Lost mark 3 The Queen of Death: by Matt Forbeck Page A

hundred feet to the wide, fertile plains below. Beyond these gentle lands, Kandler could see a long shore of white sand at which the roaring waters of the Thunder Sea began.
    As the elves who founded this place came up from that wide beach and crossed the untamed lands, this spot must have seemed like perfect place for a band of warriors to build a nest. From here, they could watch over all the lands around, like hungry birds hunting for prey.
    At Burch’s instruction, Te’oma swung the airship out around the fort, far out of catapult range from the place’s walls. Then she came up slowly and easily to the airship dock that topped a short section of the southern wall, jutting out over the precipitous drop. The elves there flashed a welcoming signal—or so Burch said—and Te’oma brought the ship in to moor.
    Kandler spoke fluent Elven, which had come in handy both as an agent of the Citadel and in courting his wife. He and Espre sometimes used it as a code in front of the ignorant, but it would not serve them well that way here, where everyone would speak the tongue better than they.
    As he, Espre, Sallah, and Monja waited on the dock, Kandler nudged his stepdaughter. Jerking his head toward Burch, who stood talking with a stern elf dressed in full battle regalia, he shot Espre a questioning look. She shrugged.
    Kandler noticed that every one of the elves he’d seen so far wore a suit of armor and some kind of weaponry. The dockworkers favored spears or short swords, but the lookouts further down the wall in each direction carried longbows and stood nearby loaded ballistae and catapults that were ready to loose their loads at anyone so bold as to invade the space around the fort without permission.
    Every piece of equipment bore fine filigree run through with images of death and war, and they looked delicate by human standards. Kandler knew, though, that they’d likely been made by the finest smiths and crafters. Valenar elves never made anything cheap or fragile. By comparison, the Phoenix seemed like a crude bit of hackwork churned out in a mill staffed by idiotic children.
    The buildings of Aerie might have seemed ridiculously ornate to the untrained eye. Kandler knew that they would stand up to an assault better than all but the best fortifications in the Five Kingdoms. He spied few balconies or terraces built to take advantage of the spectacular views to the south. Those he did see were framed with trellises and colonnades that let in vast amounts of sky. They would also, however, protect from any attacks from above, whether by airship or some other means. The people of Aerie took their security seriously, as they should, given their proximity to the frontier nation of Q’barra, the border of which lay scant miles to the east.
    "I do not care for this place,” Sallah said quietly.
    Monja nodded in agreement, her head bobbing like that of a small child. "A fort like this can quickly change from a haven to a trap.”
    Burch bowed to the elf he’d been talking to then trotted back to the others. Try as he might, Kandler could not read the shifter’s face. He’d known Burch long enough to realize that this was not a good thing.
    "The dockmaster welcomes us to Aerie,” Burch said. "Just how welcome are we?” Kandler asked.
    Burch pointed at the heavy weaponry mounted on the turrets nearest the airship. "Those aren’t for show,” he said. "I’m told the elves who staff them don’t care much for dwarves and have itchy trigger fingers.”
    Espre gasped. "Shouldn’t we bring Duro with us then?” she said. "We can’t just leave him out there to be shot down.” Burch smiled. "He’s safer there than he would be in the fort. At least out there an elf would have to work at it to pick a fight with him. Here, he’d find himself in a tangle inside an hour.
    "Have you located lodgings for us?” Sallah asked.
    Burch cocked his head at her. "We’re staying on the ship.” "You may be,” Sallah said, "but once you