Bloodfire Quest (The Dark Legacy of Shannara, #2)(75)

His brow furrowed and a dark look settled over his face. He didn’t like how things were going. He didn’t like it that he was being dragged this way and that by the reports the spy was giving and as a consequence was much less the master of his own destiny.

Maybe it was time to change all that.

As if in response to that thought, a flit appeared, winging toward the warship.



“The mist is breaking up,” Arling murmured, still standing next to Aphen in the pilot box.

“No more cover while we’re in the air,” Aphen agreed.

As planned, they had eased their way south along the border of the Westland, hiding in the brume as they found their way to the beginning of Drey Wood. Now they were midway down its eastern edge, heading for the Matted Brakes, and there had been no sign of the Federation warship.

Cymrian was already making his way back to them in his easy, loping stride, his hair whipped by a fresh breeze that had started up out of the south.

“You should give him a chance,” Arling said.

Aphen did not reply, letting the comment hang unanswered. She kept trying to picture him as someone in love with her, but couldn’t quite manage it. All she could see was the wry, taciturn protector who had first come to her in Arborlon to apply for the job all those weeks ago.

“Let me take the wheel for a while,” he said, climbing into the box. “Fresh eyes are needed. Mine are worn out.”

Without a word, she stepped away and went down onto the main deck, heading for the bow. Around her, the three Elven crewmembers worked the rigging, attaching and detaching radian draws, bringing up fresh sails, reconfiguring light sheaths to catch more of the sun’s rays as the mist dissipated in the growing brightness.

I don’t want him to be in love with me, Aphen thought.

She caught a flash of something dark off the starboard bow as a shadow emerged from Drey Wood in ominous silence, sliding out of the trees like a predator. A warship, her light sheaths unfurled and billowing out, hers railguns and fire launchers pulled forward and ready for use, and her ramming bow extended and locked, was coming directly toward them.

“Cymrian!” she screamed in warning.

She was an instant too late. A single burst from the forward starboard railgun tore away a portion of the mainmast rigging, splintering spars and shredding portions of the light sheaths. One of the crewmen was caught directly in the blast and disappeared over the side.

Cymrian reacted swiftly, drawing back on the thrusters and taking Wend-A-Way skyward at such a steep angle that Aphen lost her footing and slid all the way to the stern railing before she caught herself. The remaining Elven crewmen hung on as the masts and rigging swayed and shook with the force and suddenness of the lift. Aphen heard other railguns release and felt the impact as dozens of metal projectiles slammed into Wend-A-Way’s hull in staccato bursts, splintering timbers and planks, embedding themselves in the wood.

But Cymrian had made the right choice by lifting away rather than diving and so prevented further damage to the sails and rigging. The warship angled upward in response to his maneuver, sweeping hard to port to bring the rest of her railguns and the bulk of her fire launchers into play. Cymrian had anticipated this, however, and executed a controlled fall that took Wend-A-Way down and out of range in a quick sweep to the south, increasing speed as she went, leaving the warship with weapons trained on empty blue sky.

Even so, Wend-A-Way had suffered sufficient damage to her primary light sheaths that gathering fresh power would require changing them out, and that was time the Elves could not afford to take. So they flattened out parallel to the grasslands and drew as much power as the diapson crystals could expend in an effort to outdistance their pursuer. Aphen regained her feet and stumbled back to the pilot box to rejoin Cymrian and Arling, and the crewmen positioned themselves where they could manipulate the rigging and sails.

Aphen glanced over her shoulder and saw that the warship was already coming after them, huge against the backdrop of the northern horizon.

“We don’t have weapons enough to stop her,” Cymrian shouted when he saw where she was looking. “Can you use the Elfstones or your magic to help?”

She made a quick measurement of the distance. “I can try.”

She leapt out of the pilot box and rushed to the stern railing, having already decided what she would do. She didn’t want to risk using the Elfstones in this situation. Her footing and balance on the airship were too uncertain, and if she dropped even one of the Stones, the search for the Bloodfire was effectively over. She would use her Druid magic instead. She lacked the strength of a practitioner such as Bombax or even Seersha; her practical usage was of a more nuanced variety. She would deter rather than try to disable their pursuer. Cutting radian draws and shredding light sheaths might help, but a Federation warship of that size carried too much sail and rigging to be effectively stalled out unless Aphen let her get right on top of them before striking—and then Aphen would probably only get one chance. At best, it would be extraordinarily risky to try. Better to keep their enemy at arm’s length and not limit herself to a single chance.

Steady.

She dropped to one knee against the heavy railing and braced herself. With her arms stretched out toward the warship, she began to use words of power and accompanying gestures, feeling the magic surge through her as she created wind out of still air to either slow or turn aside their pursuit. She felt the force of her magic release and could actually see the turbulence it caused. The Federation airship’s sails collapsed on themselves and the vessel bucked against the force of her attack. But then the airship came on again. However many diapson crystals she was using to power her engines, it was more than sufficient to overcome Aphen’s magic.