Rich Wulf - Voyage of the Mourning Dawn

The final days of the Last War, in the City of Wroat

It was a thing of beauty.

Tristam Xain carefully held the small glass sphere between two fingers and stared into its depths. Within the sphere floated a tiny model of a silver airship, a sleek vehicle surrounded by a metal ring. Tristam tapped the side of the glass with one finger and spoke the ships name.

Kenshi Zhann, he whispered.

Small particles of shimmering blue snow began to swirl within the sphere. The metal ring ignited a brilliant purple, like the pure elemental fire that surrounded a true airship. The overall image resembled a ship flying through a winter storm, a tiny replica of the same ship where Tristam dwelled. The light from the sphere suffused the smoky air in Tristams improvised laboratory, casting the small cabin in a soft blue glow.

Remarkable, Omax said. The warforged stood at the door of Tristams tiny cabin. The enormous metal warrior looked down at the fragile trinket. His pale blue eyes shone in their adamantine mask, illuminated by the same magic that fluttered through the sphere.

A gift for my teacher, Tristam said. Do you think hell like it, Omax?

A teacher can receive no greater gift than evidence of his students brilliance, Omax said. I think Ash will be pleased.

Do you think it will be enough to make him reconsider? Tristam asked, looking at his friend.

Perhaps, Omax said. A simple reminder that magic can still be used to make things of beauty might grant him some peace of mind.

I hope so, Tristam said, sounding unconvinced. The young artificer tapped the glass again. The whirling snow faded away, and the light died. Hes been in a dark mood.

Tristam tucked the sphere into his pocket and rose to leave. He stopped short, catching sight of his own face in the mirror that hung beside the door. He smoothed a hand through his unkempt hair, removed his thin spectacles, and wiped most of the soot and grime from his face with a handkerchief. His chin was rough and unshaven, but there wasnt much he could do for that on such short notice.

Do I look presentable? he asked.

As presentable as anyone who knows you should expect, Omax said, patting some soot off of his friends lapel.

Tristam shot the warforged an irritated look, but Omax had directed his attention toward a flask on the low table. Straightening his jacket, Tristam stepped out of the cabin and made his way to the upper deck, ignoring the warforgeds chuckle as he departed.

Kenshi Zhann was a grand ship. In the Aerenal language her name meant Seventh Moon, though there was little about her construction or performance that could inspire regret in her creators. Tristam was still young, but he had seen a great deal of the world from the deck of this ship. He had never seen another vessel to match her, though Ashrems other two airships were close. He was proud to serve aboard such a vessel, and proud to study at the foot of her master even if said master had been distant and moody in recent months.

Not that Ashrem dCanniths depression was unexpected or surprising. The old artificer had committed himself to an impossible task. Peace. He had sworn to end the war that had consumed the Five Nations for the last century. Every three months his three crews would rendezvous to share their progress, as they did now. Meeting with friends and colleagues generally improved old Ashrems mood, even if they had little to report.

Tristam hoped for the best.

Omax fell into step beside Tristam as he made his way through the ship. The massive warforged made surprisingly little noise for a being constructed of dense metal and wood. Tristam glanced back to find Omax scanning the halls as they walked. He smiled.

I think were safe, Omax, Tristam said with a chuckle.

Omax looked forward quickly. Though his metal face lacked expression, he seemed to radiate embarrassment. Old habits, he said. To realize that I have no enemies has been a difficult adjustment.

The war isnt over yet, Tristam answered. You may get your chance for more excitement.

I do not know if I want that, Omax said. Having sampled peace, I prefer it.

You sound like Ashrem, Tristam said.

I take that as a compliment, Omax said. Ashrem is a wise man.

Footsteps approached from the stairs above. A familiar potbellied man in a dark silken suit of exquisite cut strode down toward them. This was Dalan dCannith, Ashrems nephew, local guildmaster of House Cannith. Moon had put in at Wroat so that Ashrem might visit Dalan during the rendezvous. Dalans expression was bored and mildly annoyed, though it softened into a pleased smile when he recognized Tristam. Tristam gave a small wave, hoping to move past Dalan and find his master.

Ah, the promising young student and his bodyguard, Dalan said, upsetting Tristams expectations. He shook Tristams hand warmly and then nodded at Omax. It has been some time, Tristam. How have the two of you been?

Fine, Tristam said. You look well, Dalan.

I am well, my boy. Business is growing. I was hoping that I might convince Uncle Ash to take on a few side contracts, but he insists on discussing it with his fellows first. I dont expect much. Hes as stubborn as he has always been.

You know Ashrem doesnt make weapons anymore, Dalan, Tristam said.

Oh, I am well aware. I respect that. Dalan nodded, setting his jowls in motion. I would not expect him to set aside the ethics he holds so strongly, even if I do not agree with them. These contracts were of a neutral nature. Enchantments to aid in the preservation of rations and medicine for Aundairian troops. Aiding the war effort without harming anyone directly. You understand. Even so, he was reluctant and has reserved his decision until he can discuss the matter with his associates. The priest seems to want to help, but I fear he will be unable to convince my uncle otherwise. Ash is a difficult man to sway once his mind is set. By the look he gave me, I think I picked a poor time to negotiate. Dalans expression became sad, wistful.

Hes been occupied, Tristam said.

And with the training of his apprentice, I hope? Dalan said. I expect great things of you, Tristam. I mentioned the light-emitting wands you crafted in my report to Baron Zorlan just last week. Theyve been of extraordinary utility to our miners, providing cheap magical illumination without the danger of a lantern. Exquisite craftsmanship, as well.

You really thought so? Tristam said, awed by the praise.

Indubitably, Dalan said. I am surprised Ashrem has not sponsored you for guild membership yet.

You and I both, Tristam said, smiling weakly. Thats what I had hoped to talk to him about, actually, since theres a guild house here in Wroat and all.

Ah. Dalan smiled. Then let me take no more of your time. When Ash puts your name on the list, you can trust that your membership wont be delayed for long. I shall expedite the process personally. Dalan winked and chuckled.

Thank you, Master Dalan, Tristam said, but I wouldnt want to be put ahead of someone more deserving.

False modesty! Dalan retorted, walking past them as he made his way toward the galley. My uncle is a genius. Who could be more deserving than his heir?

Tristam looked up at Omax with a grin. The warforged nodded in encouragement, and they moved on. The ship was mostly abandoned. Most of the crew had taken advantage of the moment and scattered to the citys taverns. Tristam stepped into the large chamber at the heart of the ship. The walls were lined with brass runes and shimmering crystals. They shone and hummed, though they were mostly decoration with no true purpose. Tristams eyes were on the column of dull black metal that stood in the center of the room. His fingers brushed its surface, sensing the magic that pulsed within. This was the ships heart, the chamber that housed the crystals that bound the