“You have to wonder what they thought they were doing,” said another. “We’re too quick for anything that big. Too easy for us to hide, too, in these mountains.”
“Still,” said the first. “Better if we don’t take chances.”
“Let’s eat something before we leave,” Aphen suggested, turning away.
So bread, salted meat, and fruit were brought out from the food storage locker and consumed with glasses of ale. The crew joined the sisters and Cymrian, but no one had much of anything to say, content to remain in silence. Aphen’s dizziness had finally passed. When it was time to set out, she told Cymrian that she would man the helm. To his credit, he didn’t offer any objection and instead moved to the bow to take up the forward watch.
Arling moved into the pilot box beside her sister and stood without speaking as the anchors were raised and the airship began to lift off. The plan was to move back to the edge of the Westland forests in which they were hidden, continue south past Drey Wood and the Pykon, and make their way into the Wilderun. The heavy mist should hide them from discovery, and with any luck at all would last for a few hours past sunrise. The chances of encountering the Federation warship again would be lessened considerably if they flew low against the backdrop of forests and mountains and kept careful watch for what lay ahead of them. They would fly swiftly and without stopping until they were at the Wilderun, manning Wend-A-Way in shifts and outdistancing their pursuit using a combination of speed and endurance.
It was a solid enough plan, but like all plans it could go wrong quickly if chance and bad luck combined to thwart it. So no one was taking anything for granted, and everyone was prepared for the unexpected.
The sisters and Cymrian discussed using the Elfstones to track the progress and position of the Federation warship in order to gain an edge in the pursuit, but in the end chose not to. The problem was the same as before—using the Elfstones could give them away to any magic users looking for them, and they had no way of knowing if there was one such aboard the warship. Aphen was pretty sure there was magic at work somewhere in this business, given the nature of the attacks on her in Arborlon and the seeming ability of whoever was carrying them out to know each time exactly when to strike. It wasn’t a risk worth taking, especially since a single use of the Elfstones would not be enough to guarantee escape and more than one use would be tempting fate.
They decided to hold off on employing the Elfstones until either the need was so obvious they could not pretend otherwise or they were close enough to the Bloodfire that it became necessary to pinpoint its source. Caution and sharp eyes and ears would better serve them at this point.
It was a view that was borne out as time passed and the mist remained thick and impenetrable. Aphen eased Wend-A-Way ahead at a slow, steady pace, keeping the airship just above the treetops, doing her best to make the airship disappear into the haze.
She found herself wondering if this had anything to do with Edinja Orle. It had to be someone in the Coalition Council hierarchy if they could command a warship like the one hunting her. But what was the point? If they knew of the failing of the Ellcrys, why would they want to prevent its recovery? The danger to them was as great as it was to the Elves. Could they be hunting her for the Elfstones, for the magic they commanded? Edinja was a magic user. Perhaps the temptation of gaining possession of the Elfstones was too strong for her to ignore.
Her gaze was directed forward into the screen of mist and damp, and it settled now on Cymrian, a fixture against the forward railing just to the starboard side of the bowsprit. She found herself staring at him, fascinated by the fact that he had been standing motionless in that same spot for the entire time since they had set out.
“How does he do that?” she whispered to Arling.
“Do what?”