Flight of the Dying Sun (Heirs of Ash) by Rich Wulf

Author:Rich Wulf [Wulf, Rich]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786964918
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2013-05-28T00:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

Omax had already opened the bay doors and lowered the ladder. Tristam pulled a thick furry coat over his shoulders and wound a woolen scarf around his face before climbing down. The cold wrapped around him, seeping through the thick layers of clothing, numbing his flesh. He gasped sharply, but his thoughts on the matter were quite aptly summed up when Arthen landed next to him, loosing a trail of expletives unlike any Tristam had heard in his young life.

Omax hopped down from the ladder, regarding Arthen with interest. In addition to his usual soft woolen cap and loose trousers, Omax had donned a thick felt cloak to keep the harsh wind out of his joints. A faint, warm haze emanated from his metal skin.

“What?” Arthen demanded from within his small mountain of furs.

“I am uncertain how to react, other than to be impressed,” the warforged said. “I was not even aware that a few of those conjugations existed, or that you spoke the hobgoblin tongue.”

“Cold weather makes me creative,” Arthen growled. “I don’t know how I’m going to fight in this, if we have to. I guess I’ll just snap off pieces of myself and throw them.”

Gerith alighted next to them. Blizzard’s wings shivered visibly. The glidewing’s pure black eyes held an even more dangerous gleam than usual.

“How can your mount even survive in this, Gerith?” Zed asked. “Aren’t reptiles cold-blooded?”

The glidewing snapped angrily in Zed’s direction, coming away with a piece of his sleeve. Arthen quickly backed away, grasping his hands as if making certain his fingers were intact.

“Not a lizard,” Gerith said. “This way.” He pointed with two fingers before whistling and taking to the air again.

They trudged forward across the frozen earth. The snow was hard and crusty beneath their feet, more like gravel than the soft powder more common in Khorvaire. There was no sound save their footsteps and a baleful wail as the wind raced over the earth and sea. The dead ship was easy to find, a mass of black wreckage on the white plain. The bodies of the crewmen were scattered in a wide area around the vessel. Zed knelt by the first one they encountered, two hundred yards from the ship. He pulled up his goggles to investigate more thoroughly.

“Impossible to tell how long he’s been dead, frozen like that,” Zed said in a low voice. “Claw marks deep in his chest, like some sort of huge animal. Whatever it was, he died terrified. Didn’t even bother to draw a weapon.” The inquisitive looked at the ground between the ship and the corpse. It was mostly flat and even. The corpse lay at the end of a shallow groove in the snow. “No trail, and no fresh snow. The body was thrown here, all the way from the ship.”

“If there are survivors, we must find them,” Omax said.

“Aye,” Tristam agreed.

“I found some tracks,” Gerith said, landing nearby. “Some kind of creature, something big.” The halfling scratched his nose nervously.

“Tell us the rest, Gerith,” Zed said carefully.

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