When they reached the stern-rail, they could see what the alarm was about. Rising from the forest below was a huge winged creature, almost the size of a dragon. At first, Mordan thought it might be a wyvern—there were reports that they laired in the depths of the Nightwood—but soon he realized that there were no membranes on its outstretched, beating wings. It was flying by magic.
The thing gained height quickly—unnaturally fast—until it was about a thousand feet above and behind the ship. Then, partially folding its nonexistent wings, it went into a shallow dive, like a falcon after a dove.
The aft ballista crew loosed a bolt, but it fell short. The creature was not yet in range. As it closed, Mordan could see that it was made of bone, fused into the rough shape of a flying reptile and partially covered with some kind of wrappings. Haldin brought his crossbow up, and Tarrel his wand. All Mordan could do was watch as the thing streaked toward them.
A fireball exploded on the after deck, where the ballista crew was reloading. Bodies were scattered right and left, and flames started to lick around the ballista and its wooden platform. Crewmen rushed to help their comrades and put out the flames, but scant seconds later they were felled by bolts of dark force that shot from the creature’s talons. The heavy crossbows fired, with Haldin and Tarrel adding their own attacks, but the creature didn’t even slow down. It overtook the ship, missing the top retaining strut and the elemental ring by inches, and more magic missiles shot down onto the foredeck as it went by.
Fighting the instinct to duck, Mordan looked at the thing as it went overhead. It could have been the partially wrapped skeleton of a wyvern or a large glidewing, but for its skull, which was more like that of an immense bull than a dragon. But his eye was drawn to the writhing designs that had been stained into the exposed bone.
“It’s spellstitched!” he yelled. This had to be more than coincidence.
There was a dull
Working with feverish intensity, the forward ballista crew cranked back the string of their weapon and prepared to load a second bolt. Haldin and Tarrel had run to the front of the vessel, determined to get off as many shots as they could while the horror was closing.
Tarrel attacked first, sending a fireball streaking toward the thing. It flew through the explosion without wavering. Some of its bandages were on fire, but it seemed to be unharmed. The ballista sent a bolt through one of the creature’s eye-sockets but failed to slow its approach. This time, nobody cheered: they were all waiting for the attack they knew would come.
Green streaks shot from its claws, hitting the foredeck with a savage hiss. Puddles of acid began to eat away at the decking; by some miracle, they had missed the ballista and its crew. Seconds later, though, they did not escape another rain of magic missiles; other crewmen raced to help them and to replace those who were badly wounded.
A volley of crossbow bolts slammed into the creature as it swept over the top of the ship for a second time, lodging in its wrappings. Crossing the line of the elemental ring, it dipped down to skim the afterdeck almost at head height. Mordan thought for a moment that it might try to snatch up a crew member in its claws, but instead a sheet of flame roared down onto the deck. It washed over the unfortunate crew of the rear ballista, who had replaced the string ruined by the creature’s initial fireball and were struggling to wind it back.
Dol Arrah, thought Mordan, how many spells has this thing got? The zombies that captured Brey had had only limited magical abilities, but this creature was much more powerful. His only consolation was that its wrappings continued to burn from Tarrel’s fireball, and some of the nearby bones were smoke-blackened.
More bolts thudded into the creature from the rear crossbows. The crew worked the repeating levers with furious speed, sending bolt after bolt into the thing.
Tarrel had run the entire length of the deck as the creature streaked overhead, and took careful aim with his wand as it pulled up for another turn. Anticipating its motion, he sent a fireball to the exact spot where it would hang in the air, weightless between climbing and diving. The explosion engulfed the creature, blotting it from view as the crossbow crews slapped new magazines into their weapons and waited for the next pass.
It never came. When the fire dissipated, the winged monstrosity was diving steeply away, trailing flame and smoke. Tarrel punched the air in victory, and a cheer went up as the creature flew off, hugging the treetops.
