Page 244 of The Cradle of Ice

Cannon fire.

He feared the worst, and as a door opened in front of him, it was confirmed. Beyond a man’s shoulders, Kanthe spied a bulbous window that looked out over the ship’s pointy prow. The small vessel sped low over treetops. High above, a battle raged as ships bearing the Klashean Arms fought others waving the Hálendiian flag.

Smoke filled the air. Grappling chains linked ships that spun together in some deadly dance. Fighting swept decks. Bombs burst in the air. A misfire arced low and detonated in a blinding flash to their portside. The wheelman at the front cursed and rolled them away, tipping the ship nearly sideways.

The cloaked Brother who had opened the doorway clung to its frame. “Hyperium ahead! Make ready to board!”

As they turned, a floating island of wood and draft-iron filled the skies ahead and swiftly grew larger. The sounds of battle faded behind them as their craft slipped past the fighting and approached the flagship.

The Hyperium loomed over the war, ready to engage the enemy or pick over the spoils. Sunlight flared from the ship’s sculpted prow. A draft-iron stallion reared its head high, with wings flaring to either side.

Kanthe fingered the gold signet ring with a sigil that matched the ship’s figurehead. He had no doubt who orchestrated his kidnapping.

Their vessel dove steeply and sped under the monstrous keel. The Hyperium’s hull now roofed the world. A score of forges flamed the skies, their roar vibrating through their tiny craft. More ominous still were the huge doors overhead. If they were open, a regular-sized warship could rise into the Hyperium’s hold. But Kanthe knew the purpose of those doors wasn’t for something to enter, but for something to be dropped out.

He had heard the rumors, the claims, even the name of Hyperium’s notorious cargo.

A Madyss Hammer.

Kanthe was glad when they finally cleared those massive doors. The skies opened again, and their craft shoved its pointy nose up into a steep climb. Just when he thought the vessel would roll backward, it tipped sideways, twisting as it fell.

Kanthe groaned, bile rising again.

Then the world righted itself as the little craft caught air, straightened, and now faced the Hyperium’s stern. The massive wooden cliff was sealed tight, except for one bay.

“That had better be a blast hold,” the Brotherhood leader warned.

“We’ll find out.”

The wheelman hunched low, made tiny tweaks to their trajectory, and shot them toward the opening. It looked too small for even their tiny ship. But it was all a matter of perspective, which was thrown off by the Hyperium’s size.

As they raced toward the stern, the bay and its hold grew until it dwarfed their ship. He expected them to slow, but they maintained their speed.

Kanthe cringed as the small craft dove into the shadowy hole. He braced for a crash—then fire burst ahead of them. Flames shot out the pointy prow, illuminating walls lined by draft-iron. It was clearly a hold designed for such fiery vessels.

The flaming forge braked them swiftly, throwing Kanthe forward. The Brothers to either side must have expected this maneuver and caught his shoulders and pulled him back.

The tiny ship came to a swinging stop and lowered swiftly to the hold’s deck with a small bump. “Out in five!” the lead Brother shouted.

Kanthe searched around but saw no door.

Then the entire starboard half of the vessel fell open. The curved hull dropped toward the deck but stopped with a slight bounce, suspended by draft-iron cables. Kanthe had no time to gape. His body was unceremoniously hauled by the two Brothers and tossed out of the ship. He rolled across the deck and struck the armored legs of a knight.

“Get clear!” the lead Brother shouted as the ship resealed.

Kanthe was dragged away by his collar.

Ahead of him, the forge at the prow fired, and the small craft shot backward out of the Hyperium.

Kanthe winced at the surge of heat from its passage.

I don’t think that was even a count of five.

Kanthe was hauled to his feet by two knights, their faces stained crimson, marking them as Vyrllian knights. But these two had additional markings. Black tattoos stenciled one side of their faces, forming the Hálendiian sun and crown.

Strange.

But he had no time to question it. The knights manhandled him out of the hold and up a confounding maze of stairs and walkways. Crewmen gawked as they passed or simply went about their duties.