Flint fought down the compulsion to cough up his lungs. He had been hacking and spitting for some time now, the darkling one's gift to him and the gun-toting blonde. He stared defiantly into the single tremendous eye of his foe-turned-savior, which in turn stared back at him, and a mutual feeling was shared between them. Neither of them could do what they wanted to.

Flint could only vaguely remember when the first tentacle writhed its way into the poison-choked chamber. He had tried, feebly, to fight it off, but it had taken the girl without trouble. By the time the second limb had come for him, most of the fight was out of him until he had fresh air in his lungs, and even then he had been in no condition to struggle properly.

Now free from danger, the brute processed all he'd learned, and found it in him to relax...at least a little. He'd been right about the chamber and the abomination, but wrong about the elf. Somehow, he'd wrested some semblance of control over that place from inside the heart, and now Flint could see the blue horizon rushing up to meet them. Sunrise couldn't be far off.

The tentacle lifted him high, and Flint raised his eyes to see a small fleet of struggling airships hanging above. Lines were lowered, and one eager figure darted out from one of the airships to retrieve the blonde. Those that waited for Flint's return would not meet him halfway.

He reached out with his free hand and took hold of the thick chain dangling from the airship far above. The line had bars and footholds welded into the links of the chain, and even in his battered state the brute found it easy to grab hold. The high winds buffeted him, but his grip was sure.

The abomination hesitated before releasing him - either struggling against the urge to take advantage of this one last chance to crush him, or to be sure he wasn't going to fall again - and then the tentacle slowly fell away. As it unwrapped from around him, it revealed that he still held the Reclaimer in his free hand. He could have begun sawing away at the monster any time.

The chain began to steadily ascend, drawing Flint up with it. After a long time he could hear the crank working even over the ship's engines, and after a few moments more he could discern pale faces peering down at him. The chain slowed, then stopped. The crank was moored to a protrusion above a bay door on the underside of the ship, and Flint stepped gingerly off the chain and into the warm confines of the airship's hold.

The door was closed behind him, and he held himself up straight with a grimace. Weakness was not his to show, not here, not even now.

A thin but formidable woman stepped up to him, her features framed by the high fur collar of her coat, and she nodded her greetings brusquely. "Shall I order us down to the Salty Whore?" Roxanna said in Salvic.

Flint shook his head. "Keep after the fortress, Captain Baranski and his crew will keep for awhile yet. I need to see the fortress go down. When we dock I need your contacts. Find me the assassin called Lye first. It should not be difficult. Use our Armada channels."

He held the Reclaimer up in demonstration. "I have something that belongs to him."

"Lye first," Roxanna said with a nod. "Who next?"

"There is a wizard whose head needs separating from his shoulders," Flint said. "Find me Forral."