It crashed onto the sand, digging in and sliding only a little. Nearly three feet of distance separated the two tables, an easy jump were it not for the freshly aggravated sand sharks that now moved between the tables and lashed out at the new platform they had established to walk on.
“That’s quite a jump,” Dexter observed, noting the distance between the tables.
Rosh grunted, breathing hard from his effort. “Ain’t that far,” he finally said.
“Aye, it’s not,” Dexter agreed. “But when these things are trying to chew a piece out of your hide, to the moon and back without a ship!”
Rosh shrugged, unable to deny his Captain’s observation. He looked down at the distance and backed up so that he stood directly in front of Dexter. “You want to go first this time?”
“Not really,” Dexter said.
“You’re the Captain, ain’t you supposed to lead?”
Dexter frowned but had to acknowledge the large man’s logic, such as it was. “Fine, but don’t think I’m not telling the others about this!”
Rosh grinned. “Fine by me, Cap.”
Dexter slipped in front of Rosh and the large man edged back towards the dais to give him room to run. Dexter sprang forward, taking two strides and leaping into the air. He pulled his feet as high as he could as soon as they left the ground, and only barely managed to avoid stumbling and falling when he landed on the far table.
Two of the sand sharks had leapt into the air, their jaws clamping shut on air behind the man’s passage. Rosh was moving before they sank back into the sand, sinking into it as though it was water. He leapt between the two, also pulling his feet up, and landed only slightly more gracefully than Dexter had. He also bumped into the man, which caused him to teeter precariously for a moment before he reclaimed his balance.
“You could have waited,” Dexter admonished him.
“Didn’t want them to be ready for me,” Rosh said, watching the roiling sand suspiciously.
“You nearly pushed me off!”
“I’d grab ya,” Rosh offered, smiling.
Dexter opened his mouth to scold him but stopped when something in the room changed. They had not noticed any background noise, but the sudden absence of it struck them both as very odd. They looked at one another and then around them, staring at the sand first. The dust that had risen from the frenzied thrashing of the sand settled and revealed a landscape unmarred by vibration or movement.
“They stopped,” Rosh muttered.
Dexter stared at him for a long minute, his expression one of disbelief.
“What?” Rosh asked, seeing Dexter looking at him.
Dexter just shook his head. He was amazed at the man’s ability to state the obvious and just let it go at that. Instead Dexter knelt down and leaned closer to the sand. “Could be a trap,” he suggested.
Rosh raised an eyebrow, he had not thought of that.
“Why would they just leave us be?” Dexter wondered aloud, letting his hand slowly drift over the open sand beyond the table.
Rosh watched, grimacing silently as he expected one of the creatures to burst upwards and swallow Dexter’s hand. The creature never came, and instead Dexter waved his hand over the sand in a slow gentle arc unmolested.
“Let’s get that other table moved over here,” Dexter said excitedly, rising up from where he had knelt.
Rosh turned to look at it and frowned. “Ain’t gonna be easy, they chewed all the legs off. Nothing to grab on to now.”
Dexter looked at it and frowned as well. “Could pick it up by the edge of the table,” he offered.
“You first,” Rosh said, knowing full well how fast the creatures had been and what he was sure they could do to fingers.
“I could order you,” Dexter said. “I’m still your Captain.”
Rosh chuckled. “Aye, and I could toss you into the sand. I’m still bigger than you.”
Dexter scowled but had to admit that the man was right. “Didn’t say I was going to,” he offered by way of a peace offering.
Rosh grinned and clapped Dexter on the shoulder. “Me neither, Cap.”
“So how we going to get over there? I judge it a fair five feet to the stairs still,” Rosh asked him.
“We run, I guess,” Dexter offered.
“You guess?” Rosh echoed. “I thought you was the Captain? I thought you had these things figured out?”
It was Dexter’s turn to grin. “I figured it out… we run. Now back up you big lug, I want a head start.”
Rosh backed up so that Dexter could have a couple of steps on the table before he leapt into the sand. Rosh glanced behind him, suspicious still of the quiet landscape. When he looked back Dexter started his run.
The Voidhawk’s Captain cleared three feet in the air, and managed to spring the last couple of feet off of the single foot he planted in the sand. Other than the impression his foot left in the sand, there was no sign of his passage nor of the sand sharks.
“Come on!” Dexter said, moving up the stairs enough for Rosh to join him.
Rosh took a deep breath and, with a last nervous glance around, ran and jumped. He, too, made it to the stairs with no sign of pursuit or aggression. He looked back in amazement, wondering why they had stopped all of a sudden and let them be.
“Hurry, we need to be getting back to the ‘Hawk,” Dexter said, starting up the stairs again.
Rosh nodded and followed him, letting the strangeness of the room slip from his mind. Instead he thought forward to wondering if Bailynn had learned anything new and if she was ready for him to teach her some private lessons yet. He grinned as he thought of just what some of those lessons would involve.
They emerged from the ruined tower and stared around, seeing no sign of the Voidhawk. “Um, where’s the ship?” Rosh asked, snapping out of his lustful reveries immediately.
Dexter looked around, eyes scanning the void, and found that he could not answer. He wanted to, but the absence of his ship left him with an equal loss of words.
“Cap, there’s a trail over here,” Rosh said, pointing out several worn rocks and scuffed marks on the ground.
Dexter stared dully at where Rosh was pointing, not understanding the point the man was trying to make. “Might be worth checking out,” Rosh suggested.
Dexter stared at it a moment longer then nodded. He felt empty at the abandonment of his ship. He knew that Kragor, Jenna, and the others would never mutiny on him. Well, Rosh might, he reasoned, for the right price or opportunity, but the others would never do it. Keshira was bound to him, it was impossible for her to betray him. So where in the reaches of the void were they?
Rosh led the way down the trail, which made its way directly across the asteroid and went over the edge of it, by means of some stairs. The stairs changed their orientation, which made both men momentarily nauseas, but they found that it took place at the same time that they passed through the gravity plane on the asteroid, so it kept them upright even though they found themselves upside down from where they should have been.
“This rock’s like a ship,” Rosh said, surprised.
Dexter grunted, in no mood to talk. It was odd though, he had to admit.
Ascending the stairs on the bottom of the asteroid they soon beheld a sight that left both of them standing in surprise. A small dock had been constructed on the far side, with ports for two small to mid-size ships. A wooden shed was constructed nearby, though the door could be seen to have been smashed in. More importantly, a small boat was moored to the dock. It had been mistreated much like the shed, but the vessel, some homemade contraption resembling a cross between a rowboat and a stagecoach, looked to still be sound. The wheels were broken, some missing rungs while others had been shattered entirely, but the actual boat itself seemed intact.
The castaways rushed towards it, thoughts of their situation no longer bleak and hopeless. Rosh veered into the shed, looking for anything of worth that had been left behind, while Dexter circled the boat before makin
g his way up to the broken decking. Rosh emerged from the shed holding a broken piece of wood. He tossed it to the side and made his way over the treacherous footing of the broken gangplanks up to the boat.
“Got yourself a new boat?” Rosh asked with a grin.
Dexter emerged from doorway in the front to the pilots seat on the front and shot Rosh a dark look. “She’ll fly, but the sail’s been cut up and there’s supposed to be a sail off the bow too.”
Rosh turned to look at the front of the boat. He saw no obvious placement for a sail, just a beam that looked to have been hacked through and broken off. “Where’d it go?” Rosh asked.
Dexter leaned forward to point to the ground beneath the ship. The rest of the beam lay down there, some fifteen foot of it, along with a collapsed sail and several ropes that had been cut or snapped.
“Oh,” Rosh said, scratching his chin. “Well how’s it gonna fly without sails?”
“That’s where we come in, my friend,” Dexter said with a grin. “We need to fix it up so we can find the ‘Hawk.”
Rosh stared at the broken beam and sighed. “Ain’t no talking you into waiting it out for them to come back?”
Dexter shook his head. “Ain’t no coming back, Rosh. There was a trap set for us here, why else would Kragor disappear like that.”
“Maybe he wanted the ship for his self,” Rosh offered, knowing there was no chance the dwarf would do such a thing.
Dexter’s look was all that needed to be said. Rosh shrugged and made his way back down the planking to try and pick up the beam. Dexter stayed up top and waited for the man to toss up a rope he had looped around it. The rope he had carried in his pack, and the sheer effort of lifting the heavy wooden beam he supplied once he climbed back up to the decking. Between Rosh and Dexter, they managed to hoist the beam back up and tie it off, then they began working on trying to repair it.
Rosh hurried off to the shed and returned later with a few handfuls of iron nails and a hammer. They used broken wood from the gangplank to secure the beam back in place as best they could, then Dexter climbed up and, tying the broken ends of the ropes together where possible, he ran the lines. Before long he ran out of rope and they had to use what Rosh had brought with him.
The main sail remained ripped, but the damage was not so severe that it could not be used. It would not allow the ship to make top speed, but it would assist the helm. The front sail, more a spinnaker than anything else, would aid them greatly considering the condition of the main sail.
“Rosh, climb aboard, it’s time,” Dexter said after retying a line for the third time.
Rosh studied the haphazardly repaired vessel and shook his head. With a sigh that turned into a chuckle he climbed aboard, muttering something about dying on a derelict. Dexter ignored him and instead settled into the pilot’s seat. He felt his consciousness merge with the ship and fought the strange sensation that overcame him. It had been a while since he had flown anything but the Voidhawk.
They lifted free of the damaged docks and, although a bit unsteady, Dexter managed to bring the tub into space safely. The area was largely clear of any debris or rocks, so he was able to get his bearings about him and come to terms with the sluggish response the boat had.
“Tactical only,” Dexter mumbled for Rosh’s benefit. “If we’re not finding the ‘Hawk, we’re spaced.”
Rosh grunted and hopped up to the top of the coach so he could man the mainsail as needed. Dexter brought the ship around to the topside of the asteroid and there the drifted a moment, searching the void around them.
“Where to?” Rosh asked, seeing nothing.
Dexter thought it over, still unfamiliar with the boat he piloted and distracted somewhat because of it. He shrugged at last and said, “Deeper in to the rocks. Kragor wouldn’t abandon us,” he reasoned. “So he must have been chased off. I’m for betting he ran into the rocks, hoping they’d be slowing down whatever was after him.”
Rosh grunted again and offered no further response. Dexter took it as an agreement, and started the boat into the asteroid field. Rosh loosened and retied the mainsail to catch the solar wind and push them in the direction Dexter had chosen.
* * * *
Keshira strained against the ropes that surrounded her. Her hands had been tied, then her arms had been secured to her body. Her ankles and legs had been tied as well, further restricting her movement. Her clothing had been torn from her then, once the ropes were securely in place, so her captors could see what sort of price she might fetch them. They stared at her greedily, thinking both of the wealth she might bring and also of owning her for themselves.
She was put in a room by herself, as instructed by a human barking orders to the others. He had the look of an outlaw, scruffy beard and large hat included. Keshira’s talent at seeing magical auras allowed her to realize that he was a mage of some sort as well.
Keshira could still feel her bond with Dexter. He was alive and well, though distant. She wanted to be near him, but did not know what it was that he wanted. He could tell her, of course, but he did not know that. Even from a distance he could communicate with her through their bond, but he did not know how and had never asked her. For the first time in her short life, Keshira understood frustration.
She suspected that, with time, she could work herself free of the ropes holding her. By herself she knew she could not win their freedom. Against a handful of the pirates, she had no doubt she would win. Against the numbers that had already came at them she knew she was destined to fail again.
They overwhelmed her when they realized their weapons did little to her. The sheer weight of their bodies held Keshira down until they lashed ropes around her. She had bloodied many of them, and slain more than a few as well. Ultimately they proved resistance was futile. The fact that capturing her had cost them dearly meant nothing to her, for she remained captured.
Keshira considered freeing the others if she escaped. Doing so would amount to little good, considering the lot of them had not been able to win their freedom in the first battle. The hopelessness of her situation left her feeling empty and angry. If only her Captain would show some sign of caring for them. Instead he remained far away, still on the asteroid.
Keshira felt something then. Something deep inside of her. She felt a great sadness and grief that shocked her. It came not from within her but from her bond to her Captain. He was no closer, but she did feel his despair. She longed to comfort him and to be there for him, so that she might take away his pain. Wordlessly her lips moved, crying out silently with the emotions she felt from him.
Miserably, she lay naked and bound on the floor for many long minutes, until suddenly the feelings of grief gave way to a surge of hope and determination. It waxed and stayed strong, reassuring her with its strength. After too long for her to measure, an hour or more at the least, she suddenly felt the distance between them closing. She could feel her Captain getting closer.
Keshira smiled in the dark cell; her Captain was coming for her.
* * * *
Jenna heard the approach of their captors down the hallway first. She waved at Bailynn, who lay deceptively quiet on the floor along the wall the door opened up against, then arranged herself in the middle of the room in a pose that made lewd and indecent pale in comparison. Both feigned unconsciousness.
The footsteps slowed to a stop outside of their room. Beady eyes peered through the barred window and chuckled at seeing Jenna arranged as she was. “Look,” the owner of the eyes grunted harshly. “She’ll be a good whore, laying like that!”
The first person moved aside so another could look, and his laughter joined in. Something heavy, no doubt a wooden beam, was dragged out of its rests where it barred the door and the door opened outwards. One of the figures stepped inside carrying a bowl with something that smelled far from nutritious. He revealed himself to be a half-orc, while his partner behind him was a full blooded orc.
He glanced at Bailynn and dismissed her, then bent ove
r to rest the bowl on the floor. He drew back his foot to kick Jenna when Bailynn exploded into action with a ferocity that matched her earlier attempt, when bound, to reach Rosh on the Voidhawk.
The wisp of a girl flew across the room, looking every bit as fearsome as she had when she had come for Jenna. Catching the half-orc unawares, she crashed into him and clamped her teeth down on his throat, ripping and tearing the flesh and meat away. Her fingers speared into his shoulder and chest, parting the skin and seeking for his lifeblood.
The orc recoiled, stunned by the sudden and vicious attack. He tried to back up, the thought of calling for help only beginning to enter his mind. Jenna was up already though, lunging at him and driving her forearm into his throat, silencing him. He retched and tried to stumble away from her, but she pursued him, lashing out with kicks and punches that, while largely ineffective, kept him on the defensive.
The orc pulled up a cudgel that hung from his side, realizing he had a weapon. He raised it and swung at her, now confident with a weapon in his hand. Jenna ducked under the club and kicked him in the groin as hard as she could. The orc gasped for breath and tried to stumble backwards. His legs turned to jelly and instead he ended up falling on his back. The pirate curled into a fetal position; he was unable to otherwise deal with the pain that overwhelmed him.
Jenna grabbed up his club and beat him with it, breaking bones in his hands and arms and then face and skull. She looked up after a long moment, realizing she had lost herself in her wanton butchery, and looked around. Bailynn was watching her, a fearful expression on her face. The expression was out of place, considering the blood that was still wet around her lips and chin.
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