
“Eladrin,” Drix pointed out.
“Yes, eladrin,” Cadrel said. “But this has to be chance, Thorn. No one is building breachers anymore. No one could have known our route. This isn’t some sinister conspiracy, just a trick of the Traveler. So take heart. We all survived it, didn’t we?”
“You seem to have forgotten Captain Shaeli.”
Cadrel was crestfallen. For once he seemed to be at a loss for words.
Thorn looked away. Cadrel was right and it certainly wasn’t his fault. And the Tooth had been protected from divination, which meant that as unlikely as it was, the logical conclusion was that they had come across it themselves, that it was just bad luck.
Drix was leaning over the edge of the boat. Debris from Shargon’s Tooth was scattered around them, thrown far from the ship by the force of the elemental shock wave. Stretching as far as he could, he reached into the water and hauled a dripping piece of wood from the ocean. It was the little crossbow he’d been working on.
“It seems all of the laws of probability have fallen asunder,” Cadrel said. “Now I suggest we start rowing. I know I’ll be happier when we reach dry land.”
“You won’t,” Drix said. He was examining his crossbow, removing the sodden string and checking the gears. He didn’t look at Cadrel as he spoke, but his voice was calm and clear. “there’s no happiness ahead. Only mourning.”
“Lovely,” Thorn said. She slipped Steel back in his sheath and picked up her oar.
CHAPTER SIX
The Mournland
Barrakas 22, 999 YK
The dead-gray mists,” Cadrel said. “The tears of Cyre.” The barrier stretched out before them, a dense wall of fog that reached the limits of sight and rose up to touch the sky. Thorn had heard of the mists that defined the borders of the Mournland, but she’d never actually seen them. As their boat slowly drifted toward them, she felt a chill run across her skin. The fog was slightly luminescent and constantly churning, as if stirred by a strong wind, but there was no wind whatsoever and no sound at all. And there was the stench of death. The scent changed any time her attention slipped. Rot and corruption … fresh blood … burning hair and flesh. Staring into the silent mist, it was all too easy to let the scents paint a vivid picture of what lay beyond.
“How far until we reach the shoreline?” she said.
“I don’t know,” Cadrel replied. “The mists cling