Dexter awoke to the sound of someone coughing. The wracking spasms in his back, neck, stomach, and chest cleared up any confusion as to the source of the coughing; it was him. Eyes watering from the pain, he gasped for air and tried to look around. Moving his neck caused him no small amount of pain; it felt considerably thicker than it should be due to its stiffness.
He was able to see from the flickering torchlight in nearby halls that he was in a cell. And, on top of that, he was not alone. The other members of his crew were present as well, with the sole exception of Keshira. He almost chuckled, realizing he had come to think of the woman as part of his crew.
Painfully, he pulled himself to his nearest crewmember, Bekka, and gently shook her. She groaned and moved, though it took another shake to get her to open her eyes. Much like him, she coughed and grimaced as her tortured muscles remembered how to move.
Blinking away the confusion, her eyes cleared and she stared up at him. With a grimace she sat up to take in their new surroundings. “Where are we?” She asked, though it took her two attempts due to another coughing spasm.
“Jail,” Dexter said, not caring for the taste in his mouth. It was a mixture of smoke and something coppery.
“Are you hurt?” Bekka asked, looking at him. Dexter shrugged, then winced at the pain the motion caused him.
“Let me see if I can help,” she said, rising to her knees and trying to push him back to lay down.
“Rosh,” Dexter said, using all his strength to fight her gentle push. “He’s hurt worse, tend to him first.”
Bekka relented and looked over at the large warrior. The bone protruding from the skin of his leg was proof of Dexter’s claim. She hurried over to him and studied at it carefully before looking back to Dexter.
“It’s a clean break, help me and we can set it, then I’ll try to wrap it to keep it in place.”
Dexter almost nodded, but then he thought better of it. He dragged himself painful step by step over to them, not realizing that the groan he heard as he approached was not his own but came, instead, from Rosh.
“Shh, Rosh, you’re hurt pretty bad,” Bekka said, drawing Dexter’s attention to the fact that the man was waking up.
“That why I feel like I bedded a void dragon?” He whispered, surprised at the weakness in his voice. “My leg’s the worst, I think.”
Bekka nodded. “It’s broke bad, I’m going to set it, the Captain’s going to hold you, okay?”
Rosh barked out something between a cough and a laugh. “Only one that’s holdin’ me is a pretty woman!” He glanced back at Dexter and grinned. “No offense, Captain.”
Dexter smiled in spite of his misery. “None taken,” he muttered, relaxing a little instead of crawling the remaining few feet.
“Go ahead, Bekka, I’ll be okay,” Rosh said, using his hands to brace himself on the damp stone floor of their prison.
Bekka watched him take a few deep breaths and she nodded. She gently touched his foot, then let her fingers glide up his leg, letting him get used to her touch. She moved a little closer and arranged herself so that she could maximize her application of force in as short a time as possible.
“Do it, already!” Rosh started to growl, but he was interrupted as she made her move.
She yanked on his foot, trapping it between her side and her upper arm. The bone pulled back inside the skin, causing blood to well up and spill out of the hole. Rosh’s face went white, which was unseen in the poor lighting, but he made no noise nor did he move. With her other hand she felt along his shin, then wrenched against him again, pulling the foot while her hand aligned the bones. The bones set, she maintained only a slight amount of pressure to keep them in place while she glanced about the cell.
“I need something to wrap his leg with to keep it in place,” she said.
Rosh remained silent, gritting his teeth and enduring the agony. Dexter cast about, looking for something. His leather was too tough to tear, and all of his weapons had been taken from him.
“Here, use this,” Jenna said, surprising them all from where she lay. She stood up slowly, still dressed in only her leather leggings and walked over to Rosh and Bekka, handing them an old bone she had found. “I don’t think he needs it anymore.”
Dexter glanced to where she pointed and saw the skeletal remains of someone that had been left to rot in the cell they now resided in. Bekka took the bone and tore off a strip of cloth from her cloak using her teeth and one hand. She directed Jenna to hold the bone beside his leg while she wrapped the cloth around it. She tied it as best she could and looked over at the skeleton.
“Let’s do it again,” she said. “Without a proper splint he’ll need as much reinforcement as possible.”
Jenna hurried over and grabbed another bone, the humerus, and returned so they could repeat the maneuver, though this time on the opposite side of his leg. Finished, she stepped back and Bekka gently lowered Rosh’s leg to the floor.
“How’s that, Rosh?” Bekka asked him softly.
“Next time remind me to bring the whiskey,” he said. He reached up and wiped some sweat from his face before looking down at his leg. “It feels better,” he said. “I think.”
“You’ll need a proper healer to keep it from festering,” she said. “But this should save the leg.”
“That’s a start,” he muttered, then began to pull himself across the floor on his butt until he could rest his back against the wall of the cell.
“Did the wizard survive?” Dexter wondered once Rosh was situated and the immediate danger seemed to be over.
“I don’t know,” Jenna said, leaning against the bars separating their cell from the hallway outside of it. “I dragged as many of you out as I could until I collapsed,” she said. She looked to Rosh and scowled at him, “you need to lose some weight, trying to save your heavy arse did me in.”
Rosh looked at her, ready to show some genuine appreciation, and noticed for the first time her state of undress. He leered at her instead, unable to stop himself.
Jenna muttered something in Elvish at him and looked away, prepared to ignore him as long as necessary. Dexter opened his mouth to say something to Rosh, but realized it would do little good. Dexter glanced over at Bekka and was surprised to see her taking in Jenna’s nudity as well. He shook his head and groaned at the pain it caused him; he only wished he felt well enough to appreciate the view himself.
“What of Jarnella and Keshira?” Dexter asked his elven arms mistress.
“Keshira helped me,” she grudgingly admitted. “I don’t know where she is now though.”
“Did she behave differently?” Bekka inquired.
“Differently?” Jenna asked, confused.
“Aye, I think that even though she was bonded to the captain, she was still linked to Ormitor as well. He was her father, after all.”
“Father?” Dexter asked, adding to the confusion.
“Well, maybe not father, but her creator,” Bekka conceded.
Jenna thought about it for a moment, remembering her brief discussion with the golem. Keshira had told her that she knew, through her bond with Dexter, that he cared for Jenna, and because of that Keshira would do as she bid her. Jenna shrugged, still needing to think about that revelation. “She might have been a little odd, but more than that I don’t know, there wasn’t enough time.”
Bekka nodded, lapsing into silent thought.
“So where in the void is she?” Dexter wondered. “And what’s happened to the ‘Hawk, Kragor, and Jodyne?”
“I have her.”
Everyone turned at the deep voice that rumbled through the room. It came from the hallway outside the cell. Before their eyes the air shimmered like that of a mirage in the desert and a man appeared. Or it resembled a man in many ways, save for a face totally devoid of any features. With no eyes or mouth, they had no idea where it was looking, nor did they know how it could be talking to them.
Nevertheless, it spoke again. The words emanated clearly in a powerful masculine voice, the source unknown. “She is my honored guest, as are you all,”
“Was he an honored guest as well?” Dexter asked, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure everyone could hear it within several city blocks. He was pointing at the skeletal remains of the former cell occupant.
“No,” the man said, his chuckle a constant. “Those are the remains of the former management.”
“Management? Where is we then?” Rosh asked, angry that he could not rise to his feet to face the faceless being. There was something more than disconcerting about the visage that bothered the warrior deeply.
“We,” their captor said, turning its head slightly as though it was gazing upon the wounded warrior. “are in the dungeons of Port Freedom. I am the sheriff of Port Freedom. You are…my guests.”
“You are Rolxoth then?” Jenna asked, overcoming her earlier surprise but stepping no closer to him. She had heard the name of the new marshal of the city watch before.
He turned back to face her directly. “I am he, you are from here?”
Jenna shook her head, nervous at the attention he was giving her. She had heard stories of a race of deadly beings that were said to be faceless. They were assassins, able to assume the guise of anyone. It was rumored they had strange powers as well, deep and dark things best left as stories to frighten children. Whatever he could do, she wanted none of it.
“I passed through once, many months back. I’ve never had cause to have business with the law,” she said.
Rolxoth chuckled. He seemed to turn and focus his attention on Dexter, something that made the captain more than a little disturbed. “You are their captain?”
Dexter nodded, then forced himself to ignore the protests his body made as he rose up to stand before the creature. “Dexter Silvercloud, Captain of the Voidhawk.”
“Well Captain Silvercloud, it would seem that you’re in a bit of a bind.”
Dexter glanced at the bars, then back to the watch captain. “Aye, that it does.’
“You tried to burn down my city,” it said.
Dexter shook his head. “That’s not really the way of it, the wizard, Ormitor-”
“Captain,” Rolxoth interrupted him, “I’m not interested in details. Who broke what deal, who attacked who… it’s pointless. What matters to me is that you caused a large estate to be burned nearly beyond repair, had it not been for the quick work of our fire prevention brigade. Additionally, a citizen that is in good standing has been reported missing.”
“By good standing I’m guessing you mean he pays healthy taxes?” Dexter asked, liking the direction things were heading less and less with each passing word.
Rolxoth chuckled again, a source less noise that was both ominous and nearly painful with how deep it was. “Yes, taxes do determine the worth of a citizen, do they not?”
Dexter did not bother to answer the rhetorical question. “So if he was a prisoner,” he asked, gesturing at the skeleton, “what fate awaits your guests?”
“That all depends. As I said, details are trivial things. I’m interested in results. A small, neutral ship like yours might be able to produce such results.”
Dexter bristled. “So you want the Voidhawk in exchange for our freedom?”
Rolxoth’s chuckle was upgraded to a laugh, something that left them all nauseated. “Hardly, I am content with the spoils of Port Freedom.”
“So what do you want?” Dexter pressed, wishing he knew what to make of the sheriff and where the conversation was going. The ache in his back was causing him no small amount of dizziness and nausea as well, which fouled his mood all the more.
“I have heard tell of a fleet of ships that have taken interest in Port Freedom. I would like to know more about them. Do this for me and we can establish a friendship that might prove mutually beneficial in the future,” Rolxoth said.
It sounded simple enough, Dexter had to admit, but while Rolxoth may have claimed to be disinterested in details, the details of this agreement promised all types of misery. He saw Jenna staring at him, and the look on her face virtually pleaded with him to say no.
“What fleet?” Dexter asked. “And from where do they hail?”
Rolxoth’s tone implied a smile. “If I knew that, would I be asking you to find them for me?”
Dexter frowned. He glanced at his crew and then said, “What’s to stop me from agreeing then setting sail and never returning?”
Rolxoth stared at Dexter, or at least the captain felt as though he was being stared at. It was several shades beyond unsettling. “Do you really want to live the rest of your life running from my ships? You might outrun them here and there, but one day they would corner you and then you would face me again.”
As an example of just how unpleasant that could be, Rolxoth twisted so that he was pointing down the hall. Everyone looked and saw a shape floating down the hallway towards them. In moments they recognized it as Keshira. A few more moments and they realized that it was not Keshira, but rather a statue of her. A statue of her at the end of the battle at Ormitor’s house, with her robe hanging in tatters from her body and displaying, carved in stone, the sheer beauty of her form.
The statue floated in mid-air beside the faceless marshal, silent and breathtakingly horrible. They witnessed a flash of green erupt from the statue, then saw the stone color and soften, returning to the flesh it had once been.
“Captain!” Keshira said, seeing him and trying to move towards him. Rolxoth’s telekinesis kept her levitated and unable to effectively move, however.
“Do we have an accord, Captain?” he asked.
Dexter glanced at his crew, all of whom were staring at the futile struggle of Keshira. All save for Jenna, who was looking at Dexter. He locked gazes with her for a long moment, until at least she gave him a ghost of a smile and nodded. He turned back to Rolxoth and agreed. “Release her, set us free with our things, and grant us a healer. Then I shall do as you ask and return with news of this fleet.”
“You ask much,” Rolxoth said, yet his tone indicated humor rather than irritation.
The cell door swung open, squeaking on the rusty hinges as it did so. “It is done,” Rolxoth said, turning and walking past Keshira, who was now released and moving into the cell to be certain her Master was well.
Dexter held her off with a simple wave, then gestured for the others to follow Rolxoth. Rosh grunted, struggling to get to his feet, and earned the assistance of Bekka in doing so.
“Keshira, help him please,” Dexter said. She jumped to his bidding, letting Rosh slide his arm around her shoulders and support his weight on her.
Rosh, in constant pain, nevertheless took great pleasure in being so close to the effectively nude pleasure golem. His only true regret was that he could not spend time becoming more familiar with her. Instead she set a grueling pace for him to maintain with his one good leg as they trailed along behind the others.
Rolxoth led them to a staircase up and out of the dungeons. Keshira helped Rosh climb them with a patience that the large man did not share. By the time they reached the 20th and final stair, he was cursing more freely than usual.
From there Rolxoth led them through his offices. There were constables and city guardsman moving about or watching. They were of various races, some human, some lizardmen, a few dwarves, a Halfling, and even a single elf with an eye patch. They all turned to watch the crew of the Voidhawk, paying special attention to the topless elf and even more so to Keshira as she aided Rosh along the way.
“Fetch a healer,” Rolxoth’s disembodied voice growled. “And return their items to them.”
A dwarf moved to a locked cabinet and waited while a human unlocked the doors of it and opened them for him. He pulled out a chest and carried it over, then unlocked it after sitting it on the floor.
“Have you any clothes?” Dexter asked, knowing that Jenna and Keshira would draw more attention than any of them wanted. That and he needed Rosh less distracted than he presently was.
A cloak was provided for Keshira and an oversized tunic was given to Jenna. She slipped it on to stop the others from staring at her and immediately felt better for the lack of prying eyes gazing upon her. Reluctantly, Rosh rested upon a desk so that Keshira could conceal herself within the cloak given to her.
A few minutes later a priest entered through a double door that, when opened, revealed the city of Port Freedom on the other side. Dexter noted that they were nearly free while the priest glanced about and then saw where he was obviously needed. He hurried over and pulled a symbol of the Holy Path from beneath his robe.
The priest studied Rosh’s leg then began to chant. He moved the holy symbol over it, then let his fingers glide up and down his leg. Rosh’s eyes widened in surprise, then he grinned. The priest backed away and said, “Take care how you be using that leg, it still be weak and needing time.”
He looked around at the others and moved to Dexter next. Dexter let him study his wounds then fetch out his holy symbol to once again begin chanting and moving about.
Rosh hopped up carefully, slowly putting weight on his leg. He grinned as it bore his full weight. Dexter felt a soothing warmness spread through the pains in his back and, in its wake, leave behind relaxed muscles and bones.
The priest moved on and Dexter thanked him, wishing he had a few coins on him to repay the man with. He glanced at the chest and then knelt down to start going through it. He pulled out his sword, dagger, and pistol. He looked about, briefly, for his powder bag then remembered he had used it to dispatch Ormitor.
Jenna followed suit next, since the priest had finished healing her aches as well. She rearmed herself, then stood near Dexter. Rosh took the extra time needed to reacquire all of his weaponry before Bekka picked up the dagger left in the bottom of the chest.
“You’re fit, you have your belongings, your freedom alone awaits you,” Rolxoth said, twisting his head to orient on each of them one at a time. “Remember our pact, Captain.”
Dexter nodded. Having nothing useful to add he turned and led the way out of the building the sheriff used as the offices and dungeon of the city guard. They made their way through the large and often chaotic city toward the docks, with seldom a word spoken.
“Captain,” Bekka spoke up.
Dexter held up his hand, silencing her. “Save it,” he told her. “Take the helm and make her ready.”
She nodded, unhappy to have been silenced but obeying him regardless. In a few moments they were walking down the dock to the Voidhawk. They boarded the ship, an anxious Kragor following after Dexter and barking out questions that went unanswered.
“Get the ship ready!” He yelled out, then went down the stairs and ducked into the bridge.
Kragor hesitated a moment, glancing at everyone immediately going to work.
“Kragor! Get Jenna and get to the bridge!”
Grinning, Kragor saw that Jenna had heard the captain’s yell and was already making her way towards the staircase. He barely beat her to the first step, in fact, and he was standing next to it.
“We need to find out what, or who, has interests on Port Freedom,” Dexter said as soon as they entered the room. “Jenna, you’re in charge of the ship while Kragor and I head out.”
“Half a minute, boy-o,” Kragor sputtered. “What’s this about? Where’ve you been, gone nigh two days!”
Dexter frowned. Bekka walked in, surprised to see them all standing there, and then moved past them and went to the helm, settling into it with a faint smile and closing her eyes as she joined with the ship.
“We met the wizard and had a disagreement,” he said.
Jenna chuckled. Dexter ignored her in favor of the dwarf. “Ran afoul of the city guard, the deal was freedom for finding out about some mysterious fleet coming for Port Freedom.”
Kragor stroked his beard and nodded. “There’s more to this then?”
Dexter nodded. Kragor sighed. “Tell me on the way then.”
He nodded again. “Keep the ship ready, as soon as we have a plan we’ll be off.”
“Captain,” Jenna said, then glanced at Kragor. “May I have a word?”
“Can it wait?” Dexter asked, irritated at her timing.
“No, Sir, it can’t.”
“Alright, what’s on your mind?”
She glanced at Kragor again. Kragor threw his hands up in the air and turned and stomped out of the bridge. She looked back at Dexter and then glanced at Bekka.
“Gods, woman, you’ll be the death of me,” Dexter grumbled. “To your room then; I need another pouch of fire powder.”
She led the way out of the bridge and down the companionway, ending near the stern at her room. Inside she fished out a pouch of fire powder and handed it to Dexter.
“Well?” he asked, clearly impatient.
“Elves,” she said.
“What about them? They after you?” he asked.
She shook her head and smiled ruefully. “Not this time. No, it’s elves that are after Port Freedom.”
“How do you… never mind,” Dexter said, deciding he did not have the time or the patience to want to understand. “Where might they be?”
Jenna shrugged. “There’s a lot of void out there, I’ve no idea where they might come from.”
Dexter nodded; it made sense that she would have no idea. After all, she was just his weapons mistress, not some high ranking elf that seemed to know more than she should have…
He shut the door behind him and turned back on her, closing on her until he was well inside of her personal space. Only a matter of inches separated them. “I need to know how you know this.”
Jenna looked at him, a hint of a coy smile at the corner of her mouth. She glanced away, the smile dissolving as she debated what he said.
“One day — soon, I think — I’ll be wanting your story in full,” Dexter told her, his voice firm. He softened it a little as she looked back at him, a strange look in her eyes. “For now I’ll settle with you letting me know how I can tell the sheriff this and have it ring true.”
She opened her mouth and closed it, words not coming to her. Dexter found himself strangely amused that, for once, he seemed to have her at a loss for words instead of him. Finally she nodded. “Alright, take me with you.”
Dexter stared at her for a moment, looking into her eyes and judging what he found within them. Slanted slightly due to her elven heritage, they nevertheless held no guile or treachery within them. Instead he saw an openness and honesty that left him trusting her more than he felt he should. He nodded, agreeing.
“Alright, let’s go,” he told her, stepping away and turning to open the door.
She grabbed up the supplies she needed and followed Dexter up the companionway towards the bridge. When she caught up to him he was just sticking his head in through the door to the bridge.
“Kragor, the ship’s yours while I’m away. If we’re not back after a day, she’s all yours,” Dexter said, turning about and brushing past Jenna then mounting the stairs to the deck.
Jenna heard Kragor bluster behind them, then mutter, “he keeps saying that, I’m for fearing one of these times he might be meaning it.”
A startled crew above watched Dexter and Jenna leave the ship, even Rosh’s offer to accompany them being turned down. With little else to keep them busy, Rosh, Keshira, and even Jodyne quickly fell to when Kragor yelled for them to get back to making the ship ready to leave.
The trek back through Port Freedom was hurried and without conversation or incident. Jenna easily kept up with the pace that Dexter set, though it left her little spare wind for questions. It was just as well, for her mind was busy with deciding what she would tell the sheriff of Port Freedom that would convince him.
Dexter burst into the offices used by the city guard without slowing. He looked at the surprised members of the watch that stared at him and the door that he had sent swinging into the wall, a few of them even reaching for weapons.
“Where’s Rolxoth?” Dexter demanded, looking around.
“Sheriff’s in his office,” one man said, gesturing towards a door in the wall.
Dexter glanced at the door and then her, giving her one last chance to back out. He shrugged when she nodded, then he started towards it. The man that had spoke to him before held up his hand, stalling him. He turned, the other mostly going back to their own business, and walked to the door.
“Sheriff, the skipper of that ship you been eyeing up is back to see you,” he said after he opened the door and leaned in.
Rolxoth grumbled something that they could not hear. The man backed away from the door and made room for Rolxoth to walk through it. He faced them, letting them stew for a moment wondering whether they really had his attention or not.
“You have news already?” he asked, his tone voicing his doubt and irritation at their interruption.
Dexter nodded. “Aye, I do.”
Rolxoth cocked his featureless head in what they deemed to be surprise. He backed up into his office and turned away from them. His voice, unchanged by his new orientation, bade them, “Come and tell me of it.”
Dexter and Jenna followed him in, then both nearly jumped when the door swung shut behind them. “Speak freely, this room is protected from prying eyes,” Rolxoth said.
“The elves come for Port Freedom,” Dexter said, ignoring the grim humor of how Rolxoth himself appeared to have no eyes.
Rolxoth chuckled. “That is one of many rumors I hear on the streets and taverns, you must do better.”
Jenna stepped forward, surprising an open-mouthed Dexter who was about to protest. Her hands went to her belt, untying it and tossing it to a startled Dexter. She proceeded to undo the ties on her breeches, then pushed them down and stepped out of them.
Dexter found himself staring at her from behind, admiring the curve and shape of both her legs and posterior. She glanced back at him, smiling weakly, and then turned so that they could both see her from the front.
“Captain, I need a sharp knife,” Jenna asked him.
Dexter pulled out one of the daggers from his belt and stepped closer, handing it to her. He had no idea what she was doing, but her strange performance had left him unable to do anything else. She clearly had something in mind. Rolxoth was likewise fascinated with the show.
Jenna took the blade of the dagger and used it to scrape away the sparse hair that covered her loins. Already fine, her blond hair fell to the sharp knife and drifted to the ground, revealing an intricate tattoo in her flesh behind it, that of a woven ring of vines surrounding something Dexter had trouble making out.
“You bear the mark of the house of Windchaser!” Rolxoth hissed, his deep voice rumbling in spite of his tone.
“Who’s that?” Dexter asked, concerned by the sheriff’s reaction.
“The royal house of the elven empire,” Rolxoth said. “You bring a spy amongst us, Captain.”
“I’m not a spy!” Jenna protested angrily.
Dexter thought back to when he had first met her, in a Federation prison cell. She had been put in there for being a spy as well. His eyes narrowed as he looked into hers. He saw hers widen and then narrow, moisture growing in them briefly before it was blinked away.
“Look closer,” Jenna demanded, pointing with a finger at the mark. Her finger traced the tattoo around the mark. “This marks a circle of protection, or a barrier. It is ensorcelled to prevent anyone from tracking me by my birthmark.”
Dexter realized that the strange mark in the middle, something resembling a crescent shaped sail over a beam, was in fact a birthmark and not a part of the tattoo. It was marred badly however, and only his dim recollection of hearing something about a symbol like that long ago allowed him to draw the conclusion.
“The further proof is the brand atop my birthmark,” she said, explaining the distortion that nearly prevented Dexter from identifying it. “I received it the day I was banished from elven lands at the hands of the Royal Inquisitioner! The tattoo came later, as did my adoption of the name Darkwind.”
Dexter blinked. It was the first time he had heard her surname. It had always been just Jenna until now. He nodded, accepting her story, and turned back to Rolxoth.
“Now do you believe it?” Dexter asked him.
Rolxoth chuckled softly. “Compelling evidence… what proof do you have? Merely being an estranged cousin to the royal family is not enough.”
Jenna shrugged, bending down and drawing her pants back up. Dexter found himself distracted by her movements, then forced himself to focus anew when she straightened and spoke again.
“Not so distant,” she said. “I was the third born in line of succession. I know of their long standing plans to occupy Port Freedom, though some wish it secretly and others publicly, so that they have another tool to use against the Federation.”
“If they come publicly, that means Tanagar has the ear of the emperor at last and has marshaled a fleet to carry the army in disguise. Few will be the elven vessel that carries them, yet they will land and instill themselves amongst you. You will have no idea when they are here until it is too late, then they will act.”
“Bah, we’ll know them for they are elves!” Rolxoth said, clearly growing angered.
Jenna shook her head. “Not for this. Some will be elves, sure, but some will be other races controlled by elves. Some work for money, some are compelled. Some will be magically disguised. They will infiltrate every part of Port Freedom, including the city watch. Perhaps they even know of a race of people able to assume the face of any man or woman they see in passing.”
Rolxoth faced her directly, all of his attention focused on her. He nodded at last. And asked, “You know of my kind?”
Jenna shrugged. “Rumors mostly. Stories told of demons coming in the night to do murder.”
He laughed, the sound of it sounding more sinister to Dexter than anything he had yet heard. “To bind a Malvoli to service is difficult indeed,” he said at length. “To purchase their service less so, but still so costly I doubt your people would be able to afford it.”
“Malvoli?” Dexter whispered, trying the strange word out.
“That is what I am, Captain Silvercloud. I come from another place, a place unthinkable by your people,” he acknowledged.
“Don’t doubt the intent or fervor of the elves,” Jenna said. “They’ve plans for this place; plans that do not involve a peaceful retirement for you or your men.”
He nodded to her. “Perhaps they do. The price of service is measured in blood and in souls, not in gold and jewels.”
Jenna shrugged, but said nothing.
He stared her down for a long moment, but when she refused to yield he spun away. “Take her and be gone from my sight!” Rolxoth snapped to Dexter.
“What will you do?” Dexter asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Rolxoth walked towards his desk. “We’ve not seen the last of each other, Captain.”
Jenna grabbed Dexter’s arm and pulled him encouragingly towards the door. Dexter stared after the otherwise occupied sheriff for a moment, wondering if the eyeless being could still see him, then let Jenna guide him to the door and out of the office. Other than a cursory glance, none of the city guardsman paid them any special attention on their way back out of the building.
They walked silently for only a few city blocks before Dexter said to her, “I think the time has come.”
Heart beating faster all of a sudden, Jenna asked softly, “Time for what?”
“For you to be leveling with me. I’m through sailing without a course, Jenna. I’m feeling a powerful need to know that springing you out of that cell wasn’t another bad decision in a string of many I’ve been known to make.”
Jenna nodded, taking a deep breath as she did so. “Not on the ship though, okay? I don’t want the others to know.”
“Aye, I’ll grant you that,” Dexter conceded. He saw a tavern approaching and steered towards it.
The tavern, Whitefish Hall, was surprisingly clean. A veteran of countless dockside bars, Dexter did a double take upon entering at how quiet the inhabitants were, and how secluded the booths seemed to be. A look at the serving maids and the bartender and he began to wonder if they had stumbled into the wrong place; they all wore tailored uniforms that, while attractive, were striking and professional.
“Gods, what is this place?” Dexter mumbled.
“Sir, a table or a booth for you and the lady?”
Dexter jumped at the question. He turned and saw a uniformed man standing beside a podium. He glanced at Jenna, who was just as surprised as he was. “Um, a booth, I think.”
“Excellent, this way, if you please,” he said with a flourish of his hand.
Dexter glanced at Jenna, who only shrugged and smiled. He returned the smile and followed the man to a booth that was easily as private as the rest. He seated them and made a few suggestions as to the cooks specialty, some sort of roasted hen with some sauce or other, then returned to his position near the entrance.
Dexter glanced around again and then shook his head to help him refocus on the task at hand: Jenna. “Okay, so let’s try this again.”
Jenna nodded. She opened her mouth and closed it a couple of times, not certain where to start. Then she smiled and asked, “Dex, can I ask a simple thing of you first?”
Dexter pursed his lips thoughtfully. He shrugged and nodded, saying, “Aye, you can ask. I won’t be saying yes before the question though.”
Jenna nodded, smiling. “Will you kiss me?”
Dexter just stared at her, not comprehending her request immediately. “Will I… kiss you?”
She nodded. “Just a simple kiss before my story. I want — no, I need to feel it in case what I tell you leaves me adrift on this rock.”
Dexter chuckled, nearly saying that nothing she could say would make him cast her off his ship. He stopped himself though, remembering that she had just claimed to be born a high ranking member of the royal house of the Elven Empire. There were a great many possibilities that would make him think twice about inviting her back upon his ship.
“A kiss seems simple enough,” Dexter admitted.
Jenna slid out from her side of the booth without wasting any time. She scooted in next to Dexter smoothly, and reached up to pull his face to hers. Surprised, Dexter started to open his mouth but then felt her lips press against his. Within a few confused seconds he lost himself to the surprising passion of the kiss. Surprising to him, at least.
“Still falling for the lesser races, I see.”
Jenna ended the kiss abruptly, yanking herself away and twisting about on the padded bench. Dexter blinked his eyes, lips still open and pursed, and had to shake his head to focus through the fog she had instilled in him. What he saw was three men, all elves. Two of them with pistols in hand, though they were pointed at the ground in a marginally less threatening manner. The third elf, who stood in the middle, had addressed Jenna.
“Less long-lived, perhaps,” Jenna replied. “Greater in so many other ways.”
The elf in the middle laughed harshly. “The same old debate, and the same old scandal that got you shunned from your father’s court, I see. It is of no matter, really. What does matter is that you’ve so conveniently shown up on the eve of our momentous victory.”
“Jenna, care to introduce me to your friends?” Dexter asked casually, though his tone held a hint of threat to it.
“Not friends, Captain,” Jenna replied curtly. “Duballin is one of my brother’s worms. His two protectors are Trevin and Krotal, thugs that would kill their own mothers if the wind blew right.”
“Such glowing praise, I see your time away has not tamed you,” Duballin said, his eyes narrowing slightly at her harsh words.
“A pity,” he continued, gesturing with his hand for both of them to step out of the booth. “The Emperor will be glad of your return, but disappointed by your continuing refusal. It will weigh heavy upon him to know of his wayward daughter… It would be a shame if I were forced to bring him news of how I had to deal with her in his stead when she refused our hospitality.”
Jenna glared at him, but slid out. As her hand pushed off the booth behind her she felt Dexter’s fingers and clutched it for a brief second, squeezing his hand and confusing him further. Then she was gone.
“You as well, Captain Silvercloud,” Duballin said with a predatory smile.
Seeing both pistols resting all too casually in his direction, Dexter returned his smile and slid out behind her. He led the way to an open doorway that led deeper into the tavern. Jenna and Dexter followed behind, and were trailed after by Duballin’s associates.
“I’d really rather you just told me about your past, rather than show me,” Dexter said softly to Jenna as they walked.
“Me too,” she responded.
They were led down some stairs and down another hallway, then into a room with a door that seemed uncomfortably thick to Dexter. Inside the room there was nothing, just walls, floor, and ceiling made of the same wood as the door and the rest of the establishment. Duballin smiled at them humorlessly and slipped between Krotal and Trevin, then they too retreated. The door shut with a muffled finality that snuffed out what little light had filtered in from the passage outside.
“Just one little kiss,” Dexter muttered, glancing about in the darkness and straining to pick up any light at all.
“It was a good kiss,” Jenna said softly, her voice carrying through the darkness.
Dexter had to chuckle; she was right, it had been a good kiss. The best he could remember, he supposed. He shook his head to clear it of such flights of fancy. “Aye, it was, but that doesn’t help us much here.”
Jenna sighed and he suddenly found her hands taking his. “I’m sorry, Captain. I really am. I knew Port Freedom was a dangerous place, I should have told you sooner.”
Dexter found himself nodding even though he knew she could not see him. Then again, there was something rumored about elves seeing in the dark. “Can you see?”’
She was silent a moment then laughed harshly. “Sorry, you can’t see me shake my head. No, I cannot see. If there was a faint light then yes, I could see. Without even a spark, I am as blind as you.”
“How about that story now,” Dexter asked after sighing. “And this time, let’s try it without the kiss.”
Jenna laughed softly and pulled him by his hands with her until they bumped into a wall. She slid down it and he went with her, until they were sitting. “Well, I was born Jenna Windchaser, the first daughter of my father, the Emperor of the Elves. My childhood was spent playing and learning with other elves-“
Dexter chuckled, interrupting her. “I imagine everyone’s childhood is largely the same, you don’t need to share everything with me.”
“No, I do,” Jenna said. “If you want to understand the Elven Empire — if you want to understand who I am — then you need to hear this too.”
Dexter nodded, then remembered the darkness that he was already growing accustomed to. “Alright, go on then, I’ll not stop you again.”
“Elves, as a people, are not bad. Not any more so than humans or dwarves. We love, we hate, we jest, and we grow serious. We grow old and die as well, it just takes a lot longer for us.
“The long lives we have cause many elves to think of us as better than others. It is not a universal view held by all, but then again, the Empire is not subject to the will of the people, but rather the will of the Emperor.”
“So what does that have to do with children playing?” Dexter asked when Jenna stopped for a moment.
“I thought you weren’t going to interrupt me?”
Dexter chuckled. “Sorry, Captain’s prerogative.”
Jenna snorted, mostly amused but partially annoyed. “Well, my playmates were not entirely elves. I also played with other races. Lesser races, so I was told. They were servants in many cases, outright slaves in others. Some of my crueler kin played with these ‘lesser’ children abusively, and such abuses were either ignored or encouraged.”
After pausing to let that sink in, Jenna continued. “It never felt right to me, how they were treated. My concern for others was frowned upon though, and discouraged both privately and sometimes publicly. It was my speed and grace that brought pride enough to my family to keep from hiding me. I excelled at everything I did, from dancing to training with weapons.
“It was that training that finally caused me to cross the line,” Jenna said with a heavy voice. “I learned from elves, but often sparred with non-elves, and was encouraged to not hold back while practicing against them. One regular sparring partner, a gifted human, was chosen to be my opponent for my final bout that would graduate me from being an apprentice. They made me fight him without reservation or inhibition, and he was made to do the same. Had he defeated me, he would have been beaten and killed for it. Instead I defeated him, and his blood is on my hands.”
“Blood… you mean you had to kill him?” Dexter asked her.
Jenna sniffed and cleared her throat before continuing. “Yes, I killed him.”
She squeezed his hands for comfort then continued. “I made a vow then and there to not become like my father and the other members of court. I made some inquiries about a resistance movement within the Empire, and soon enough met a few of them. Once they understood I was genuine, they took me in and used me to filter secrets from the state to them. This allowed them to plan raids and to smuggle slaves out of the empire to freedom. With my assistance they became a force to be reckoned with. Instead of a mere nuisance they ranked as an item on my father’s agenda.”
“A spy that worked his way up through their ranks found me out and turned me in, which set up another plot my father used. Unwittingly, I was used as bait and assisted in the capture of the leaders of the resistance. It was then that I learned that the birthmark I showed you could be used by the elven wizards to track me.
“Because I was family, and because I had ‘helped’ to end the resistance, my father only banished me from the Empire when I refused to recant my ways before him. I was stripped of rank, title, rights, possessions, and even my garments. They dragged me away from him and I was beaten and abused throughout the voyage to this very place, Port Freedom. Were I not so highborn, I expect much more than a mere beating would have taken place.
“Here I was to be sold as a slave, never to enter again into Elven space, but one of the people I had helped to escape in the past caught sight of me and they set up a raid to rescue me.”
Jenna squeezed Dexter’s hand again, drawing strength from him. “I knew the spies the elves keep here would be replaced, so I did my best to avoid this place at all times. I should have warned you, I suppose, or at least contrived a way to stay aboard the ship.”
“Wait,” Dexter said, his head swimming at her disclosure, “how did you end up in a federation jail?”
Jenna laughed sadly. “That’s another story, Captain.”
“I don’t see anyone telling us to hurry,” Dexter quipped.
Jenna was silent a moment, making Dexter wonder whether she was deciding what to tell him or not. He opened his mouth to speak again but felt one of her hands leave his and press her lips softly against his lips.
Then he felt her warm breath against his ear, sending chills down his spine. “Shh, someone comes.”
Dexter strained anew to see in the darkness, then he strained to listen for anything. He wondered how she could be sure when, a few moments later, he heard something slam solidly against the door to their cell. They both jumped a little at the loud noise, then scrambled to their feet.
It crashed against it twice more, with the third time being accompanied by the cracking and tearing of wood. The door swung open, letting the dim lighting from the lanterns in the corridor spill in on them and blind them. All they could tell for certain was that three figures were standing there, and that the third one was short.
“Dex!” Kragor, the short figure, cried out happily.
“Master!” One of the other, taller, figures said just as happily.
Blinking furiously as their vision adjusted, they could see Kragor, Keshira, and Rosh staring at them. Dexter was overjoyed to see them, and rushed forward, giving Kragor a hearty slap on the back of gratitude and even going so far as to hug and kiss Keshira.
“What, don’t I get any thanks?” Rosh asked as Dexter was turning to him.
Dexter grinned and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek as well. “I was just going to say that, but you earned it,” Dexter said.
The others laughed, Jenna forgetting the discomfort she had felt when she had watched Dexter embrace Keshira. Rosh just stood there uncertainly, his cheeks flushing red.
“Captain, we’d better be going, Duballin said they were about ready to take Port Freedom,” Jenna reminded him.
“Right you are!” Dexter said, reminded of their haste. “Come on, we have to get out of here before the fighting starts.”
“Too late,” Kragor told him. “It started on our way here. Keshira knew how to find you with her bond to you, so we let her lead us. We were set upon a few times on the way, mostly by strangers or elves. The city watch seemed to recognize us and leave us be.”
Dexter cursed. “We’ve already wasted too much time, let’s go!”
They hurried out, Kragor leading the way with his short legs pumping out a pace that was a challenge to follow.
Duballin burst into the room, having been alerted by the magical wards that had monitored the door of Jenna and Dexter’s escape. He looked around, fists clenched and teeth grinding. “Enough! Release one of the slayers to track her down and be done with her!”
“And the human?” Krotal asked.
Duballin shrugged. “Kill him too, though he is no concern.”
Krotal nodded and hurried out, intent upon doing as Duballin had bid him.
Dexter and his crew made their way as quickly as they could through the besieged streets. Everywhere people were fighting, running, or trying to hide. Of those that fought, few knew what or who they were fighting, or even if they were friend or foe. Other than a few brief skirmishes that ended with no injuries, they found if they kept to themselves they could usually avoid any troubles.
Their plan worked fine all the way to the docks. There they discovered some intense pockets of fighting. Several ships were on fire as well, which caused them all to rush heedlessly through the people milling about the docks. From the side came something small streaking out from the shadows between two buildings towards Jenna.
Jenna grunted when it collided with her, sending her tumbling to the ground. The others pulled up short and stared in shock at the chaotic arrangement of flying hair and limbs. The elf was unable to counter the strength of the thing that had her, but did manage to keep the gnashing teeth from biting into her tender throat. The nails of the creature sent against her dug into her arms, making blood flow down her skin freely.
Jenna managed to roll over so that she was on the ground and her attacker was atop her. They remained in this position, straining against one another, long enough for them to get a good look at their attacker. She was barely more than a young girl herself. Lithe to the point of being scrawny, her dark hair and somewhat elfin features made her beautiful, even if she had a look of hatred upon her face at the moment.
Rosh waded in, grabbing the girl around one arm and wrapping his hand behind her neck. His other hand grabbed her about the waist, pinning her other arm to it. He pulled her free from Jenna and held her easily while she struggled against him.
“Thanks Rosh,” Jenna said, putting pressure against the worst of the holes in her upper arm as she rose to her feet. She turned to the thrashing girl and stared at her, trying to figure out why she had attacked her.
“Who are you?” Jenna demanded.
The girl just hissed and snapped at her. Jenna frowned and looked to Dexter. Dexter was just as curious, but he suspected that letting her loose would just have her attacking Jenna again. She seemed to possess no interest in anyone else.
“Bring her, we’ll deal with her later,” Dexter said, already turning towards where the Voidhawk was docked. They followed, Rosh holding the thrashing girl away from anyone or anything that she struggled to get to.
They made it up the plank to the Voidhawk amidst the confusion. Jodyne was standing nearby, several daggers laying about the deck around her, and she greeted Dexter with a smile.
“Gave us a scare there, lad,” she said with relief. She started grabbing up the daggers and, after shoving a few in her clothing, she handed the rest to Jenna.
“Had to borrow these, sorry dearie,” Jodyne said with a smile.
The elf just nodded, still distracted by the struggling woman in Rosh’s arms.
“Rosh, put her in one of the holds or something. Tie her up if she won’t behave. Keshira, help him,” Dexter said. He glanced at the fighting on the streets and shook his head. “And hurry! I mean to be off this rock right quick!”
While they confined their captive, Dexter took a hand on the deck readying the rigging for departure. He kept glancing at the docks, knowing his luck was bound to run out soon. Especially since Duballin apparently knew what ship Jenna had come in on and, by now, had to know they had escaped.
Rosh and Keshira returned to the deck without incident, aside from a few scratches on Rosh’s arms and face. A few moments later Bekka lifted them free of the embattled docks, turned the ship gracefully in the sky and headed void-ward. A few pistols fired, seeing them in the air, and a few arrows sailed up at them, but they were quickly left behind by the greater speed of the void ship. In a matter of less than an hour Port Freedom was behind them and they were safely away.
With Rosh at his side, Dexter entered the cargo hold and fought the urge to chuckle. The girl that had attacked them was laying upon the floor. Her hands were tied together, as were her feet, and they were again tied together. She had been muzzled as well, but she had chewed through the rope that had been in her mouth.
“Good thing you saved us from a little girl,” Dexter commented dryly.
Rosh looked on, eyes wide. “Captain, that girl’s got a powerful need to hurt somebody. She’s stronger than you think too!”
“Is this true?” Dexter asked, kneeling down next to the girl.
She snarled at him and tried to inch forward to be within striking distance. Dexter raised his eyebrows in surprise and backed up. He shook his head and looked to Rosh, who just shrugged.
“I guess we should put her down,” Dexter said, at a loss to explain what vexed her.
“Hang on now, Captain,” Rosh said, surprising him.
“Rosh, I expect you’d be the first to advise such a course?”
Rosh shrugged again. “Well, yeah, but she’s a pretty thing, once you look past the pale skin and how skinny she is. I’m thinking if we try hard enough and clean her up, then get her fed, she might be thankful.”
“Thankful?” Dexter asked suspiciously. “I’ll not be having any servants or slaves aboard the ‘Hawk.”
“No, not that,” Rosh said quickly. “I’m thinking she might sign up, help out on the deck.”
Dexter chuckled. “She’s a bit small for that.”
“You ain’t felt her wrestle, she’s plenty strong enough,” he said.
Dexter sighed and closed his eyes. He shook his head again and walked out. “Fine, but if she doesn’t start speaking civil and behaving, then we’re giving her to the void!”
Rosh nodded, then turned back to her, a smile on his face. With Dexter out of the room he moved closer to her and knelt down. “Hear that? You start playing nice and we’ll let you out of them ropes. Then I’ll teach you a few things and in return you can-“
Rosh stumbled backwards, barely avoiding her collapsing teeth as she somehow found a way to spring towards him. He picked himself up in a hurry and stared at her. She was still bound and still fighting the ropes. He had no idea how she had done it, but he shook his finger at her.
“You just think about it,” he said, his voice less steady than he wanted. “We’ll talk later.”
Rosh shut the door behind him and hurried back up to the main deck to get back to work. Once there he saw Dexter pointing for Jenna’s benefit. Following his stretched arm he saw what had the captain so excited: a ship. It was a scout ship, smaller than the Voidhawk, but it turned sharper, flew faster, and was usually designed for raiding or battle.
The scout ship closed steadily with them and, when it was within a few thousand yards, two smaller shapes detached from it. They closed rapidly with the Voidhawk until they be seen to be small elven fighters, which were one man interceptors not so different from what Dexter had flown for the Federation. The scout ship had cut two holes into the hull of its cargo deck, allowing the fighters to exit and enter the ship.
“Think they be wanting a word with us?” Kragor asked Dexter from the forecastle deck.
Dexter shook his head. “A word’s not all they’re wanting.”
“Dex, each of them’s got a light ballista,” Kragor said in a hushed but serious tone. “Not much damage to the ‘Hawk, but they can tear up her rigging good and you know what a bolt through the belly or chest’ll do to a man.”
Dexter grunted and hurried across the deck. “Battle stations, do what you can to take those fighters out! Aim for the pilots, they’re not well protected.”
“We ain’t got no ship weapons!” Rosh protested.
Dexter swung around to face him, then saw Jenna coming up behind him with several pistols in hand. He pointed to her and said, “Do what you can with those.”
Rosh turned around and saw Jenna finish loading a pistol. She handed it to him and then started in on another. Her face was set in a grim but otherwise expressionless mask. Rosh grunted and started helping her load the pile of them that lay on the deck from the small powder keg she had brought with her.
Dexter told Kragor to help them, then went to the bridge to help Bekka pilot the ship. He knew she could handle it fine, but a serious jolt to the ship could knock her out and he knew they needed someone to be on hand at all times. That and he needed to be able to give her orders without any delay.
A knock on the door behind him turned him around to see Jenna standing there, bristling with pistols. “Shouldn’t you be on deck?” Dexter asked her, already turning back to the multi-paned thick glass windows on the bridge.
“Aye, but there’s something you should know,” Jenna said.
Dexter looked at her again, biting off his comment that he felt she was a little late in sharing things that ‘he should know’.
“Those aren’t regular fighters,” she said, drawing more of Dexter’s attention. “They’re fireflies.”
Dexter blinked, the name having no meaning to him.
Annoyed, Jenna persisted. “The elves load fighters full of oil, fire powder, and alchemist’s fire then crash them into the hulls of enemy ships!”
Dexter’s eyes widened. He swore and turned back to the window. Sure enough, the fighters, or fireflies as Jenna had called this version, seemed interested in getting close to them, rather than in firing their light ballistae at them.
“Bekka! Evasive action, don’t let them ram us!” Dexter demanded, then brushed past Jenna as he ran out of the bridge and up the staircase to the deck.
“They mean to ram us!” Dexter yelled on the deck. “Fire everything you’ve got at those fighters!”
He led by example, raising his pistol to the closest one and firing. The inertia in the void helped his shot stay true, though the great distance to it gave the pilot plenty of time to dodge had he been able to see the small bullet. Within moments other shot from the wheel lock pistols of the crew were chewing into the ship. The ones that hit the hull did little damage, though an occasional ball would strike one of the barrels of oil that was roped against the small deck, while many others chewed through the sails of the small elven craft.
In a matter of a minute or less the pilot began to realize he needed to try and doge the small shot that was scouring his fighter. Every turn of his sails, however, caused more of them to rend and tear thanks to the growing number of holes in them. Shortly his maneuverability began to worsen. His speed remained unchanged, thanks to the power of the tactical helm that provided movement for the small ship, but his ability to steer it suffered.
The other fighter drew closer unmolested until the crew realized that it posed just as great a threat. The scout ship remained in the background, closing as well but at a slower rate. Jenna fired on it, while Rosh, Keshira, and Jodyne tended to the rigging to assist Bekka with the maneuvering of the ship. Thus far they continued to run straight out, lengthening the pursuit and giving the deckhands time to add their fire.
Jenna’s fourth shot deflected off of a barrel of oil, cracking it and causing some to leak onto the decking. The leaking oil was not the success of the shot, however. Instead it was the deflected bullet that chewed into the leg of the ship’s helmsman that spoke of the success. The second elven firefly listed in space and changed course for well over a full minute, taking it on a path that sent it out and away from the Voidhawk. It swung back around to face them and began once again closing the distance.
The first fighter was approached dangerously close, giving up any pretense of maneuverability and aiming straight for the Voidhawk’s hull. Jenna switched back over, concentrating all their firepower on the scarred ship. The ship’s pilot made a sudden dash from the partially concealed helm he sat in, leaping off over the edge of the ship and, miraculously, escaping injury from any of the pistols firing at him.
“Bekka!” Dexter yelled down the stairway to the bridge. “Drop us down!”
He turned to the others and shouted, “Roll the ship!”
Dexter jumped to the sails, grabbing the closest one to aid in the maneuver. The others abandoned the pistols and followed suit, understanding the peril the Voidhawk faced. The ship pivoted along its axis, descending as it did so while the fighter rushed onwards towards them. They lost sight of it as the starboard side rose and blocked their view of it, then peered anxiously to the port while they continued to roll.
They all felt the ship shudder and heard the creaking of timber when the firefly bumped into the bottom of the Voidhawk’s hull. Without exception, every one of them cringed and feared the worse, but no ensuing sounds of fire powder igniting followed. Instead they continued to roll and the bow continued to drop, or rise, now that the ship was inverted.
Dexter glanced up away from the sails and saw that they were now bearing towards the scout ship, they had managed to change their course by 180 degrees. He cursed and yelled for his crew to stabilize the ship and get their bearings.
“Where’s the other fighter?” Dexter called out, seeing the derelict ship that had rammed them floating in a straight line out of their air bubble and trailing some small debris made up of broken timber.
“Captain!” Keshira called out cheerily. Dexter glanced at her, distracted even then in the heat of battle by the simple sensuality in that one word when spoken by her in excitement. He followed her arm and saw her pointing low over the port side of the ship.
Dexter rushed over, seeing the other fighter approaching and the pilot of it tying off the sails while he limped about and made ready to abandon the ship. Dexter grabbed his pistol and rushed to fill it with powder. He rammed the wadding and then a lead ball down the barrel in what might have been record time for him. The hammer cocked, he took careful aim and waited while the elven pilot scrambled about near the helm. He emerged a moment later, limping heavily, and carrying a crate in both arms cradled to his chest. Dexter fired, already moving to reload his pistol as fast as he could.
“Captain!”
Dexter ignored Rosh’s concerned voice behind him as he struggled to ready his pistol in case the first shot missed. He did spare a glance at the fighter, and watched with growing satisfaction. The crate the pilot carried hit the deck and erupted, spewing alchemist’s fire onto the pilot, the deck of the ship and even the sails and rigging.
“What, Rosh?” Dexter said, turning back to face him. He glanced up and felt his eyes widen. The scout ship seemed close enough to spit at. It was only a few hundred yards away from them, nearly in their atmospheric bubble.
“Bring her around!” Dexter yelled, hurrying back to the sail he had manned to assist.
Halfway through the maneuver the scout ship had also changed its pitch so that the heavy ballista on its hunched back weapon deck had been brought to bear on them. It fired, the heavy wooden spear leaping out at them and trailing a rope behind it. The heavy bolt thudded into the hull of the ship just below the railing, sending a shudder throughout the vessel and making Dexter and Kragor both cringe at the sound of good timber being sundered.
The heavy rope stayed loose, however, but the scout ship quickly closed and the atmospheres from the two ships joined. Rosh drew his sword and ran towards the rope, only to have Kragor yell for him to get back to his station at the main mast.
Dexter nodded, cutting the rope would do no good, the scout ship was faster and more maneuverable, it was better to be boarded early on than to let it take more shots at them with its ballista. “Prepare for boarding!” Dexter yelled, finishing up the job of reloading his pistol and then holstering it.
Dexter’s only source for hope or pride at the moment was the flaming elven fighter that was sailing through space away from them. Soundlessly, thanks to the void between ships, he watched it shudder and break apart as one after another of the kegs of powder aboard it ignited and exploded.
Three more lines sailed through space and landed on the Voidhawk, a grappling hook attached to the end of each. Two of them caught fast while the third pulled free of the deck. Two of them, plus the ballista bolt impaling the ‘Hawk amidships, were more than enough to cinch the two vessels together. In minutes that passed like seconds, elves were leaping from the elevated position of the scout ship’s hull and down onto the Voidhawk, swords and pistols drawn.
The crew of the Voidhawk met them. Jodyne’s daggers flew true, striking elves before they closed, while other fired pistols or swung their weapons. A smaller ship by nearly half the tonnage, the scout ship nevertheless carried a superior number of crew to the ‘Hawk’s seven, of which only six were actively defending the ship.
The fighting was vicious and merciless, with the elves relying upon speed and grace to help them defeat the slower but often stronger defenders. Keshira crashed through them, sacrificing defense for her formidable offense. She was cut in many places, but the wounds were minor. The wounds she inflicted, however, were crushing injuries that left her victims incapacitated or worse.
Rosh likewise used his strength to his advantage. His great sword easily overpowered the elven parries. The giant of a man ignored the few scratches he received and even the bruise of a pistol bullet that hit him square in his mail covered ribs.
Kragor fought near his wife, beating back those that came near to them and allowing her to continue to throw whatever object she picked up. She quickly ran out of daggers, and scrambled to grab whatever she could to turn it into a missile weapon, from dropped weapons to a dismembered hand to belaying pins pulled from the rigging. Her accuracy was alarming regardless of the object she chose to make a weapon of.
Jenna alone fought like the elves did, her body flowing and gliding across the deck as she danced among them. The elves found her difficult to contain, and many were injured or killed as she came up against them.
The crew of the Voidhawk, from captain to deckhand, fought admirably. Each was wounded multiple times, yet they fought on and repelled the attackers successfully. Soon only 3 elves remained, and they were backed up on the stern castle of the ship with nowhere to run. The scout ship was not close enough to jump to, nor were any of the ropes bridging them readily at hand.
“Surrender!” Dexter demanded, wiping away blood from a shallow cut above his eye.
One of the ropes connecting the ships fell away, cut from the scout ship by someone still aboard. Dexter gestured with his head and said, “Keshira, be a dear and stop whoever’s doing that from cutting the scout ship loose.”
In a flash she was gone, running to one of the remaining ropes and leaping from the deck of the Voidhawk halfway up it before grabbing on and hauling herself up onto the deck of the scout ship. Unable to see her progress they continued to hold the surrounded elves hostage and waited for the outcome of the reverse raiding party of one.
They heard a few yells, and a shot from a pistol as well. A short sword clattered to the deck of the Voidhawk a moment later, and shortly after the body of an elf crumbled to it. The elf groaned and raised himself up, one arm clearly broken and blood running from his nose.
Jenna laughed a moment later, recognizing the wounded elf as Duballin. He spat out some blood and then tried to scramble away when Keshira landed gracefully on the deck behind him. Dexter chuckled a little as well, seeing the tables turned, then his laugh died when he saw Keshira.
Her baggy clothing had been hanging with many cuts and tears in it from the fight already, but now it was even worse. It scarcely offered any modesty, though she seemed unconcerned about it. More importantly than the ruined clothing was the long sword that was sticking through her side.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” Rosh could not stop himself from asking.
Keshira glanced down at it then up at Dexter and Rosh. “Yes,” she said. “It does.”
“Gods, woman, take it out!”
“No!” Jenna said, countering Rosh’s suggestion. “If you remove it you might bleed out. We need Bekka to have a look at it.”
Keshira nodded. “I will survive.”
Dexter glanced at her again, then back to Duballin. “I’m not for knowing much about elves,” he said, walking closer to him and relying upon his men to keep the other elves from doing anything.
“But I’d wager that your Emperor doesn’t take to failure kindly,” he continued. “So it’s not going to look good for you when I send you back on that ship with a message to leave us be.”
His face, already white from pain, paled even more at the thought of the fate Dexter had laid out for him. “Kill me you unworthy human coward!” Duballin spat out at him.
Dexter just chuckled. He turned to the other elves. “Stand down or else.”
“Or else what, you’ll kill them? After proving you’re too much of a worm to do it to me?” Duballin raged.
Dexter walked over to Keshira and reached out until his hand was on the hilt of the sword driven through her side. His eyes searched hers, looking for a sign of fear. He saw nothing but blind acceptance of him. He yanked the sword straight out, pulling it free of her. He was a little shaken and felt weak kneed at the momentary pain that had flooded her eyes, but as he continued to look at her he saw it fade. He held the sword up and studied it.
“Keshira, are you alright?” he asked while his eyes focused on the sword. He did not want to look at her right yet, since his stomach still felt a little uneasy.
“Yes, Captain, I will live,” she said, happy to please him with an answer if not more.
“This is a nice blade,” Dexter said, swinging it and watching her blood fly off of it as though it was water rolling off of a duck’s back. It had an excellent balance to it and, if it could plunge through her magical skin so easily, he knew a very sharp edge.
“The sword is magical, Captain,” Keshira informed him.
“What? How do you know that?” Dexter asked, surprised.
“I can sense it, it is part of my powers, awareness of magic about me,” Keshira said. “He wears a magical ring on his finger and the pouch about his neck has some magic as well.”
Dexter blinked, surprised. He turned back to Duballin and stripped the three rings off his fingers, figuring she could tell him which one later, and yanked on the pouch, snapping the leather cord holding it. Dexter turned away from the defeated elf and looked at the still resistant prisoners.
“Keshira, the one in the middle, break his fingers,” Dexter said.
She started forward immediately towards the three elves. They tried to back away further but only the edge of the boat awaited them. They looked at each other as Keshira advanced relentless on them. Swords raised defensively they waited until she got close to them, then finally the one in the middle threw his down.
The others followed suit, though Keshira continued to follow the bidding of her Master. She reached out quickly, grabbing his arm and easily overpowering the elf. Her hand slid up his arm and clutched his closed fist in hers and she began to squeeze.
“Keshira, stop!” Dexter called out to her, glad his bluff had worked and fearful that it had almost not been a bluff.
She let him go and retreated. The elf clutched his hand, face pale with the pain the short bit of pressure she applied caused him.
“Kragor, keep an eye on them,” Dexter said. He glanced at Keshira and saw that the bleeding from the sword wound in her belly had actually stopped. He smiled and added, “Keshira, you too.”
She smiled brilliantly and turned to face them. Dexter watched her for a moment then shook his head. “Rosh, Jodyne, Jenna… with me. Let’s make sure they can’t turn around and come at us again.”
Dexter replaced the long sword in his scabbard with the one he had taken from the elf and then climbed up a rope onto the deck of the scout ship. Aboard it he saw two more bodies of dead elves. Apparently Keshira had met with considerable resistance. He glanced around and looked up to the turret with the heavy ballista in it.
“Rosh, get that thing down. I want it,” Dexter said, pointing at it.
The large man grunted and headed off into the ship to climb up on top and work on the mounts that had it secured to the deck. Jenna and Jodyne followed him inside, with any one of them picking up things along the way that they took a fancy to. Jodyne found the galley shortly and busied herself with taking what she could from them to bolster her own stores. Dexter reminded her to leave enough for them to survive on.
Jenna amassed a stockpile of spare weaponry, having to resort to filling a large canvas sack she found with the miscellaneous arms. She lugged it back to the front deck and let it sit there, then returned, searching for more. In the cargo hold she found the spare powder kegs, which she excitedly picked up and carried to the main deck one at a time.
While Jenna and Jodyne rifled through the ships stores, Dexter visited the bridge and studied the star charts that Duballin’s ship possessed. He made note of several of them he was unfamiliar with, taking them and shoving them into a leather scroll case. A few others that he was familiar with had some additional points of interest on them that he committed to memory. The only other item of interest was a locked strongbox in the bridge, but even after breaking the lock he found little that appealed to him save some letters to family and friends that spoke of Duballin’s journey and his various exploits for Emperor and country.
They made their way back to the Voidhawk, Dexter calling Keshira over to help move the heavier items from ship to ship. Dexter joined Kragor in watching their captives, both speculating softly to themselves about what might happen to the surviving elves. Duballin passed in and out of consciousness from the pain of his broken arm and other injuries, making his presence more of an amusement than a threat to the old friends.
When they finished, they forced the elves back aboard the scout ship, making the survivors carry their wounded leader. The corpses of the elves that littered the deck of the Voidhawk were similarly hoisted onto the deck of the scout ship, again at the discomfort of the elven sailors that had been captured. Sometime later they finally untied the ropes binding the two ships and pushed the scout ship free of the Voidhawk. With only four elves remaining, and one of them wounded, the elven ship limped away slowly.
Dexter gave the orders and brought the ship around to the derelict fighter that was flying through space. They carefully pulled up alongside it so that Jenna could board it and look for supplies. She acquired two undamaged casks of powder and, carefully handing each of the five glass flasks over singly, the alchemist’s fire still aboard the ship. With the volatile nature of it largely contained, Kragor went to work stripping the living wood of the fighter apart and storing it in the steerage section of the Voidhawk to use repairing the damage to the ship from the fight.
“Hell of a day, Captain,” Jenna said as the Voidhawk began to sail away from the scene of the battle and return to cruising speed.
“Aye, good fight,” Rosh agreed, nodding his head in praise as he finished tying down a line.
Dexter just chuckled. “I should replace Bekka on the helm. Rosh, we need to get you trained on that pretty quick here, methinks.”
A thump from below broke his concentration. It was followed by the roar of an angry dwarf. Dexter hurried down the aft stairs, followed by the other two, and chuckled when he saw a fuming dwarf holding the door to the cargo bay shut that they had locked the strange woman in.
“Rosh, you’ve got some work to do,” Dexter said with a chuckle, heading past Kragor and up the companionway towards the bridge.
“Me? But… what am I going to do with her?” Rosh asked, baffled as to how to proceed.
Kragor grunted, glaring at him until he came over and helped him secure the door. Jenna giggled and headed aft to her cabin, intent on inventorying their new weapons. Already the large ballista sat on the stern castle, waiting for Kragor to secure it to the hull. The other ballista in the other hold was scheduled to make its way to the forecastle at the first opportunity as well. Dexter was through running unarmed, he figured he would deal with the Federation when he had to, until then, the Voidhawk was no longer toothless.