Dissension: Ravnica Cycle, Book III by Herndon Cory

Author:Herndon, Cory [Herndon, Cory]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Random House Inc Clients
Published: 2010-04-01T03:00:00+00:00

“Holiest,” Wenslauv said. She instinctively reached for one of the teardrops on her belt, but before she could snap off the tip and apply it to the worst of Razia’s wounds—a gaping hole in the angel’s chest that exposed heart and rib—the guildmaster held up a hand.

“No, I can’t—Don’t use those,” she managed. “Save that for yourself.”

The angel Razia was in even worse shape than the rest of the Parhelion’s command floor. The Boros guildmaster sat in a sheltered alcove to the rear of the command deck. Her right arm ended in a charred, twisted appendage that was more claw than hand. Her holy sword was gone. Scorched, pitted holes and grievous wounds showed through gaps in her ornate, once-pristine armor.

“You’re hurt,” Wenslauv protested.

“And those won’t help,” the angel said, looking over the newcomer. The angel must have recognized the tri-wing pin on Wenslauv’s chest because she added, “Report, Air Marshal.”

“The other angels—The others are dead,” Wenslauv said after considering what, exactly, her report should name first. “I’ve seen no sign of hostiles. I believe you are the only one left, Holiest. Forgive my protocol, but what happened here? Who did this, sir?”

“If you are here …” the angel coughed, “if you are here, we must be back in Ravnica.”

“Over it, sir,” Wenslauv said and, taking advantage of the opening, added, “We’re on a collision course with the Center, Holiest. From the look of it the helm is in pieces. I—I’m not sure what to do. I need your help. Can you stand?”

“Yes,” the angel said but made no effort to do so yet. “The helm. And the rest—all dead. I remember. There was an attack. We have been in a war. There were boarders.”

“Sir?” Wenslauv said. “I saw no boarders, though I have not been able to perform anything like a thorough search. The Parhelion is—We need to find a way to keep it in the air. I am a roc-rider, I am no stranger to flight, but this—Sir, I am not sure where to begin.”

The angel extended her good hand. “I can stand. I will guide you.”

Wenslauv pulled the angel to her feet. Standing, even hunched with pain, the guildmaster towered over the skyjek. The angel wobbled after a few steps, and she pressed her burned hand to her forehead.

“Are you all right, Holiest?” the air marshal said.

“I have been better,” the angel replied. “Help me to that station,” she said, pointing at one of the few panels on the wide array of command consoles that was still even remotely intact. “You will have to be my hands,” she said.

“Of course,” Wenslauv said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that they’d broken through the cloud cover during the time she’d been helping the angel to her feet. The white towers of Prahv were clearly visible through the invizomizzium screen.

Air Marshal Wenslauv was, as she said, not qualified to pilot the Parhelion, but she had extensive experience estimating flight speed without magical instruments or multicolored switches and levers.

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