Without a crew to assist, Jenna strained to find the means of launching the ship from the helm. Something as massive as the ship she was in would be a clumsy process undertaken only by the most skilled of pilots with a full crew. Jenna had only a few weeks of practice many years ago on a tiny sporting yacht her father had purchased for her. Her attempted launch was slow and reckless. The ropes and wooden beams still attached to the ship creaked and groaned, then twisted and snapped away.
It slowly gained speed, bouncing off of tree limbs at first and then bending and snapping them as she wrestled control of it. She heard shouts and screams from other elves, many of them on the ship she’d stolen and some from the trees of the port below her. She fought the stabbing pain in her head from the helm and forced the ship up and away from the fort. Someone was hammering at the door, trying to force it open. She knew she had minutes or less.
The ship became easier to pilot a moment later when it cleared the gravity well of Fort Prudence. Jenna allowed herself a grim smile and a breath of relief, then bent her will to bringing the leviathan around. A heavier thud and the sound of wood cracking alerted her to the imminent breaching of her sanctuary. Teeth gritted, she stopped worrying about rotating the ship and, instead, focused on driving it back towards Fort Prudence.
“Captain Peylinder’s dead!” Someone shouted. The door had been opened enough to let them see that much. More grunts of exertion followed and soon an elf managed to squeeze through the door.
The elf pulled himself to his feet and stared at Jenna on the helm. He pulled a knife free from his belt just as she pointed at him with her pistol and pulled the trigger. He slumped to the ground, holding the wound in his belly that darkened his pale skin with blood.
The door was pushed open enough for other elves to rush in. Jenna leapt free from the helm and threw her short sword at them, making the one in the lead cringe. By the time he’d finished cursing and straightened, Jenna ran him through with her rapier. She turned and fled, running to the open window and climbing through it before the other elves could clear the tangle of limbs at the door. Braced against the underside of the ship she waited until she judged the distance to be close, then jumped from the side, her feet propelling her away from it and adding to the boost given by the vessels gravity field as she fell toward the gravity plane.
She knew when she cleared it by the sudden lack of sound. She could hear herself breathing in the tiny bubble of atmosphere that surrounded her, but other than that it was deathly silent. In spite of the excitement and her exertions, Jenna worked hard to calm her breathing. She had half an hour of air, perhaps less, surrounding her. She managed to shift herself around as she floated in the void and watched as the elven ship she’d briefly commandeered tore through limbs and trees alike and slammed into the ground of Fort Prudence, knocking everyone to their feet and causing more than a few of the other docked ships to shift or even break free and fall themselves.
She smiled grimly, then forced her thoughts to turn to Dexter. The sudden agony that filled her at the image of his smiling face in her head caused her to gasp. She wanted to change what she’d done. She wanted to be there, with him. If death awaited them she was okay with it, if only she could see him one more time. Anything would have been better than the lonely consignment to the void she’d doomed herself with.
*****
Xander and Bailynn boarded the scout ship without any initial problem. As soon as one of the four elves on board called out to them in elvish their luck changed. Bailynn struggled for a moment, trying to piece together the half-learned elvish language she’d picked up over the years, but the delay was too much. The elf’s eyes narrowed and he drew his pistol before approaching them.
Xander held up his hands slowly, muttering an incantation as he did so. He finished and exhaled the rest of his breath forcefully, blowing at the elf. The magic of his spell took the current and magnified it beyond that of even a minor gust. The elf was buffeted by the wind and thrown back into the mast. He tripped on a coil of rope on the deck and dropped his pistol. Bailynn was on him before he could climb back to his feet.
The other elves came running, one emerging from the small cabin on the back of the ship that housed the helm. Xander was prepared this time and caught the next one with a spell that caused the ropes lying across the deck to entangle the feet of two of them as they ran. The third, the pilot, Bailynn struck from the side as she leapt out from where she was crouching near the small ship’s rail.
Shouts went up around them. Xander cursed and ran to the back, counting on Bailynn to deal with the elves on the deck and ready the ship. He paused after he jumped over the two now thoroughly bound elves, looking around to realize the elves were pointing and shouting at the large ship a few tiers above him. He looked up and saw it slowly pulling away, then gaining speed and crushing anything that got in its way.
“Why’d we get the little one?” He wondered aloud, then the sound of a sickening crunch behind him made him remember their mission.
He hurried back into the small cabin and settled into the helm, quickly adapting to the small ship. His increased awareness allowed him to know when Bailynn had thrown the lines and disposed of the bodies. He lifted it carefully free, with Bailynn helping to trim the rigging, and put it quickly up and away from the organic dock.
It seemed just in time. He heard the thunderous sounds of the elven warship colliding with the base, even though his awareness was limited to the limited gravity field surrounding the small scout ship. A few seconds later they slipped free of Fort Prudence’s gravity well and atmosphere. The sounds died away to the gentle slapping of rope and sail and the creaking of wood.
“Xander!” Bailynn hissed from the deck.
Now free of the gravity well, Xander slipped off the helm and let the ship float in the void. He stepped out onto the deck and gasped at the sight below them. Fort Prudence lay in shattered ruins. The ship Jenna had stolen was strung about in pieces, some no larger than shattered timbers. Other ships had been pulverized by it, or knocked free of their berths by the force of the impact. Several of Fort Prudence’s trees were stripped of limbs or bent and broken. Deep cracks ran through the ground of the elven base, and the dirt was dislodged and plowed into a massive heap where the crashing ship had landed.
“Jenna!” Xander whispered, both in admiration at the devastation she had wrought and in dismay at her own demise.
Bailynn looked away from the Fort. Xander thought the girl was distraught by the site, and he went to comfort her. She ignored him as he approached though, and instead stared off into space.
“There!” She said, pointing into the void. “Take us there – quickly!”
“What? There’s nothing over there,” he protested.
“Jenna’s there!” She insisted.
Rather than ask how she knew, Xander nodded and headed back to the helm. Bailynn sprang to the sail and began to quickly pull the ropes and swing it around to catch the solar winds. In a few moments they were underway, with Bailynn calling out course corrections.
They found the elven princess floating and looking sickly a few minutes later. Bailynn tossed her a rope and pulled her aboard. In a move that surprised the both of them, the former elven slayer threw her arms around her and hugged her tightly.
Jenna fought back the illness of breathing her own soiled air and let the girl hold her. She returned the hug with a smile that barely began to display the relief she felt. The wet trails of tears on her cheeks gave further evidence of it. Finally she felt her head clear enough to ask her how they had found her.
“My ring,” Bailynn said, smiling. “I can feel it, even when it’s not being used I know of it.”
Jenna nodded, having forgotten all about Bailynn’s control ring that the girl had asked her to guard. “Would you like it back?”
Bailynn shook her head and bit her lip. “Not yet,” she said. “Not until we’re free of this place.”
Jenna smiled. “It’s a deal. No tellin
g when I might do something stupid again and need rescuing.”
“Now what?” Xander asked, stepping out of the cabin again after having missed the tender moment shared by the two women.
“Now we go rescue Dexter,” Jenna said, turning and surveying the small craft. “Bring us back under the fort, I’ll see what we’ve got we can use on here.”
Bailynn jumped back to tend the rigging while Xander nodded and resumed his place at the helm. Unspoken, each of them was secretly worrying about the effects the impact of the warship would have upon the tunnels that Dexter and crew were in. They stayed busy to deal with the anxiety, Jenna finding a small cache of rope and weapons. She replaced her lost short sword with a new one of elven make and loaded the six pistols she found.
*****
Rosh walked alongside the elven commander, towering over the elf but still feeling out of his element. The commander turned to one of the other elven soldiers and spoke to him in elvish. He turned and walked away; causing Rosh to follow him as they turned out of the hallway the cells had been in and entered a larger room. On a table lay piled the weapons that had been taken from the Voidhawk’s crew.
“What was that?” Rosh asked.
“What? Oh – I told him to ready a ship for you,” answered the elf.
Rosh grunted, smiling triumphantly. He forced any thoughts from his mind about the others. After all, Dexter kept throwing surprises at him and he had a right to know what he was sticking his neck into. This would teach him!
“Of course you’ll be my guest until we bring the Voidhawk in and secure it,” he added.
Rosh nodded. It made sense, he supposed. He’d love nothing more than to get out of elven territory, but a deal was a deal and—
Rosh stared around numbly, wondering what had happened. He blinked and shook his head, forcing his vision to clear up and for things to make sense. Soon enough he heard people crying out, although he could understand none of it. He was on his side, with blood running down his scalp and a broken piece of wood from a nearby weapon rack lying next to him.
He rolled over, distant secondary crashes and tremors rocking the room. Dirt from the ceiling fell, covering him in a fine layer in places. Other portions of the room suffered greater cave ins, though none so great as to bury any portion of it. Rosh rose to his feet unsteadily, finding his legs just as confused as his mind was.
The elven commander had risen as well and was shouting in elvish. Rosh expected he was demanding to know what had happened. He looked at Rosh at one point and scowled, then gestured at him. Two elves, one with a nasty gash on his arm and the other uninjured, drew swords and approached.
“Hey, I didn’t do that. No need to get uppity,” Rosh said, backing up until the back of his legs bumped into something. He glanced back and saw the table with his gear on it, though two of the legs had broken off and most of their stuff had slid onto the floor.
“Thought we had a deal!” Rosh called out to the elf in charge. He had forgotten Rosh already and was moving towards another passage that led out of the room.
Rosh bent down and picked up the first thing his hands identified as a hilt. He stood up and held it in front of him defensively. He glanced down at it, surprised at how well balanced it felt in his hands, even though he was accustomed to a larger a weapon. He held Dexter’s magical blade.
“Only one thing worse than a man that breaks a deal,” he said as the elves split up and moved to circle him so one could be at his back.
The elves ignored him, either because they didn’t speak his language or because they had no intentions of listening to him. Rosh grinned and took some practice swings, keeping them at bay.
“An elf,” he said with a vicious grin. He could care less whether they understood him or not, what was important to him was that he was lashing out.
He kicked back with one leg, sending the broken table skidding towards one of the elves. Using the same motion he launched himself forward and swung, battering the elf’s sword out of the way and driving his fist into the elf’s nose. The elf fell, blood exploding from his face. Rosh spun around, swinging the sword in a backhand slice that caught the other elf halfway up his chest. Between the blades keen edge and the strength of the warrior holding it, the elf fell to the dirt floor in two pieces.
“Woah,” Rosh said, holding up the blade and admiring it.
“Rosh!”
Rosh turned, wondering who was calling to him. It sounded more like a snarl than a regular voice, but there was no mistaking his name. He saw Logan push an elf into a wall, hard, and turned away even as the elf crumpled.
Rosh looked around; some of the elves remained dazed while others had fled down passages. A few looked back at him but after seeing him dispatch the two elves that had attacked him, they showed no interest in aggression. He weighed his options carefully and realized quickly that he only had one. Rosh scooped up as many of the other weapons as he could, including his own massive sword, and hurried after Logan.
They went down the side passage that allowed access to the cells they’d been placed in. The passage ended after nearly a dozen cells. All but two had open doorways, although the second archway had been opened forcibly. Rosh stared at it, impressed and at a loss for an explanation. The thick organic door had tear marks in it, as though it had been shredded from within.
“Captain!” Logan called out loudly, facing the doors. “Willa?”
Muffled cries responded from behind the two still closed doors. “Stand back!” Logan called to them, then looked around nervously.
Mistaking his look, Rosh stepped forward. “Look out,” he grunted, then thrust Dexter’s sword through the organic door.
The door resisted, but his great strength combined with the magical blade to prevail. After a few minutes of sawing he managed to open it up enough for Dexter to climb out. Dexter looked at the two of them and glanced around, noting the condition of the other cells without a word. Rosh moved away and repeated the performance on Willa’s cell door.
Dexter cleared his throat after a few seconds of Willa wrapping her arms thankfully around Rosh's barrel-like chest. When Rosh didn’t look back at him he said, “Rosh? Our weapons?”
Willa let him go, her face flushing, and Rosh turned around. His eyes darted quickly away from Dexter’s gaze after only a short moment. “Sorry,” he muttered, handing the weapon to Dexter. “Nice sword you got there.”
The other weapons the big man had dumped on the floor. Everybody rearmed themselves quickly and turned to Dexter for direction.
“Back to the bottom,” Dexter said, leading the way down the passage.
“That’s it? We’re just pissing ourselves and running?” Rosh spurted out before he could stop himself.
“You see any golden statues on the way you be sure and grab one,” Dexter said flippantly.
Rosh shut his mouth and followed them out, taking the rear. They hurried down the tunnels, finding no resistance along the way. A few minor cave-ins slowed them down, but at no point were any of the passages completely blocked off. They also noticed the deeper they got, the less sign of dirt there was.
“What happened?” Willa asked at one point.
Nobody answered for a long minute. Finally Dexter said, “Jenna. I expect she finally let her temper blow.” His voice was quiet, hiding the anxiety he felt over just what had happened to her and the others.
Logan chuckled and even Rosh smirked. Willa frowned, but said nothing else. They moved on and soon came to the central hub where the Garden of Life waited. They circled it warily, all of them sensing a malevolent spirit within the midst of it. The trees and vines within seemed to follow them as they walked around it, yearning for a chance to touch them.
“What happened to Zhirt?” Willa asked, remembering the half-elf that had led them there in the first place.
“The Garden ate him,” Logan answered.
“What?” Dexter and Rosh both said, coming to a stop and staring at the vegetation with a new look.
/> “It is an evil thing,” he said, raising both of his hands to his chest and holding them in an ‘X’ across his heart, thumbs against his shirt so they were flat. “I meditated in my cell seeking a solution. I saw in it how it feeds on other life, drawing out the energy and using it as the means of moving this place through the void.”
Rosh gasped while Willa gaped at it. It had looked dark before, but now the Garden of Life looked menacing. Dexter shook his head and turned away. “Let’s go,” he said.
“Captain, we should destroy it,” Willa pleaded.
“How we going to do that?” He asked, turning on her. He looked to the others and again Rosh quickly dropped his eyes when they met. Dexter stared at him for an uncomfortable minute longer before speaking. “Thing is we can’t. We don’t have the time to be cutting trees down, nor the tools. We got no fire and I expect it’d take a mighty hot one to do much harm to that place.”
Logan nodded in agreement to Dexter’s prediction.
“So we get out of this cursed place before whatever happened up there is done happening and the elves come back,” he said.
Dexter turned and took a few steps before he realized no one else had moved. He turned back.
“Why’d we come?” Rosh asked, staring at the Garden. He turned and looked at Dexter, forcing himself to hold his gaze. “You knew it was a trap – knew some of us might not be up to doing it too. So why take the job?”
“We got paid,” Dexter growled, holding up the pouch of money he’d pick-pocketed from Zhirt when they crawled through the tunnels into Fort Prudence. “And we ain’t dead yet! That’s all you care about, so what’s it matter?”
Rosh opened his mouth to retort, but then looked away, trying to hide the shame that was coloring his cheeks. “Fine, let’s go,” he grumbled, urging Willa on.
Voidhawk: The Elder Race Page 5
