“Captain, might I-“
“What?” Dexter interrupted the wizard. He turned from where he was staring out the window on the bridge of the Voidhawk and gazed at the man with eyes that betrayed exhaustion.
“I was wondering if you’d share where we’re headed?” Xander asked after a moment of shock. He realized that Dexter was taking the death of the first mate much harder than he had imagined — even though it had only been a week.
Dexter stared at him for a long moment, then glanced at one of the charts on the table. Finally he shrugged and admitted, “ain’t picked a destination, truth be told.”
“We’re deep in the void…Sir,” Xander said, speaking carefully because he suspected that Dexter might have an even shorter leash than usual, concerning him.
Dexter squinted at him suspiciously. “What’re you getting at, wizard?”
Xander took a breath and stepped closer to the charts. “I’ve been studying the stars. It’s near the edge of the known Void, but I know of a port we could go to. Lots of work there, I’ve heard, and anything you want can be had for a price.”
Dexter frowned. “Anything I want? You trying to bribe me or something? Or are you looking for a place to jump ship?”
Xander shook his head without hesitation. He moved to the chart and picked up a quill. He marked it on the chart after studying it briefly and said, “I’ve never been there. I’ve just heard and read about it. It’s not a part of the Federation or the Empire, it’s neutral and nobody bothers with it, it’s so far out. Lots of rules there, and they don’t get much in the way of visitors so traders are welcome.”
“Lots of rules? You just said anything for a price?”
“Aye, anything for a price…legally. That’s part of the rules.”
Dexter frowned again. “What’s it called and if it ain’t human or elven, who runs it?”
“A race of giant-kin run it, and it’s called Azmea,” Xander said. “They are a type of ogre, dark skinned and extremely intelligent, not as mindless or cruel as their more simple brethren.”
Dexter’s eyes widened. “Sounds like a fun place,” he said dryly.
“There are many of them, yes, but they are outnumbered by the other humanoid races on the planet. Nonetheless they rule the world and it remains civilized, if a bit violent.”
“Violent?” Dexter asked, glancing at Bekka who was once again on the helm. She continued to tend to the business of operating the ship, however, and showed no interest in their conversation.
“Disputes are often settled in an arena, I had read. And likewise, it is quite common for territories — city-states, kingdoms, fiefs, or whatever they call them — to go to war with one another. Sometimes, in fact, battles are fought simply for the pleasure of the nobles and for no other purpose. Or at least these are rumors I have heard.”
“And you’re wanting us to visit?”
Xander shrugged. “By my reckoning it is the closest port to us, and we are in danger of running low on some supplies.”
The wizard continued, “and again, anything is available for a price there — including talent. You need to hire more crew, yes? What about the list of ingredients I provided you the other day that would allow me to enchant the holds?”
Dexter found himself considering the wizard’s suggestion in spite of his better judgment. In fact, the longer he considered it, the more sense it made. A little risk, sure, but that could be found in any new port of call.
“Alright, but I’d best not find out you’ve got any plans for running us up on some rocks,” Dexter warned, his eyes taking on a steely gleam.
“What must I do to prove myself?” Xander asked angrily. “I’m no charlatan or juggler! I’ve the respect of my peers and the envy of many a foe I’ve bested over the years. Were it not for me honoring my debt and my current circumstances, our stations would be quite different, I assure you.”
Dexter just grinned at his outburst. “That’s why I’m keeping an eye on you. A crew can run up a new flag, but that don’t mean them forgets what kind of sailors they are.”
Xander stared at him for a moment, then finally broke his gaze and left with a huff.
Dexter’s grin faded after the wizard disappeared. He turned to stare out the window again. He wondered where and when the dwarf might show up next. He had half expected Kragor’s shade to pop up behind Xander the entire time, but he had not. Dexter had only seen him a few times since that first night, and always the stout ghost seemed amiable enough. It still bothered him though, and he took care not to mention it.
“Bekka, I’ll be in my room,” Dexter said, “keep to our course for now, it’s heading in the same direction anyhow.”
She nodded slightly, indicating that she had heard him. Dexter barely noticed though, he was already opening the door to his room from the bridge. Once inside he found himself sitting at his desk, staring once again through a small glass covered porthole into the void. He was exhausted but sleep would not come; Dexter was terrified of what dreams he might have since he was already seeing the impossible while he was awake.
Soon enough a knock at the door roused him from his fugue. He wearily rubbed his eyes and bid the visitor to enter. As he would have predicted, had his brain been operating fully, Jenna slipped into the room and shut the door behind him.
“Captain,” she said somewhat stiffly at first. Then she saw the sheer exhaustion on his face and her bearing relaxed as she fought the urge to rush over to him. “Dex… Gods, what’s going on?”
Dexter smiled wearily and waved away his concerns with his hand. “Too much ale, I’m afraid.”
She frowned but said nothing. She had not seen him drink more than a few cups since she had known him. She opened her mouth to retort, but he beat her to the punch.
“What troubles you?”
She swallowed her rebuke. He had been different of late. Since Kragor died and she assumed his position, Dexter had been more distant to her. To all of them, really. Something was pulling him away from them, she only hoped it was not the fear of losing more friends as he had lost Kragor.
“Xander came to me expressing some concern,” she said. “Concern about you, in fact.”
Dexter chuckled. “He was worried about me? That’s about as likely as…” Dexter paused, realizing he had been about to say, ‘as likely as Kragor coming back to visit.’
Jenna smiled. “Well, his exact words were something like, ‘that fool of a Captain is going to leave us stranded with no water or food if he doesn’t come to his senses!’”
Dexter nodded, that sounded more like it.
“I reminded him of his station, of course,” she quickly added.
“How’d he take that?”
Jenna grinned. “After he picked himself up and headed off to help Lynn and Keshira, he was muttering something about wondering why everybody seems to want to punch him.”
Dexter could not fight the smile that twisted his lips upwards. He gave in and let out a short laugh, then sighed. “He’ll come around, I think.”
“You think?” Jenna was not challenging him, simply wondering at his thoughts.
“That or jump ship at his first chance,” Dexter said with a smile. “He wants us to head to an uncharted port nearby. A planet run by some kind of super smart ogre race. Humans and the like there too, he alleges.”
“He been there?” Jenna challenged.
Dexter shrugged. “Says he ain’t, just heard tell of it and read about it his books. I reckon we could all do with some leave, especially after…”
Jenna nodded, sparing him from saying it out loud. “Yeah, I reckon we could.”
Dexter glanced up at her quickly, not realizing his gaze had drifted to the floor. “You ‘reckon we could’?”
She grinned and shrugged. “Yes, why not?”
“That just don’t sound like proper elf-talk… You been hanging around too many of us humans?”
She smiled again and said, “I can’t imagine much better company. Anytime you want to rub off on me, you just let me now.”
Dexter blinked and realized after a long moment that he had stumbled right into her trap. He groaned and shook his head; Jenna grinned triumphantly. Of course the truth was she meant it, she had never formed bonds and friendships like she had on the Voidhawk. And she had never fallen so hopelessly for a man like Dexter.
“Dangerous place, this,” Dexter said, moving back to the topic at hand. “Anything and everything to be had, he says. Lots of rules and the ones in charge seem a bit feisty. Violent, even. Not so sure it’s a safe place to be letting people with an itch to have a drink and a bit of free run loose at.”
“Especially Rosh,” Jenna added, finishing off the unspoken thought that Dexter had shared. The Captain smiled.
They were quiet for a long moment, each letting their thoughts wander to different areas. Jenna’s focused on concern for Dexter, whereas Dexter was trying to focus on what the Voidhawk should do. His fatigue kept interrupting him though, leaving him no closer to a solution than before.
“Is that our course?” Jenna asked him softly.
Dexter sighed. “What do you think?”
She raised an eyebrow, surprised. She wondered if he was just gathering his thoughts, but then tossed that aside. Dexter had always been a confident man with a plan of action, something she admired about him. This time though, he seemed lost and uncertain. That realization only made her heart ache for him even more. She hid it behind a soft smile.
“I think we should go there. Perhaps we can take on more crew to round us out, we need another skilled carpenter or shipwright,” she pointed out. “And if Xander just wishes to abandon us, well, better he’s on his way than to have us always worried when he might disappear. Or worse yet, betray us.”
Dexter nodded, what she said made sense. “Set a course,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes Sir,” she said, turning to leave because she sensed that Dexter had dismissed her. As much as she wanted to stay and help him, she knew he was not ready.
“Wait,” Dexter said, his words acting like a hand that spun her back around. “This is between me and you, got it?”
She nodded and stepped forward, sitting down in a chair at his table. “Dex,” she said softly and earnestly, “I keep telling you but you never seem to remember. Everything between us… is between us.”
“Aye, so you do,” he said with a soft smile. She caught a look in his eyes, behind the fatigue, that shocked her and thrilled her. It was a mixture of fear and appreciation… and openness. It disappeared quickly, but she knew it had been there.
“Is this where you tell me how you’ve been pining away for me and you’re finally ready to accept me into your heart?” she asked sweetly, teasing him playfully.
He smiled and then shook his head. “How’s the crew ever going to mutiny and toss me off the aft rail if you’re having relations with me? They couldn’t put you in as captain then.”
Jenna laughed at his well formed response. He had dodged her question artfully, all the proof she needed that her Captain was still in full control of his faculties. She shrugged and replied, “sure they could… it’d just be easier for me to poison your ale so you didn’t see it coming.”
Dexter laughed with her, sharing a moment of warmth at the dark humor. Both knew nothing of the sort was every likely to happen. Dexter’s laughter faded quickly though, as he remembered the real reason he was troubled.
“Has anyone reported anything strange lately?” he asked her.
“Strange? Well Xander thought it strange that you were tired,” she said thoughtfully, caught up in his question. “He probably thought it unusual that I could drop him to the deck with a single punch as well, being a wee little elf girl and all.”
“Nobody’s claimed to be seeing things then?” he asked.
“Seeing things? Like what?”
Dexter sighed. He wanted to tell her, but he knew she might think he was going crazy. Hell, he knew she would think he was losing his mind!
“Dex,” she said, sliding off the chair and kneeling in front of where he sat in his. She put her hands on his thighs. “What’s going on?”
He shook his head, dismissing it. “It’s nothing, I’m just taking Kragor’s death hard.”
She shook her head in turn. “No, Dex, it’s not. I know how dear he was to you. I know you too, and you’re not the type to be put down by this. It’s not that losing Kragor didn’t hurt you or any of us. There’s something going on, you know it and I trust you. I know you,” she stressed, “and I believe in you. Even now, with you strung out and not able to think, I’ll put my life in your hands and say that you’ll do the right thing if the choice comes up.”
Dexter looked at her for a long moment. He finally made a decision and took a deep breath. When it released, he felt the tension in his back release. He nodded and smiled. “Sorry I’ve been away this week,” he said.
“It’s Kragor,” Dexter added. “He ain’t gone.”
“He’s not… Dex,” the elf said cautiously. “We gave his body to the void, you saw it.”
“You’re thinking I’m daft now?” Dexter asked her.
“No, I’m trying to understand,” she said, reassuring him.
“Get off your knees, somebody coming in might get the wrong idea,” he said.
She shrugged. “It’s no secret.”
“What’s no secret? There’s nothing going on,” he protested.
She grinned. “Maybe not, but that’s our secret.”
“What?” He gasped in shock. “You been telling them that-“
She stood up and put her finger to his lips, silencing him. “I’ve been doing no such thing. It’s a small ship, they see and they talk though. I hear better than they think.”
“It’s Rosh, ain’t it? He talks filth like that all the time. I’m going to have him scrubbing the keel for a month straight!” Dexter stood up, their prior conversation forgotten as he tried to push past her to head to the deck.
She put her finger to his mouth again to silence his protests. “It doesn’t matter who it is, Dexter. I don’t stop them because that would just fuel the flames.”
Dexter paused, not paying attention to how close Jenna was to him. She had a point; if he intervened it would just strengthen the gossip. He looked down and saw Jenna staring up at him. He stared at her, noticing how expressive and beautiful her eyes were. He shook his head, cursing inwardly at how tired he was.
Jenna reached up and put her hands on his head, then pulled him to her. She kissed him, unable to stop herself even though she knew she should not have done it. She could not help herself though; she had a hunch that this might be the only time she could ever get away with it due to his exhaustion and sluggishness.
Dexter’s world disappeared when she kissed him. He stumbled but she caught him, and he found himself for a long moment only able to focus on her lips. She broke it and pulled away and looked at him. There was longing in her gaze and a bit of fear as well. She was terrified he might reject her, even though he had not pulled away from her.
“Please be truthful with me,” she asked, her voice vulnerable and quiet. “Did you feel the magic?”
Dexter closed his eyes and wanted to deny her. He could not deny they had kissed, but he could deny that it had been special. All he had to do was open his mouth and say no. When he tried, however, it came out sounding a little different. In fact, it sounded remarkably like a “yes.”
She beamed. Her eyes sparkled and her face seemed to glow with pride. Dexter had wanted to say no. He had meant to say no. But instead he had said yes. He sighed and shook his head.
“I’m your Captain. You’re my first mate, that’s all there is to it,” he stated, trying to make it sound less hollow.
Jenna shrugged. “I’ll be your mate anytime you’re wanting me, Captain,” she said with a wink.
Dexter sighed. “This is a private mutiny.”
The elf kept on smiling.
“Get back to work,” he muttered, sinking back into his chair and at a loss for words.
Happy, she snapped off a fist to the chest salute and then turned and left the cabin. It was not until an hour or so later that she realized they had not finished their conversation about Kragor. Suddenly worried about Dexter and about the ship, she found the first excuse she could to head back down to his cabin. She knocked softly and heard no response. Upon sticking her head in she found him slumped over his desk, sleeping. She frowned but backed away. It was not the best of positions, but she knew disturbing him would just rouse him prematurely and he desperately needed sleep.
The Voidhawk settled onto its landing struts with the gentle groan of flexing timbers. Thick ropes from either side were cast off to be grabbed by the dockworkers at the harbor. No sooner had the gangplank been secured when a large man wearing an open vest made of boiled leather and studded with metal rivets crossed it. Behind him came two other men wearing chain shirts covered in tunics with the emblem of their allegiance. A third man followed carrying some scrolls and wearing a frayed brown robe. A torque around his neck implied he wore it unwillingly.
“Permission to come aboard?” The dark skinned man asked from where he stood a single step away from the deck of the Voidhawk.
Dexter looked him up and down before nodding, “granted. I’m Dexter Silvercloud, Captain of the Voidhawk.”
He stepped onto the ship and made way for his men to come behind him. “Talik, Harbormaster of Azmir.”
“I thought this was Azmea?” Dexter asked with a frown.
“It is, this is the free state of Azmir, the only registered Void-Port on Azmea.”
“And a fine city it is,” Dexter followed up quickly. “All the trade comes through here?”
“Through this port, yes,” Talik said then grinned. “And through me.”
Dexter returned the smile. “Of course it does.”
“Have you any goods to declare?”
Dexter chuckled. “No cargo.”
“A fine vessel such as this and no cargo?” Talik’s raised eyebrow indicated as well as his tone and his words that he doubted Dexter’s honesty.
“We were hoping to find some work here, take on some supplies, and maybe find some fresh crew,” he explained.
Talik nodded. “You won’t mind then if we search your ship?”
Dexter’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not very friendly.”
Talik shrugged. “The Lords of Azmea let Azmir run free for a reason. Smuggling violates our agreement, so we take a dim view on smugglers. There’s nothing that can’t be had here, and those that try to get around don’t make it back to the Void.”
Dexter glanced at the harbor and the thriving town beyond, weighing all that Talik had said. It sounded very much like Xander had told him, that bode well for the mage.
“Sometimes cargo is small or stored in unusual places,” Talik continued more softly, turning to follow Dexter’s gaze. “I’m a groundling, but I understand the ballast must be stowed just so to keep the ships balanced. Sometimes cargo is forgotten and not found until later. Might there be some lashed away forgotten sack or box below?”
Dexter rubbed his admittedly scruffy chin with his hand. “Now that you mention it, I do have a little something below I picked up.”
Talik nodded. “I understand, these things happen.”
Dexter reached into his pocket and pulled out the small bell he had taken from the table in the casting chamber of Xander’s destroyed tower. He held it up and shook it. “Fancy little thing, rings clear and true.”
“That’s your forgotten cargo?”
Dexter smiled. “Aye, I’d forgotten all about it till you mentioned that. Been an exciting time out there.”
“And the search?” Talik asked, his eyes smoldering with anger at having been made fun of.
“Keep an eye on the ship, make sure we don’t take anything off,” Dexter said, denying the harbormaster.
“I’ve a crew of eight, with any luck we’ll be leaving with a couple more.”
Talik nodded. His servant behind him put quill to parchment and scribbled down whatever notes he needed. Talik stared at Dexter a moment longer and then jerked to his followers. They turned and marched down the gangplank, with Talik casting a final accusatory glance at the deck and the crew before he followed them.
“We don’t have anything below,” Jenna said softly after she came up next to Dexter.
The Captain shrugged, but could not hide the smile. “Even so, I’ll not have some dirthugger trekking mud around my ship.”
Jenna shook her head and rolled her eyes, not caring if Dexter saw her or not.
The crew gathered on the deck, with Xander only just joining them as he stumbled up carrying a bag in one hand filled with some books and other odds and ends. Dexter’s eyes narrowed as he watched him hurry to join them, and Jenna saw the wrinkles deepen as he did this, drawing her own attention to the wizard.
“Rosh, you’re with me,” Dexter said to his new Arms Master. “I need some volunteer’s to stay aboard and guard the ship. Anybody?”
“If it is your wish I will stay, Captain,” Keshira volunteered.
Dexter scowled at her tone and deference, but nodded. “It’s my will that someone does it, but is it your will to be the one?”
“If you desire it of me, Captain.”
Dexter rolled his eyes and gave up. “Fine, anybody else?”
“I… I’d prefer to stay,” Bailynn said quietly.
“That’s two, anybody else?”
“Dex, I’ll-”
“No,” Dexter said, interrupting Jodyne. “I need you to pick up some fresh eats,” he told her. To back his point up, he tossed her a small pouch of coins.
“The rest of you, be back on the ship… scavver dung, what time is it here anyhow?” Dexter asked, distracted as he glanced up towards the sun. It was midway between the horizon and high noon.
“”There’s six hours until dusk, I think,” Xander piped up.
Dexter frowned and peered at the wizard again. “You’re knowing a lot about this place.”
“I’ve done a lot of research,” Xander said, his tone lowered slightly in anger at the implied accusation.
“Good, means you won’t be getting lost.”
“Back by dusk then, all of you. I caution you to stick together, but that might be a waste of breath,” Dexter said with a wry smile.
Rosh held up, waiting to see what Dexter needed him for. Jodyne trudged to the side, not meeting anyone’s gaze, and headed down the plank to the dock and from there further off. Xander started forward, moving quickly and anxiously, and was surprised when Jenna fell in beside him.
“If you’re fixing to pick up some magical components to help out, I figure you’ll need an extra set of hands,” she explained with a too-sweet smile.
Xander made the mistake of glancing at Dexter, wondering if he was the source of it. The captain had the good grace to appear surprised at her actions, but he just nodded in agreement. Another pouch sailed through the air and Jenna’s hand snaked out to catch it gracefully.
“After you,” Jenna said, waving her hand forward. Xander cast her a final glance then nodded and led the way down the plank.
Jenna glanced back at Dexter and saw him nod again in approval. She smiled and winked at him, then turned and followed the wizard.
“What’re we after?” Rosh asked.
“Replacements,” Dexter said, making sure Jodyne was out of earshot. “The ‘Hawk’s a fine ship, but she won’t be flying long without someone that can fix her up.”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with the ship,” Rosh said, confused.
“Aye, not yet,” he responded. “You notice we have a tendency to run afoul of damn near everything?”
Rosh chuckled and nodded.
“I need a shipwright… or at least someone who can fix up some holes. That and it’d be nice to have a few more deckhands.”
Rosh scratched the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “Keshira and Bailynn do a damn fine job of it.”
“Aye, they do, but I’ll not work someone to the bone.”
The large man shrugged. “Keshira ain’t human, she can do it.”
Keshira, if she was bothered, stood by complacently.
Dexter turned to look at the pleasure golem. He sighed. “Be that as it may, it’s not my style. She’s my crew and that means she gets time off like the rest of us.”
Rosh shrugged, then leered as a thought entered his mind. He turned to Dexter but was silenced by the glare the man sent him.
“Don’t speak the words you’re thinking,” he threatened. “There’s not a one of us that don’t deserve to be treated right and fair. Think on that and if you’re not agreeing, keep it to yourself.”
“Captain?”
Dexter turned away from Rosh to see Bekka standing there. He smiled to push aside the confrontation and said, “What’s your plan, Bekka? You staying here or heading out?”
“Sir, I’d like to go with you and Rosh if you don’t mind.” She smiled and glanced up at Rosh, idly rubbing her hand against her freshly shaved scalp above her ear.
“You’re welcome to come,” Dexter said. “But what’s your course?”
Bekka grinned, not surprised that Dexter had sniffed something fishy about her motives. “Sir, if you’re for bringing on new crew, I’d like to recommend at least one of them know something about healing. My sorcery doesn’t do me much good for anything more than a bruise or a scrape.”
Dexter nodded. “Every time I think that hiring women for crew is bad luck, one of you goes and does something to prove me wrong,” he said with a smile.
The captain turned back to Rosh and chuckled while saying, “What do you think, should we hire naught but women from here on?”
Rosh’s eyes widened at the suggestion. A sly grin started to creep across his face until he thought of Jenna and Jodyne. His grin faded quickly.
“Cap, we’d never have any peace,” he said seriously.
Dexter laughed. “Aye, you’ve the right of that! There’d be a mutiny before we left port, I reckon!”
Rosh’s laughter joined his, and Bekka even smiled in accordance. While a woman herself, she agreed with the men that too many women on a ship the size of the Voidhawk for any duration other than a few hours would probably be a bad idea.
Dexter turned back to Keshira and Bailynn, the latter of which had wandered to the far side of the deck and was peering across the dry harbor. “Ladies, remember that nobody comes aboard that isn’t crew. Even if they say they’re new crew, unless one of us vouches for them.”
“Keep an eye out, but relax some too, we’ve been out a while and we could all use some downtime,” he added.
“You two, with me,” he said, gesturing with a hand towards each of his accomplices.
They fell in behind him as he headed off into the city.
“Do you know anything about magic, or are you just the Captain’s way of keeping track of me?” Xander asked as they moved through the mid-afternoon crowds.
Jenna favored him with a look that was far from complimentary. “If you never head back, the Captain might be annoyed,” she told him. “But deckhands can be found anywhere. You’ve yet to impress anyone with your wizarding, so do you really think he’d leash me to you because he was afraid you might not come back?”
Xander chewed it over for a moment, realizing that what she said was true. The Captain had no real investment in him. Still, the man did seem single minded and particularly obstinate about certain things.
“Perhaps, but I’d not be surprised if he did it out of spite.”
Jenna grinned, revealing nothing other than that she was amused by the magician’s words. Xander harrumphed and continued on through the dusty streets.
“I’ve been around plenty of magic,” Jenna said a moment later. “I spent a good bit of time among elves, they have many wizards there.”
Xander glanced at her, interested in spite of himself. “Elven magic is often strange and wondrous,” he offered, hoping to get her to continue.
Jenna snorted. “If you say so. Just as often it’s devastatingly cruel and inhuman.”
The wizard could not hide his shock. “What? I mean… you’re an elf! How could you… I don’t understand.”
“I thought wizards were supposed to be intelligent?” Jenna asked, needling him a little. He scowled in response to her.
“I am an elf, and I’m proud of who I am,” Jenna said, having taken to heart what Dexter had once said to her. “I’m not proud of many of my kin, however. They shame me, much as I have shamed them.”
Jenna smiled sadly before continuing. “You joined us after. We ran into some elves that recognized me and knew about a price on my head. They came after me, and that’s how Bailynn joined us.”
“How she… what? She looks part elvan herself, and I know there is a strong magic about her.” Xander was excited to learn more of his shipmates though he tried to temper it well.
“She was a weapon the elves used to track me down and kill me,” Jenna explained too casually. “We captured and imprisoned her, then when we escaped, the elves came after us.”
“We defeated them and took whatever magical device controlled Bailynn. We freed her from slavery to the elves, and she stays with us because she has nowhere else to go.” The first mate intentionally left out several important parts. She, like Dexter, had no great trust for Xander, but she was willing to give him a chance.
Xander digested the information carefully, then turned to look at her. “So who are you to have a price on your head?”
Jenna grinned wickedly. “Hoping to turn me in and collect the reward? Maybe restart your life where you left off? It’s a sizeable reward, rest assured.”
Xander looked at her without giving anything away, reading her carefully. He knew he was being tested. “Why tell me of it and try to tempt me? It is only you and I now.”
“I’ve been around mages before,” Jenna explained, her smile never leaving her face. “I’m next to you and, from what I’ve seen, I’m faster. By the time you started a spell I’d have a dagger in your side. Rare is the wizard that can finish a spell with that sort of distraction.”
Xander nodded. “Aye, but still, if I am as you suggest, then I’ll be looking for a chance to lose you or gain enough distance to work magic on you. Seems foolish to give away information so important so readily.”
Jenna shrugged. “You may be right,” she admitted. “Or maybe I think you’re worth giving the benefit of the doubt to.”
“A wise man once convinced me that all people deserved to be treated fairly and with respect… at least until they prove otherwise. He proved he meant it by showing me firsthand.”
Xander sighed. “The character of a paladin, our Captain,” he said sarcastically.
Jenna grinned. “Oh, he’s infuriating at times, but he’s still our Captain.”
“And so long as I draw breath,” she added, her smile fading to a look of deadly seriousness, “I’ll shed every last drop of blood I have and few that belong to others before I’d have it any other way.”
Xander nodded. “Yes, he does seem to inspire loyalty. Rather aggravating, really.”
Jenna chuckled. “It can be,” she agreed. “Come, I see some sort of a shop up ahead that looks fanciful. Perhaps you might find some things there?”
Xander glanced at where she pointed and he saw at once some of the runes and symbols in the scrollwork above and around the door. He nodded, nearly forgetting their conversation as he increased his pace towards the shop.
“So where do we go?” Rosh asked Dexter and Bekka as they stood on the side of a busy intersection.
People moved up and down the sides of the street, only a few feet separating them. Often a wagon would pass down the middle, or occasionally pass one another. Other times it would be a covered coach, a rider or two. Once they even paused to watch a covered litter born by slaves. The slaves, not surprisingly, were naked.
Dexter looked around, then shrugged and pointed to a cross street up ahead. “That way.”
“How do you know that?” Bekka asked, following him as he led the way.
Dexter shrugged and said, “standing there was getting us no closer.”
Bekka nodded, understanding the wisdom behind it. Rosh looked back and forward, then shook his head and muttered something under his breath.
As fate would have it, the road Dexter had chosen led to a hall with criers out in front of it. The wares they were barking were those of the flesh, rather than more mundane possessions. Dexter came up short and stared at the stone steps that led up into the wide double doors of the building.
“I thought you didn’t want nothing to do with slaving?” Rosh asked him, confused.
“Aye,” Dexter said, his mind grinding through some thoughts.
“You ain’t thinking about burning the place down?” He asked in a worried whisper.
Dexter turned, surprised. “Not a half bad idea,” he admitted. Then he shrugged and lightly clapped Rosh on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s see if there’s any business to be done.”
Rosh stood there staring at his Captain for a long moment while the man headed into the hall. Bekka turned to look back at him and gesture for him to hurry up, afraid he might get lost. Rosh shook his head and followed, jogging to catch up.
The inside of the hall was hot and stank of bodies, both natural and perfumed. Dexter had to pay a fee of a few coppers to enter the bidding proper, where the would-be slave owners studied the prospects as they were displayed and were able to bid upon them. Once inside they looked around the room, which had benches for seats. A barred door stood off to one side, with a guard beside it discouraging anyone from using it.
There were perhaps seven others bidding on the slaves being offered for auction, or at least seven people present. All but one of them were male, with the woman being some elderly and clearly of high rank and station, based upon the condescension with which she treated those around her. Dexter smiled as he looked upon her, a plot already thickening in his mind.
“Cap, we’re a hike from the ship,” Rosh warned in a hushed voice. “Don’t be starting nothing.”
“Why is it people always think I’m trying to start something?” Dexter asked, turning to face Bekka and Rosh. Rosh scowled but did not rise to the bait. Bekka giggled a little.
They sat through several auctions, watching as one after another slave was brought up to be sold off. None interested Dexter, though secretly he hoped desperately to be able to free them all. The best he could do was drive up the prices a little, especially when the noble woman was bidding. She seemed increasingly annoyed, but refused to give him the respect a glance would afford him.
A small man came out, flanked by an overly large guard, after several minutes had passed and Dexter had not yet acquired any merchandise.
“Good sir, it has come to our beliefs that you are not bargaining in good faith,” the man said quietly, so not to interfere with the auction.
“I’m bidding,” Dexter protested.
“Yes, but never seriously,” he continued. “If you have not the funds, perhaps you would rather visit the cells to see some of those not deemed worthy enough to go on the block?”
Dexter’s patronizing smile faded. “What happens to them, if they don’t go on the block?”
The man shrugged. “Most are a lost cause, I admit,” he said honestly. “Criminals without the strength to battle in the arenas. Some are sick, others old and feeble. Mostly they rot in their cells until one death comes.”
Dexter rose slowly. Biting back his rage he said, “Yes, show me to them.”
Happy to get the difficult man away from angering the other bidders, he gladly led Dexter and his crew through the barred door and down a flight of stairs. Once down there they passed through another guard room that had three doors opening from different walls, each leading to a bank of cells.
“You want this bank of cells here,” the smarmy man told them, indicating a door that one of the guards in the lower room moved to open.
The smell that emerged when the door opened made Rosh scowl and cover his nose. Bekka’s eyes widened and her face paled. Dexter coughed and turned to look at the man.
“Their fates are sealed, why waste the money?” he asked in a tone that indicated he truly did not understand the need for such a thing.
“You’ll know why when a plague festers down here,” Rosh growled.
Dexter said nothing. His jaw clenched and his fists balled. He nodded with his head towards the opening and the man in turn gestured for them to go ahead. “See if there’s anything you like. There’s no other way out and we possess the keys.”
Dexter walked forward into the dark passage. Rosh followed behind him, though not without leveling a threatening glare at their guide. Bekka followed as well, though the squeamish look upon her face told that it was a matter of extreme willpower that allowed her to endure the stench.
They made it all the way to the end of the hall, counting seven cells to each side, before they turned and came back. One man alone still lived, so far as they could tell. He looked up at them morosely and they realized it was no man, but a woman. Her face was bruised and cut, with dried blood upon it. She clutched one hand to her stomach, the fingers swollen, blackened, and broken so badly that they would never be set straight again. Much of her hand, in fact, was swollen and discolored.
“I’m no whore!” She spat at them as they stopped to stare at her.
“Not with a face like that,” Rosh said dryly.
Dexter ignored him and instead knelt down next to the bars. “What’s your name?” he asked her softly.
Her eyes widened and her split lips parted. She was missing a few teeth as well, he saw. “Wuh….Willa,” she said, her anger shaken by his question.
“Willa, what’s wrong with you,” Dexter asked her. “I don’t mean why are you here, but what of your hand? And how else are you injured?”
Her eyes narrowed and some of her defiance returned. “I’m no whore!” She said again, using her good hand to help her drag herself across the floor closer to the cell door.
Dexter shook his head. “That’s good, I’m not for wanting a whore.”
She stared at him suspiciously, stopping her painful slide. “My hand’s busted up,” she admitted at last. “Something’s busted in my hip too.”
“Have you any skills? Any talent? Can you work wood or tend to injuries? Have you ever been on a ship?”
She looked away and then back, a glimmer of moisture reflecting in the distant torchlight. Angrily she said, “Leave me here to rot if I can’t slave for you? I can’t do a damned thing with my hand busted like this, and it won’t be healing right neither!”
Dexter shook his head and sighed, then he regretted it as it caused him to draw a full breath. “Willa, I mean to get you out of here no matter what you can do. And I mean to do what I can to get you healed, rested, and fed. I just want to know if you will be able and willing to serve on my ship.”
“You got one of those fancy skyships?” she asked, not believing a word he said.
Dexter nodded, assuming the Voidhawk was what she called a ‘skyship’.
She laughed. “Going to set me and some others up on it to drive it right into something, I bet. I heard what you bastards do! You load them full of oil and such, then ram them into whoever you’re fighting! I’d rather die here, pig!”
Dexter recoiled, surprised at both her enmity and the act she described. To take a ship and waste it in such a matter was as taboo a thing to him as he could imagine.
“Never that, I promise!” He assured her. “I’m the Captain of the Voidhawk. This is my helmswoman and my Arms Master. We lost a good man recently and we’re needing some more help on the deck… The Void is a big place to be running a skeleton crew.”
“The…Void?” she asked, confused by the term.
“Aye, up there,” he said, pointing and glancing towards the ceiling.
“Ain’t no airship you got then, is it?” she asked.
“It sails in the air,” Dexter told her. “But when we’re done here, we’ll go further, to another port in the void, perhaps another planet.”
She leaned forward, grimacing as she did so, and looked down the hall. “I’ll do anything you want…um, Captain. Take me with you and I’m yours.”
“Thought you weren’t no whore?” Rosh asked pointedly.
She glanced sharply at him.
“Anything he wants… sounds like whoring to me,” Rosh offered as an explanation.
Dexter held up his hand to stall both of them. “I don’t need nor want a whore,” Dexter said. He ignored the funny noise Rosh made from behind him and pressed on. “Willa, these dirthuggers won’t offer much for help, do you think you can be moved so that we can get you to my ship?”
She nodded, biting her lip resolutely. “I’ll make it.”
“Alright,” Dexter said before rising to his feet and turning towards the opening.
“Bring the keys!” He yelled down the hallway.
A few minutes later a guard, the same one that had opened the door for them, came down to meet them. He held a cloth over his nose with one hand and the keys in the other. He looked at the injured woman and chuckled, then stuck the key in the lock and twisted it. Seeing no reason to stick around, he turned and hurried back out of the fetid passage.
“Help her up, Rosh,” Dexter said, pushing the door open on squealing hinges.
Rosh made a face but stepped in and reached down to gently help Willa to her feet. She grimaced and gasped a few times, even screaming quickly before she bit it off when her ruined hand was jostled.
Rosh held his head back, trying not to gag. When he gained control of himself he said, “Cap, that hand’s got to go. Stinks like rot.”
“We’ll see when we get her back,” Dexter said, seeing it better himself and agreeing with the man. “Can you handle her?”
Rosh nodded. “My sword weighs more than her,” he exaggerated.
Within a half dozen steps Rosh was forced to sweep Willa up completely and carry here in his arms. Each step made caused her to nearly buckle in pain. A dripping noise brought their attention to below them, where red drops were appearing on the dirt floor beneath them.
“You’re bleeding,” Bekka said, speaking for the first time as her concern overweighed her disgust of the environment. She rushed forward to try and see where else she was injured.
Willa bit her lip and fought through the pain. “It’ll stop, it always does.”
“This happens a lot?” Bekka asked.
Willa nodded, then swooned as the motion nearly caused her to black out.
Bekka gently pulled at the torn rags she used as a skirt and gasped when she saw the damage that had been done to her. She laid them back down then turned to Dexter. “The guards,” Bekka said, making it an accusation and a statement all at once.
Dexter looked at her curiously for a moment, then realization dawned on him. He turned to look down the hallway then headed down it, moving quickly. In the guardroom he looked at the three guards present, plus the clerk that had led them downstairs. He looked at them all, trying to figure out which one, or ones, had violated Willa.
“Gonna miss her,” a thick necked guard said with a cackle when Rosh emerged from the doorway.
Dexter’s fist smashed his already flat nose into his face and sent him stumbling backwards into a chair. The chair tripped him up further and dropped him to the ground. The other two guards looked stunned and took a moment to react. Dexter’s pistol was out in one hand, waving slowly between the two of them and the clerk.
“I’m wanting to give him justice for what he done,” Dexter said in a near growl. “This ain’t my world, so I’ll just leave with her.”
“Five coppers,” the clerk said after several moments of hesitation had passed. The guard on the floor began to pick himself up, one hand cradling his nose and dripping blood.
“What?” Dexter asked, amazed.
“Five coppers for the slave,” he repeated, his voice a little stronger the second time.
Dexter stared at him, open mouthed, then shook his head. “Wow,” he muttered, reaching down with his free hand and untying a pouch at his belt. He slipped his fingers into it and pulled out several coins one at a time to check their worth. When he found a copper piece he tossed it on the ground at the clerk’s feet. After counting out five of them he pulled the drawstring on the pouch and motioned for the others to file out ahead of him.
“You can put your weapon down, our business is done,” the clerk said.
Dexter lowered his pistol slowly, and seeing no action being taken against him, he slipped it into the holster at his side. When still no one came after him, he followed his crew up the stairs and back into the auction hall.
“Cap, I dunno if she’s gonna make it,” Rosh said, seeing the filthy collection of skin and bones in his arms passing in and out of consciousness.
“Walk faster,” Dexter said, holding open the door to the outside world.
Rosh slipped through it, his movements bringing a faint moan from his cargo, and waited for Dexter to take the lead again. The Captain glanced at Willa as he passed them and frowned, then reached out and grabbed the first person passing him.
“Where’s the nearest church? Temple? Priest? Healer?” Dexter nearly shouted at the man.
The man, far from his prime and burdened by a roll of sticks he carried on his back, seemed ready to faint from the surprise of the near assault. He pointed off to the side, back towards the road they had come from. His eyes were wide with fear and he could do little more than stare at the angry fistful of his tunic that Dexter had in his hand.
Without another word Dexter let him go and headed in that direction. Rosh hurried behind as quickly as he could without jostling Willa too much. In the fresher air of the city the rotting stench that sometimes came from her hand or her clothing only seemed that much worse to him. Occasional drops of blood continued to dot the dusty road beneath and behind him.
In moments they came upon a large temple devoted to some God or other that Dexter had not heard of. Sometimes deities persisted from one port or world to another, but often each had their own pantheon to follow. Dexter did not know how it worked or why, nor did he care. What mattered was that they were often the best healers to be found, though the donation required was sometimes more than a normal man could bear.
Willa had passed out by the time they entered the fancy building. Dexter spared no time to admire the artwork, colored glass, or feats of fanciful architecture upon which the building was founded. Instead he found an acolyte that waited in front of double doors and pointed at Willa.
“We’ve come for the favor of your God upon this woman, fetch a priest boy!” Dexter said, wasting no time with irreverent small talk.
The acolyte looked at the woman, then at the still small but growing puddle of blood beneath her and nodded. He turned and slipped through the double doors, taking care to shut them behind him.
“Is she getting heavy?” Dexter asked Rosh, seeing him holding the woman as far from him as possible.
The large man scowled and shook his head, “light as a feather,” he grumbled. “Stinks like a tavern privy though!”
Dexter chuckled, knowing his hidden barb would cause the man to endure her weight longer. Fortunately, Rosh did not need to endure it for too long. A smaller door to the side opened and the acolyte gestured for them to come through it and follow him.
They ducked through it and followed him as he led them to a room that had a small alter set up in it. A hastily put together cot was in front of the alter, with some cloth draped across it. A full figured priest stood in the room, finishing the process of dipping his hands in a bowl of holy water.
“Set her there,” the man said, holding his hands up to dry in the air.
Rosh laid Willa into the cot as gently as he could, then gratefully stepped away from her. She moaned as she settled into it, her breath rattling in her throat.
“What happened to her?” Asked the priest, moving to walk around her and look at her more carefully.
“For the most part, we don’t know,” Dexter admitted. “She was raped at least once, probably more often. I’m for guessing the rest of her injuries came when she resisted in the past.”
He muttered something under his breath and kissed his holy symbol, which was a circle with an eye in the middle of it. It was made of gold and platinum, and probably worth more than Dexter had made since they had launched the Voidhawk.
“Who did this?” The priest asked, looking up at them.
“Does it matter?” Dexter asked him bluntly.
The priest looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. “Yes, yes it does. This is a temple of Acaros, and his light shines only upon the brave and the true.”
“She was a slave,” Dexter told him, not wanting a full discourse on the theology of Acaros.
“She was a slave?”
“Aye, as soon as I paid for her release she’s a free woman,” he said.
“My friend, such a thing is not possible. Surely you must know that only one of the Azmar can grant a slave freedom, and such things rarely ever happen, save for gladiatorial champions,” the priest said, incredulous.
“Very well,” Dexter said. “I purchased her and I’m the Captain of the Voidhawk, a ship that sales through the Void above. As soon as we get off this dirtball she’s free to do as she pleases.”
The priest’s eyebrows raised. He thought it over and smiled. “Indeed, that you may.”
“Leave us, child, we have work that must be done,” the priest said, turning to the acolyte. The boy nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.
“I admire you, Captain,” the priest said. “Though perhaps if you are not of this world you do not realize the dangers to which you speak. All the same, I admire you.”
“Have you a donation for the blessings of Acaros?”
“What sort of donation does your God require?” Dexter asked, the words tasting foul in his mouth.
“Surely the Captain of such a fine vessel must be able to afford something so trivial as a donation?” the priest pointed out.
Rosh barked a short laugh, drawing a glare from Dexter. Bekka seemed to be ignoring them all as she was lost in concentration. Dexter turned back to the priest and nodded, “I fancy myself the richest man alive. I’ve a fine ship and a fine crew.”
He reached into a pouch and withdrew several coins from it and offering them to the priest. Dexter counted roughly a score of gold coins lay in his hand, a pittance by any estimation.
The priest looked at it and sighed. “Really?” he asked, looking to Dexter’s face. Dexter nodded, his jaw set firmly. The priest nodded. “Very well, I will do what I can. What matters is that you give… I’ll not turn away someone so desperately in need of my help who, by all appearances, is worthy of such aid.”
Dexter’s eyebrows raised. He had not expected generosity from the man. Rarely were men of the cloth as benign as they claimed themselves to be. His bias made him not at all surprised when the priest spoke again.
“I would ask a boon of you, however.”
Dexter nodded for him to continue but the priest shook his head. “Later, she needs me to direct the blessings of Acaros or she will not be long for this life.”
Dexter’s nostrils flared. This left him indebted to the man. Had Willa’s life not been in the balance, he would have left. As it was, he had no choice but to nod again.
The priest held his holy symbol and chanted, sometimes softly and sometimes louder. It took him long enough that Rosh looked around and ended up sitting down with his back to a wall. Bekka remained attentive, watching in a way that made her seem as though she were lost in a daze. Dexter moved about, acting almost like a caged animal when he did so.
“I cannot save her hand,” the priest said at length. “And I fear she will never bear children, after the savagery that has been done her.”
Dexter came up beside him and looked down at her. Her color was somewhat restored, though she still looked weak and pale. The filth and dried blood upon her remained as well, though the wounds under it were gone. Her hand, however, was worse than before. It had been discolored, swollen, broken, and altogether ugly. Now it was shriveled and black.
“It’s dead and if it is not removed, it will poison her.”
Dexter nodded and turned to Rosh, who was by now snoring softly with his chin on his chest. A quick step and a kick brought the man awake.
“Hey! What? We wasn’t doing nothing!” He protested, rolling away from Dexter quickly even though there had not been enough force behind the kick to injure more than his pride.
“A swift clean stroke,” Dexter told him, jerking his thumb back at Willa.
“You want me to kill her?” Rosh asked, eyes wide. “I’ll kill a man sure as the sun shines… or a woman, but it ain’t right killing one that’s sleeping.”
Bekka blinked, her focus returning. She turned to Rosh and rolled her eyes while making an exasperated sound.
“That’s good to know,” Dexter said. “now cut off her hand.”
“Her…oh,” Rosh said grinning stupidly. He started to draw his great sword then realized he did not have enough room to swing it in the small room. Frowning, he reached around behind the small pack he carried on his back and pulled out a hand axe.
“That ain’t right,” he muttered when he stood next to her and stared down at the blackened ruin that had been her hand.
The priest gently picked up her arm and moved it so that it was away from her body. He placed it upon a pedestal that normally held a vase, frowning about the damage that was soon to be done to it. Once in place, he held her arm firmly. Willa slept on, oblivious to the lifesaving pain she was about to endure.
Rosh took careful aim and drew back, then swung with a sure stroke powered by his great strength. It landed true, crushing and parting the bones of her wrist as it swelled to become her palm. The hand, blackened and lifeless, bounced off the pedestal and landed upon the floor. No blood oozed from it, but likewise no one moved to pick it up.
Willa, on the other hand, awoke with her eyes wide and a scream instantly parting her lips. She struggled to sit up, but Dexter was there holding her down. It lasted a timeless few seconds until the renewed pain caused consciousness to flee. She slumped back onto the cot, her frail body almost seeming to collapse in on itself.
The priest picked up her arm and chanted again. He touched his holy symbol to it and sprinkled holy water from his fingertips across it. The gaping ruin aged before their eyes, the harsh and gory details becoming fuzzy and obscured as the magic mended the shorn limb. When he finished, many minutes later, her right arm ended in a pink stub.
He took a deep breath and seemed to stagger away from the slave girl. He turned back to Dexter and said in a tired voice, “it is done.”
Dexter nodded and looked to Rosh, who still held his hand axe. Rosh shook his head to clear it and slipped it back beneath his pack, then moved forward and picked her up. He wrinkled his nose again as he did so.
“Couldn’t you have cleaned her up some too?” he asked the priest.
The priest, regaining some of his strength, smiled. “That would have required a larger donation.” Apparently his sense of humor was returning as well.
Rosh grunted and stepped away, holding Willa firmly. Before she had hung limply, whereas now she almost seemed to turn in towards Rosh as if she was clinging to him.
“What of this boon?” Dexter asked, anxious to get back to the ship.
“A member of my order has been stricken with a magical ailment,” the priest said after glancing at the door to insure it remained closed.
“He is a good young man, and it is a terrible shame that such a thing has happened. I have spent much time in prayer, trying to learn a way to help him.”
Dexter nodded, wishing the priest would hurry up but knowing better than to rush him.
“This malady he suffers, it takes control of him upon nights when the moon is high and full in the sky. At other times he can control himself,” he explained.
Dexter’s eyes widened. “That’s inconvenient,” he said. “But how could I possibly help?”
“Take him with you,” the priest asked, his tone changing so that he almost sounded as if he was pleading. “Up there he would be free from the moon here. Free from its effects upon him.”
“How old is he?” Dexter asked.
“19 summers old.”
“He’s a priest like yourself?”
“Yes… I mean no. He’s heard the calling of Acaros, true, but he is scarcely more than an acolyte.”
Dexter turned to Bekka and saw her eyes were wide and supportive. She nodded imperceptibly. Dexter ran his tongue along his teeth thoughtfully then nodded.
“Alright, I’ll take him. Bring him to my ship when he’s ready… if he’s ready. I hope you don’t mind but I’ll be keeping him in a hold until we’re off this world.”
The priest nodded, smiling widely. “Yes, yes, I understand. That’s acceptable. And thank you, Captain, thank you very much.”
Dexter turned and walked to the door, opening it and stepping out. The others followed, with none of them saying a word. As they passed the front hall Dexter reached into his pouch and tossed the promised offering into the donation well, not even watching them as they disappeared into the darkness at the bottom of it.
“It’s his son,” Bekka said softly when they were back upon the road.
“His son?” Rosh asked, loudly.
Shooting him a glare, Dexter replied, “How do you know that?”
Bekka shrugged, “I just do. These things happen sometimes. I wonder what’s wrong with him.”
“You don’t have a hunch about that too?” Rosh asked irritably.
Dexter smirked but shook his head and just led the way back to the Voidhawk.
“Hey, does this mean we got ourselves a real healer?” Rosh asked, remembering what the priest had said.
“That, or a madman,” Dexter replied without bothering to explain any more of his thoughts.
When the three, now four, members of the Voidhawk crew returned to the ship they found a very irritated looking Jodyne standing on the deck with her arms crossed. A cart bearing several foodstuff sat nearby, along with the boy that she had paid to deliver the items for her. Two bored guards stood by watching the exchange while the same scribe from before was going through every item she had purchased and recording it on his parchment.
“What’s the problem here, Jodyne?” Dexter asked her with a frown on his face.
“Your vessel is ranked as suspicious,” one of the guards piped up.
A look to Jodyne and he knew better than to ask her for more; she was ready to put a kitchen knife in the dirthuggers. He turned to the guards instead.
“That right?” he asked rhetorically, to which they both nodded. “So since you’re afraid I might be smuggling something off my ship, you interfere with us loading things on to the ship?”
“Smuggling goes both ways,” the other guard piped up. His smug grin indicated he was clearly pleased with his quick witted response.
“And who’s that,” the other one asked, pointing to Willa.
“New crew I hired,” Dexter said.
“She’s got the mark of a slave,” he said, pointing to a brand that was now visible on an exposed patch of skin above her right breast.
“Aye,” Dexter said, his jaw becoming difficult to move.
“Slaves belong to Azmea, there’s a fee to be taking them off world,” the guard informed him.
“Of course there is,” Dexter said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, punch the guards, or toss them off the dock. “How much?”
“Four gold,” the other one piped up, drawing a look from the first one. “Since you’ll be depriving our world of the work that she’d be doing.”
“It cost me-“ Dexter began, then stopped, realizing he was about to get in a fight. He took a couple of deep breaths then reached into his pouch. He extracted the gold coins, no doubt certain that more than half of it was graft, and tossed them to the guard. He dropped three of them and had to scramble to pick them up before they rolled off the dock.
“You done harassing my cook?” he asked the other one while the first was still scrambling.
“Aye, I think we’re finished up here,” he said, watching his fellow instead of the suspected smugglers as he should have been. When he looked back he found Dexter standing in front of him, so close that he jumped in surprise.
“If I were smuggling,” Dexter told him in low even tones. “I’d have you fools up here distracted with something like loading food. Then, with that happening, I’d be hoisting up the goods over the other side of my ship with some lines.”
The greedy guard came to his feet then, the four coins held in his fist. He saw his partner’s predicament and hurried to the rescue. “Hey you, stand back now! It’s against the law to threaten the Port Watch!
Dexter stepped back and glanced meaningfully at the far side of his ship, where two lines hung over the rail. In truth they were tied off to cleats on the ground. The ship stood no chance of floating off of a dry dock, like it might a port in the void or a wet dock. Tradition still bound that a ship was to be tied off when docked
The eyes of both guards followed his. They looked back quickly and said, “We’re finished here, but you’re still marked as suspicious!”
As the scribe backed away, his expression blank, the two guards hurried off. They could hear them talking between themselves in low voices, anxious to check out the smuggling potential he had identified.
The look on Rosh’s face made Bekka giggle. Far from being a man comfortable with big words, his expression spoke volumes for them. Dexter even had to laugh a little, and Jodyne’s expression softened.
Dexter flipped the boy a copper and grabbed up a bag in each hand before walking up the gangplank. Bekka and Jodyne followed suit while the boy scampered off with the now unloaded cart.
“Dex, where you want I should put her?” Rosh asked, coming up behind them.
“Crew quarters,” Dexter told him.
Rosh nodded and headed for the aft stairway. Dexter sighed. He was up another crewmate, even if she might not be able to do as much as the others. He shook his head and turned to help Jodyne carry her stuff down to the kitchen.
Slightly after dusk Dexter looked up from the charts he was musing over on the bridge when he heard a noise. The vision of Kragor was there, sitting on the vacant helm and waving at him. The noise, Dexter was relieved to discover, had not come from the insane hallucination he was suffering from, but rather from someone coming up the companionway.
Jenna and Xander stepped through the doorway a moment later. Dexter glanced over to see Kragor now watching them, a suspicious look in his eyes. Jenna followed Dexter’s gaze with her own.
“How was shopping?” Dexter asked, realizing he was going mad if only he could see the dwarf. He did his best to hide his agitation.
“Good,” they both said, then laughed in unison. It grated on Dexter’s nerves, hearing them laughing together so. For a moment he even felt a flash of anger and jealousy.
“I can get the elements I need to enchant your holds,” Xander said. “But not without cost.”
Dexter nodded. “How much?”
The number he responded with nearly sent Dexter to the floor with shock. He shook his head and sighed. “Looks like we’ll be staying as we are.”
“Dex, wait,” Jenna said, coming around the table to him. “We told the shopkeeper as much and he said we might be able to work out a deal. He was quite interested in the Voidhawk, I guess they don’t get too many of us ‘voidsailors’.”
“What kind of deal?” Dexter asked, suspicious.
“He took us to meet the merchant that owned the business. He was an Azmar!” Xander said excitedly. “Such a fascinating race, unlike many giant kin with their sophistication and intelligence.”
Jenna waved him silent and turned back to her Captain. “He said he would be willing to trade for it in exchange for some service.”
“Service?” Dexter said. “That don’t sound too bad. Depends on the service though, I suppose. He say any more?”
She nodded. “Lord Falson, that’s the Azmar, would like us to go north to where he is trying to expand his lands. His army needs some decent support, and his regular airships cannot go high enough nor are they big enough to offer it.”
“Airships and armies?” Dexter asked, baffled by the way things were unfolding.
“Yes!” Xander cried out. “They have airships here. Nothing as large, powerful, or complex as the Voidhawk… or anything that can travel in the void really. Still, they are capable of low altitude flight.”
“And he wants us to fight for him?” Dexter asked.
“Not really fight, survey. Scout and perhaps drop some barrels of oil or something.”
Dexter looked at his first mate, convinced he may not be the only one going mad. “You think this is a good idea?” he asked her.
“Think about it Dex,” she said in a quiet voice. “We are bigger, faster, and can go much higher than anything they’ll send against us. We stay out of harm’s way, drop a few barrels, report their movements, then we pick up the spell components and we’re done!”
“Just like that,” Dexter said.
“Sure, just like that!”
Dexter shook his head. “Jenna, you know war is never easy. Things never go right, and they never end when you want them to.”
Jenna shrugged. “Maybe, but Dex, this is a chance of a lifetime! It would take us five years of hauling cargo to save up enough for this otherwise!”
Dexter looked at the wizard, studying him. “Xander, what’s your take?”
Xander looked a little surprised that Dexter was actually willing to listen to him. He opened his mouth to respond then closed it, realizing he needed to be certain of what he was saying and also realizing that he had to be right, otherwise he might never have the chance again.
“Captain, I-“
“Cap, that priest’s here!” Rosh said as he burst down the stairs and rushed into the room. He pulled up short when he saw the other two, then shrugged and continued in.
“He brought along some friends too.”
Dexter sighed. “The other new crewmate,” Dexter said, realizing he had forgotten about him.
Xander stood in the bridge as the others filed out. He shut his mouth and stared after them, denied his chance to speak his mind yet again. Scowling, he stormed out after them, leaving an unseen and unheard laughing dwarf behind.
“I never caught your name, Father…”
The priest smiled at Dexter and reached out to shake his hand. “Father Dooligan,” he offered.
He turned to the man that accompanied them. He wore a holy symbol much like the priest did, save that both it and the chain it hung on appeared to be pure silver. Silver bracelets adorned his wrists as well, and from the looks of things he found them offensive. His skin was raw on his wrists and, by the way his feet kept moving and rubbing against one another, Dexter suspected he had silver anklets as well.
“This is Logan, the man we spoke of.”
Dexter nodded. “I’m Dexter Silvercloud, Captain of the Voidhawk here,” he said to him. “The life of a sailor is no simple life. We run mostly cargo from one place to another, picking up work where we may. Sometimes it’s a bit more exciting, you understand, and there’s always the threat of pirates.”
“We can use the help, and all the more if you’ve any skill in healing… magical or otherwise,” he continued. “But I’ll not have a man or woman on my ship that’s not here because they want to be. If your wanting to join and you’ll take my orders, you may board.”
He looked to the priest, who smiled and nodded. Dexter thought he could see some moisture in Father Dooligan’s eyes. The young man turned back to Dexter and met his gaze. Dexter was surprised by the look he saw barely contained in them. His gaze was intense and overpowering, as though something great and powerful was hiding within.
He nodded. “I’m your man, Captain Silvercloud.”
Dexter nodded and stepped aside so the young man could enter. He took his measure as he passed by him, noting that he stood roughly as tall as him, but seemed a bit thinner in the shoulders and chest. He carried no weapons that Dexter could see, but he supposed that men of faith felt they had all the weapon they needed in their God. Dexter fought the urge to scoff at the notion.
“Rosh, show him to his room,” Dexter asked.
Rosh gestured for Logan to follow him but he had only taken a step before the priest spoke up. “Remember, Captain, you mentioned the hold? I advise you to heed your own advice.”
Dexter looked at the priest and then at Logan, then he turned to Rosh and nodded. Rosh turned again and led the newest crewmember below deck. When they were out of sight the priest spoke again.
“How is the girl doing?”
“She’s sleeping still,” Dexter said. “But we think she’ll be okay.”
“Losing a hand will be hard on her,” he said. “Sometimes healing the spirit is harder than healing the body. Keep that in mind, my young friend.”
Dexter chuckled, he hardly felt young. The priest had more than a dozen years on him, but still, the things Dexter had already done and seen had aged him much, especially of late.
“Father… may I have a word with you?” Dexter asked, not sure he agreed with what he was doing.
“Of course,” Father Dooligan was quick to respond.
Dexter gestured for him to come up the plank and on to the ship, then he led him below, pausing at his cabin and taking a moment to peak into the bridge. Not seeing the specter of his former first mate, he opened his cabin and led the priest inside, offering him a seat at the table.
“Father Dooligan,” he began, uncertain as to how to address the priest.
“Father is fine, Captain,” he said with a warm smile.
Dexter chuckled. “Fair enough.”
He took a deep breath and said, “You deal with faith. The hopes of eternal life in service of Acaros. People are born, people die.”
The priest nodded. “That sums it up I suppose. There is, of course, more to it than that.”
Dexter nodded and held up his hand. “Aye, there is. It’s neither here nor there though. What I’m for wondering is what about them that don’t pass on?”
The priest looked at him funny. “Those that don’t pass on? You mean, they live forever? There’s no such thing. Or do you speak of unholy abominations — the living dead?”
“No, no, no,” Dexter said. “I mean them that die, but… well, they’re still here,” he said, trying to explain it.
“Ah, denied entrance to the afterlife,” Father Dooligan reasoned, nodding. “Captain, I know not who you pray to, but you are a good man and I have no doubts such a thing would never-“
Dexter sighed. “This isn’t about me,” he said, slightly exasperated. “We lost my first mate a little while back and… well, there’ve been some strange things going on. People thinking they thought they saw him.”
Dexter altered the story just enough so that the priest would not suspect Dexter was actually the only one who had seen him.
Father Dooligan leaned forward, interested. “I’ve heard of such things,” he confessed. “Often they are of someone who was died unjustly and remains to seek revenge.”
“Have you seen this apparition?”
Dexter hesitated, then nodded. “I thought I was going mad,” he admitted.
Father Dooligan shook his head. “Was he well liked and was he a good person?”
“Aye, he was… ” Dexter trailed off, unable to speak for a moment. He just nodded and finally said, “he was a good man.”
“You’re not daft, my son,” the priest said softly. “And while I’ve not heard of it before, I can only guess that this friend of yours stays out of love for your crew. How did he die?”
“Some type of creature found a way into our steerage and Kragor stumbled across him. It struck him down, paralyzing him and making him black out. He never awoke,” Dexter said raggedly. He looked up and shook his head. “He fought… he was a dwarf, after all.”
Father Dooligan nodded and smiled. “I know.”
Dexter opened his mouth to say more then stopped. “You know?” he asked, confused. “But I’d never spoken of that before. Did you hear it from someone else?”
The priest nodded his head towards Dexter, but to the side. His eyes looked there as well. When Dexter turned his head to look he saw Kragor sitting on the head of his bed, carving a block of wood and sending ghostly shavings to the floor. They disappeared before they reached that decking.
“You can see him?” Dexter asked, turning back to the priest.
He nodded and smiled. “I can. He is letting me, otherwise I doubt I would be able to.”
“This friend of yours is a benign spirit. Only the wrathful and vengeful ones have the strength to affect the world of the living. Your friend stays on to see that you do well, I suspect. Or perhaps there is more he would tell you, yet he cannot as he has no voice.”
Dexter turned to Kragor and caught the dwarf’s eye. They shared a look and Dexter had to blink back tears. He was not crazy! Making no noise. Kragor sniffed and bent his head to go back to carving his block of wood.
“Captain, I must take my leave,” the priest said, noticing the special moment between the two. “It does my heart good to see this though… it makes me feel better about your new deckhand and his fate.”
Dexter rose with him. “We’ll take good care of him, Father,” Dexter promised. “As good as can be given out there, at least.”
“My thanks, my friend.” They shook again and Dexter escorted him back up to the deck and off of the ship. He paused up there and sighed, happy to not be insane.
“Everything alright, Captain?” Rosh asked as he wandered by carrying a length of sail that Bekka was planning on mending.
Dexter stared at the priest then to Rosh and asked, “Rosh, see that man over there?”
Rosh turned and nodded. “Yeah, the priest… right?”
Dexter smiled. “Aye,” he said, then turned and walked away, whistling a tune softly. Rosh watched him go, head cocked to the side. Finally he shrugged and continued on his way.