“Damn it, girl, I’m not your foe!” Rosh roared, pushing the young woman coming at him away from furiously.
She spun away, then continued spinning and launched herself at him anew. Rosh bled from dozens of scratches on his arms already. The large man caught her and crushed her to him, immobilizing her arms so that he only had to deal with her snapping mouth. He dropped to the floor and fell on top of her, further trapping her so that she could not rock her head towards him in an attempt to bite out his throat.
“You gonna settle down and realize you can’t hurt me?” Rosh asked her as she continued to squirm beneath him. Her growl and renewed wiggling was her reply.
“She’s not right,” Bekka said from the doorway to the hold.
Rosh glanced up, then grunted as she managed to drive her knee between his legs. His crossed eyes caused Bekka and Jenna to laugh at his expense.
“What do you mean, she ain’t right?” Rosh demanded, fighting against the painful feeling from his groin to his chest that tried to rob him of air.
“There’s magic about her. Strong,” Bekka said, adding the last as she studied her from afar.
“That why she’s so strong?”
Bekka nodded. “I think, until it’s gone, that’s why she’s mad too.”
Jenna’s grin faded as she listened to Bekka’s observation. She glanced at the dark haired young woman critically, then stepped away. “Rosh, leave her locked up for now, I think I know something about her.”
Rosh grunted and managed to keep her subdued while he climbed to his feet. In a move that was filled with strength and empty of gentility, he launched her across the cargo hold and dashed to the door that the women had only just vacated. He slammed it shut behind him and had barely barred it shut when she crashed into it from the other side, clawing and hammering against the solid wood.
He looked at Bekka and Jenna and grinned. “She’s fast.”
Bekka smirked while Jenna just rolled her eyes. The elf turned away and headed towards the aft stairs. “Hurry up, I have an idea,” she called behind her.
Rosh glanced at Bekka, who only shrugged, and they both followed the arms mistress to the deck of the ship. On the deck she went to Keshira, who was manning the rigging sufficiently on her own while the Voidhawk sailed through space at cruising speeds.
“Keshira, do you still have the items from Duballin that Dexter gave you for safekeeping?” Jenna asked her.
Keshira paused and nodded. She had changed into fresh clothing to replace those tattered in the intense fighting with the elven wasp. She reached into a pocket and pulled forth the pouch and the ring that the elven captain had worn.
Bekka’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the ring. She nodded after a moment. “I sense the same magic about the ring that is merged with the girl.”
“What’s that mean?” Rosh asked, staring threateningly at the ring.
“I need to study them both more to know,” she said, reaching out and taking it from Keshira.
“Well get to it,” Rosh urged. “Captain ain’t going to be letting her take up air and space much more if she ain’t getting friendly with us.”
“I think you’re the only one that wants her friendly, Rosh,” Bekka said with a wink.
Rosh had the decency to adopt an offended look on his face as he muttered, “That ain’t what I was meaning.”
Laughing, Bekka walked away toward her quarters where she could study the ring in private.
Rosh found Jenna looking at him, an amused expression on her face. He scowled and walked off, heading towards the stern castle and the ballista mounted upon it. Jenna laughed as well, glad for the break from her thoughts, then went about her own business.
* * * *
“Rosh!”
Rosh came awake instantly, rolling out of his bunk and reaching for his sword. He saw Dexter standing in the doorway as he girded it about his waist. “Captain?”
“She’s making a ruckus and tearing up my cargo bay, you figure out what to do with her yet?” Dexter asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the cargo bay where, faintly, the sound of thudding and scratching could be made out.
“Well, um… sort of,” Rosh said, looking down that way. “Bekka’s got this ring-”
“I’m not for caring what she’s got,” Dexter said. “She’s busy with flying this ship longer than she ought to be. I thought you wanted to learn how to fly this thing?”
Rosh nodded. “Yeah, I do, just waiting on you to tell me when.”
“You start doing that, you won’t be having time for stuff like that either,” Dexter said. “So you need to figure out right quick what you’re going to do with her… or I’ll figure it out.”
There was a solid thud accompanied by the sound of wood cracking behind the smaller human. They both looked down the hallway to the door where, a moment later, the door to the cargo hold exploded outward. The broken fragments of wood ricocheted off of the far wall, but were otherwise hardly worth noticing compared to the shape of the girl that picked herself up from where she herself had bounced off the wall. Blood ran from her fingers and lips, adding to the macabre vision that stared upwards at the ceiling, then turned to face them.
“Looks like she figured it out all on her own,” Dexter muttered, reaching for his pistol.
She walked towards them rapidly, an eerie silence emerging from her. Dexter cocked the hammer and took aim just as she turned and scrambled up the stairs to the deck three at a time. He stared after her, confused, and lowered the hammer.
“Rosh?” he asked, at a loss to explain the strange girl’s behavior.
“I’m on it,” Rosh said, already slipping past the smaller man and hurrying up the stairs after her.
Dexter stared at the ruined remains of the door then shook his head and followed them up the stairs.
On the main deck Rosh was running towards her while Keshira watched impassively from the side. The girl was charging towards the forecastle, where Jenna was only now turning her attention at Rosh’s bellowed warnings. She saw the girl coming at her and cursed, then reached for her own pistol.
On the top step she faltered, crashing to the deck under the weight of Rosh. Jenna kept her pistol trained on them, but held her fire while Rosh tried to restrain the demonic girl.
She thrashed under him and managed to backhand him across the face. Rosh felt his jaw rocked by the stinging impact and felt a wetness as well, but he put it from his mind as he tried to control the girl.
“That’s it!” Dexter demanded, coming up on them. “Put her over the side, Rosh!”
Rosh grunted as a knee speared into his stomach. He rolled her over and managed to grab hold of her arms. Another knee strike, this one against his thigh, made him growl with anger. He lifted her up in a smooth motion and turned to the port side of the Voidhawk, ready to hurl her into the void.
“Wait!”
Rosh barely heard Bekka’s plea, coming up the stairs from the bridge as she was. He slowed his steps towards the edge and focused instead on dodging his captives repeated strikes with her feet. He made it to the edge of the ship and turned to look back at Dexter, who was in turn looking at Bekka as she emerged from the top of the stairway.
“Be at peace!” Bekka said, slipping on the ring and holding it up in front of her.
Rosh gave her a funny look and then covered himself quickly, realizing he had given the wildcat in his arms an opening to strike him. No attack came from her, instead she relaxed in his arms. Rosh turned to look at her, mouth agape in wonder.
He stepped away from the ship’s railing, where he had nearly tossed her over, and turned back towards them. “You mean to say that ring controls her?”
Bekka nodded, “I mean to say,” she confirmed.
“Is she safe?” Dexter asked, eyeing the formerly fiery tempered girl suspiciously.
“At the moment, yes,” Bekka said.
Jenna cursed and hurried down the stairs. She looked at the girl and cursed again before turning to Dexter. “I heard of such things, but they looked different then. They used monsters at the time, and called them slayers.”
“Can we skip to the part where this starts making sense?” Dexter asked.
“She’s a slayer? Slayer of what?” Rosh asked.
Kragor emerged from the aft stairs and stared across the deck, wondering what was going on. He held a piece of the broken door in his hand and stared around, seeing Keshira working nearby and the others gathered towards the bow. He overheard their questions as he walked towards them.
“How about you go back to where Rosh was getting beat up by a girl again?” Kragor asked innocently.
Rosh sneered at him, which made the dwarf chuckle.
“The elves would capture creatures… barely intelligent things that lived by tooth and claw, and ensorcel them. With magic they turned them into controllable weapons, and they would send them after whatever they wanted,” Jenna explained.
“Ere I left I had heard, through the network, that they were turning hunting dogs into slayers as well, using magic to twist, strengthen, and corrupt them,” she continued.
“Seems they moved on to people,” Bekka said, stepping closer and studying the placid girl in Rosh’s arms.
“So she’s a weapon?” Rosh asked, staring at her. “Don’t seem like much of a weapon to me.”
Kragor chuckled evilly before saying, “What’s that blood running from your face?”
Rosh scowled at the dwarf and shut up, realizing as he did so that his split lip was getting puffier.
Bekka giggled while Dexter was barely able to contain himself to only smirking. Jenna seemed not amused by it all, instead she was clearly bothered by the turn of events.
“The best thing we could do would be to kill her,” she said. “She was once a young girl, innocent too, probably. But now she has been twisted from what she was into this, an abomination that responds to whomever holds that ring.”
“What kind of things will she do?” Rosh asked, looking at the ring Bekka was only now taking off of her finger.
“Anything,” Jenna said.
Rosh raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. Kragor saw his look and shook his head slightly; signaling Rosh to stop whatever he was thinking because the dwarf knew it would not go over well.
“Alright,” Dexter said with a tired voice. “Put her over the side, Rosh. Let’s be rid of her.”
“Hold on, Captain,” Rosh said. “We could use her! With that ring she’ll do whatever we want.”
“I’ll not have slaves aboard my ship,” Dexter growled.
“Well, I didn’t mean it like that,” Rosh said. He looked about to the others hoping for help, but saw nothing. Then his eyes fell on Keshira, who was minding the rigging in spite of their commotion.
“We’ve got Keshira!” Rosh said. “She’s not much different; she does whatever you tell her, ‘sept you ain’t got no ring.”
Dexter’s eyes smoldered with rage at Rosh’s words. His fist clenched and he opened his mouth to speak but Bekka beat him to the punch.
“Wait,” she said, stepping between them. She held up the ring for them all to see and spoke, “there is much of the ring’s magic in her, and there is some of her in the ring. What if we gave her the ring? Made her the Mistress of herself?”
“She’s not for being in control of anything right now,” Dexter said, pointing at her. She hung limp from Rosh’s arms, seemingly unaware of the world around them.
Bekka frowned and slipped the ring back on, then turned to face her. “Be yourself,” she commanded.
The girl’s head perked up. She looked around and stiffened, staring into Rosh’s eyes.
“Are you going to hurt anyone?” Bekka asked cautiously.
The girl turned her head to behold the half-elf. She studied her for a long moment before her mouth opened. At first a garbled sound came from it, but it quickly changed into words that were not tortured. “I don’t… want to hurt anyone anymore.”
“See, there you go!” Rosh said, startling her and making her look at him with trepidation.
“You’re bleeding,” she said softly. “I made you bleed,” she continued, remembering that she had done it.
“That’s a powerful thing,” Dexter said, staring at the ring Bekka held. “I don’t want her on my ship if that thing can be used against her. Can you destroy it?”
Bekka shook her head. “Not yet, it has her essence bound up in it, I don’t know what it would do to her.”
Dexter’s look indicated he was not terribly concerned about her fate. Jenna looked at her suspiciously as well. Finally Dexter shrugged. “Jenna, she came for you. What say you about this?”
“Do you wish me harm?” Jenna asked her, stepping up to her. When she did not respond Jenna reached out and grabbed her chin, twisting her head so that she looked at her.
“Girl!” She snapped. “Do you wish me harm still?”
The girl’s eyes watered and her chin quivered for a moment. “I don’t want to hurt anyone ever again.”
Jenna stared at her and then let her chin go. She walked away and found herself staring at Keshira, who had stopped working and was watching from afar. She opened her mouth but paused, staring at the construct. “Do what you will,” she said, then descended the staircase to the companionway before anyone could say more to her.
Dexter watched her go, somewhat perplexed. He looked back at Rosh, who just shrugged. “Set her down, Rosh,” Dexter said.
Rosh did so, and let her go so that she stood on the deck unrestrained. She stood still, tears running down her face.
“Alright, see what you can do with her,” Dexter said. “If she can work she can stay, if she gets in the way…”
Dexter let the alternative go unnamed. He turned to Kragor and sighed, then went to the stairs and threaded his way down them so that he could take over on the helm that Bekka had abandoned when she had sensed the situation unfolding.
“Really? I can keep her?” Rosh asked, surprised.
“She’s not a thing to be keeping,” Kragor said, smacking him on the arm. “You and Bekka see what you can do to settle her down. Bekka, you keep that ring with you until you know more about it. Don’t you be giving it to anyone.”
Nearly two days passed with the ship unusually quiet. Bekka and Rosh spent time with Bailynn, or so the girl claimed her name was. Bekka and Rosh began calling her just Lynn., hoping to make her feel better.
Rosh showed her the sails and the rigging, explaining as best he could how the magic of the ships helm somehow enabled the sails to catch the solar wind and sail through the void. Quiet and seemingly morose, she nevertheless drank in the lessons.
Bekka spent time mostly watching and studying them, though occasionally she would correct Rosh when he misspoke on how the solar winds worked on the sails and how the helm could still control a ship even without them, though it was slow and cumbersome.
Jenna avoided the trio at all times, leaving an area as soon as Lynn entered it. She reserved no special glances or looks towards her; she simply sought to be in another area whenever possible. Dexter was growing tired of how awkward the situation on his ship was becoming, and realized that since no one else seemed to be willing to deal with it, he had to do something.
Jenna, Dexter, and Jodyne were sitting at the table in the galley eating dinner while Keshira and Kragor worked the sails. Rosh and Lynn entered the room, the large man leading the way and sitting down next to Jenna. That left only a seat next to Dexter for Lynn, who took it silently. Jenna immediately pushed her plate back and started to stand.
“No, wait,” Dexter said, looking at her. She met his stare blankly, but remained seated.
“This stops now. I need my crew able to work together,” he said, looking at her and glancing at the rest as well for added effect. “Working together means talking, not avoiding.”
Jenna’s cheek twitched a little at his words, but other than that she showed no outward sign.
Dexter scowled. “What is it? Sure, she tried to kill you. That would make my day go from bad to worse too, but it’s over. What’s got the splinter in your ass now?”
Rosh snickered at Dexter’s question, then quieted down when he drew a glare from the man.
Jenna glanced at Rosh but ignored Bailynn. “She is a constant reminder of what they do.”
Dexter sensed that she wanted to say more, but for some reason she did not. He mused perhaps it was the lack of privacy that held her tongue. He nodded. “Alright. I can understand that. Now get over it; I’ll not have it on my ship.”
Jenna’s eyes flared for a moment in surprise and hurt, but even more quickly her expression locked down again. “How long until our next port of call?”
Dexter was surprised by the question. He glanced at Rosh and Jodyne then said, “a week or so, why?”
Jenna nodded, having made a decision. “I will leave your service then,” she said, her eyes drilling into his intently. “Now may I be excused, Captain?”
Dexter’s mouth parted in surprise. He caught himself and nodded, not knowing what else to say. He felt as though she had kicked him in the stomach.
Jenna rose from the table and left the galley, heading directly for her cabin. Dexter turned to look at Rosh and Bailynn, and noticed how she was trying to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible next to him.
“Can I have her cabin?” Rosh asked, and was promptly ignored.
Dexter looked at Jodyne, who was watching him intently as well. “Well lad, are ya going to go after her?” she asked, her tone indicating he was a fool if he did not.
He nodded, rising up, then turned back to Rosh, whose mouth was opened again to say something else. “No,” Dexter said, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t even be saying it.”
Rosh shut his mouth slowly and grinned when he looked at Jodyne. She harrumphed and backhanded him on the arm, then went about collecting the abandoned dishes for cleaning. Rosh just sat there and looked at Bailynn, shrugging. “Aw stop that, what’re ya crying for?” he asked, seeing fresh tears sliding slowly down her cheeks.
Bailynn remained quiet, withdrawing into herself.
* * * *
Not pausing as he had in the past, Dexter opened the door to Jenna’s room, hitting something halfway through the motion and pushing it out of the way. A girlish grunt preceded the sight of Jenna lying face first on her bunk, then scrambling around and rising back up with a furious expression on her face.
Dexter’s chagrin did little to make her pause. “Don’t you knock?” She spat angrily.
He did a double take, and even turned to look at the door before looking back at her. He opened his mouth to reply but she had already moved on.
“Shut the door already,” she said.
Off balance, Dexter shut the door and looked back at her, wondering how he could recapture some momentum.
“Look, I just can’t do it. I know I owe you, and I promise I will find a way to pay you, but I can’t be here… with her.”
Dexter kept his mouth shut and listened, realizing he might get more out of her this way. He nodded that he understood and waited for her to continue.
“It reminds me… of them. Of the things they did. So damned sure of themselves; everything was fair as long as it involved no harm to the elves,” she spat out. She laughed harshly and said, “Or at least the right elves.”
“Is that it?” Dexter asked softly. “Was…is she an elf?”
Jenna looked at him, the fury gone from her eyes and sadness in its place. “No… they all looked like that.”
“I thought you only knew of monsters and hounds and the like?” He pressed, stepping closer to her without realizing it.
She nodded, sniffing in spite of herself. “Yes, but its elven magic and, its worse, they sacrificed the life of an elf for every one they made. They bound up the soul of the elf in the slayer and that causes them to adopt elven features. That…thing was human, but she’s been corrupted. She looks to be a waif only sixteen years old, but in truth she is probably closer to forty or fifty.”
“Worst of all is she does not know this about herself, she only knows what they told her; what they wanted her to know.”
Dexter nodded and found himself reaching out and touching her tenderly on the shoulder. She glanced at him and offered him a weak smile. “Dex… I can’t. I just can’t stay. Not with her having a part of me.”
“Having a… what are you talking about?” Dexter asked, confused.
“That is how she found me. How she always knows where I am,” Jenna explained. “They must have taken something from me, some hair perhaps. It, together with the ring, control her. She may not be driven to come after me, but there is a link between us that I cannot knowingly permit.”
Dexter nodded, understanding her better. He had to admit he would have a hard time with such a thing himself, being the private person he was. Jenna slipped next to him, allowing him to hold her close in a supportive embrace. She buried her head against him and he felt her tears wetting his shirt.
“I don’t want to leave… not the ship, not you, not any of them,” said her muffled voice. “There’s no other way around it.”
“Are you hinting that I should kill her?” Dexter asked, suspecting he was being manipulated into being given an ultimatum.
Jenna looked up sharply. She shook her head. “No, I am not. Damn you, human, you proved yourself better than me. Your example with Keshira has proven to me that she deserves a chance to live, or the chance to try to find a life.”
Dexter smiled, happy to have made a difference.
Jenna sighed and said, “I hate you sometimes, you know? But I’m going to miss you.”
He felt a sadness within him but refused to pay attention to it. He just shrugged and said, “Still got a week till we end up someplace, lot can happen in a week.”
Jenna leaned in and surprised him by pressing her lips to his. Once he overcame his shock he returned the kiss, even though he knew he should not. Jenna broke away and whispered, “Especially if I have my way.”
She stepped away from Dexter and winked at him, which made the captain blush. She reached up untied the three separate ties holding her vest closed, one at a time. Dexter found himself staring, unable to pry his eyes away. His eyes found hers and she winked at him again, then let her vest slide off her shoulders to the floor.
Dexter cleared his throat and reached for the door behind him. Fumbling with it, he opened it while trying not to stare at her athletic breasts. He failed miserably, but still managed to open the door behind him.
“I, uh, need to go to…”
“Captain,” Jenna said, stepping closer to him so that she was within arm’s reach. “We’ve had this discussion before. I don’t mind if you look.”
She reached down and grabbed his free hand, lifting it up slowly. “This is how I dress in my quarters, though I’m only changing clothes at the moment. I want you to see me so you are accustomed to it. If you want to spend time with me in here, then you need to accept me like this.”
She raised his hand higher and turned it so that it was his palm faced towards her. “Perhaps this will help you?” She mused, pressing her breast into his palm.
Dexter gasped and opened his eyes wide in surprise. He felt her nipple harden against the skin of his palm, poking into it and urging him to caress it.
“Does feeling my body make it easier to look upon it?” Jenna asked softly, her words and tone weaving a spell over him.
Dexter shook his head and pulled his hand away. “It’s very nice — you are very nice,” Dexter corrected. “But you’re a member of my crew and that’s that.”
Jenna shrugged, a smile on her face. She turned and stepped away from him, her hands busy in front of her so he could not see them. “Well then, Captain, I suspect a week will not be nearly long enough, and it will be a lifetime too long.”
She bent forward and slid her breeches over her hips as she did so. As soon as Dexter saw her doing this he turned and rushed out the door. He knew that as much as he yearned to watch her show, he knew what would happen should he stay. As it was he was overdue to take over on the helm for Bekka. She could use all the time with Rosh and Bailynn that she could get.
In his second attempt at the helm, Rosh found himself fascinated with the feeling of being so in tune with the Voidhawk. The ship felt like an extension of himself; because of it he was able to forget about his own body as he focused on the sails and the hull of the ship. It still took Dexter a couple of times of repeating an order to get the man to hear it.
The gravity well of an obstacle caught him entirely off guard. The Voidhawk was dragged off the course they had set, making everyone shift and nearly lose their balance. Jodyne cursed as a skillet fell from a cupboard and glanced off her arm, promising Rosh a mouthful the next time she saw him.
“What happened?” Rosh asked, looking around for Dexter, who had already rushed to the windows of the bridge.
“That… rock?” Dexter asked, trailing off as he stared into the void. “It’s a tower or something, or what’s left of one. Looks like it was based on an asteroid but it’s been blown into mostly rubble.”
“Huh?” Rosh asked, not understanding what the man meant.
“You had us under full sail and we ran into the gravity field of those rocks, it pulled you out of it,” Dexter said. He hurried to the door to the bridge and opened it up, yelling for Bekka as he did so.
Bekka was already heading towards the bridge; Dexter cut his yell short to spare the half-elf from damaged hearing. Lynn trailed behind her, obedient and quiet as ever.
“Rosh, move,” Dexter said. “Let Bekka take us in.”
Rosh got up from the chair and collapsed to the ground. Bailynn rushed forward, kneeling beside him and wrapping her arms around him to help him. Rosh looked up and shook his head, then chuckled.
“Still hard getting used to getting my own feet back,” he said. He glanced back at Bailynn and did a surprised double take. She had hardly spoken since they had calmed her down, or even done much more than follow them around and listen to them as they instructed her. Now here she was trying to help him out.
Rosh grinned at her and slowly climbed to his feet. “Um, thanks,” he said, at a loss for words. To his greater surprise he saw a hint of a smile in her eyes as she looked up at him. Then her gaze dropped and she returned to behaving as she had before.
“Rosh, on the deck, it looks abandoned but we should check it out,” Dexter said, holding the door open.
Rosh nodded and started towards it. Then he grinned, “If it’s ruins, might be some treasure to be had!” He took the stairs up to the deck two at a time.
Dexter shook his head and followed.
Dexter and a fully armed Jenna gathered on the forecastle to watch the approach. The others worked the sails and rigging as Kragor called out orders to them. The Voidhawk closed rapidly with the broken up rubble, and soon passed into the surprisingly clean bubble of atmosphere that still surrounded the tower.
“Kragor!” Dexter said as he turned and started towards the main deck. “You, Bekka, Keshira, Jodyne, and Bailynn stay with the ‘Hawk. Rosh and Jenna with me.”
Kragor scowled at him as he walked past, causing Dexter to hesitate and then grin. “Sorry old friend, you’re just so good with the ship!” Dexter found himself glad that Kragor did not possess Jodyne’s talent, and tendency towards, throwing things. The look the dwarf gave him still left him worried the dwarf might ask his wife for some lessons.
With the sails furled and Bekka concentrating on holding the ship on station, they slid down a rope to the rubble strewn surface of the asteroid that the tower used as a base. Weapons in hand, they approached the tower and studied it carefully. Only a little over twenty feet tall, it had once been much taller but the top had been knocked off of it.
The door to the tower lay in rubble at their feet, leaving an open doorway. Dexter led the way while Jenna followed close behind. Rosh brought up the rear. At first glance the inside looked much like the outside, strewn with rubble and debris. Stepping over the threshold caused each of them to stumble and gasp as the tower’s contents shifted before their eyes.
An unseen light source provided illumination without shadows, and the small circular room suddenly seemed at least twice the size it had been. It remained damaged and debris filled, with furniture broken and tipped over.
“Somebody had a powerful rage,” Rosh said, appraising the damage.
A spiral staircase stretched upwards to a second level and descended into the ground below them. “Rosh, guard that stairway,” Dexter ordered, moving towards it and motioning for Jenna to follow him.
Rosh did as he was asked, but his eyes drifted upwards as Jenna scaled the staircase above him, rather than watching into the depths as he had been bade.
Above Dexter and Jenna found it to be much the same. The room had once been a library and a dining room, but the furniture and bookcases had been broken and turned over. The ceiling and upper portions of the wall were missing as well, giving them a clear view of the hull of the Voidhawk as it floated in the void above them. Dexter waved at his ship before turning and heading back towards the staircase.
“Dex, look at this!” Jenna hissed, stopping him in his tracks.
Dexter turned and looked where her pistol was pointing. There was a stain on the floor. A red stain. He stepped closer to it and bent over, studying it. He scuffed it with his boot and saw that, while mostly dried and congealed, it was still tacky enough to have been liquid not so very long ago.
“Think anyone’s left?” Jenna asked him, reappraising the room and wondering if there were any additional blood stains to be found.
Dexter pursed his lips and straightened. “We need to leave, this could be a trap!”
Jenna’s hand caught his arm as he started to head back to the stairway. “Dex, we need to see if there are any survivors.”
Dexter frowned, then nodded after a moment. “But we move quickly,” he said, moving down the stairs rapidly and not stopping until he reached Rosh.
“What’s going on?” Rosh asked as they hurried past him.
“We found blood, only a few hours old,” Jenna explained.
Rosh looked up and then down again, a smile making its way on his face. “About time,” he said, anxious to fall in behind them.
“Jenna, get back to the ‘Hawk and make sure it’s safe and ready to move. Rosh, you come with me,” Dexter said, starting down the stairs again.
Jenna looked at him, lips parted in silent protest. Rosh brushed past her, anxious to be on the move. She clamped her mouth shut and, jaw clenched, hurried back out of the ruined tower to the ropes that would return her to the Voidhawk.
Descending what felt like another 12 feet, Dexter and Rosh exited the staircase and stepped onto a floor that had the texture of fine sand. They looked around and saw that the room extended far away and was carved from the very asteroid they were on. The wall the staircase was next to had several wooden walls that looked to be holding cells. The walls showed signs of battle, with portions of wood being scratched, missing, broken, or blackened by fire.
“Don’t touch anything,” Dexter mumbled, moving forward cautiously and peering into each of the rooms as they passed them. Rosh shrugged and followed after, drawing his large sword and holding it in front of him.
Across a short stretch of sand from the wooden rooms a dais rose out of the sand, carved from pure marble. Atop it lay two tables with their corners touching to form a wide ‘V’. Upon each table was scattered various implements that looked to be arcane and mystical in nature.
“What in the-“
“I don’t know,” Dexter said, cutting Rosh off without meaning to. “Let it be, there be something unnatural about it all.”
Rosh nodded, the hair already standing up on the back of his neck. He turned and looked behind him, wondering just what it was that the small wooden rooms had contained.
“Captain,” Rosh said, “I’m itching for an honest fight, but there don’t seem to be none of that here, what say we head back?”
Dexter glanced at him then away without saying anything. He felt much the same. Still, the place deserved investigating…
Dexter stepped up on the marble platform and studied the arcane items on the tables. They seemed scattered rather haphazardly, a brazier here, incense there. An unrolled parchment with some gibberish scribbled on it within a dark fluid that Dexter suspected was blood. He reached down for an amulet and stopped, remembering what he had told Rosh about not touching anything.
They both felt more than heard a hum pulse through the room. Dexter turned to look at Rosh, who was likewise looking at him. They studied the room surrounding them and wondered what could have caused it.
“What’s going on?” Rosh asked.
“I’m for wondering the same,” Dexter admitted. “Time to be heading for the ‘Hawk.”
Rosh nodded and turned back to the staircase. Dexter glanced at the table again, his eyes falling upon a silver flute this time. He cocked his head curiously and found himself wondering what a flute would be doing there, especially one so small and shiny and, well, cute.
“Cap!”
Dexter shook his head and looked up, feeling as though he was waking from a dream. He turned to look at Rosh, who had not even taken a single step towards the staircase.
“You said don’t touch nothing!” Rosh said, pointing at him.
“I didn’t!” Dexter said defensively. His eyes fell to where Rosh was glaring and he saw the flute in his hand. “How’d this… I mean, I didn’t mean to!”
Rosh staggered backwards towards the marble dais as the sand under his feet shifted and rumbled. Something burst up from it, sending a spray of sand upwards that concealed the origin of the attack. It sank back into the sand just as quickly, moving away from them and leaving behind a disturbance in its wake.
Rosh jumped up onto the dais besides Dexter in time to avoid another of the strange assaults, though this time he caught a glimpse of a tooth filled maw snapping shut on the empty space his leg had occupied a heartbeat before.
They looked around at the room and saw several places where the sand shifted and roiled, disturbed under the surface by whatever the strange things were that could move through it as though they were fish in water. Or, more accurately, sharks.
“Now what?” Rosh asked.
Dexter looked at the flute in his hand and wondered the same thing. He shoved it in a pocket and drew his pistol. “Think we can make a run for it?”
Rosh chewed on his lip for a moment then looked back at the table and grabbed up a small silver goblet. He studied it for a brief moment, then shrugged and tossed it over a dozen feet towards the staircase. In less time than it took either of the two men to hold their breath awaiting a response the sand erupted around the cup, with ambiguous forms snatching at it. By the time the sand and dust settled the cup was nowhere to be seen.
“You first, Captain,” Rosh said, grinning.
Dexter scowled and turned to look at the table again, wondering if there was anything they could use there to help them.
“I’m thinking we’re in for a bit of a wait,” Rosh offered, clearing off a spot on the table and sitting on it casually. He leaned his sword against the table as well and watched the sand with a critical eye.
Dexter opened and closed his mouth. Rosh was right; they were trapped for the time being. He wondered how long it would take for Jenna or Kragor to get anxious and start looking for them. His eyes widened at his earlier premonition that the tower was a trap. He still felt it was, but wondered now if the trap was for the poor bastards like him and Rosh, or for the Voidhawk.
Jenna climbed up the ropes to the deck of the Voidhawk with ease. Once there she looked around and saw Bailynn working alongside Kragor, who seemed to have taken a liking to the girl recently as well. Keshira was securing the ropes controlling the mainsail and Bekka was on the helm, she presumed. Even Jodyne was helping out on the deck with the station keeping. Jenna sighed and went towards the aft crossbow, intent upon loading it in case Dexter’s suspicions were correct.
She felt the pulse of energy sweep through her as she ascended the steps to the stern castle. She looked about, knowing something was amiss instantly. She saw the others look up as well, their eyes searching the sky and then going to the small asteroid beneath them. The ship twisted a little, coming away from the broken tower on the rock and swiveling along its axis just slightly. Jenna hurried to the railing and looked over it, an icy feeling already rushing through her stomach.
“Damn him,” she muttered, speaking of Dexter and just knowing that he had gotten himself into something. She nearly turned away, ready to return to the ruins of the tower, when she caught sight of something emerging from the far side of the asteroid.
“To arms!” Jenna yelled, casting a quick final glance at it before hurrying to the heavy ballista and struggling to load the bolt into it. “Keshira, help me!”
In moments the pleasure golem was beside her, helping her seat the heavy ballista bolt into the industrial sized crossbow. They cranked it back in time to see the other ship come into view off their stern. It was not an easily recognized hull, but rather one was an amalgamation of a few different ships. A claw-like structure at the front served as a grappling ram, while an elongated aft structure resembled that of the Maiden’s Bane. The elevated fore and stern castles were reminiscent of those found aboard the Voidhawk. Below the deck, it possessed a bloated belly that looked like a swollen planet-bound galleon.
“Kragor!” Jenna yelled, aiming down the ballista at the large vessel looming above them.
“I see it!” He shouted back. “Full ahead and into the rocks, we’ll come back for the others after we be losing them.”
“Go,” Jenna said to Keshira, taking final aim and pulling the lever that sent that heavy bolt flying.
Jenna followed after Keshira, though she kept glancing back to watch the flight of her bolt. It sailed through the void between the ships and missed the forward mast she had been aiming for. It still tore a ragged hole in the sail, however, which made her feel as though it was not a total loss.
By the time she made it to the deck Keshira had already unfurled the main sail and was working rapidly at securing it. Jodyne manned one of the ‘Hawks wings and Bailynn worked the other, swiveling them out to collect the solar wind and get them moving as rapidly as possible.
Jenna realized she could do no good on the main deck, and with Kragor yelling at her in the background, she turned back to the stern where she could man the stern sails that also functioned in part as a rudder.
“Blast, girl!” Kragor bellowed. “Bailynn, head aft with Jenna, you’re not catching the wind right!”
The dwarf, surly in the moment of peril, hurried over to the wing she hastily abandoned and caught it in his callused hands. He twisted it and tied it off, securing it at a better angle to take advantage of the rays coming from the distant sun. The effect was negligible, but it did help to keep the Voidhawk from being twisted laterally as they tried to sail forward.
The girl came up hesitantly beside Jenna. The arms mistress glanced at her briefly, her gaze cold. “Hold this like so,” Jenna instructed her, gesturing with her head towards the guide pole she held in her hands.
Bailynn put her hands on it and set her feet, making sure she had it securely. Her eyes remained on it as well, and her posture was submissive to the older woman. Jenna let go and stared at her for a brief moment, then hurried over to the ballista again and began to reload it. Without the help of Keshira it took her far longer to seat the bolt and crank it back.
By the time Jenna was ready the Voidhawk had nearly reached its top speed. The other ship had gained on them while they struggled to get underway, however, and trailed them by only a few hundred yards. She aimed and fired again, the bolt glancing against one of the arms of the ram and slamming into the railing of the ship. Broken wood floated away from it, but no serious damage was done.
Kragor yelled for them to come about, intent upon swinging into some rubble from the asteroid field that might allow a smaller ship like the Voidhawk more room to maneuver than the bloated vessel that chased them. It moved faster than they did, thanks to it having larger sails and more of them, but the dwarf was sure it could not turn as quickly.
The Voidhawk rounded a group of floating boulders, and sought to put on some speed so it could hopefully make another turn into the rock-filled void before its pursuer could negotiate the first turn. Kragor cursed when he saw four smaller ships laying in wait ahead of them.
They were spiders, small tactical craft used for boarding larger craft. Each could carry ten men, not including the pilot, and each possessed a special ballista that fired a weighted net. Their final namesake came from the 8 legged landing gear each craft possessed.
Kragor looked around, desperate for an option. Ahead of him, spread out along the only clear path through the asteroids, lay the spiders. Behind him, just now rounding the collection of loose rocks that had gathered together, lay their original assailant. The dwarf cursed and loosened the pistol at his side.
“Make ready to repel boarders,” He called out, his tone clearly one of anger. To himself he snarled, “I’ll not lose his ship without a fight!”
Jenna cursed her position at the stern. She looked to Bailynn and called out to her, “Tend that sail, slayer, and do what you do best when they board us!”
She turned and was gone then, running across the deck and leaping up the stairs to the forecastle to the ballista mounted there. She loaded the lighter weapon more rapidly by herself than the heavy one to the aft, though it was still a time consuming process. Once loaded she had time only to aim and fire it at a single approaching spider, and succeeded in spearing one of the invaders aboard it with the bolt.
She abandoned the siege weapon and drew her pistol next, as the spider she had fired upon closed the distance. It landed upon the bow, the legs latching onto the railing and digging into the decking to secure a grip. Orcs, goblins, and lizardmen issued forth from it, leaping over the sides and dropping to the deck in anticipation of blood and battle.
Jenna was happy to give them their wish. Her pistol cracked, sending a lead ball deep into the belly of an orc, and leading the way for her own charge into their ranks, twin blades singing. Another spider landed on the forecastle, behind her and closer to the main deck. The third landed upon the main deck and the fourth on the stern castle, where Bailynn alone awaited them.
Jenna heard Kragor’s curses, bellows, and roars as he fought the invaders amidships. Keshira fought as well, easily smashing aside the humans and humanoids that came at her. From the stern there was no sign of resistance that the embattled elf could discern. She cursed under her breath at leaving the girl back there, then felt the impact of a club against her back, driving her forward and sending the air from her lungs. She recoiled and spun, sword cutting a bloody furrow in the cheek of the man that had stung her.
Jenna was hit again after skewering a goblin through the lung. She turned to deal with the latest threat that had her reeling and slipped on the body of the dying goblin. She caught herself but was off balance and unguarded, allowing another club to strike at her and clip her chin.
The elf crashed to the ground, grunting as she hit. She struggled to get up but hands were grabbing at her and restraining her. She heard Jodyne call out angrily in the distance, and heard an answering roar of rage from Kragor. She bit out at an arm that crossed in front of her face and tasted the blood of her assailant. She heard no more after that, for her head was smashed against the deck and darkness claimed her.
“So, Cap-“
“I’m thinking,” Dexter snapped.
Rosh was silent a moment longer then decided enough time had passed. “We been here for more than an hour. Thinking ain’t gonna get us out.”
Dexter turned on the man, his eyes narrowed angrily. He opened his mouth then shut it and shook his head. “Rosh,” he said after a moment of forcing himself not to lash out, “I’m happy to hear any thoughts you might have on this.”
He paused again, gazing out over the sand that still swim with the movements of the creatures beneath the surface of it. “But if you’re not having any, then be silent so I can!”
“I say we run for it,” Rosh offered, happy to have a chance to make a suggestion.
“Run for it?” Dexter repeated, nearly stupefied. “You saw what them…things… did to that metal cup? They tore it to bits!”
“Aye, but they didn’t get me,” Rosh said. “I managed to get up here without spilling my blood.”
“That was only one,” Dexter reminded him. “You got lucky. There’s what, at least six of them now, probably more.”
“So we run faster,” Rosh said, not wanting to abandon his idea out of pure stubbornness.
“Wait,” Dexter said, staring at the tables. “They can’t get us, we’re on this rock, not the sand.”
“Yeah, but there’s plenty of sand between here and there,” Rosh said impatiently.
Dexter turned to him, grinning. “How far is it, you reckon?”
Rosh turned and studied the distance to the staircase from the marble dais they stood upon. “About 18 feet, maybe a few more.”
Dexter looked back at the tables and smiled. “I’ve got me an idea.”
Jenna awoke to find herself confined in a cell with Bailynn, naked. Bailynn sat against a wall, cradling her knees to her chest while tears ran down her cheeks.
Jenna forced herself up, fighting the urge to groan at her many bruises. Her head swam with the effort and abuse it had taken along the way. She made her way to Bailynn and sat along the wall beside her. She was silent for a long moment before she spoke.
“I see no bruises or injuries upon you, did you fight at all?” Jenna asked roughly.
Bailynn shook her head, refusing to look up.
“I see,” Jenna said, sighing. “The elves created you to be a killing machine and all you did was cry and be taken captive. You spilled none of their blood, you are hardly worth the title slayer.”
Bailynn look up, briefly, and whispered, “good!”
“Yes, that’s just great,” the elf said sarcastically. “We needed a heartless murderer to fight them off, and you turn from that to being worthless.”
Jenna stood up, ignoring the pain in one hip, and stalked away to peer out the windows of the room that served as their cell. She studied it closely, then continued to look at the room in search of a way out. She noticed the smell in the room, of unwashed bodies and the stale leftover odors that happen from too many people kept in an enclosed area too long. Her fears were confirmed, they were in the hold of slavers.
“Why do you hate me?”
Jenna’s head snapped around so she could stare at Bailynn. It was the first sign of true freedom and intelligence the girl had displayed. She stared at her for a long moment, her eyes boring into the human.
“Because you remind me of how cruel my people can be,” she said finally and openly. “They justify it as a necessary evil, but it remains an evil.”
“I have nightmares,” Bailynn said. “I remember things they did… to me. Lessons they taught, and things they made me do.”
Jenna showed no outward sign, but inside she felt an icy hand twist her heart with every one of the girl’s sentences. She wanted her to stop, and nearly ordered her to do so, but somehow she felt as though she deserved to hear her plight. As if, in hearing it and in feeling her pain, she could somehow atone for the wrongs that had been done to Bailynn.
“They cannot be undone,” Jenna said, wondering if there was any advice to give the tortured girl. “You have only your future before you; your past is done and finished. It is yours to make of it what you will.”
“I tried to please them,” she continued, staring at Jenna through eyes that were blurry with tears. “I kept telling myself if I did one more thing, one more job, if I just let it happen one more time it would all end. They would let me go and make me better.”
“But it never happened,” Jenna finished for her, turning back to stare out the small bars on the door so that the girl would not see her face.
Unseen, Bailynn shook her head in agreement that it had never happened. “I could not deny them, and soon I wanted to die. I gave in to it and tried to let myself go. I tried to push myself so I would be killed. They stopped that too. I was a prisoner. I am a prisoner still.”
“And soon you’ll have a new Master,” Jenna said softly, thinking that surely Bekka had been stripped as thoroughly as they had been and the controlling ring would be found and eventually put to use.
“Bekka has it still,” Bailynn said dully.
“What? How?” Jenna asked, confused not at Bailynn knowing who possessed it so much as how Bekka could still be in possession of it.
Bailynn shrugged; she did not know.
Jenna smiled faintly. “That clever girl,” she muttered. “She must have hidden it. You say she still has it? Not something she left stuck in a box or a sack somewhere?”
Bailynn shook her head, “She is touching it, that much I know.”
Jenna chuckled. “She hid it well then.”
The elf turned to the waif and walked to stand in front of her. She stared down at her a minute and then sank down to her knees in front of her. “Bailynn, I need you to help me. If we are to escape and live, then we need to work together, okay?”
Bailynn looked at her, her expression one of pure helplessness. “Why? Let them come. Let them kill me. I seek death, it will release me.”
Jenna felt the urge to slap her or to grab and shake her. Anything to bring some sense to her and rouse her from her unending depression. Instead she just sat there and stared at her.
“You’re just like them,” Bailynn whispered. Fresh tears spilled from her eyes.
Jenna nearly stumbled backwards at the accusation. She felt as though she had been slapped across the face. “What? How can you say that?”
“You want to use me. You want me to help you so you can escape,” Bailynn accused.
Jenna shook her head. The pain in her head cleared as the impact of the girl’s words slammed into her, leaving a fresh pain in their wake. She reached out to the floor to steady herself and stared at Bailynn. Her own eyes glistened with moisture.
“Bailynn- I… I’m sorry,” Jenna said, blinking away the water. “I don’t want to use you so I can escape. I want us both to escape. I want us to work together. We share the risk and share the reward. That is what I want.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
Jenna shook her head, confused.
“You’ll do anything you can to get away. Anything you can to run from them. Anything you can to prove you’re not like them,” Bailynn said, repositioning herself so that she was on her knees now and looking straight into Jenna’s eyes.
“You’ll justify anything, even behaving like them, so you can say you’re not one of them,” Bailynn said.
Jenna’s mouth opened but she had no words to utter. She stared at the ruined girl and her words ate away at her. Bailynn was right. She acted like an elf, even vowing her independence, but she still acted like them. She claimed her ends were different, but her means were the same. She shook her head to deny it reflexively, but found she had no voice to confirm her denial.
“Hit me,” Bailynn whispered, her voice almost seductive. “Lash out and beat me. Prove me wrong. Use your strength over me.”
Jenna shook her head again and this time had the words. “No,” she said, repeating it twice more before continuing. “I’ll not harm you. I’ll never hurt you,” she said.
“Pain is all I know,” she said so softly it took Jenna’s elven ears to hear her.
“No more,” Jenna vowed. “I cannot undo what was done to you, but that is behind you. You have only your past and your future. We cannot change what was, but we can change what will be. I will help you — all of us — will help you.”
Bailynn looked at her and, for the first time, almost dared to believe. The light in her eyes faded quickly, but the fact that it had shown for a moment was promise enough for Jenna. The elf rose to her feet and took Bailynn’s hands in her own, pulling her up with her. The girl remained shorter than she was, and in spite of Jodyne’s hearty cooking she was still thin as a sail turned sideways.
Jenna pulled the girl to her, pressing her flesh against hers, and held her tight against her sharing her warmth and comfort. She cradled Bailynn’s head to her breast, both drawing strength from the act and trying to convey it to her.
“Come, we need to escape this place so we can rescue our friends, recover our ship, and find our Captain,” Jenna said after a moment.
Jenna let go of the girl and turned back to the door. Bailynn stared at her for a long moment, missing the warmth of her embrace. Fresh moisture filled her eyes but she wiped it away before it had a chance to fall. So faint it could not be seen in the dim light coming in through the small opening in the doorway, she smiled.
Bekka’s first thoughts upon waking was to recall exactly what had happened to her. She had been struggling to keep the Voidhawk moving and in the process of doing so, ignored her immediate area. The traumatic impact of the gauntleted fist to her cheek had put an end to all of that, however. She remembered, faintly, grabbing the ring that controlled Bailynn and trying to hide it before the darkness claimed her.
Rubbing her cheek, she looked around the room and saw Jodyne laying on the floor nearby. They were in a small room with no windows other than the small one in the doorway that was protected via some iron bars. Jodyne was unconscious and she noticed after a moment, nud; dwarven women had more hair than just their beards that they seemed to be proud of.
Bekka glanced down at herself. She was naked as well. Unlike Jodyne, she was quite happy to be devoid of hair on her body, thanks to both her natural magic and aided by her razor edged dagger. Of course the argument of follicular superiority was meaningless at the moment, and would also do little to help them out of their predicament.
Bekka crawled over to Jodyne and gently nudged her. When the woman did not respond she shook her again a little more roughly. This time she came around, groaning before sitting up and raising her hand to the back of her neck. She licked her lips, tasting the blood from a split in them, and let her eyes focus on the half-elf.
Her eyes widened upon seeing the woman with no clothing on. She looked down at herself and cursed in Dwarven, her hands going quickly to cover herself. Bekka smiled disarmingly at her and shrugged.
“It is only the two of us,” she said softly. “The slavers captured us.”
Jodyne surged to her feet, turning to the door and looking for a handle to grab to wrench on. She balled her hands into fists at her side and ground her teeth in frustration.
“Jodyne, be patient, we can’t let them know we are awake until we know what it is we wish to do.”
“We wish to be free,” Jodyne snapped. “I’ll not be slaving for any; death would be better!” She paused and glared at the confines of their cell. “Where are the others?”
Bekka pushed past her surprise at the fiery nature of the woman. She knew she could be stubborn and obstinate, a woman would have to be to love Kragor as she did, but she was surprised by the power of her emotions.
“I think they have been put in rooms much like these. That or…”
Jodyne nodded, allowing Bekka to let the unthinkable go unsaid. Every one of them would fight while they had the strength in their limbs to do so, and it was often easier to kill than it was to incapacitate.
“Do you have any magic to get us out?” Jodyne asked after pushing against the door and discovering it to be unyielding.
Bekka shook her head. “I have nothing that would help us. We must wait for our captors to arrive and take them by surprise.”
Jodyne scowled beneath her beard and crossed her arms. “This better work,” she grumbled, moving back and sitting down with her back to a wall. She crossed her legs self consciously and waited.
Bekka watched her for only a moment and then looked away. It was a dangerous game they tried, but as Jodyne had pointed out, death might be better than what the slavers had in mind for them.
She sat down as well and closed her eyes to meditate. She wondered if she could perhaps turn one of her spells into something that might aid them after all. Minor effects and protective magics were the extent of her abilities; she doubted that she had anything that would be of great effect. A distraction she might cause, but little more.
“Who be you?” Kragor asked, sitting up and reaching to rub the knot on his skull. His arm ached and throbbed from where a club had bruised him deeply near the shoulder.
“My name is Xander,” the human replied morosely. He, too, sat naked in the small room.
Kragor grunted and turned to study the door of their prison. It was solidly built, if simple, and he doubted it could be opened short of tools or by possession of strength greater than the two of them possessed. While displeased with his state of dress, he saw little point in letting it visibly upset him. He had greater concerns to deal with.
“What’s happening?” Kragor asked, turning back to him.
“You’ve been captured by slavers,” the man said sarcastically, “same as me.”
Kragor scowled. “Maybe you have, but I ain’t been captured yet.”
“Oh? Naked dwarf trapped in a cell… you’re right, that doesn’t sound like captured to me,” the man scoffed.
Kragor turned on him, fists clenched. “Shut yer mouth, I’m thinking!”
Xander recoiled a bit at the ferocity and volume of the dwarf’s voice. He shook his head after a minute and shrugged. “Think all you want, dwarf, there’s naught to be done.”
The dwarf ignored him and turned to once again study the door. He imagined some sort of a lever might work to lift it off its hinges, but they were short on levers.
“They found my tower and raided it, losing nearly a dozen men to my defenses before they broke in. I slew more, but they were too many. They stole my spell books and drained my magic from me, then tossed me in here,” Xander continued.
“You’re a wizard?” Kragor asked, not caring about his story but wondering if the man might be able to magic up some trick for them.
“I was,” Xander said, pulling a small amount of pride in to himself. “Xander vonHelric, wizard of the void.”
Kragor grunted, never having heard of the man before. “Can you wizard up some way out of here for us?”
“Oh, of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” Xander said in mock relief. “That’s what I needed, a furry dwarf to remind me of my skills!”
Kragor scowled and turned away, not liking the man’s tone.
“They drained my magic from me, dwarf!” Xander spat out contemptuously. “I must study and rest to recover, and without my spell books I am useless!”
“That was your tower?” Kragor asked, ignoring the caustic remarks from the powerless wizard.
“You can hear!” Xander said, the praise dripping sarcasm. “I constructed it with my magic, a mighty fortress able to house my conjurings.”
He sighed and looked at the floor, his anger fading to sadness. “It’s destroyed now, barely a shell of what it was. At least my final trap in my casting room has two of them prisoner still. My final victory: their death, as my sand sharks rend their flesh from their bones.”
Kragor spun around and stared at him. He walked over, stumpy legs crossing the distance in the small cell in three strides, and he grabbed the mage by both arms and yanked him forward so that their faces were only inches apart.
“You’ve got two men trapped in your tower?” he asked him, his tone deadly and even.
Eyes wide, Xander nodded. “Yes,” he stammered.
“Them be my friends,” Kragor told him. “Them went in to see if they could help any survivors. Let them go!”
“Let go of me!” Xander snapped, trying to pull Kragor’s hands off of his arms ineffectually. “More likely they sought to pillage the remains!”
“I’m not telling you again,” Kragor hissed, hands pinching mercilessly into the wizard’s soft arms.
Xander grimaced in pain and debated whether or not he should listen to the dwarf. If nothing else, it would make him leave him alone. Besides, if they were the dwarf’s friends and not some of the slavers, they may not deserve the grisly fate he had in store for them. Of course, if they were slavers what difference did it make?
“You sure this is gonna work?” Rosh asked as he made ready to toss the inverted table where Dexter had explained that he wanted it.
“The tables have a marble top on them,” Dexter grunted, straining under the heavy weight as he held up his end of the six foot long table. “Those things can’t come through the marble we be on, I’m thinking they can’t come through this.”
Rosh shrugged, not willing to admit that Dexter’s logic was sound. He counted to three and together they launched the table away from the dais and onto the sand. It hit unevenly but settled down almost immediately, sending a small cloud of dust into the air. The creatures in the sand roiled and writhed beneath the surface, moving towards it and lashing out at it, but being turned away every time. After a few moments they stopped, and instead moved around it as though they knew that Rosh and Dexter would soon be upon it.
“I’ll be damned,” Rosh muttered.
“Already are, I ‘spect,” Dexter replied, moving over to the other table and getting ready to lift it.
Rosh grinned and moved to the opposite end. They flipped it over and lifted it up, then Rosh stepped off the dais and onto the first table which was laying upside down on the sand. The sand burst forth as the creatures within it showed their agitation. They lashed out at it again, some even rising out of the sand far enough to bite into the table legs and tear them away. Rosh bent his knees to keep his balance and moved backwards slowly, letting Dexter catch up.
Dexter’s grip was slipping on the table and he wondered again at the strength of Rosh. He considered himself a strong man, but Rosh seemed to lift it up as though it was effortless. He focused on the man at the other end of the table, ignoring the snapping creatures that they could now see glimpses of.
The sand sharks resembled a cross between a snake and a fish, although they also possessed small legs and feet. Their mouths were what was most threatening, since they were filled with vicious looking teeth. Teeth that, they had discovered, could cut through metal. Those same teeth also tore apart the stout wooden legs of the table with ease.
Rosh reached the end of the first table and signaled Dexter to let go. Hunkering down, he tilted Dexter’s end up in the air slowly, then twisted and shuffled his feet to turn in place. Straining to hold the weight of the entire table by himself, braced against his hips while his arms held onto the sides, he thrust his hips forward and tried to aid in tossing the table with his hands at the same time.
It crashed onto the sand, digging in and sliding only a little. Nearly three feet of distance separated the two tables, an easy jump were it not for the freshly aggravated sand sharks that now moved between the tables and lashed out at the new platform they had established to walk on.
“That’s quite a jump,” Dexter observed, noting the distance between the tables.
Rosh grunted, breathing hard from his effort. “Ain’t that far,” he finally said.
“Aye, it’s not,” Dexter agreed. “But when these things are trying to chew a piece out of your hide, to the moon and back without a ship!”
Rosh shrugged, unable to deny his Captain’s observation. He looked down at the distance and backed up so that he stood directly in front of Dexter. “You want to go first this time?”
“Not really,” Dexter said.
“You’re the Captain, ain’t you supposed to lead?”
Dexter frowned but had to acknowledge the large man’s logic, such as it was. “Fine, but don’t think I’m not telling the others about this!”
Rosh grinned. “Fine by me, Cap.”
Dexter slipped in front of Rosh and the large man edged back towards the dais to give him room to run. Dexter sprang forward, taking two strides and leaping into the air. He pulled his feet as high as he could as soon as they left the ground, and only barely managed to avoid stumbling and falling when he landed on the far table.
Two of the sand sharks had leapt into the air, their jaws clamping shut on air behind the man’s passage. Rosh was moving before they sank back into the sand, sinking into it as though it was water. He leapt between the two, also pulling his feet up, and landed only slightly more gracefully than Dexter had. He also bumped into the man, which caused him to teeter precariously for a moment before he reclaimed his balance.
“You could have waited,” Dexter admonished him.
“Didn’t want them to be ready for me,” Rosh said, watching the roiling sand suspiciously.
“You nearly pushed me off!”
“I’d grab ya,” Rosh offered, smiling.
Dexter opened his mouth to scold him but stopped when something in the room changed. They had not noticed any background noise, but the sudden absence of it struck them both as very odd. They looked at one another and then around them, staring at the sand first. The dust that had risen from the frenzied thrashing of the sand settled and revealed a landscape unmarred by vibration or movement.
“They stopped,” Rosh muttered.
Dexter stared at him for a long minute, his expression one of disbelief.
“What?” Rosh asked, seeing Dexter looking at him.
Dexter just shook his head. He was amazed at the man’s ability to state the obvious and just let it go at that. Instead Dexter knelt down and leaned closer to the sand. “Could be a trap,” he suggested.
Rosh raised an eyebrow, he had not thought of that.
“Why would they just leave us be?” Dexter wondered aloud, letting his hand slowly drift over the open sand beyond the table.
Rosh watched, grimacing silently as he expected one of the creatures to burst upwards and swallow Dexter’s hand. The creature never came, and instead Dexter waved his hand over the sand in a slow gentle arc unmolested.
“Let’s get that other table moved over here,” Dexter said excitedly, rising up from where he had knelt.
Rosh turned to look at it and frowned. “Ain’t gonna be easy, they chewed all the legs off. Nothing to grab on to now.”
Dexter looked at it and frowned as well. “Could pick it up by the edge of the table,” he offered.
“You first,” Rosh said, knowing full well how fast the creatures had been and what he was sure they could do to fingers.
“I could order you,” Dexter said. “I’m still your Captain.”
Rosh chuckled. “Aye, and I could toss you into the sand. I’m still bigger than you.”
Dexter scowled but had to admit that the man was right. “Didn’t say I was going to,” he offered by way of a peace offering.
Rosh grinned and clapped Dexter on the shoulder. “Me neither, Cap.”
“So how we going to get over there? I judge it a fair five feet to the stairs still,” Rosh asked him.
“We run, I guess,” Dexter offered.
“You guess?” Rosh echoed. “I thought you was the Captain? I thought you had these things figured out?”
It was Dexter’s turn to grin. “I figured it out… we run. Now back up you big lug, I want a head start.”
Rosh backed up so that Dexter could have a couple of steps on the table before he leapt into the sand. Rosh glanced behind him, suspicious still of the quiet landscape. When he looked back Dexter started his run.
The Voidhawk’s Captain cleared three feet in the air, and managed to spring the last couple of feet off of the single foot he planted in the sand. Other than the impression his foot left in the sand, there was no sign of his passage nor of the sand sharks.
“Come on!” Dexter said, moving up the stairs enough for Rosh to join him.
Rosh took a deep breath and, with a last nervous glance around, ran and jumped. He, too, made it to the stairs with no sign of pursuit or aggression. He looked back in amazement, wondering why they had stopped all of a sudden and let them be.
“Hurry, we need to be getting back to the ‘Hawk,” Dexter said, starting up the stairs again.
Rosh nodded and followed him, letting the strangeness of the room slip from his mind. Instead he thought forward to wondering if Bailynn had learned anything new and if she was ready for him to teach her some private lessons yet. He grinned as he thought of just what some of those lessons would involve.
They emerged from the ruined tower and stared around, seeing no sign of the Voidhawk. “Um, where’s the ship?” Rosh asked, snapping out of his lustful reveries immediately.
Dexter looked around, eyes scanning the void, and found that he could not answer. He wanted to, but the absence of his ship left him with an equal loss of words.
“Cap, there’s a trail over here,” Rosh said, pointing out several worn rocks and scuffed marks on the ground.
Dexter stared dully at where Rosh was pointing, not understanding the point the man was trying to make. “Might be worth checking out,” Rosh suggested.
Dexter stared at it a moment longer then nodded. He felt empty at the abandonment of his ship. He knew that Kragor, Jenna, and the others would never mutiny on him. Well, Rosh might, he reasoned, for the right price or opportunity, but the others would never do it. Keshira was bound to him, it was impossible for her to betray him. So where in the reaches of the void were they?
Rosh led the way down the trail, which made its way directly across the asteroid and went over the edge of it, by means of some stairs. The stairs changed their orientation, which made both men momentarily nauseas, but they found that it took place at the same time that they passed through the gravity plane on the asteroid, so it kept them upright even though they found themselves upside down from where they should have been.
“This rock’s like a ship,” Rosh said, surprised.
Dexter grunted, in no mood to talk. It was odd though, he had to admit.
Ascending the stairs on the bottom of the asteroid they soon beheld a sight that left both of them standing in surprise. A small dock had been constructed on the far side, with ports for two small to mid-size ships. A wooden shed was constructed nearby, though the door could be seen to have been smashed in. More importantly, a small boat was moored to the dock. It had been mistreated much like the shed, but the vessel, some homemade contraption resembling a cross between a rowboat and a stagecoach, looked to still be sound. The wheels were broken, some missing rungs while others had been shattered entirely, but the actual boat itself seemed intact.
The castaways rushed towards it, thoughts of their situation no longer bleak and hopeless. Rosh veered into the shed, looking for anything of worth that had been left behind, while Dexter circled the boat before making his way up to the broken decking. Rosh emerged from the shed holding a broken piece of wood. He tossed it to the side and made his way over the treacherous footing of the broken gangplanks up to the boat.
“Got yourself a new boat?” Rosh asked with a grin.
Dexter emerged from doorway in the front to the pilots seat on the front and shot Rosh a dark look. “She’ll fly, but the sail’s been cut up and there’s supposed to be a sail off the bow too.”
Rosh turned to look at the front of the boat. He saw no obvious placement for a sail, just a beam that looked to have been hacked through and broken off. “Where’d it go?” Rosh asked.
Dexter leaned forward to point to the ground beneath the ship. The rest of the beam lay down there, some fifteen foot of it, along with a collapsed sail and several ropes that had been cut or snapped.
“Oh,” Rosh said, scratching his chin. “Well how’s it gonna fly without sails?”
“That’s where we come in, my friend,” Dexter said with a grin. “We need to fix it up so we can find the ‘Hawk.”
Rosh stared at the broken beam and sighed. “Ain’t no talking you into waiting it out for them to come back?”
Dexter shook his head. “Ain’t no coming back, Rosh. There was a trap set for us here, why else would Kragor disappear like that.”
“Maybe he wanted the ship for his self,” Rosh offered, knowing there was no chance the dwarf would do such a thing.
Dexter’s look was all that needed to be said. Rosh shrugged and made his way back down the planking to try and pick up the beam. Dexter stayed up top and waited for the man to toss up a rope he had looped around it. The rope he had carried in his pack, and the sheer effort of lifting the heavy wooden beam he supplied once he climbed back up to the decking. Between Rosh and Dexter, they managed to hoist the beam back up and tie it off, then they began working on trying to repair it.
Rosh hurried off to the shed and returned later with a few handfuls of iron nails and a hammer. They used broken wood from the gangplank to secure the beam back in place as best they could, then Dexter climbed up and, tying the broken ends of the ropes together where possible, he ran the lines. Before long he ran out of rope and they had to use what Rosh had brought with him.
The main sail remained ripped, but the damage was not so severe that it could not be used. It would not allow the ship to make top speed, but it would assist the helm. The front sail, more a spinnaker than anything else, would aid them greatly considering the condition of the main sail.
“Rosh, climb aboard, it’s time,” Dexter said after retying a line for the third time.
Rosh studied the haphazardly repaired vessel and shook his head. With a sigh that turned into a chuckle he climbed aboard, muttering something about dying on a derelict. Dexter ignored him and instead settled into the pilot’s seat. He felt his consciousness merge with the ship and fought the strange sensation that overcame him. It had been a while since he had flown anything but the Voidhawk.
They lifted free of the damaged docks and, although a bit unsteady, Dexter managed to bring the tub into space safely. The area was largely clear of any debris or rocks, so he was able to get his bearings about him and come to terms with the sluggish response the boat had.
“Tactical only,” Dexter mumbled for Rosh’s benefit. “If we’re not finding the ‘Hawk, we’re spaced.”
Rosh grunted and hopped up to the top of the coach so he could man the mainsail as needed. Dexter brought the ship around to the topside of the asteroid and there the drifted a moment, searching the void around them.
“Where to?” Rosh asked, seeing nothing.
Dexter thought it over, still unfamiliar with the boat he piloted and distracted somewhat because of it. He shrugged at last and said, “Deeper in to the rocks. Kragor wouldn’t abandon us,” he reasoned. “So he must have been chased off. I’m for betting he ran into the rocks, hoping they’d be slowing down whatever was after him.”
Rosh grunted again and offered no further response. Dexter took it as an agreement, and started the boat into the asteroid field. Rosh loosened and retied the mainsail to catch the solar wind and push them in the direction Dexter had chosen.
Keshira strained against the ropes that surrounded her. Her hands had been tied, then her arms had been secured to her body. Her ankles and legs had been tied as well, further restricting her movement. Her clothing had been torn from her then, once the ropes were securely in place, so her captors could see what sort of price she might fetch them. They stared at her greedily, thinking both of the wealth she might bring and also of owning her for themselves.
She was put in a room by herself, as instructed by a human barking orders to the others. He had the look of an outlaw, scruffy beard and large hat included. Keshira’s talent at seeing magical auras allowed her to realize that he was a mage of some sort as well.
Keshira could still feel her bond with Dexter. He was alive and well, though distant. She wanted to be near him, but did not know what it was that he wanted. He could tell her, of course, but he did not know that. Even from a distance he could communicate with her through their bond, but he did not know how and had never asked her. For the first time in her short life, Keshira understood frustration.
She suspected that, with time, she could work herself free of the ropes holding her. By herself she knew she could not win their freedom. Against a handful of the pirates, she had no doubt she would win. Against the numbers that had already came at them she knew she was destined to fail again.
They overwhelmed her when they realized their weapons did little to her. The sheer weight of their bodies held Keshira down until they lashed ropes around her. She had bloodied many of them, and slain more than a few as well. Ultimately they proved resistance was futile. The fact that capturing her had cost them dearly meant nothing to her, for she remained captured.
Keshira considered freeing the others if she escaped. Doing so would amount to little good, considering the lot of them had not been able to win their freedom in the first battle. The hopelessness of her situation left her feeling empty and angry. If only her Captain would show some sign of caring for them. Instead he remained far away, still on the asteroid.
Keshira felt something then. Something deep inside of her. She felt a great sadness and grief that shocked her. It came not from within her but from her bond to her Captain. He was no closer, but she did feel his despair. She longed to comfort him and to be there for him, so that she might take away his pain. Wordlessly her lips moved, crying out silently with the emotions she felt from him.
Miserably, she lay naked and bound on the floor for many long minutes, until suddenly the feelings of grief gave way to a surge of hope and determination. It waxed and stayed strong, reassuring her with its strength. After too long for her to measure, an hour or more at the least, she suddenly felt the distance between them closing. She could feel her Captain getting closer.
Keshira smiled in the dark cell; her Captain was coming for her.
Jenna heard the approach of their captors down the hallway first. She waved at Bailynn, who lay deceptively quiet on the floor along the wall the door opened up against, then arranged herself in the middle of the room in a pose that made lewd and indecent pale in comparison. Both feigned unconsciousness.
The footsteps slowed to a stop outside of their room. Beady eyes peered through the barred window and chuckled at seeing Jenna arranged as she was. “Look,” the owner of the eyes grunted harshly. “She’ll be a good whore, laying like that!”
The first person moved aside so another could look, and his laughter joined in. Something heavy, no doubt a wooden beam, was dragged out of its rests where it barred the door and the door opened outwards. One of the figures stepped inside carrying a bowl with something that smelled far from nutritious. He revealed himself to be a half-orc, while his partner behind him was a full blooded orc.
He glanced at Bailynn and dismissed her, then bent over to rest the bowl on the floor. He drew back his foot to kick Jenna when Bailynn exploded into action with a ferocity that matched her earlier attempt, when bound, to reach Rosh on the Voidhawk.
The wisp of a girl flew across the room, looking every bit as fearsome as she had when she had come for Jenna. Catching the half-orc unawares, she crashed into him and clamped her teeth down on his throat, ripping and tearing the flesh and meat away. Her fingers speared into his shoulder and chest, parting the skin and seeking for his lifeblood.
The orc recoiled, stunned by the sudden and vicious attack. He tried to back up, the thought of calling for help only beginning to enter his mind. Jenna was up already though, lunging at him and driving her forearm into his throat, silencing him. He retched and tried to stumble away from her, but she pursued him, lashing out with kicks and punches that, while largely ineffective, kept him on the defensive.
The orc pulled up a cudgel that hung from his side, realizing he had a weapon. He raised it and swung at her, now confident with a weapon in his hand. Jenna ducked under the club and kicked him in the groin as hard as she could. The orc gasped for breath and tried to stumble backwards. His legs turned to jelly and instead he ended up falling on his back. The pirate curled into a fetal position; he was unable to otherwise deal with the pain that overwhelmed him.
Jenna grabbed up his club and beat him with it, breaking bones in his hands and arms and then face and skull. She looked up after a long moment, realizing she had lost herself in her wanton butchery, and looked around. Bailynn was watching her, a fearful expression on her face. The expression was out of place, considering the blood that was still wet around her lips and chin.
“Do you know how to use a club?” Jenna asked her after taking a breath to fight down the adrenaline coursing through her blood.
Bailynn shook her head and looked at her hands instead, which were also smeared with the blood of her victim.
“Okay, let’s hurry and find our friends,” Jenna said, understanding that she only knew how to be the savage killer that Jenna’s kin had turned her into. With a blush of shame coloring her skin, Jenna hurried down the hallway to the next door and peered into it.
No sooner had she looked in when a shout came at them from down the hallway. Two more slavers approached, one of them carrying another bowl of what passed for stew. Another two hurried down the stairs behind them, with a third bowl. They set the stew down and drew their clubs, with the furthest on in the back rushing back up a set of stairs to get more help.
Jenna cursed and turned to face them. “Open that door, I couldn’t tell if anyone was in there or not,” she said.
Bailynn moved past her and shifted the heavy wooden beam out of the locks before pulling open the door and looking in. Kragor peered out, ready to spring into action himself in spite of recognizing Jenna’s voice and hearing the sounds of the scuffle. Behind him a strange man, Xander, stood and stared at her curiously.
“About time,” Kragor said, hurrying out of the room and turning to move up beside Jenna. “Where’s Jodyne?”
The slavers had advanced cautiously down the passage, pausing to glance at the two corpses the women had left in their wake before coming towards them.
“Lynn, can you check the other doors?” Jenna asked, not daring to stand down from her position. She glanced down at the dwarf and found herself smirking in spite of their situation.
“Not a word, elf,” Kragor growled at her, picking up the wooden plank used to bar the door to his and Xander’s cell.
“Yes, Sir,” Jenna said, failing to hide her smile.
Kragor scowled but dismissed it as the pirates approached them.
“You throw down that club and we’ll go easy on ya,” one of them said, addressing Jenna.
Jenna ignored him, and instead stood in her defensive position, club raised. The motley pirate crew snarled, spat, and insulted them before finally just rushing forward with the intent of overrunning them.
The close quarters aided Kragor, for his was able to get inside the reach of their opponents and use his smaller size to his advantage. Jenna, though unfamiliar with the tips and tricks of wielding a club, gave better than she received, smashing into every unprotected attacker that presented himself to her. In a matter of moments Kragor picked up a dropped club from a fallen slaver and was able to provide a more dangerous opponent as well.
Jodyne and Bekka hurried to join them; relief flooding through both dwarves to learn that the other survived. The matter of missing clothing was forgotten under the circumstances, although privately both felt embarrassed for the other.
Bailynn was approaching the final door when something slammed into it from the other side, jarring it. She stopped and watched it, equally curious and nervous about it. The slamming came again and again, as though something was trying to get out. She glanced back down the passage at Jenna and the others — her friends? Bailynn shrugged and slid the plank out of the braces, allowing the next impact with the door to send it flying open and a surprised Keshira to stumble into the hallway.
She paused, once in the hallway, and looked around. She looked to her right, where a set of stairs led up and down, and nearly headed in the direction. Several men came rushing down the stairs, blocking them and advancing forward. She looked back to the right where the others waited and quickly judged that they had things as under control as they could hope to.
In a smaller hallway, with fewer assailants attacking them, it might be possible to fight the slavers off longer, she reasoned. Or at least long enough for Captain Dexter to make it back to them. She could feel him drawing closer with each passing minute. She turned back to the stairs on her right and ran forward, catching the pirates by surprise as she plowed into their ranks and actually drove them back.
Bailynn, at a loss for what to do, decided to help Keshira. She had never spoken to the woman, and rarely found the pleasure golem speaking to others. Even now she had expressed no gratitude or greeting. Given the confusion she herself felt, Bailynn found herself wondering about the voluptuous woman easily overpowering the slavers that came at her. Besides, helping Keshira put her further from the confusing elf. Jenna was obviously at war with her own nature, and Bailynn wanted to be nowhere near her when the war ended, in case the elven side of her won out and found a way to imprison her again.
They fought for what seemed like an hour or more. Their arms were leaden and their breath burned in their throats. The crew of the Voidhawk was bruised and bloodied many times over, but thus far only the bodies of the slavers cluttered the floor of the passage. A dozen, perhaps, had fallen, but still more filled the ends of the tunnel and sought to subdue them. A few times other weapons had entered the fray, instead of the simple clubs that the slavers used in attempts to subdue them. Jenna upgraded to wield a club in one hand and a dropped short sword in the other. A few daggers had fallen as well, though Jodyne was quick to acquire them and send them spinning back into the ranks of the slavers.
Of them all Keshira alone fought tirelessly. She had disabled or killed several pirates on her own, and fresh ones were not so anxious to come against her. Their knives and swords had little effect on her, which astonished and terrified them. They could not understand how a woman so beautiful and soft looking could be so deadly.
Bailynn grew tired herself, but if she needed a short respite it was easy to do by letting Keshira pick up the slack in the narrow corridor. She was covered in blood and felt as though she might never be free of the stink and the taste of it. It sickened her, but she knew this time she fought for herself, not for a Master.
“He’s here!” Keshira said, pausing only slightly after having thrown a pirate into the wall and his comrades.
Bailynn looked at her, wondering what she was talking about. She also noted the renewed frenzy that Keshira went into as she tried to force her way through the ranks of the slavers.
Bailynn strove to aid her, fingers sinking into the hamstring of one of the few lizardmen slavers that tried to disable the pleasure golem. Bailynn yanked him towards her, with the surprised lizardman hissing in pain all the while, and then she dug bloody furrows across his face with her other hand when it turned to look at her. Recoiling in surprise at the savagery in the small woman, it was caught unprepared again when her next strike tore into its abdomen and pulled something bloody, fleshy, and important for continued survival into the open air.
The crew of the Voidhawk heard some shouting in the distance, and only after the cry was taken up by others did they make it out. Someone was calling for the slavers to stop fighting. Another order came once both groups stopped, and they pulled back so that the exhausted prisoners could make their way, warily, up three flights of stairs and out onto the main deck of the ship.
A pile of gear was being assembled on the deck, all of that which had been taken from the prisoners. Xander cried out in joy when he saw a collection of books spilling out of a sack on the decking. Standing up on the forecastle of the ship was Dexter and Rosh, the latter of which holding the cutlass wielding captain of the slave ship with a curved dagger to his throat.
“Captain!” Keshira cried out when she saw him, a great relief in her voice.
Dexter and Rosh looked at them all in shock. Even Rosh could only focus on the nudity of the woman for so long before he, too, had to show some shock at the exhaustion they displayed and the level of gore covering them. Bailynn, in particular, was nearly covered head to toe in blood. They put their clothing back on, although in Keshira’s case it had been torn so badly it was an impossible task.
Dexter opened his mouth to ask who Xander was, but decided instead he would deal with that later. Instead he growled some orders to the pirate Captain, who nervously called out for his crew to let the prisoners gather their things and cross the gangplank that had been set up between the pirate ship and the Voidhawk, which had been sailing alongside as further captured booty.
Jenna and the others made their way across, though Keshira waited until Dexter motioned for her to go as well. Rosh and Dexter, dragging the slaver captain with them, made their way to the plank as well. They waited while Kragor and Jenna rounded up the pirates that had sailed the Voidhawk and they ushered them back across the gangplank to the pirate vessel.
Halfway across Dexter bade them to stop and called across, “Kragor, who served as helmsman?”
Kragor eyed them briefly and called back, “Fourth man from the front.”
Dexter nodded and, without so much as a second thought, drew his pistol and fired it. The pirate helmsman staggered from the impact, then looked down at the growing red stain on his tunic. He looked up, mouth open in shock, and lost his balance. He fell between the ships, falling to the gravity plane and plunging through it, then falling back upwards to plunge through it again and again.
The pirates jerked and started forward, but a slight shake of their captain and additional pressure from the knife at his throat and he bade them to stand back. They accepted, but many had murder gleaming in their eyes. A few, those who had fought in the passages, did not look so anxious to press the attack anew.
Dexter waved the rest on and reloaded his pistol while they crossed. Once they were aboard they pushed the slaver captain across the plank, with Rosh and Dexter following closely behind him. The body of the pirate helmsman continued to bob up and down on the gravity plane between the ships.
“Follow us and we’ll be killing every last one you. Cross our paths again, and the same fate be yours!” Dexter yelled over to them once they had crossed.
“Rosh, let him go,” Dexter said, gesturing with his pistol for the slaver to cross the plank back to his ship.
“You’ve made a mistake, Captain,” the pirate spat at him.
“Won’t be the first nor the last,” Dexter said, gesturing again. “Now shut your mouth and get off my ship!”
The pirate stepped up on the gangplank and started across. After a couple of steps Rosh turned to Dexter and said, “You really gonna let him live?”
The pirate hurried his step and it was not until he was near the end of the plank that he turned, glaring hatefully at Dexter and Rosh. “You’ll pay for this, I’m going to-“
Dexter’s pistol spat out a ball of lead at the same time that Rosh kicked the gangplank away from the Voidhawk. The pirate captain shrieked as he fell, reaching out for his ship and missing it. Dexter’s bullet drilled into his back, just beneath his shoulder blade, and turned the pirates shriek into a painful grunt.
“Anybody else?” Dexter called out, reloading his pistol while Rosh stood with his in hand and aimed towards the assembled pirates on the deck. None made any threatening moves, although three humans were hurrying to the edge and trying to tie up a rope so they could reclaim their captain.
“Good,” Dexter said, backing away and moving towards the forward staircase. When he was close he enough he called down it for best speed out of the rocks. His crew, exhausted from their ordeal, still leapt to action and hurried to tend their sails and rigging so they could get away from the slavers once and for all.
Dexter kept a wary eye on them as they put distance between them. Xander stood nearby, watching as well. Dexter turned to study the man once they had put enough distance between the two ships to reduce its size to something that was easily hidden behind a rock in the asteroid field. By that time they were free of it and soon to return to cruising speed.
“Who’re you?” Dexter asked tiredly.
“Xander vonHelric, Wizard of the Void,” Xander said, grinning and bowing to the man. “I’m deeply indebted to you, Captain…”
“Silvercloud. Dexter Silvercloud. This here’s the Voidhawk, and she ain’t much but she’s ours. I don’t reckon you can pay for passage, but you’re welcome to a bunk all the same and you can work off your fee till we get to our next port,” Dexter said, already turning back.
Xander opened his mouth but Dexter kept going. “I don’t care much for slaving, so I’m happy to set you free. How’d you come to be their guest anyhow?”
“That’s just it, they followed me from my last run for supplies,” Xander explained. “I led them to my home and they attacked it. No doubt they thought I would have riches a plenty for them to steal. Ha! Fools!”
“Your home?” Dexter asked, eyes narrowing. “That tower was your home?”
Xander nodded. “Yes, it was. I built it myself,” he said, puffing up his chest proudly. “Of course it’s destroyed now, so I’ll have to find a way to save up the resources to build another one.”
“That trap in your tower, the room with the sand, that yours too?”
Xander nodded, grinning. “Oh, was that you? The dwarf told me his captain was in there. I’m glad I listened to him! I’d have never gotten my spell books back otherwise!”
“Your… you turned it off?” Dexter said, understanding why the sand sharks had departed just as they were about to escape them on their own.
Heavy footing on the decking was the only thing that alerted either one of them to Rosh’s approach. Xander turned around just in time to catch the large warrior’s fist in his face, which sent him staggering to the ground. His hand went to his face and came away bloody from where his lip was split and blood ran from his nose.
“Rosh!” Dexter said, stepping between the large man and the wizard.
Rosh glared at Xander but stopped. “Your trap damn neared killed us!” He spat at him.
“Well that’s what happens to thieves!” Xander said; rising to his feet and glaring contemptuously back at the man.
“We wasn’t thieves! We was looking to help!” Rosh growled.
“Rosh, mind the rigging,” Dexter ordered, his eyes matching his serious tone.
With a final glare Rosh turned and stalked off, leaving the stern castle and returning to the main sail.
“Thank you, Captain; that void whale is too stupid to-“
Dexter’s fist cracked into Xander’s face then, sending him stumbling backwards into the rail.
“He’s a member of my crew and while you’re on my ship you’ll be treating him right!” Dexter seethed. “You’re trap near did us in, but we had found a way out anyhow,” he said.
“And we was there to help survivors,” Dexter continued. Then, to pour some salt in the wizard’s wounded pride he added, “and if there weren’t none, then we was gonna take whatever we found that we could use.”
Dexter turned and walked away. Over his shoulder as he walked he called out, “you can bunk in the crew quarters in the aft, down those stairs,” he pointed at the circular staircase down. “I’ll have Kragor get with you to find out what you can do to help us out to pay for your passage.”
Xander stared after him, not sure if he should feel outraged, hurt, shocked, or embarrassed. Ultimately he just stood there and watched the captain of the Voidhawk cross the deck and check on each of his crew to see how they were doing. He caught Rosh sneaking glances at him a few times, and felt the others were probably watching and laughing as well. Mustering up as much dignity as he could, once his nose stopped bleeding, he made his way down the stairs and found the room that Dexter had told him to use.
Xander sat on a cot and sighed. His life had been going so well too, and now this. All of his research and experiments had to be put on hold, at least the ones that had not been destroyed. He shook his head and fought back the sudden wave of despair that threatened to settle over him. He was still alive, which was a good thing. He opened up the sack and pulled out one of his spell books, which brought a smile to his bruised face. He had his spell books too, and that was a great thing. He settled down in the bunk and opened up one of the books, intent upon memorizing his spells and restoring his energy so he could show the captain of the Voidhawk just how useful he could be.
Then the man would understand just how powerful and great Xander was. He would be sorry then for striking him like some common ruffian!