The Voidhawk bucked against the breeze, making everyone on board anxious to grab on to something to keep their balance. A normal day’s sailing had a few minor bumps and shifts, but it took place in the Void, where the ship carried its own pocket of air with it. Today it sailed through the gusty clouds of Azmea’s atmosphere, seeking the forward army of Lord Falson’s forces.
Dexter agreed to a deal with the Azmarian lord. He was to help secure a nearby region, a peninsula of land that was run by another Azmarian lord. In return for the assistance of the Voidhawk, he would be given the necessary magical materials Xander needed to enchant his ship so his holds could carry more than they should be able to. Dexter did not understand the magic, he only knew that he had heard of ships being modified thusly. With an increased carrying capacity he reasoned that profits would be far easier to come by.
Bucking their way through the wind made him grit his teeth and wonder at the soundness of his decision, however. He expected a couple of months for their current job and, after only a couple of hours, three of his crew had thrown up and his own stomach was anxious to join them.
“How do the dirthuggers manage it,” Jenna asked, her own elven features tinged with green.
Dexter shook his head. He had no idea. The natives of Azmea had their own airships, but they were smaller vessels that were flimsy in comparison to the Voidhawk. They were far slower and could not climb nearly as high. Even worse though, Azmea had oceans and he could only imagine how the sailors upon those oceangoing ships felt as they were buffeted by both wind and waves.
Dexter’s new deckhands were serving passably well, at least. Neither was the least bit familiar with sailing aboard a ship, be it water or air bound. Logan, the son of Father Dooligan, was mostly quiet. He followed orders and learned quickly, but seemed to be tormented much of the time. He would often be found scratching at the anklets and bracelets he wore, as well as the holy symbol about his neck. Logan spent his nights locked in the cargo hold, as much by his own request as that of his father.
The unknown magical ailment he suffered from was only part of the peculiarities for the newcomers to the crew. Willa’s brush with death seemed to have restored in her a zeal for life. What surprised Dexter most was the way in which she seemed to understand how things worked on the ship. From the flow of the wind to the way the masts, sails, and other rigging worked. Dexter had never expected much from her, but it seemed as though she might have natural talent enough to be more than just a body running the lines.
He was also surprised to see how well she cleaned up. Gaunt from malnutrition, some water and a comb had her pale blond hair looking presentable, if not lustrous. Free of the clouds of pain and misery, her brown eyes were soft, curious, and faintly filled with hope. In simple but clean clothes, she looked like a human again, instead of a creature forced to wallow in filth.
The journey north took many hours. Everyone save Keshira was exhausted by the time the sun dipped low in the west and the winds died down on them. Far below they could see a teeming mass of an armed camp, with a section set aside near the rear of the camp where the smaller airships of the Azmarians sat. Several people hurried towards the ships.
The Voidhawk cleared a thousand feet before the first of the airships launched. A second and third soon followed, and then two more joined them. They raced up towards the Voidhawk, although to Dexter and the others they seemed pathetic and slow. They leveled off more than halfway to the ground and waited for the small ships to approach.
When they did, a man operating a heavy ballista on the bow of the small skiff called across to them, “This is Lord Falson’s territory, land your vessel and lay down your arms!”
Dexter chuckled and shook his head. “This is the Voidhawk, and I’m her Captain, Dexter Silvercloud. We’re under contract with your Lord Falson. We’ll land, but only to speak with General Havamyr.”
Dexter waved the metal scroll case that contained the contract meaningfully. The spokesman conversed briefly with the man in the covered helm of the flying boat and then turned back to regard Dexter. “Follow us down,” he said, trying to sound menacing.
Dexter nodded and called out for the crew to set the Voidhawk down, following the skiff that served as a harbor pilot. The final trip was easy since the wind had died down. The crew had plenty of experience taking off and landing, it was flying through clouds and high winds they were unaccustomed to.
Dexter was the first one off the ship, meeting the self-proclaimed speaker for the armies on the ground. Dexter presented him with the scroll case silently, not bothering to speak with the man.
The soldier skimmed through the concord and then rolled it up and slipped it back into the case. He handed it back to Dexter without a word, but the Captain did notice that he seemed upset by the terms of the document.
“Follow me, Captain,” he said, his voice clipped.
Dexter smiled and followed, taking Rosh and Keshira with him, but leaving Jenna behind with the rest of the crew to tie down the ship and stand guard.
Many of the soldiers had their own servants. They served as pages, messengers, cooks, cleaners, squires, and even whores. Some dressed plainly while others were not dressed at all. Rosh stared open eyed into a tent they passed where a soldier was busying himself with bedding a woman. Dexter cleared his throat to regain his attention and, when that did not work, he smacked the large man on the arm.
Rosh just grinned and continued to look around him.
“I could get used a place like this, Dex,” he said.
Dexter sighed and continued to follow the soldier through the camp. Slavery was not confined to just the palaces of the nobles.
“A day will come when the slaves will rise up and overthrow their masters,” Dexter said in a low voice for Rosh’s benefit.
“I ain’t saying you’re wrong,” Rosh responded, smiling and watching a shapely slave walk away from him with a bucket in her hands and only a scrap of a loin cloth hanging from her waist. “Just saying this might not be so bad a job after all.”
Dexter bit back his reply and kept walking.
They entered a large tent without preamble. A man wearing worn and stained clothing that had been fine before he started his campaign was finishing up some stew and looking at some maps on a table. He glanced up at them and put down his bowl, taking a long drink of water from a skin.
“General Havamyr,” their guide said, “this is the Captain of the airship.”
He smiled and rubbed his hands together. “That is a fine ship you have there, Captain…”
“General, Lord Falson sends his greetings and bids you to read this,” Dexter said, stepping forward and presenting the scroll case to the general.
The smile faded from General Havamyr’s face. He took it and removed the scroll, unrolling it and scanning its contents. The smile returned slowly. Finished, he rolled it up and put it back in the case, returning it to Dexter.
“Well, I can say I’m disappointed I can’t commandeer the Voidhawk for my army,” he admitted honestly. “But I can also say I’m pleased to have you on my side regardless.”
Dexter returned his smile. “We’re happy to offer assistance, General. The sooner we can help you, the sooner we can be on our way.”
The general nodded and looked down at his maps again. “Tell me what help you can offer, Captain Silvercloud.”
Dexter glanced at Rosh and then down at the map. He studied it briefly, then began to speak on what the Voidhawk could do to help them out, from spying to high altitude bombing runs. It was even possible for them to transport a few dozen troops or more at a time behind enemy lines. They stayed late into the night, discussing strategies and tactics.
The very next day the Voidhawk flew out on her first mission. Simple reconnaissance, she flew high over head and mapped out the enemy positions. Several enemy airships took the sky to thwart them, but none could come high enough to be a threat. They returned that afternoon, laughing at their own invulnerability and their growing ease with handling the gusts of wind and other weather conditions that developed.
The following day Xander glanced at the dark clouds that rolled in on them. He abandoned his post and hurried to the bridge. Jenna snapped at him on his way past to return to his post, but he ignored her and hurried past. Cursing and promising him punishment his ancestors would feel, she hurried to the ropes he had been manning and readied herself to do his job.
“Captain, they’re using magic against us!” Xander said when he burst through the doors.
Dexter glanced at him and then out the windows at the darkening sky, but he saw nothing to worry him. “What magic? How do you know?”
“I’m a wizard!” He snapped, then took a breath and calmed down. “You wanted me for my talents, don’t turn them aside when they may be most useful.”
Dexter held up his hands. “Stand steady there, I’m just asking questions. Now tell me about it, all I’m seeing is some rain clouds.”
He nodded. “Yes, a weather summoning spell of some sort. They came upon us too quickly to be natural. A little rain may not hurt, but what of lightning? Or gusts of wind… perhaps even a twister?”
“A twister?” Dexter asked, confused.
“Yes,” Xander realized the confused look on Dexter’s face meant he did not understand. “On worlds with complex weather systems, the collision of hot and cold air can cause wind to gust heavily. We’ve seen minor examples already. Based upon the lay of the land and the way the wind is blowing, the gusts of wind can actually be funneled around and feeding itself and making it faster and faster. It becomes a twister, or a cyclone of air so powerful that trees can be torn from the ground and houses destroyed. Imagine what that would do to the Voidhawk.”
Dexter blinked, unable to comprehend how air could be so dangerous. “I can’t,” he admitted.
Xander sighed. “Trust me, it would be bad. We’d have our rigging and sails torn from us, our masts broken and perhaps even the hull torn apart. At best we’d be spun about and thrown through the air, stunning, killing, or casting overboard the majority of us. Those not on the main deck would be bounced off the walls and ceiling, injured and killed. Without anyone to recover from the jarring damage and redirection, we’d plummet to the ground like a rock.”
Dexter held up his hands again. “Alright, I get it. You paint a grim picture… how do we get out of it? Can you work a counter-spell?”
Xander looked at him, surprised. “You know of counter-spells?”
“No, damn it, it just seemed like the right words to be speaking!”
Xander laughed, briefly, then returned to business as usual. “Take us up… higher and higher, until the air is too thin for the weather to touch us. Then bring us back down and out of it.”
Dexter nodded, that they could do. “Bekka, we’re going up!”
She nodded and instantly the ships course changed. Dexter and Xander both hurried out onto the deck, feeling the biting cold of the sudden weather shift when they cleared the door.
“Stand your post!” Jenna yelled, seeing him emerge.
“Belay that,” Dexter called out, looking around. “We’re going up, out of this spell. We might need him to do something.”
“Aye, that something is tend to the rigging!” Jenna responded.
Dexter shook his head, “no, I meant magic-wise.”
Jenna scowled but relented and refocused on helping to guide the ship upwards through the rapidly gathering clouds. Strong winds buffeted their sails, rocking the ship and making it slip sideways from time to time. The first shock of lightning streaked through the clouds, followed almost immediately by a crash of thunder that deafened them all. The acrid tang of burnt ozone assaulted their noses and they were suddenly more alive and frightened than ever before.
Fighting a visible, tangible enemy was one thing. There was excitement and fear, but the source of the threat was apparent. This blind rush through a cloud as thick as night, with the stinking crack and boom of lightning around them at random places and intervals was terrifying.
A gust of wind snapped the mainsail so taut that one of the ropes holding it snapped, sending Willa off her feet with the remains of it. She slid across the decking, her plight worsened by the wind rocking the ship and tipping it to an angle. She screamed, the stub of her arm reaching instinctively for a handhold that it would never find.
Rosh grabbed her arm, his fingers squeezing her forearm tightly to hold a grip while his feet and other arm sought purchase in the decking where he had landed from his leap. He found nothing, and only barely managed to slow their slide as the ship tilted perilously again. Willa’s legs caught for a second on the raised side of the ship, but she was traveling too fast to take advantage of it and stop herself. Her legs buckled and she plunged over the edge. Rosh, sliding headfirst behind her, tried to soften the impact of his head against the edge of the ship with his other hand, but it still left him groggy and weightless.
She managed to grab on to the railing with her other hand, much as Rosh instinctively had grabbed with his. They hung off the edge of the ship, Rosh gritting his teeth in pain with his back to the ship while Willa panted in terror, her chest and stomach facing the ship.
Rosh shook his head to clear it and, still angry at the pain, he looked over at her. “Can you pull yourself up?” He yelled to be heard over the echoing thunder.
She tried but failed, her arms and back not possessing the strength. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “Help me!” She cried, her voice so panicked the words barely squeaked out.
Unseen above them, Dexter sprinted across the canted decking to secure the flapping sail. He managed to grab the rope and held on to it for dear life. It was now too short to be tied off or secured otherwise.
“Let go!” Rosh yelled at her, wondering if he had enough strength in his arm to do what he needed to. “Let go and grab my arm with yours. I’ll swing you up onto the deck.”
She stared at his meaty forearm and large hand and nodded. Closing her eyes, she made the leap of faith, her hand desperately scrambling for his arm even as gravity and the wind tried to pull her down. Rosh’s fingers dug into her forearm, but she would take all the pain in the world from him if only it meant she could live.
Her hand closed on his wrist and she squeezed tight. She opened her eyes, staring into his and shared a moment in time.
“I ain’t letting you fall,” Rosh promised her.
She nodded, fresh tears blown by the wind falling from her eyes.
He began to swing her beneath him even as the ship slowly righted itself. On the third arc he growled and hoisted with all his might, lifting her up and sending her over the lip of the rail. She let go of him and grabbed onto the railing desperately, clinging to it and breathing deeply between sobs as she lay in the relative safety of the deck.
Rosh flipped himself around, using both hands now to hold himself steady. With a grimace of exertion, he pulled himself up and threw his leg over, pulling himself onto the ship beside her. He glanced back and saw only the swirling darkness of the clouds below, then he forced himself to his feet and reached down, offering her a hand.
Willa looked at his hand. How could he be willing to stand up again after what had happened? Her eyes followed up his arm and climbed to his face. His stony expression soothed her, quelling her panic and reminding her that these people — these strangers — depended on her. They entrusted their lives to her. She reached up and grabbed his hand, rising from her spot of perceived security and back onto the only slightly angled deck.
They returned to their stations, freeing Dexter to return to where Xander was studying the thinning clouds around them. He nodded approvingly and turned back. “We’re free of it,” he said to Dexter, shouting to hear himself over his own deafness.
Dexter nodded and waited, unwilling to count his blessings so quickly. It seemed as though they were indeed free and clear of the worst of it though, for nothing more than a few distant streaks of lightning and weak blasts of wind came at them. With time even the ringing in their ears ceased.
“Can you do anything about it next time?” Dexter asked Xander once they put some distance between the ship and the storm.
Xander thought for a long moment, then shrugged. “I’m not sure. Invoking the weather is the magical act, there was no control over it though. Our best course is to fly high, above it, and not drop down until we must.”
Dexter nodded. “Makes it hard to ferry men behind their lines that way,” he said.
Xander smiled. “I’ve been thinking about that, actually.”
Dexter raised his eyebrows. “Well, what are you thinking then?”
“I’ll need some ingredients, but I can craft some potions. Drinking them will cause the imbiber to fall slowly, like a leaf falling from a tree.”
“You mean to have them jump off the Voidhawk and just fall like leaves to the ground?”
Xander nodded. “Too fast for archers to shoot, but slow enough that they can land without injury.”
Dexter thought about it and nodded. “Perhaps… I’ll be sure to mention it to General Havamyr. Prepare a list of the ingredients you need.”
Xander grinned, finally proving his worth. He turned and hurried off, anxious to complete his task.
“Captain.”
Dexter turned, seeing a rather stern faced elf standing behind him. He glanced over and saw that Logan was keeping an eye on the place she had been working. They were out of the worst of it, so the demands on the deck crew had been reduced as well.
“Look, Jenna-”
“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said, interrupting him.
He stopped talking but his mouth stayed open. Finally he snapped it. “You what?”
“I was furious at you,” she admitted. “But then I realized I was the one arguing with you and countering your orders. It makes us look divided and makes me look stupid in front of the crew.”
“Jenna, these aren’t nameless sailors or soldiers. This crew, these people… they’re friends and family. Every one of them is knowing you care and you’re trying to do what’s best. There’s not a one fool enough to be thinking you’re stupid.” He paused for a breath, then chuckled as a thought struck him. “Not even Rosh.”
She smiled and nodded. “Thank you, but still, I just wanted you to know I’m not angry.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m more worried that you’re not angry,” he said. “What have you done with my first mate?”
She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him. Making him laugh. Then she reached down to the bottom of her vest and started to pull it up. His eyes widened and she laughed before dropping it back down.
“Ah, there she is,” he grumbled. “Get back to work.”
She laughed again and turned to help prepare to land. Dexter watched her go then scanned his crew working. He wanted to yell at Rosh for his actions earlier, risking his own life to save Willa’s. It was foolish and damn near impossible, but he had to admit, it worked. What was worse, Dexter knew he’d have done the same thing without a second thought. Not having the strength of an ox as Rosh did, he suspected he would have failed.
He sighed and admired how everyone was coming along. The only enigma remaining was Logan and his ever present mysteries, still insisting on spending nights locked in the hold.
He caught Willa studying Rosh while the big man was busy working. He smirked, seeing the appraising gleam in her eyes. He shook his head and turned back, walking up and peering over the bow of the forecastle to the approaching ground below them.
Their mission had been a failure. They learned some valuable lessons from the failure, and Xander’s latest scheme, inspired by the near tragic events, might very well serve to help them turn the tide and hasten the end of their contract.
Later that night Dexter sat in his room thinking about his ship and his crew. He could not help but feel the pang of Kragors loss, along with a stab of guilt for the pain Jodyne endured every day. Jenna and Rosh adapted well to their duties and the ship ran as fine as ever. Dexter’s greatest concern remained. None of them were skilled with repairing the ship, should she take damage. Simple repairs, sure, they could do those. Making the ship as whole and sound as it was though, that he feared, was beyond them.
A knock at his door roused him from his thoughts. He took a drink from the cup of ale before crossing to the door. He opened the door, surprised to see, of all the people on the ship, Willa.
He offered her a seat at his table and took one opposite her. He smiled and offered her a cup, but she refrained. “What can I do for you, Willa?”
Willa rubbed the stump of her arm with her other hand, fidgeting. She seemed so very different from the spitfire waif he had rescued from prison. It was almost a pity; he rather liked the feistiness he had seen in her when she lay on her deathbed.
“I… I have a question, Captain,” she said. She glanced around and saw him waiting patiently for her to continue. “I thought I might be crazy, but, well, then I found this under my pillow.”
She took something from a pouch at her belt and laid it on the table. Dexter looked at it and felt the very room shift around him and threaten to throw him from his chair. It was the knife Kragor had used to carve spare chunks of wood; the same knife that Dexter had seen the ghostly Kragor using; and the same knife that Jodyne had tucked into the pouch on Kragor’s body before it had been committed to the void.
“How did you get that?” he whispered.
“It was beneath the pillow on my bunk,” she responded. “I saw a dwarf on the deck one day… not Jodyne, another one. I… I looked around but saw no one else who took notice. He was carving a piece of wood and he looked right at me.”
Willa took a deep breath before continuing. “I walked up to him and asked him who he was and what he was doing. He ignored me at first, finishing up the carving he was working on. When finally looked up at me, he smiled and winked. I turned to ask for some help, but he was gone when I looked back.”
“Kragor,” Dexter breathed.
“You know him?”
He nodded and leaned back. “I can see him at times. He was my best friend,” he said softly. “My first mate and also the man that made this ship possible. He rebuilt it from the hulk I found drifting in space.”
“Jodyne’s husband,” Willa said, connecting the dots. Dexter nodded.
“Why would I see him? I never knew him.”
Dexter could only shake his head. “I don’t know, Willa. Perhaps there’s something about you he likes. He had a great sense of adventure and an equally great sense of humor… for a dwarf. It seems he wanted you to have that,” he said, pushing the knife back to her. “Have you any skill with working wood?”
Willa shrugged. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know how good I’d be, honestly… I mean, I can’t hold a piece and carve on it at the same time.”
Dexter smiled reassuringly for her. “Keep it all the same, perhaps you’ll find a use or meaning for it.”
“And if you see Kragor again,” Dexter said thoughtfully. “Keep to yourself. He appears when he is wanting to. His spirit is a boon, not a curse. A truer friend you’ll not easily find.”
She nodded and slipped the knife back in her pouch. She stood up and thanked him again for his time, then slipped out of his cabin. Dexter took a deep breath and blew it out after she was gone. It seemed there would always be some new way to confuse and complicate things. He smiled and reached for his ale; he supposed there was no other way he would prefer it.
Rain kept the Voidhawk grounded for three days. Xander surmised that the unnatural disturbance of the weather had messed up the ecology of the weather system. Dexter had not bothered to ask him to explain what that meant, he just lumped it under the topic of ‘magic causes problems’. The benefit of the short layover was the first of the ingredients for Xander was delivered early the first morning, and he set to immediately concocting his potions. Due the fragility of the work, the Voidhawk was forced to stay grounded for an additional two days until he had fashioned enough of them to generate nearly 60 potions.
Dexter saw to it that the net yield General Havamyr’s troops would have to use was only 50 of the potions, leaving enough for the ship’s stores.
When next they flew they took aloft with them several extra men, three squads of ten men each, with an additional ten in command and support roles. Their mission was to go behind the enemy lines and secure some ruins. Dexter saw no use to the quest, but General Havamyr reassured him that it was a key strategic position to occupy.
They flew high above the enemy, proving that they were immune to the best they had to throw at them. Dexter fought the urge to laugh at how impervious ground forces were to them all. His mood was further spoiled by the sheer overcrowding that took place aboard his vessel. Men were crammed aboard fore and stern castles, rolling an occasional barrel of alchemist’s fire over the side to confuse and disrupt their enemy. They sailed on, leaving the scene of their bombing behind and using the occasional clouds as cover.
When Jenna spotted the ruins, she called out and Dexter rattled off the commands to bring them closer to it so that the soldiers could leap from the sides. The leader of the soldiers, a captain by the name of Aidan, was good natured but stern. They chanced something that had never been tried before, something that involved magic. Few soldiers were comfortable entrusting their lives to magic, and he was no exception.
He waited for Dexter to nod before he addressed his soldiers. “Men, remember to fall a fair bit before you drink the potion,” he told them. “And take care how you open it, lest it spill out and you reach the ground before it does!”
A few of his men let off nervous chuckles.
“Follow me!” He said, then turned and, with a deep breath, he leaped from the side of the hovering Voidhawk. He sailed gracefully through the air for all of a second, then gravity claimed him properly and he plummeted towards the ground. Others followed suit, almost appearing to Dexter as though they were in a race to reach the ground first.
The crew of the Voidhawk watched them fall, fascinated. Some spread their arms and legs and fell at a slower rate, while others plummeted either feet first or head first towards the ground.
“Fascinating!” Xander said as he studied the aerodynamics of the movements.
Dexter looked at him and shook his head. Only a wizard, he mused.
When next Dexter looked down he saw a few of the more nervous men had already quaffed their potions. Their rate of fall had decreased considerably. So much so, in fact, that he figured it would take them many minutes to reach the ground. He chuckled a little at that, figuring they were so frightened of the height and the fall, and now they would have to endure it longer.
“Captain, what’s that?” Rosh called out, pointing. Dexter looked over and saw a darker cloud hanging below the others breaking apart. Streaks of it converged on the falling men. He heard a few screams and saw one of the slower falling ones jerking as the gray shadows of mist passed close by him.
Dexter turned to Xander, hoping for an answer. Clearly it was some magical defense, but of what he knew not. It was Bailynn who came to the rescue.
“Wind spirits,” she called out, her voice trembling a little. “They are beings of air that were set to guard this place from the skies.”
Dexter cursed and turned quickly away from the scene below. “To your stations!” He yelled. “We’ve got to get down there and help!”
“Captain, you can’t help them!” Xander said. “Only magic can ward off these things, and we’ve nowhere near enough of it.”
“Maybe we can distract them then,” Dexter said. “At least let them get low enough to hide on the ground.”
Xander hesitated, looking downward again. He frowned and then nodded. “Yes… yes that will work. If they are truly bound to the air, they cannot do harm to anything that is channeling another element.”
“Get to work or get out of the way!” Rosh snapped at him as he moved past and tied a sail off.
“What do you mean, channeling another element?” Dexter asked.
Xander scrambled out of Rosh’s way and said, “If they’re on the ground they will be in contact with another element. Beings of air will be far less powerful against them.
Dexter nodded and focused on calling out orders to get the Voidhawk down to help out as soon as possible. They dived through the air, falling as quickly as any of the soldiers had, yet remaining in control.
With such a large target available, the wind spirits broke off their assault upon the soldiers and assaulted the Voidhawk. Flying became a secondary concern as they streaked throughout the decking, passing through the smallest of places to brush up against the crew. Each touch was filled with razor sharp coldness, leaving cuts and scratches behind. The crew of the plunging ship fought back, swinging weapons and objects close at hand, but to no avail. Bailynn and Keshira alone had any success against them, their bodies having been enchanted to become weapons. Dexter drew his long sword and learned that it, too, caused the spirits pain.
Even with the three able to do damage to the magical beings, they were clearly outmatched. They all sported wounds, from scrapes and bruises to bleeding gashes, and the wind spirits were also tearing into the ropes and the sails, lessening the meager control the distracted crew had by the second.
“Take us down!” Dexter ordered, knowing they stood no chance of escape otherwise. “We’ll do no good fighting them if we’re doomed to fall and crash upon the ground below!”
The ship heaved as a line snapped, but they corrected quickly and brought the ship around. Moving as quickly as they could, the Voidhawk sailed through the sky and struggled to reach the ruins that the surviving soldiers were only now running to themselves. The hull scraped the tops of a few trees, then it slowed when an spirit brushed along the mainsail and caused the strained fabric to tear nearly in half.
Amidst shouting and frantic scrambling, they managed to roughly land the Voidhawk just beyond the outer edge of the ruins. They cleared the crumbling stone wall that stood some six feet tall and was filled with new gaps after the Voidhawk’s passing. Everyone was thrown from their feet by the landing. Even Bekka, snuggled safely into the helmsman’s chair, was tossed to the decking and slumped unconscious.
Dexter picked up his sword and scrambled to his feet, his other hand going to the bruise forming on his thigh from the railing he bounced off. He looked up, searching for the deathly vapors that attacked them. They zipped through the air but stayed clear of the ship, as though touching it hurt them.
“See, I told you they’d stay clear!” Xander said from where he lay sprawled on the deck.
“Great, now how do we get out of here?” Rosh said, unlimbering his great sword and ignoring the blood running down one arm and the side of his head.
Xander glanced at him, then up at the spirits. Open mouthed, he looked again at Dexter, who was mirroring Rosh’s question with his eyes. “I’ll figure it out,” he muttered, and rose to his feet.
The others, wounded, were either on their feet or struggling to get there. Jenna was at the side, peering into the ruins. “Throw some ropes down!” She ordered, moving to do so already.
Dexter hurried over to see what was going on. The soldiers, led by Aidan, converged on the Voidhawk, no doubt to offer aid. The first scream shattered the air and one of the warriors was cut down.
Another scream followed, spurring them to action. Several ran forward, heading towards the Voidhawk. Aidan grabbed a few, including one of the sergeants, and turned them back, heading towards the men that cried out. Several creatures leapt from their hiding spots in the ruins. Slightly smaller than a human, they possessed tails and lashed out with clawed. Their feline faces reveal grinning mouths filled with dagger-like teeth. Small but wiry and fierce, in open combat they were no match for the soldiers. In the tight and confusing quarters, however, they evened their numbers considerably.
“Captain, we should help,” Willa said, cradling a series of scratches along her forearm.
Dexter’s jaw flexed helplessly. “They’ll get here, we’ll fight them then,” he said.
“Dex,” Jodyne said, tossing a rope over the side and staring at him.
“This is our ship, they’ll be at a loss. We’ve no idea how many there be,” he argued.
“We ain’t s’posed to be here,” Rosh reminded them. “This ain’t our fight!”
Dexter looked at Rosh and nearly changed his mind at the man’s unusual agreement with him. He nodded and said, “Help them aboard, we’ll defend them here.”
“Bailynn, check on Bekka,” Jenna said, realizing the sorceress had not emerged yet. The small elven-touched girl nodded and hurried off, sliding gracefully down the staircase towards the bridge.
The men arrived singly and in pairs at the Voidhawk. They scampered up the ropes as quick as they could, sometimes having two or even three men on a rope at a time. Dexter and Rosh helped them aboard as they neared the railing, reaching down to pull them onward and upward. A few more were ambushed and cut down, but the majority that reached the ground made it back on board. Aidan and his men emerged from the ruins bloodied.
They neared the Voidhawk and a creature rose up from a pile of rubble. It leapt through the air, about to take Aidan by lethal surprise but a flash of silver through the air intercepted the beast. Jodyne’s dagger buried in it’s hip and the creature hissed in pain.
Aidan spun toward the hideous cry and called out to his men. They grabbed and bound the creature and, when it refused to stop wrestling against them, one of them clipped it on the head with the butt of his sword. Limp, they carried it to the side of the Voidhawk and hoisted it aboard. The other men scrambled upwards and waited for the impending attack by the cat-like natives of the ruins.
“My thanks,” Aidan said after he boarded, handing over the dagger Jodyne had thrown.
Jodyne nodded and took it from him, not smiling but nodding to show she respected and appreciated his gratitude.
Bailynn emerged from below, helping an unsteady Bekka to walk. The half-elf glanced around, trying to take in their new surroundings. Bailynn helped her to Dexter’s side but stayed back out of the way of his snapping orders to make ready for an attack.
“Going to make it?” Dexter asked Bekka.
“Just some dump shock,” she said, slurring her speech slightly.
Dexter nodded. Every pilot knew what it was like to be suddenly torn from the helm of a ship. To say it was disorienting was understating it. One moment you were one with the vessel, the next you were like a fish out of water, a fish that had gone from being a whale to a minnow in an instant. He shuddered in sympathy. A normal separation, where the change was gradual and the transition expected and accepted was far more preferable.
“Good, we should be busy right quick,” he said to her, offering her a brief but encouraging smile.
“Cap, they ain’t coming,” Rosh said, staring into the ruins and picking out occasional creatures hiding in the shadows.
“Why not?” Dexter demanded, turning to stare into the surrounding ruins.
“It’s their job to defend this place,” Logan said, his voice harsh and deep.
Several of them turned, surprised to hear him step up and volunteer the information.
“I was warned it might be guarded,” Aidan said, supporting the man.
“You know who they are?” Dexter asked.
Logan nodded. “An old and rare race, the Perryn. Mostly they live in the mountains, but it is said that some tribes live in old places. They guard them from men, fearful of the ancient secrets that might be released unto the world.”
“Captain, what are your orders here?” Dexter asked, turning to the soldier.
Aidan stared at him for a long minute, deciding what to tell. He looked around at his soldiers and then at Dexter’s crew. The shared blood made him relent.
He took a deep breath and let it go before speaking. “We are to penetrate into the center of this ruin. There is an old temple and within it a magical weapon that we can use to turn aside our foes. It will end the war in days instead of months, saving many lives.”
“The lives of Lord Falson’s faithful, that is,” Dexter said sarcastically.
Aidan did not deny the statement.
“What is the weapon?” Dexter asked him.
Aidan shrugged. “I do not know. Some magic or other.”
Dexter studied him for a moment then nodded. He believed the man. “What about these… Perryn?”
“I was told it would be guarded, but we didn’t know about them,” he said.
“Well, you’ve got one with you, I suggest you ask him,” Dexter said.
“As for us, as soon as we can fix the ‘Hawk and figure out a way to get past those damned mist-devils, we’ll be heading back.”
Aidan opened his mouth but then closed it and nodded. He wanted them to stay and help, or at least offer them a ride back. It was not his place to ask though, and he had his own problems to worry about. He was down nearly a quarter of his men already, and with the savage defenders waiting for them, he knew it would be a bloody job getting to the temple.
“Double the watch,” Dexter said to his crew. “Captain, can you add some of your men’s eyes to it as well? I don’t like this place.”
Aidan nodded and issued the order to assist the Voidhawk’s crew however possible. Dexter could not help but like the man, even though they seemed to have very different paths and goals in life.
“Rosh, think you can help me figure out how to fix some of the damage? Bekka, when you’re able, can you mend the sails?”
Bekka nodded.
“Captain, can I help?”
Dexter turned to Willa “I expect everybody to help,” Dexter said. “Do what you can.”
She nodded and looked to Rosh, who was busy peering over the edge at some of the damage done by the crash to the hull and landing struts. He sighed and shook his head, then glanced over at Dexter. He shrugged at his knowledge of what to do to fix the ship, but headed for the stairs to check the hold and see if they had been breached anywhere.
Dexter nodded after the man left. He may not know what to do, and he might be complicated and difficult at times, but given a task he would do everything he could to figure it out. Rosh might be short on wit and education, but he could figure things out and had a stubborn streak that would see him through to the end of a given task.
“Captain, my men and I will be departing,” Aidan said, calling up to Dexter from where he stood on the main deck.
Dexter finished retying a damaged rope to the light ballista on the front of the ship, then stood and moved to the rail. “Get what you need from your captive?”
Aidan sighed. “It died.”
Dexter’s expression clouded over. He understood the need for interrogation but did not approve of torture. Sure, sometimes things had to happen, he understood that, but still…
“It died before we could ask it anything,” Aidan clarified, seeing Dexter’s impending scowl. “We’re going to push for it, would you like me to leave a few men here to help you defend, in case we fail?”
Dexter shook his head. “You’ll be needing them more than I will,” he said. “Just don’t fail.”
Aidan laughed and nodded. “Better words have yet to be spoken. I hope to see you again, Captain. Good luck!”
Dexter waved to him. “You as well, may your Gods watch over you.”
Aidan returned the salute and turned to order his men to throw down the ropes and scale back down them. They assembled at the side of the Voidhawk and moved off in squads. Aidan had reorganized them slightly, taking their losses into account. They now moved as two heavy squads, supporting one another and leapfrogging through the ruins to minimize the threat of an ambush.
They made it without incident out of the sight of the Voidhawk. It was even quiet for a few moments as everyone looked and listened for some sign of them after they had disappeared into the broken remnants of buildings near the center of the ruins. They were rewarded with a whistle and then a sound that was not unlike a thousand cats hissing. The angry cries of men countered, and though they could not see it, they knew a battle had been joined.
“Let’s hurry,” Dexter said. “While they’re busy, over the side and fix what we can.”
Rosh nodded and let Dexter slide down a rope first. When he landed beside the Captain, Dexter was surprised to see Willa clinging to his back with one arm wrapped around his neck.
“What’s this?” Dexter asked. “Not safe for you down here, especially if you can’t get back up quick-like.”
“Cap, we can use her,” Rosh interrupted. “You should see some of the things she done. Er, well, she told me how to do ‘em, but still, you ought to see them.”
Dexter frowned, then nodded towards one of the struts that had been damaged in the landing. It broke off by the rock wall that surrounded the ruins, causing the Voidhawk to list. Chance favored them; a pile of rubble that had once been a fountain served to hold up the battered strut.
Willa moved to it, seeming to ignore everything else. She ran her hand over the wood and frowned, as though something about it caused her to be uncomfortable. “It doesn’t work,” she muttered. “It’s broken.”
Dexter looked to Rosh and rolled his eyes dramatically. He kept glancing around to the ruins as well, expecting the worst at any moment. They could hear the fighting, but it had moved a little further away. That, or the number of combatants had been reduced significantly.
“It needs a lot of work to fix it,” Willa said, turning to look at Rosh and then Dexter. “Something else needs to hold the ship up.”
“We got no dry dock to set up in,” Dexter pointed out. “And we can’t land on flat ground like this. I’m thinking that we just fasten some extra boards to make a temporary strut for when we get back to the army. From there were we can spend the time to fix it proper.”
“It won’t hold,” Willa said, shaking her head and looking at it. She glanced at Dexter and blushed. “Sorry, Sir, but I just know it won’t.”
“Cap, believe her, she’s got a way with this,” Rosh encouraged.
Dexter glanced up at the ship wondering what sort of a spectacle they were making. He saw Logan and Kragor staring down at them, with the priest oblivious to the ghostly dwarf that stood beside him. Kragor stared past Dexter at the strut and shook his head, then turned and walked away.
“Alright, how do we fix it?” Dexter asked, still thinking he was crazy to put his faith in the vision of his dead friend.
“Captain!”
Dexter looked up, alarmed by Bekka’s harsh cry. It had only been a few hours since she had been injured in the crash, he wondered what could have roused her from her private misery.
“There’s something wrong here!” She said urgently. “I can feel it… something… evil.”
Xander appeared next at the edge of the ship. Dexter looked from her, seeing the concern on her face overpowering the migraine of a headache she surely had. “Wizard?” Dexter asked, his voice curt.
Xander gaped for a moment then closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He incanted a spell and opened his eyes to show only the whites of them. He blinked again a moment later, restoring them to normal.
“There’s a powerful magic rising in the ruins. It is ancient, but whether it is good or evil I do not know,” he said. He nodded to himself. “Yes…yes, it is elemental. Nothing foul about the magic itself.”
“I do know,” Bekka said, her face pale. “It is wicked and fey, Captain. We must hurry!”
“How long?” Dexter asked, thinking of the air spirits above them that had nearly ended their lives. Perhaps they were not evil, but as far as he was concerned, they were about as vile as vile could be.
“Not long…I think. Less than an hour.”
Dexter cursed and looked back to Rosh and Willa.
Willa shook her head. “It will take time and some fix this, Sir. Hours, at least.”
“We could fix it up there, Dex,” Rosh said, gesturing up towards the sky. “I’m meaning way up.”
Dexter nodded, he had thought of that. It had dangers of its own, of course: hull repairs in the void. Lose your grip on the hull and there would be some time spent floating through the void thinking about what you should have done instead of what you had done. That, and the trip back down would take a day or more, what with the world’s spin and the trouble with reentry.
“Anything you can do to protect us?” Dexter asked the wizard and the sorceress.
“It’s pure elemental magic-“ Xander began, spouting his disagreement.
“No,” Bekka stopped him. “I mean yes, perhaps, but look beyond it. The magic you speak of guards this place. What I speak of is deeper, hidden inside. It is what they seek and it is anxious to be released.”
“Xander?”
The wizard looked again, closing his eyes as he let his wizard’s eye study the lines of magic. He opened them after a long moment. “There is…something. I have trouble making it out, but yes, there’s something beyond the lines and wards.”
“You’ve got fifteen minutes,” Dexter said, turning to Rosh and Willa. “We leave then, whether you’re on the ship or not!”
Rosh looked to Willa, who turned to him as well, and then they both focused their attention back to the strut and stared at it for several long seconds. Then Willa started talking and Rosh listened intently. He turned and ran to the side of the Voidhawk, leaping and grabbing a rope to scale up it arm over arm. On the deck he slapped Logan in the shoulder. “Come on,” he demanded, leading the surprised priest below deck.
Dexter kept a wary eye and ear on the ruins. The sounds of battle had all but ended when he heard a great rumbling that translated even to the dirt and rocks around them. He heard Bekka, distantly, mumble, “earth.”
He glanced at her and saw she was staring distantly again. Before Rosh and Logan returned he heard a roaring sound that he had trouble properly identifying. “Fire,” Bekka whispered from above.
“Here!” Rosh cried out, gasping for breath. He tossed several boards over the side, dropping the planks and even an old remnant from a broken mast replacement. Logan carried, and tossed overboard, several coils of thick rope.
Rosh slid down the rope, grimacing as it burned his hand. He let go and dropped the final few feet to the ground, then ran over to join Willa, who was already trying to drag the supplies over one handed. Dexter helped them, but kept glancing towards the ruined temple.
“Water,” he heard Bekka say softly over the din of their scrambling repairs.
He glanced up, wondering what was happening. He wondered if any of them could survive the magical defenses. And worse, he was afraid of what might happen if they did survive them.
He heard a gasp then. Looking up he saw Xander stumble away from the railing. A moment later he returned, his face pale. “The wards are broken,” he said. “She’s right… there’s something ancient and evil. It waits, seeking to be freed from its imprisonment.”
“Rosh,” Dexter snapped.
“Ten minutes, Cap!” Rosh said, not bothering to look up. He was looping the rope around the wood, which he had arranged around the rocks and the remaining strut. Logan returned from another run, tossing a hammer and several iron nails to the ground near them. Willa rushed over and grabbed them a handful at a time and put them at Rosh’s feet.
Dexter scowled, ten minutes was fifteen minutes too many. “Prepare to sail!” He snapped, yelling to those aboard the ‘Hawk.
“Captain, I have an idea,” Xander called down to him. A scream so powerful it was nearly inhuman overpowered the mage’s voice though, coming from deep within the ruins.
Dexter stared at it, a cold sweat forming on his skin. “Rosh,” he said anxiously.
“I’m working on it!” Snapped the big man.
“Captain!” Xander called again. Dexter ignored him and hopped up on top of a pile of rocks to get a better view deeper into the ruins.
“It’s free!” Bekka gasped.
“I can protect us!” Xander screamed, his frustration at how he was repeatedly cut off or ignored overwhelming him. “Stand near the ship!”
Another rumble started deep in the ground, causing them all to vibrate. Willa called out a warning as it grew worse. She saw the strut shifting on the broken fountain. She moved closer to Rosh and reached out to pull him back.
The trembling turned into a powerful release of energy, making it seem as though the ground came up and slammed into them. The rocks Dexter stood upon crumbled under him and he crashed to the ground, grimacing as his elbow and shoulder absorbed the brunt of the fall. Most of the crew fell as well, though Logan flexed his knees and rode it well. Rosh and Willa went down and Rosh looked up to see the strut shifting as the fountain began to give way. Willa lay directly in its path.
Rosh launched himself off the ground, grabbing her and rolling her out of the way. He threw her as they rolled, tossing her free of the threat. His hands went to the leading edge of the strut, which was grinding toward him at an alarming rate. He flexed his arms and pushed at it, driving himself away across the rocky ground.
“Help!” He growled, knowing that as strong as he was, there would be no way he could hold up the entire Voidhawk as it shifted off of the crumbling fountain. No man could.
Logan leapt from the side, falling over a score of feet to the ground. He rolled when he hit, limping for his two first running steps but then moving normally as though he was unbothered by the fall. Logan kicked one of the stones into Rosh’s side, making him glare at the priest. The strut, descending slowly thanks to the slowly disintegrating fountain it had rested upon, touched the edge of the piece of rubble and for a moment, and halted.
Rosh scrambled away from it, and only just in time before the small boulder cracked and broke apart. The strut descended the rest of the way, crunching into the ground and cracking along its length further than it already had.
Willa was at Rosh’s side, trying to help him to his feet. Dexter was up by then as well, surveying first his crew and then the state of the strut. Their sails were not mended and only a few minor repairs had been made. Flight was all but impossible, especially with the elemental foes above them.
He turned and saw a foul looking mist enveloping the ruins. It spread slowly, but stayed low and close to the ground. It seemed they were running out of options.
“Xander!” He snapped. “Do your thing!”
Xander came to his knees and shook his head. He saw the mist deeper in the ruins and gasped. Then he rose to his feet and swung his legs over the railing. At the last minute he grabbed the rope and slid down it, burning his hands in the process. Cursing, he ran away from the ship several dozen feet, then turned and looked at it. He paced backwards a few feet before he finally figured he was happy with his positioning.
The wizard shooed Dexter away with his hands when the man tried to approach. Dexter stood still and watched, wondering what the wizard had in mind. He was their only hope, he hated to admit.
Xander reached into a pocket and pulled out some grainy material. It was some form of crushed gemstone, Dexter knew, and probably very expensive. Xander showed no concern as he began to walk in a circle around the ship, letting a small amount of it fall to the ground behind him. He moved as quickly as he could, but still it was a painstakingly slow process. Dexter glanced up and saw the mist was spreading, overtaking the temple completely now and beginning to move beyond it.
The circle was finished finally, with the mist steadily, but slowly, advancing. Xander then began to use a dagger to dig runes in the hard packed ground, spacing them each a few feet apart. He looked up when he heard something, and gasped when he saw a handful of soldiers scrambling through the ruins and trying to escape.
Dexter saw them and felt a moment of relief. He had hoped they had not all perished. It seemed that death might still await them, for they disappeared a moment later to backtrack around the upheavals the earthquake caused. The mist advanced on them, causing another scream and a few curses.
“Captain, it’s ready… do not break the circle,” Xander said, hurrying to stand next to Dexter.
“What about them?” Dexter asked, pointing to the three men breaking free of the ruins. Aidan was in the lead, followed by one of his sergeants and a regular soldier.
The sergeant tripped on a rock and went down hard. Aidan skidded to a halt, but the sergeant told him to go on, he would be right behind him.
The sergeant limped a few steps on his twisted ankle, cursing and falling to the ground. He tried again, this time hopping a few steps then losing his balance. The mist was gaining.
“Don’t touch the symbol!” Xander cried out as Aidan and the soldier crossed over it. They narrowly avoided the dust and the symbols he had traced, then kept running forward until they stopped at the edge of the Voidhawk.
They looked back and saw the sergeant struggling to not be overtaken by the malevolent mist. “Stand up!” Xander cried out, terrified that the man would break his symbol of protection.
The man heard and struggled to his feet. The mist was only inches away from him by then. Tendrils of malignant fog extended to wrap around him in a sinuous fashion. He shuddered and lunged forward, throwing himself over the line on the ground. The mist slammed into it as though it was an invisible wall, unable to pass through. It spread, as though it was an intelligent beast searching for a way in. The sergeant staggered another step and then collapsed to crawl towards the safety of the ship.
Aidan and the soldier ran to the man, helping him to his feet and carrying him back to the ship, where Rosh, Dexter, Willa, and Logan now waited.
Rosh and Logan went up first then pulled Willa up. Dexter went next and waited on deck while Aidan and the other soldier fashioned a sling for the wounded sergeant. His broken ankle was only an inconvenience in comparison to his violent cough and shuddering muscles.
What’s gotten into him?” Jenna asked quietly as she stared down at the man’s contortions.
Before Dexter’s open mouth could reply the injured sergeant suddenly lunged, grabbing onto Aidan’s only remaining soldier. He pulled the man forward and bit down on his arm, tearing off a flap of skin and chewed on it. The soldier yelled in pain and tried to get free of the wounded sergeant, but he got tangled in the ropes around the man leaving him trapped and vulnerable.
Aidan tried to pull the man away but between the possessed sergeant’s grip and the ropes it was futile. A crack of thunder rang out and both Aidan and the wounded man jumped, their heads snapping in the direction of the deck. Smoke floated from the barrel of Dexter’s pistol and in unison, their gazes turned to the sergeant and the bloody hole in his forehead.
“Get up here,” Dexter said, “before we raise the ropes.”
Aidan nodded and told the wounded man to grab on. They both did and were hoisted aboard.
“What’s going on out there?” Rosh asked, trying to peer into the mist that had blanketed the entire ruins outside of Xander’s protective spell.
“I don’t-“
“Evil,” Bekka said, her whisper interrupting Dexter. “Pure, raw, chaotic evil.”
“You’ve seen this before?” Dexter asked, turning to face her.
Bekka’s sweaty, pale face nodded. She turned and pointed to Aidan’s only remaining soldier. He was clutching the bites on his arm in pain and only looked up when he sensed everyone was looking at him.
“I’m sorry,” Bekka said, her voice sounding miserable. No one doubted her sincerity, but they also had no idea what she was talking about.
“You have to go,” she said.
“Go? Go where?” He hissed, clutching his arm.
“Off the ship… out there. Away from us,” she said.
She turned to Dexter, “Captain… he’s been infected. He’s turning. Look at him, see the pain? The anger? Soon he’ll be one of them.”
“One of who?” Dexter asked, confused.
“A living ghoul, dead but not dead,” she said, turning back to him. He shook his head violently, denying what she said.
“It’s just a scratch!” He protested, then shivered.
“Kill him, Captain, please… give him mercy and spare us,” Bekka said, turning to Aidan and pleading.
“Captain, what is she on about? This wound is nothing,” Aidan said, addressing Dexter.
“Rosh, get him off my ship,” Dexter said.
Rosh looked at Dexter then turned to the man, reaching out to carry out his orders.
“Now wait just a damned minute!” Aidan said.
The man roared and staggered away from Rosh’s reaching grip before falling to his knees. His hair drenched with sweat and his skin flushed with fever, he let his head loll while his chest heaved.
“Kaskins, are you-“ Aidan asked the man, taking a step forward.
His head shot up, revealing the face of a madman. Kaskins, or the man who had been Kaskins, sprung forward, slamming into Aidan and knocking him to the decking. Before he could clamp his hungry jaws on Aidan another shot rang out, jerking him back from the army Captain.
Kaskins twitched on the deck and his blood pumped steadily out of the gaping wound in the side of his neck. Jenna reloaded her pistol, silently reminding Dexter to do the same. No words needed to be spoken, Rosh picked up the body and tossed it overboard. The commander of the task force rose to his feet mute and shaken.
A sound emerged from the fog shrouded ruins. It was an unholy moan, weaving in and out of the rocks, that sent a chill to the bone.
“What have we done?” Aidan whispered in horror.