“How long will it last?” Dexter asked, looking out at the swirling fog and the moaning and groaning mysteries within it.
“The mists?” Jenna asked. “How are we to know?”
“No,” Dexter said, turning to Xander. “Your spell… how long until it fades?”
Xander stared into the mists, his eyes wide at the shadowy forms of the fallen soldiers that walked again. They circled around the Voidhawk, held at bay by the wizard’s protective circle. “Until I let it fade,” he said. “Or if any of it is disturbed.” He thought for a moment, “I suppose it could consume the diamond dustings, but that would take a very long time… hundreds or thousands of years.”
“So you’re saying we’re safe then?” Rosh asked.
“Well,” Xander said, “only so long as I keep it focused and channeling the magical energies.”
“What’s that mean?” Dexter snapped, annoyed at the wizard’s tendency to over-complicate simple things.
“Sleep,” Bekka answered. “As long as he’s awake, he can keep it working.”
“Thank you,” Dexter said in exasperation. “Well then, let’s get to it! We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Dexter snapped off orders, giving everyone a task, Aidan and Xander were left free of duties, the former because Dexter did not want him getting in the way and the latter because he did not want to run any risk of the wizard being injured or tiring him out.
As they turned to leave Rosh wandered close to Xander, making the wizard’s eyes widen as he tried to lean away from the larger man. “You ain’t feeling sleepy, are ya?”
Xander shook his head. “Less so now,” he said.
“Good, you let me know if you need a good waking up,” Rosh offered. He smiled, but to Xander it seemed threatening.
The wizard nodded and managed a weak smile in return, then excused himself and hurried off to another part of the deck.
Jenna worked with Bekka, helping her with the sails as the sorceress used her talent at sewing and her understanding of the magical fabric to mend it. Jenna had no such talents, but she could move the heavy fabric and provide whatever the bald half-elf needed.
“Bekka?” Jenna asked her after several long minutes of silence. “You said you’ve seen this before, what is it?”
Bekka shivered at the memory and took a deep breath before responding. “I lived in a small colony of exiles… people like me that were banished or unwelcome among the Elven Empire.”
Jenna closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. She would not deny it, she knew such things happened. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It was not you that did it, feel no shame.”
Jenna shrugged. “Maybe, but the elves who did make you feel that way will never apologize, so I shall do it for them.”
Bekka smiled her appreciation. “The Captain wears off on us all, I think.”
Jenna smiled in return. “Yes, it’s irritating at times.”
Bekka’s hands worked of their own accord, mending the sail while she returned to her story. “A ship crashed on the mean near where we lived. We search for survivors, figuring the Elven Navy had damaged a smuggler and anyone who had been an enemy of the elves was a friend to us. All we found was an urn.”
“Those that opened it never returned, instead they unleashed a fog much like that one,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Anyone that was caught in it ended up like that man did, driven mad and lusting for flesh and blood.”
“And those they bit turned too.”
“Once we knew what was happening, we ran. The fog eventually disappeared, either returning whence it came or dispersing on the wind. That was when we met the living zombies.” Bekka stopped sewing and took a deep breath.
“They could be stopped, but they were so many,” she whispered. “Friends and family, brothers and sisters…”
“Their bodies lived, but their minds were gone.” She stopped and looked at Jenna, her eyes focusing as she blinked away the painful memories. “Kill them as you can, they will die and be no more. Already they are dead to the world.”
“How did you get away from them? Did enough of your people escape to kill them all?” Jenna asked, caught up in the tale and the painful way she told it.
Bekka shook her head. “I was young, less than a score of years old. Only a few of us got away, and they seemed to know where we were, attacking us again and again.”
“Raving and violent, they possessed some knowledge of who they once were, or had the memories of the person that they once were, at least. Make no mistake there is no morality in them. No conscience and no mercy.”
“Three of us escaped, but only by going where they would not expect us: to the wreckage of the ship that crashed. It was there that we found the urn. It was sealed again and we refused to have anything to do with it.”
“Instead we found a small boat amongst the wreckage that we used to escape the moon. An older boy named Harlon defended us against the walking dead. Harlon had been hurt, gouged by their fingernails but not bitten. Without healing magic, the injuries were too much and he fell asleep and never woke again.” She looked out at the ruins. “The poison is in their mouths and their blood.”
With a heavy sigh, she continued. “The other survivor and I were picked up outside of Elven space by a smuggler. He became the cook’s monkey and I… well, I’m here now. I’ve no idea what happened to him, that was a long time ago, it seems. Over a dozen years.”
Jenna sat back and blew out the breath she had been holding. “Such… wow. I never knew. I’ve heard of outposts and colonies of those the elves thought unfit for their beautiful cities and ports, but I never really understood it until now.”
“Did you ever find out who the ship belonged to?” Jenna asked a moment later.
Bekka shrugged. “Does it matter?”
Jenna nodded, “Yes, yes I think it does.”
“Not really. There were no corpses from the crash. The ship had been abandoned.”
Jenna’s eyes widened.
Bekka reached over to her and laid her hand on Jenna’s. “It does my heart good to see the fire that burns in your heart and is kindled by the Captain.” She looked over the edge of the ship and into the mists. “You should go to him, while we still have time.”
Jenna followed her gaze. The mists appeared to be thinning. While it should have been relieving to see that, instead it bothered her. It meant that the shadowy forms moving through the fog around their ship would soon be visible.
Jenna nodded. “I think you’re right,” she whispered.
Bekka smiled. “You’ve come a long way, Jenna,” she told her. “I’m proud of you, and proud to call you a friend.”
Jenna smiled and blinked back the wetness in her eyes. The half-elf was right: she had come a long way. She took a deep breath and stood, then leaned over to give Bekka a hug. Both woman smiling in surprised embarrassment, the first mate turned away to find the Captain.
Bekka watched her leave and sniffed back the tears. Xander could only last so long, she knew, and it would take many hours to have the ship in a condition that gave it a chance against the wind spirits above them. Then there was the matter of being able to land again with a strut so damaged that it would not hold their weight. A tear ran down her cheek. She vowed that she would not end up like Kaskins or those of her youth. She reached down to touch the pistol she had tied to her side. It was cold and brutal, an alien weapon to her that she normally disdained. Now it gave her a measure of grim hope.
* * * *
The shifting had strained the aft port landing strut as well, though Dexter and Rosh, under Willa’s surprising tutelage, were able to shore it up safely enough. The bow strut was worse than ever, and not something Dexter had any idea how they would fix. Even Willa, who seemed to be somehow channeling Kragor’s knowledge and skill, was silent about it.
“Captain!”
Dexter glanced up at the sound of Logan’s voice calling to him. The man was largely quiet, but as far as he was concerned, he had proven his worth in gold that day by helping as he had and, more so, by helping Rosh escape a crushing end under the landing strut.
“Aye?” Dexter asked.
Logan looked up to the sky. The mists had been slowly parting, allowing them to stare into the ruins and see the bodies moving about them more clearly. Expressions and details were still difficult to make out, and now that the sun was setting darkness was shrouding what the mist could no longer hide.
Dexter followed his gaze and saw what troubled the priest. With the setting of the sun the moon was due to emerge; the moon that had been waxing the past several nights.
“I must go below,” Logan said, his voice somewhat labored.
Dexter frowned, but nodded. He had to find out just what the ailment was that affected the priest, but he had no time to do so now. Now they faced a far greater problem. A wet growl from behind him reminded him just how great their problem was.
“Cap,” Rosh said after Logan left. “You see how he kicked that stone into my side earlier?”
Dexter glanced at Rosh, then returned his gaze to the ruins and the bodies that tried to find a way past the protective charms Xander had placed around them. He had not seen what Rosh had referred to, though.
“That weren’t no light stone,” Rosh said. “It held up the ‘Hawk long enough for me to get out!”
Dexter nodded again, “You saying you couldn’t have done that?”
Rosh snorted. “Yeah, I’m saying that! Leastways not without breaking my foot and walking funny for a few weeks after.”
Dexter looked over at Rosh again. “What else are you saying?”
Rosh shrugged. “Just saying that ain’t right is all. If this were my boat, I wouldn’t want something that ain’t making sense on it.”
Dexter’s eyes narrowed. “Good thing it’s not your boat then,” he told him. “If it was, you’d be holding up the ‘Hawk and having trouble drawing a full breath.”
Rosh opened his mouth to retort, but found nothing to say. He clamped it shut a moment later then turned away to study the strut with Willa some more. Dexter looked away as well and went back to the where a rope ladder hung from the railing of his ship.
“Problems?” Jenna said softly when she saw him come up over the edge.
Dexter shook his head, dismissing it. They were in a tight spot, tempers were bound to flare. It did not make it right, but as long as there was no mutiny going on, they could still work together and find a solution. Speaking of working together…
“Shouldn’t you be helping Bekka?”
Jenna shook her head. “She’s able to do it fine on her own,” she said. “I need to show you something.”
Dexter sighed softly and followed her as she led him down to the bridge. Once there she shut the door behind him and turned as if to point out a problem with the outer hull. He followed her gaze and stood close to her.
“This is what I should be doing,” she said to him, then turned to the confused Captain and pressed her lips against his.
Dexter’s eyes widened and he pulled away from her. “Are you mad, woman?” He hissed at her. “You know what kind of trouble we’re in here?”
Jenna just stared at him. “Dex,” she said, her eyes sparkling with moisture. “I asked Bekka how she had seen this kind of thing before and she told me. The ‘Hawk’s in bad shape, she’ll take hours to make airworthy again.”
“From what she told me about them that’s out side, getting away’s the only way to deal with them. The mist will leave eventually, but those touched by it are cursed and won’t stop coming for us until they’re put down or we join them.”
Dexter listened intently. He was glad that Jenna had gotten the information out of Bekka, proud of her, even. On the other hand, her behavior was disturbing him.
“Thirty some men, who knows how many of those Perryn, and who knows what else,” Jenna said. “There’s only ten of us, including Aidan, and he’s done nothing but stare into the mists for a while now.”
“What are you saying?” he asked, suspecting her ulterior motive but wanting to know for sure.
“I’m an elf,” Jenna said after a deep breath. “We live for hundreds of years; I’ve already lived over a century. I’m patient… I’ve been waiting for you for how long now?”
“I’m afraid to wait any longer,” she said. “Dex… I don’t want to end up like that. I don’t want to see you like that… or any of them! If you came after me I don’t think I could do what I had to.”
Dexter stared at her. “We got a lot of fight left in us yet,” he pointed out, feeling somewhat drained by her grim outlook. “Xander’s spell is keeping us safe too.”
Jenna nodded. She smiled sadly, “He’s human, he can only go for so long without sleep and he’s had a rough week already between the brewing and today’s action.”
“So what are you for then?” Dexter asked her bluntly. He was angry with her for stating things thusly and angry with himself for not being able to counter her arguments.
“Love me, Dexter,” she whispered, a tear running down one cheek. “We may not have much time left, let’s take what we can and share it.”
Dexter felt himself drawn to her and, for a brief moment, he wanted to give in to her. Her arguments were sound; his desire for her considerable. His reasons for abstaining seemed petty in light of their troubles. He leaned in and kissed her, sharing a moment in time that stood still for both of them, yet vanished in an instant of ache and longing.
“We’re not done for yet,” he said to her, smiling.
Jenna looked at him, frustration and longing on her face. “We who?” she asked him bluntly.
He grinned. “All of us,” he said, and then he turned to head back up on to the deck.
Jenna reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him up short. “Dex, I-“
He turned to her and shook his head. “Jenna, stop worrying,” he told her. “If we was that done in, you think I’d be turning your offer down?”
He gave her hand a squeeze and then let go, heading with quick and powerful strides out of the bridge and back up on the deck. Jenna watched him go, fresh tears running down her cheeks. She took a deep breath, recomposed herself, and then laughed softly. In spite of their situation, in spite of his apparent rejection, she was smiling. It made no sense at all, but by doing what he had done he had renewed her faith in him and her hope they might live. She shook her head, wiped her tears, and followed after him.
On the deck Dexter looked around at the people working and nodded. Only Aidan was standing still, staring into the twilight ruins. Dexter made his way to him and stood silent beside him.
“I used to be in the army,” Dexter said without preamble. “Well, navy really; the Federation Navy.”
Aidan turned to look at him, roused from his thoughts. “Who is that?” he asked without really caring.
Dexter pointed up towards the sky and the void beyond. “A nation of power-hungry humans that rule a part of the Void,” he explained. “Wasn’t even important enough to be a tool, though; barely a tooth on a gear.”
“Course that wouldn’t stop them from turning their back’s on me at a moment’s notice if they could benefit from it,” he added with a dark chuckle. “The greater good, they’d have said to Kragor and Jodyne… only real family I had then.”
Aidan nodded, understanding the concept and perhaps where Dexter was going with it.
“See them down there? Rosh and Willa?” the Captain asked, nodding down towards the unlikely pair trying different things — to no avail.
“Willa just joined us, I bought her from some slavers in Azmir,” he explained. “She was near dead with pain, sickness, and a rotting hand… not to mention what the guards done to her.”
“I bought her, took her to a priest an’ got her healed. Lost her hand all the same, but look at her now, full of life.”
“She is an unusual slave,” Aidan offered.
“Uh-uh,” Dexter said with a smile. “I’ll have no slaves on my ship. She’s free as you and me. You’re laws say that can’t happen, but on my ship, my laws hold true. No such thing as slavery here. She’s free to do as she pleases, even free to leave service to the Voidhawk if she wants.”
“You speak of blasphemy,” Aidan warned, though his tone was conversational and not damning. “I should arrest you or kill you for it.”
Dexter shrugged. “Maybe. Point is, she was nothing to us a couple weeks back. Then the other day the ‘Hawk got caught in some wizard’s weather and damn near tipped us over. She went sliding off, heading for a long fall when Rosh there jumped to save her.”
“He caught her and saved her, though damn near lost both their lives in the process,” Dexter told him, skipping the heroic details of the deed. “We was in rough weather and nearly down two deckhands. In my spot, what would you’ve done?”
Aidan looked at him for a long moment, then decided to humor him. “Discipline them both, but mostly the big man for abandoning his post and risking the entire ship and crew for a single life.”
Dexter smiled fiercely. “I thought about that,” he admitted. Aidan nodded approvingly.
“Didn’t do it though,” Dexter said, turning to look down at the two of them. Rosh kicked a rock in frustration while Willa held a few pieces of broken wood in her good hand.
“Why not?” Aidan asked.
“Why’d you run back into the ruins to rescue your people from the Perryn when you first landed?” Dexter asked him.
Aidan nodded in understanding.
“And why’d you go back to get your sergeant when he crossed the barrier?”
Aidan sighed. “Seems I make a poor leader.”
“I don’t see it that way,” Dexter said. Then he chuckled. “Then again, maybe I’m a lousy Captain.”
“Not to see and hear your crew,” Aidan said to him.
“Thanks,” he said. “Your soldiers thought the same of you.”
Aidan frowned. “What happened is a tragedy,” he said. “But it is one I understand. Life is cheap here, a few of us do our best to make it mean something and to help our men out.”
“To advance high in an Azmarian Lord’s favor a man must put aside his kin and his feelings; he must sell his soul. And even then, it is as easy as misjudging tomorrow’s weather to fall out of favor with the Lord in question,” Aidan explained. He let out a deep breath and shook his head.
“I understand what General Havamyr wanted now,” Aidan said and turned to share a haunted look with Dexter. “In unleashing this plague he will destroy his enemy. Once we are out of the way they will converge on their army, and once they are dead or destroyed, they will go toward Havamyr’s forces.”
“Seems like he might not have thought this through,” Dexter said, spotting a rather obvious flaw. Every bitten person would turn and swell the ranks of the living zombies.
Aidan shook his head. “They have been putting defensive works in for days now. I never understood why until now. Wizards, archers, and siege weapons will destroy these… things. Then, with no one left to defend against him, Havamyr will march in victorious.”
“You’re talking like you’re not a part of that army,” Dexter pointed out.
Aidan looked at him and smiled sadly. “With your airship broken, do you think any of us will survive this day?”
“This day? Yes,” Dexter said resolutely. “I won’t be speaking for tomorrow right yet, but I’m feeling good about it.”
“What plan do you have, Captain?” Aidan asked him.
Dexter smiled. “The way I see it, there’s less of them things now then there will be after we leave.”
“If we leave,” Aidan corrected.
Dexter waved his correction away. “Better if we kill them all now to keep whatever this thing is from spreading.”
“Just figuring on charging out there?”
Dexter chuckled. “It gets tricky,” he admitted. “With the air devils above us, we don’t dare cast off until we’re ready.”
“You’ve no plan yet?” Aidan asked him.
Dexter stared into the dark ruins and shrugged. “Not yet,” he admitted.
“Captain Silvercloud,” Aidan said, turning to face him. “I now know why you’re the perfect man for this sort of thing. You’re just crazy enough to try it!”
Dexter chuckled and clapped Aidan on the back. “When this is all over, we could use another good man on the ‘Hawk,” he offered.
Aidan stared at him, incredulous. He started laughing, softly at first, then louder and harder. Finally he shook his head and walked away with one hand to his stomach and the other wiping the tears from his eyes.
“Seems a bad time for laughter,” Bekka said to the first mate.
Jenna smiled and shrugged. “I can’t think of a better time for it,” she answered.
When Bekka looked up at her Jenna explained herself. “I don’t have the Captain’s knack for it, so I won’t try. But, when I spoke to him and told him of the fate that may be awaiting us, he rebuffed me. He told me we weren’t done fighting yet. He said… well, he gave me back my hope.”
“He turned you down?” Bekka asked with an understanding smile.
“Not because he wasn’t interested,” Jenna quickly replied.
“I should hope not,” the sorceress said. “A person would be a fool to pass up such an offer.”
Jenna stared at the bald half-elf. “Thank you,” she mumbled, still surprised at the compliment.
“He is special,” Bekka said, staring at Dexter’s back as he tossed some repaired lines up to Bailynn in the rigging for her to replace.
“Yes, he is,” Jenna agreed.
The night and the repairs wore on. Occasionally from below they heard some thrashing and the sound of something heavy thudding into the wall or barred door of the cargo hold, but mostly it was the noises that came from the living ghouls pressing against the invisible barrier from all sides. The main mast was repaired as best they could slightly past the midpoint of the night, and by the morning the other sails had been fixed as well.
Bekka was exhausted, but Dexter had a special project for her. Remembering something Kragor told him once, he figured if it worked in the solar wind, it should work with a wind made of air as well. He sent her off to work with scraps of cloth, some rope, and a crazy notion.
Xander practically stumbled around the deck, moving out of fear that if he stayed in one place too long he might pass out from sheer exhaustion. Jodyne plied him with strong teas to keep him awake and alert, but after a time they wore off and left him more drained than before.
Dexter approached him and asked how much longer he could hold it up.
“As long as I need to,” he replied.
Dexter nodded, understanding. “A little longer, I think,” he told the wizard. While Dexter would normally never admit to it, he knew they were outside the realm of normality now. He had to bolster the man’s ego and give him a little bit more to push for.
“Xander, we’d be in bad shape if it weren’t for you,” he admitted. He waved into the ruins without looking and said, “That’s a fate fit for no man, woman, nor child. Even an enemy deserves better. I won’t be saying it again, nor will I admit I done it this time… good job.”
Xander smiled and nodded, his pride blossoming. Even though he knew his accomplishments and his worth, it still felt good to know that Dexter appreciated what he had done.
With the sun brightening the eastern horizon, Dexter watched as a weary Bekka all but staggered across the deck towards him. “It’s done,” she said, stifling a yawn.
Dexter nodded and glanced to the sky. He could feel a faint touch of breeze coming from the west, and expected it would pick up as the sun warmed the air more. “My thanks, Bekka, I hope to say later that you’ve saved us all.”
“It would be nice to be saved,” she admitted.
Dexter laid his hand on her shoulder. “Head for the bridge. Just a little longer, I think. I’ll need to be here and we need Rosh’s strength to help us with the sails when we make our run.”
Bekka nodded. Even though her head still ached from being forcibly separated from the helm, she knew it only made sense to have her at it. She smiled at Dexter in spite of the nausea she felt and turned to head for the bridge again.
Dexter glanced to the east and then around the deck of the ship again. Aidan was helping to keep Xander awake and alert, walking with him and talking of whatever the wizard wanted, and sometimes things the wizard had no interest in. Occasionally they would look into the darkness and listen to the sounds of the shadowy figures moving beyond the circle of protection.
Dexter nodded again, finalizing his decision, and moved to the side of the Voidhawk. He glanced over it and saw Rosh and Willa discussing something animatedly pertaining to the strut. There were a few additional ropes and pieces of wood attached to it, but nothing that showed any sign of helping it.
“There’s nothing more to be done, come aboard,” Dexter called down to them.
“We ain’t done yet,” Rosh snapped up at him angrily. Dexter stared at him, reminding himself of the short fuse they all had.
“This ain’t advice,” Dexter said back to him. “Get your tails on or get left to deal with them.”
Dexter pointed towards the circle beyond them. The sun was slipping over the edge of the horizon as he spoke, shining light into the ruins and illuminating the threat. Bodies shuffled back and forth, seeking an entry. They moved somewhat awkwardly, but remained coordinated enough to maintain balance and to be a threat. The drying blood upon many of them was testimony to their savagery. That, and the bloodshot and hateful look in their eyes.
“Son of a-“
“Rosh, he’s right, let’s go!” Willa said, losing her nerve quickly once she realized she had worked the entire night through less than 20 feet from the living ghouls.
Rosh nodded and guided her to the side of the ship, then helped her loop the rope around one foot and steadied it while Dexter called Keshira over to help pull her up. Rosh clambered up the rope ladder quickly once she was safe, then they secured the remaining ropes and waited to hear Dexter’s plan.
The Captain stared into the ruins, studying the former humans and perryns that now circled his ship like sharks. “Cap?” Rosh asked him after seeing Xander swaying on his feet with fatigue.
“Xander, just a little longer,” Dexter said to his wizard. “When I tell you to, I want you to let them in.”
“We’ll be gone first, right?” Rosh asked him.
Dexter turned and grinned at the larger man.
“Aw hell,” Rosh said. “Dex, we ain’t gotta die for these dirt-kissin’ fools. Let’s just get out of here and keep going!”
“Captain,” Bekka said, stepping forward, having returned from the bridge white faced and troubled. “They won’t stop. Every one of them will come for us. Using fingers and teeth, they’ll claw at the hull until they tear through it, even if they wear their fingers to the bone.”
He nodded. “Every last one of them, right?”
She nodded. Dexter smiled. “Good. Rosh, Logan, Aidan, grab the last of that alchemist’s fire we got down below. Grab as much lamp oil as you can too.”
Rosh stood, staring at Dexter a long minute. He opened his mouth but Dexter beat him to it, “Go, damn you, we got no time for wasting!”
Rosh shut his mouth and ground his teeth. He nodded and headed towards the stairs below deck, catching up to the others at the cargo hold. In three trips, they had brought up enough oil that Dexter felt they were ready.
“Over the side,” Dexter said. “Pour it all, save the alchemist’s fire,” he instructed. “We need a ring around the ship big enough to get them all. None of them can escape.”
“Voidhawk’ll burn too,” Rosh pointed out darkly.
“Not if it’s not here,” Dexter said.
Rosh looked at him then nodded, finally understanding the plan. He picked up one of the kegs of lamp oil and headed towards the bow. Logan and Aidan followed suit, each heading to a different part of the ship. By the time they had emptied all of the casks, Xander was leaning against the railing of the ship, fighting the urge to fall asleep on his feet.
Jenna, who was closest to the wizard, sighed. “Sorry about this,” she said to him, then moved with a speed he would not have been able to dodge had he been awake and expecting it; she slapped him hard across the face.
Xander stumbled, falling to his hands and knees from the force and the surprise of her strike. He shook his head and looked up at her, rage showing on his face. “Why the…”
The wizard trailed off, understanding why she had done it. He nodded, but continued to glare at her. Finally he stood up stiffly. His eyes narrowed when she had to stifle a chuckle at the red hand print forming on his cheek.
“You gonna just let a girl slap you around like that?” Rosh asked as he walked by with an empty barrel. The deckhand tossed it overboard and smiled as it shattered into pieces.
Xander scowled at him but said nothing, knowing he was being baited.
“Enough,” Dexter snapped. “To your posts, Bekka I thought I told you I need you on the helm.”
“I can’t,” she said. “I tried… I can’t connect with the ship yet.”
“You… why not?” Dexter asked, stunned.
“The dump, it messed me up. It’s going to take some time before I can merge with the ship again. I hope.”
“You hope? What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard of some people that could never helm a ship again after a bad dump,” she said with a forced calmness.
Dexter’s eyes widened. He needed her on that helm! “Alright… um,” he turned to look at his other option, Rosh. Rosh was learning how to fly a ship, but he was no match for Bekka or himself. Dexter knew he had his own reasons to not be on the helm, he was the Captain and had to react to what was sure to be a difficult escape.
“Cap, let Willa try it,” Rosh offered, his hand resting on the former slave girl’s shoulder.
Willa looked up at him, her mouth opened and eyes wide. Dexter’s own expression was not so terribly different.
“The way she’s been feeling the flow of the ship, it reminds me of how things feel when I’m in the helm,” Rosh explained. “I bet she’d pick it up right quick!”
“Right quick?” Dexter repeated in amazement. “Right quick isn’t enough! We have to time it right so them things get burnt and we don’t! Then we gots to get away from those things in the sky before they cut us up again. We need more than right quick, especially with the rigging and sails not running full from the damage they already done.”
“We ain’t got a choice!” Rosh protested. “Bekka can’t do it, you can’t do it, I can’t do it…you think I’m wanting to risk my neck on someone that ain’t never flown before?”
Rosh squeezed Willa’s shoulder encouragingly. “I reckon you can do it. You’re special, and I’ll have words with anyone here that says different.”
His last statement was accompanied with a challenging gaze at each person gathered on the deck in turn. Dexter shook his head, then glanced at Xander. The wizard looked like he was starting to glaze over again.
“Oil’s gonna be soaked into the dirt soon,” Dexter said. “Willa, go sit your pretty behind on the helm and see what happens. You got one shot at it.”
She looked on, wide eyed for a long moment until Dexter made a shooing motion with his hands to get her going. Bekka went over to her and grabbed her hand, leading her below to the helm and talking to her along the way, trying to offer her some hurried advice and suggestions on how to make the connection.
After a long and tense couple of minutes on deck, Dexter cursed and unbuckled his sword belt. He tossed the sheathed weapon to Jenna and turned to head towards the bridge. “That’s one of the few weapons that will hurt those things,” he said over his shoulder while pointing at the small dark cloud of wind spirits high above them.
He paused at the top of the staircase and looked back at them. “Soon as you feel the ship under control, let them things come. Somebody yell when they’re all around us in the oil, then when we lift, throw the alchemist’s fire.”
Dexter started down the stairs but was halted by Bekka coming up from the bottom. “Where’s Willa?” he asked.
“She’s on the helm.”
“And?”
Bekka shook her head, wincing as she did so. “Never seen anything like it,” Bekka said. “I don’t know how she figured it out so quick, but you should have seen her face when she merged with the ship. Like a child with her first sweet.”
“Think she can do it?” Dexter asked her, putting his own surprise behind him.
Bekka shrugged. “She’ll die trying.”
Dexter nodded. “So will the rest of us,” he said darkly, then turned and headed back up the stairs.
The Voidhawk’s Captain caught the tossed sword and buckled it about his waist again. There were nervous smiles around them, save for Xander who was pinching his arm in an attempt to get one last burst of energy to keep him going. Dexter called for everyone to get ready, then told Xander to drop the spell.
With a sigh of relief, Xander, blinked his eyes slowly. When he opened them, he opened his mouth to confirm that it was done but the sounds from around them did it for him. The infected carriers discovered the dropped barrier almost immediately, and rushed towards the ship. There were dozens of them, nearly all of the members of Aidan’s troop as well as many of the Perryns that contracted the magical plague.
The ship rocked as they slammed against the hull. Some tried to climb the struts, something no one had considered. They were part of the hull and did not come up to the edge of the deck, however, a reckless bit of balancing and stretching would allow someone to reach the railing from the struts. Reckless and uncaring of their own safety, the ghouls had to be struck away from the struts as they reached for fresh prey.
“Set sail!” Dexter yelled, praying that Willa was not so caught up in the new sensations that she would fail to hear his order below. His fears were unfounded as, a moment later, the Voidhawk lurched beneath them and rose into the air slowly.
“Now!” Dexter called out, throwing his own cask to the ground.
Jodyne and Bailynn did likewise, while Logan, Rosh, Keshira, and Aidan were busy at clearing each strut. Jenna stayed ready to leap to the aid of anyone who would need it, and found herself rushing forward at one point to assist Aidan as his sword caught in the ribs of a former soldier that tried to scramble aboard.
Flames leapt up below them, sparking up immediately as soon as the casks cracked and allowed fresh air into the alchemical substance. The flames spread rapidly, igniting the oil in the ground and on the feet and legs of their attackers. It climbed up their clothing and bit into the flesh, chewing away at them and making them growl and hiss angrily as their prey escaped into the air above them.
A cheer rose up from the crew, one even shared by Dexter. They cleared the tops of the ruins, with no clinging zombies remaining, and saw no movement below them save for those trapped in the flames. Wind caught the sails, stretching and straining them as they were pulled taught. Improperly repaired, they nevertheless held against the lurch of movement the wind inspired.
“Dex, here they come,” Jodyne said, pointing into the sky.
Those not working the lines looked up and saw the dark streaks leaving the cloud and heading towards them at a speed that made the wind look like it was standing still. Dexter nodded and looked to Bekka, who was holding some loose canvas.
“Xander, got anything to slow them down?” Dexter asked, trotting over to the half-elf and taking the bundle of cloth.
Xander stared for a long minute then nodded. “I can try something,” he mumbled, then hastened up the stern castle himself and reached into his pockets for spell components. Dexter nodded, trusting the man to buy him the time he needed.
Dexter did not spare a glance from his task of tying a rope through several loops in the canvas until he heard a great whooshing noise above him. He looked and had to admit a moment of awe. A sheet of flames sprang up and fanned out in mid-air. It forced the elemental guardians to retreat and go around it, or at least wait until it subsided a few moments later. Either way, it gained the Voidhawk precious time to slip further away and gained both speed and altitude.
Dexter tied his last knot and tested it. Feeling confident but nervous, he stood up with the canvas hanging from the rope he held in his hands. He spun it, lifting it off the deck, and continued to spin faster and faster to help him get it higher. Finally ready, he gave it a final surge of strength and sent it up above him and off the bow of the ship.
The bundle of canvas started to open, coming loose with the release of the tension of the ropes. Dexter squatted down and grabbed a thinner rope he tied to it, grimacing as it burned his hands. He pulled it taught, springing the bundle open and catching the wind. Bekka had sewn together a crude kite to act as an extra sail for them. It was only good when the wind was behind them and they were running in a straight line, but it promised some extra speed.
Dexter hurried back to oversee the pursuit. Xander slumped against the railing, watching the pursuing mist devils through glazed eyes. Dexter grabbed his robes and yanked him away from the railing, not being gentle but also keeping the man from accidentally toppling over the railing. He watched their pursuers close the distance slower than he had expected. His hand flexed repeatedly against the sword at his side until, with little over a hundred yards separating them, the spirits gave up the chase. They slowed and halted, retreating back to reform a cloud over the ruins.
Dexter stared for a long minute, amazed and stunned by their turn of fortune. He chuckled, and then laughed harder and louder. Xander roused from his fatigue induced stupor enough to see the situation and speak about it.
“They only guard the ruins, we got far enough away to no longer be perceived as a threat,” he mumbled.
Dexter shrugged, just happy to be alive. He clapped the wizard on the shoulder and left him to lie upon the stern castle. The Captain hurried down to the main deck and announced the good news. Everyone cheered and congratulated each other, even the typically somber Jodyne seemed in a good mood by their harrowing escape. Of those gathered, only Jenna seemed troubled.
Dexter saw her expression and his grin faded. “Jenna, we’ve escaped! What’s wrong?”
Tears ran from her eyes. She reached down to her leg and pulled on her leather leggings, revealing a tear in them and beneath, the bloody scrape in her thigh. Dexter’s heart missed a beat at the realization that he was holding his pistol and that it pointed at her.
It was impossible. They had escaped! Now another of his crew was struck down. And not just any, but his first mate. His Jenna. His…
“How?” he whispered. Around them the cheering stopped and only Keshira paid attention to the rigging.
“When I helped Aidan,” she said through a throat choked with emotion.
Dexter nodded and fought back the urge to shout in rage at her for not being more careful. He turned to Bekka, who looked on fearfully and sadly from a distance away. “How long?”
Bekka shrugged helplessly. “Minutes, maybe,” she said sadly.
Dexter looked back to Jenna and found his hand shaking. Angrily he clenched his teeth and tightened his fist.
“Dex,” Jenna said, her voice pleading. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, unwilling to hear it. She was strong, damn it. He would not let her break down, not like this and not now. He opened his mouth to bid her farewell.
“I’m sorry I let you down,” she said. She stared at him, her eyes blurred with tears, and then closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Do it. Don’t let me end up like them.”
Dexter nodded and fought back the urge to reach out to her. To touch her one last time. He railed at himself for not touching her before, when she had offered so many times.
The Captain pulled the hammer back on the pistol and simultaneously locked his emotions away inside. He steadied his gun and took a breath, then squeezed the trigger…
Aidan worked his way through the camp, a cloak with a cowl over his head protecting him from the rain that came in gusts and sheets. It also served to disguise him as he threaded his way through to General Havamyr’s tent. The guards outside of it saluted him when he arrived and identified himself. They had not been told to never expect to see him again and thus knew no better. His mission had been secret, known only to himself and the General. Aidan now realized that it had only truly been known to the general.
He slipped inside and saw Havamyr working silently while a naked slave girl waited on several furs set up for him. It appeared he was near to retiring for the night, and she was to be his entertainment. The general looked up, surprised at the interruption. His surprise only increased when he saw Aidan throw back his hood and stare at him.
“Aidan!” He said, shocked.
“My men are not expendable,” Aidan spat at him. “They died for your sick pleasure.”
“Wait a moment!” Havamyr snapped, coming to his feet and rallying quickly. “They died so that fewer of my men — our men would suffer!”
“Not our men, yours. Safe, behind traps, siege weapons, and defenses.”
“Our men,” The general said quickly. “Taking such risks and surviving such an important mission, you deserve to be rewarded. I need an aid, a second in command. A field promotion to colonel for your bravery.”
Aidan’s expression softened slightly at the bribe, giving the general hope. “I was rescued by the Voidhawk. They saw the danger we faced and came in to save us. They showed bravery. Captain Silvercloud’s crew showed me the true value of life. Every one of them risked their lives for each other… even when death seemed unavoidable.”
“The life of all men is not worth more than the life of one,” he said, drawing a pistol he had been given by Rosh from the ship’s stores.
“Even now they have set sail and are leaving this world behind with stores of goods I have given them from your supply tents. Never again will you have their help; you do not deserve it.” Aidan glanced at the slave girl and saw her cowering behind a chest, pretending to hide.
He looked back to Havamyr, who had not moved so stunned was he by his subordinates change of allegiance. “You’re a traitor!” He snapped. “I’ll have you flogged publicly and covered in honey then staked out in the sun for the insects and birds to feast upon!”
“If stopping the madness that weakens our people makes me a traitor, then I wear the title with honor. If fighting back against the cruel dominion of the Azmir is wrong, then I shall never be right again,” Aidan paused and smiled coldly. “If killing you brands me, then I shall shout the price upon my head with pride in every city I enter.”
Havamyr’s fists clenched in impotent rage. His jaw trembled with anger and his nostrils flared with frenzied breath. Finally he said, “One scream and my guards will be here!”
“Don’t bother,” Aidan said. “The thunder from this wand will carry further than any scream you could manage.”
A feral grin upon his face, the former commander squeezed the trigger.