Etching runic symbols in Tristren's sands wouldn't work either; the wind was still so strong here that any attempt was being swept away before it had time to activate. And that would be the case even if I wasn't pinned under a magic dampening umbrella or facing off against an artillery barrage that was determined to hold me where I stood.
Even my Feldspar tablet was gone, presumably destroyed during my earlier transformation, so that option was no longer a viable one. And I was still mulling it over when I lost my balance and stumbled on a jagged seashell, discovering to my dismay that my barrier had gone.
It shouldn't have been a surprise, but it was. That feeling of vulnerability had me afraid and looking for a way out, much like the capital ship I'd turned into a useless buoyant toy that was still trying to make its way around the island where I stood.
