He lashed out at her; a glancing blow sending her staggering. Rosh rose up and saw her trip over a chair broken by the thrashing constructs. He rose up, blood dripping from his nose and mouth, and grabbed Ormitor from behind. Before the wizard could use leverage and his unnatural strength to turn on him, he heaved and lifted the wizard above his head, one hand upon the back of his neck and the other at his groin.
Almost immediately Ormitor began to chant words to a new spell, something Rosh took particular offense at, having already been victim to one of his incantations. He threw the wizard down towards the ground, dropping as he did so and raising his knee in a maneuver impossible to escape without a shattered spine.
Indeed the sound of the impact sent splinters of ice down Dexter’s spine. However, it was Rosh that turned white at the impact, his mouth open but no sound escaping. Ormitor rolled free, flopping on the ground and his arms thrashing as he tried to pull himself around. Rosh collapsed as well, his hands going to his lower leg where the jagged edge of a bone protruded through the skin.
Dexter turned, his vision clearing to the point where things were seldom blurry. His thinking came clearer as well, and he realized that short of possessing incredible strength or magic, they would be unable to stop Ormitor. His concern increased exponentially when he noticed the wizard’s partially severed hand was no longer anywhere near as dismembered as it had been earlier.
Dexter yanked off the powder sack at his waist, snapping the ties that bound it to his belt. He cut it against his blade and threw it at the struggling supine wizard, then turned and snatched up an oil lamp from a table. Spinning again, he lost his balance and stumbled into the same table he had fallen into earlier. He bounced off of it and threw the lamp, sending it crashing onto the floor beside Ormitor.
The glass shattered, spreading oil on the rug and the wizard both. The flame within the wick spread onto the oil, greedily licking at it and spreading.
“You can’t kill me!” Ormitor howled, turning his head to stare hatefully at Dexter. “I’ll come for you and destroy you all!”
Dexter, Jenna, and Bekka were driven to the ground by the blast of the fire powder. The concussion swept over Rosh as well, who was struggling to rise, and delivered him into unconsciousness. Jenna alone kept her wits about her, though it was many long moments before she found herself able to remember what she was doing and who the people laying on the burning floor were.
The smoke was gathering rapidly in the room. She grabbed Dexter by his shirt and dragged him to the door they had entered, then looked up as a large form emerged out of the smoke and grabbed onto Dexter as well.
“I must save my Captain,” Keshira said, her robe in tatters that lacked any sense of modesty. Her skin was likewise scratched and torn, but she did not bleed freely from any of her injuries.
“Fine, save him,” Jenna snapped, too exhausted to argue. “Get him back to the ‘Hawk!”
“What about the others?” Keshira asked, looking to her for direction.
“I’ll get them, they… wait, why do you care?” Jenna asked, confused. She coughed as she breathed in a particularly smoke filled lungful of air.
Keshira looked at her strangely, “My Captain has feelings for you, my bond tells me as much.”
Jenna’s mouth opened and closed, then she shook her head, a tear running from her eye. She pointed to the way out. “Take him and go! Help me get them if you can, if not, save him!”
Keshira nodded and was gone, hauling Dexter gently and with incredible speed. Jenna hurried back in, laying her hands on Rosh and struggling to drag the huge man away. Finding him too heavy in his armor to move quickly, she grabbed Bekka instead and pulled the half-elf clear.
Jenna’s lungs burned for fresh air. Her vision was dark with lack of oxygen and she could hear her heart hammering in her ears. She gasped in air from outside, although it, too, was tainted with smoke it tasted as sweet as honeyed water. People were gathering to watch the fire, and a few ran to help her. She waved them off and ran back in.
The smoke was thicker, foiling even her elven vision. She stumbled several times, running into objects in the house. Her lungs ached for air, but she dared not breathe. Finally, having found the study again, she dropped to her hands and knees and dared a quick gasp. The smell of burning flesh, wood, and cloth was overpowering, and sent her into a coughing fit. She knew she had to leave, but she caught site of Rosh again from her improved vantage point. She moved towards him, fighting the burning agony within her body.
Her hands upon the warrior, she managed to pull him a few paces towards the door, then blinked in surprise when she found herself sitting on the floor beside him. She tried to get up but instead ended up staring at him sideways. She wondered how she had ended up laying down on the floor. Her hand once again found his chain shirt but she had no strength left. Her head dipped against the floor, knowing she needed just to rest a moment and take a few breaths; surely she could do that much before trying again?
Jenna fell into the blackness as the smoke overwhelmed her. Her last recognition was that of the smoke swirling above her and how it resembled the shape of a human.
Chapter 4: Out of the Fire
Dexter awoke to the sound of someone coughing. The wracking spasms in his back, neck, stomach, and chest cleared up any confusion as to the source of the coughing; it was him. Eyes watering from the pain, he gasped for air and tried to look around. Moving his neck caused him no small amount of pain; it felt considerably thicker than it should be due to its stiffness.
He was able to see from the flickering torchlight in nearby halls that he was in a cell. And, on top of that, he was not alone. The other members of his crew were present as well, with the sole exception of Keshira. He almost chuckled, realizing he had come to think of the woman as part of his crew.
Painfully, he pulled himself to his nearest crewmember, Bekka, and gently shook her. She groaned and moved, though it took another shake to get her to open her eyes. Much like him, she coughed and grimaced as her tortured muscles remembered how to move.
Blinking away the confusion, her eyes cleared and she stared up at him. With a grimace she sat up to take in their new surroundings. “Where are we?” She asked, though it took her two attempts due to another coughing spasm.
“Jail,” Dexter said, not caring for the taste in his mouth. It was a mixture of smoke and something coppery.
“Are you hurt?” Bekka asked, looking at him. Dexter shrugged, then winced at the pain the motion caused him.
“Let me see if I can help,” she said, rising to her knees and trying to push him back to lay down.
“Rosh,” Dexter said, using all his strength to fight her gentle push. “He’s hurt worse, tend to him first.”
Bekka relented and looked over at the large warrior. The bone protruding from the skin of his leg was proof of Dexter’s claim. She hurried over to him and studied at it carefully before looking back to Dexter.
“It’s a clean break, help me and we can set it, then I’ll try to wrap it to keep it in place.”
Dexter almost nodded, but then he thought better of it. He dragged himself painful step by step over to them, not realizing that the groan he heard as he approached was not his own but came, instead, from Rosh.
“Shh, Rosh, you’re hurt pretty bad,” Bekka said, drawing Dexter’s attention to the fact that the man was waking up.
“That why I feel like I bedded a void dragon?” He whispered, surprised at the weakness in his voice. “My leg’s the worst, I think.”
Bekka nodded. “It’s broke bad, I’m going to set it, the Captain’s going to hold you, okay?”
Rosh barked out something between a cough and a laugh. “Only one that’s holdin’ me is a pretty woman!” He glanced back at Dexter and grinned. “No offense, Captain.”
Dexter smiled in spite of his misery. “None taken,” he muttered, relaxing a little instead of crawling the remaining few feet.
“Go ahead, Bekka, I’ll be okay,” R
osh said, using his hands to brace himself on the damp stone floor of their prison.
Bekka watched him take a few deep breaths and she nodded. She gently touched his foot, then let her fingers glide up his leg, letting him get used to her touch. She moved a little closer and arranged herself so that she could maximize her application of force in as short a time as possible.
“Do it, already!” Rosh started to growl, but he was interrupted as she made her move.
She yanked on his foot, trapping it between her side and her upper arm. The bone pulled back inside the skin, causing blood to well up and spill out of the hole. Rosh’s face went white, which was unseen in the poor lighting, but he made no noise nor did he move. With her other hand she felt along his shin, then wrenched against him again, pulling the foot while her hand aligned the bones. The bones set, she maintained only a slight amount of pressure to keep them in place while she glanced about the cell.
“I need something to wrap his leg with to keep it in place,” she said.
Rosh remained silent, gritting his teeth and enduring the agony. Dexter cast about, looking for something. His leather was too tough to tear, and all of his weapons had been taken from him.
“Here, use this,” Jenna said, surprising them all from where she lay. She stood up slowly, still dressed in only her leather leggings and walked over to Rosh and Bekka, handing them an old bone she had found. “I don’t think he needs it anymore.”
Dexter glanced to where she pointed and saw the skeletal remains of someone that had been left to rot in the cell they now resided in. Bekka took the bone and tore off a strip of cloth from her cloak using her teeth and one hand. She directed Jenna to hold the bone beside his leg while she wrapped the cloth around it. She tied it as best she could and looked over at the skeleton.
“Let’s do it again,” she said. “Without a proper splint he’ll need as much reinforcement as possible.”
Jenna hurried over and grabbed another bone, the humerus, and returned so they could repeat the maneuver, though this time on the opposite side of his leg. Finished, she stepped back and Bekka gently lowered Rosh’s leg to the floor.
“How’s that, Rosh?” Bekka asked him softly.
“Next time remind me to bring the whiskey,” he said. He reached up and wiped some sweat from his face before looking down at his leg. “It feels better,” he said. “I think.”
“You’ll need a proper healer to keep it from festering,” she said. “But this should save the leg.”
“That’s a start,” he muttered, then began to pull himself across the floor on his butt until he could rest his back against the wall of the cell.
“Did the wizard survive?” Dexter wondered once Rosh was situated and the immediate danger seemed to be over.
“I don’t know,” Jenna said, leaning against the bars separating their cell from the hallway outside of it. “I dragged as many of you out as I could until I collapsed,” she said. She looked to Rosh and scowled at him, “you need to lose some weight, trying to save your heavy arse did me in.”
Rosh looked at her, ready to show some genuine appreciation, and noticed for the first time her state of undress. He leered at her instead, unable to stop himself.
Jenna muttered something in Elvish at him and looked away, prepared to ignore him as long as necessary. Dexter opened his mouth to say something to Rosh, but realized it would do little good. Dexter glanced over at Bekka and was surprised to see her taking in Jenna’s nudity as well. He shook his head and groaned at the pain it caused him; he only wished he felt well enough to appreciate the view himself.
“What of Jarnella and Keshira?” Dexter asked his elven arms mistress.
“Keshira helped me,” she grudgingly admitted. “I don’t know where she is now though.”
“Did she behave differently?” Bekka inquired.
“Differently?” Jenna asked, confused.
“Aye, I think that even though she was bonded to the captain, she was still linked to Ormitor as well. He was her father, after all.”
“Father?” Dexter asked, adding to the confusion.
“Well, maybe not father, but her creator,” Bekka conceded.
Jenna thought about it for a moment, remembering her brief discussion with the golem. Keshira had told her that she knew, through her bond with Dexter, that he cared for Jenna, and because of that Keshira would do as she bid her. Jenna shrugged, still needing to think about that revelation. “She might have been a little odd, but more than that I don’t know, there wasn’t enough time.”
Bekka nodded, lapsing into silent thought.
“So where in the void is she?” Dexter wondered. “And what’s happened to the ‘Hawk, Kragor, and Jodyne?”
“I have her.”
Everyone turned at the deep voice that rumbled through the room. It came from the hallway outside the cell. Before their eyes the air shimmered like that of a mirage in the desert and a man appeared. Or it resembled a man in many ways, save for a face totally devoid of any features. With no eyes or mouth, they had no idea where it was looking, nor did they know how it could be talking to them.
Nevertheless, it spoke again. The words emanated clearly in a powerful masculine voice, the source unknown. “She is my honored guest, as are you all,”
“Was he an honored guest as well?” Dexter asked, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure everyone could hear it within several city blocks. He was pointing at the skeletal remains of the former cell occupant.
“No,” the man said, his chuckle a constant. “Those are the remains of the former management.”
“Management? Where is we then?” Rosh asked, angry that he could not rise to his feet to face the faceless being. There was something more than disconcerting about the visage that bothered the warrior deeply.
“We,” their captor said, turning its head slightly as though it was gazing upon the wounded warrior. “are in the dungeons of Port Freedom. I am the sheriff of Port Freedom. You are…my guests.”
“You are Rolxoth then?” Jenna asked, overcoming her earlier surprise but stepping no closer to him. She had heard the name of the new marshal of the city watch before.
He turned back to face her directly. “I am he, you are from here?”
Jenna shook her head, nervous at the attention he was giving her. She had heard stories of a race of deadly beings that were said to be faceless. They were assassins, able to assume the guise of anyone. It was rumored they had strange powers as well, deep and dark things best left as stories to frighten children. Whatever he could do, she wanted none of it.
“I passed through once, many months back. I’ve never had cause to have business with the law,” she said.
Rolxoth chuckled. He seemed to turn and focus his attention on Dexter, something that made the captain more than a little disturbed. “You are their captain?”
Dexter nodded, then forced himself to ignore the protests his body made as he rose up to stand before the creature. “Dexter Silvercloud, Captain of the Voidhawk.”
“Well Captain Silvercloud, it would seem that you’re in a bit of a bind.”
Dexter glanced at the bars, then back to the watch captain. “Aye, that it does.’
“You tried to burn down my city,” it said.
Dexter shook his head. “That’s not really the way of it, the wizard, Ormitor-”
“Captain,” Rolxoth interrupted him, “I’m not interested in details. Who broke what deal, who attacked who… it’s pointless. What matters to me is that you caused a large estate to be burned nearly beyond repair, had it not been for the quick work of our fire prevention brigade. Additionally, a citizen that is in good standing has been reported missing.”
“By good standing I’m guessing you mean he pays healthy taxes?” Dexter asked, liking the direction things were heading less and less with each passing word.
Rolxoth chuckled again, a source less noise that was both ominous and nearly painful with how deep it was. “Yes, taxes do determ
ine the worth of a citizen, do they not?”
Dexter did not bother to answer the rhetorical question. “So if he was a prisoner,” he asked, gesturing at the skeleton, “what fate awaits your guests?”
“That all depends. As I said, details are trivial things. I’m interested in results. A small, neutral ship like yours might be able to produce such results.”
Dexter bristled. “So you want the Voidhawk in exchange for our freedom?”
Rolxoth’s chuckle was upgraded to a laugh, something that left them all nauseated. “Hardly, I am content with the spoils of Port Freedom.”
“So what do you want?” Dexter pressed, wishing he knew what to make of the sheriff and where the conversation was going. The ache in his back was causing him no small amount of dizziness and nausea as well, which fouled his mood all the more.
“I have heard tell of a fleet of ships that have taken interest in Port Freedom. I would like to know more about them. Do this for me and we can establish a friendship that might prove mutually beneficial in the future,” Rolxoth said.
It sounded simple enough, Dexter had to admit, but while Rolxoth may have claimed to be disinterested in details, the details of this agreement promised all types of misery. He saw Jenna staring at him, and the look on her face virtually pleaded with him to say no.
“What fleet?” Dexter asked. “And from where do they hail?”
Rolxoth’s tone implied a smile. “If I knew that, would I be asking you to find them for me?”
Dexter frowned. He glanced at his crew and then said, “What’s to stop me from agreeing then setting sail and never returning?”
Voidhawk Page 14
