Voidhawk: The Elder Race

by Jason Halstead

  “Then we use it,” Rosh said, looking out and away from the frozen lovers and over the courtyard below. “Keep the light at your back and hold these stairs!”

  “Hold them from what?” Xander asked. “We’ve seen no one this entire time.”

  “Your ears gone pansy like the rest of ya?” Rosh asked him gruffly. “Them elves are a coming and from how busted up their ships was, they ain’t gonna be none too happy to see us!”

  “You’re leaving the Voidhawk for the taking?” Jodyne asked sharply.

  “They ain’t wanting that, they want her,” Rosh said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards Jenna.

  “How long?” Willa asked.

  Rosh shrugged, then realized they probably would have trouble seeing it. “Keshira damn near ran our legs off getting here, an she knew the way. They was still coming down when we was coming.”

  “An hour, maybe more,” Xander reasoned.

  “Keshira come up here,” Bekka called down, her tone questioning.

  “I’m waiting,” Keshira said to them, though she did not appear to understand why or to agree with it.

  Rosh cursed and motioned for her to join them. She hurried up the stairs and walked up to Dexter and Jenna, though none of the others could look directly at her to see what she was doing. She stepped away a moment later, looking no less agitated.

  “Now we wait,” Logan said. “And pray.”

  “You go ahead,” Rosh said to the priest. “Ain’t gonna be any worse than holding onto a shiny rock.”

  Chapter 4 – The Altar of Freedom

  “What is your relation to the girl?”

  Dexter looked around, crouching as though he expected an attack at any moment. He saw nothing but an overpowering glowing whiteness. Even his skin and clothes looked washed out by the ambient light that bathed him. He had no point of reference nor could he identify the source of the voice that seemed to come from all around him.

  “Who are you?” Dexter dared to ask, straightening up defiantly.

  “What is your relation to the girl?” The voice repeated in the same tone and pitch.

  Dexter frowned. He looked around again, going so far as to turn in a complete circle and even look above him. Whiteness was everywhere.

  “Do you mean Jenna?” He asked. “She’s my… my first mate,” he said, wincing as he said as much. There was more, much more, but whoever was questioning him had no right to know that. Besides, a Captain shouldn’t get involved with his crew, everyone knew that.

  “You have multiple consorts? She ranks the highest?” The voice asked again.

  “What?” Dexter sputtered, taken off guard. “No! That’s not what I meant!”

  “Explain.”

  “This’d be a might easier if I knew who I was talking to,” he parleyed, trying to gain some time to think and a face to judge his opponent by.

  “I am the Guardian of the Elders,” the voice said. “You live at my sufferance.”

  “Now see here, that’s a lousy way to meet new people. Now I know better than to play cards with you,” Dexter quipped, using the mindless banter as an excuse to continue to try and pierce the blinding whiteness around him.

  The silence stretched on, giving Dexter all the time he wanted to search for any distinguishable mark in the distance. He saw nothing, no walls nor ceiling nor floor, though he stood upon something that felt solid enough to him. Finally he shrugged and decided to play along. “Jenna is the second in command of my ship. I’m the Captain.”

  “She is not your consort?”

  Dexter ground his teeth in frustration. “I don’t see that being any concern to you,” he said testily.

  “Answer.”

  “She’s no consort,” Dexter said, his voice raising angrily. “She’s… she’s special.”

  “You are lovers?”

  Dexter sighed. “None of your damned business,” he grumbled. He was annoyed not only by his helplessness, but also by the neutral manner of the voice. It was almost as if he was having a conversation with Keshira when she had first emerged from her box. It seemed lifeless, in spite of the evidence to the contrary.

  “Do you love her?”

  “You mind sharing why my love life’s got you so uppity?” The Captain countered.

  “Do you love her?”

  “Do you have a point to all this?”

  “Do you love her?”

  Dexter growled and threw his head back in frustration. He spun around and tried to take a step. Instantly his feet locked up on him, frozen in place. He gasped, then found the magical paralysis spread to his other extremities just as quickly.

  “Do you love her?”

  “Yes!” Dexter spat out, yelling the answer loudly. “Now show your damn self!”

  The voice did not answer. Dexter struggled against the paralysis, only to find found himself free of it. He stumbled and fell to the indefinable surface beneath him. He looked up, rising to his knee quickly, and saw a figure approaching him at a run. Crying out in shock, he reached for his sword and found it missing. His other weapons were gone as well. He stood, bracing himself to fight with tooth and nail.

  The figure grappled with him, bowling him over even though it was lighter than him. He grunted and fell, buried in the familiar embrace and smell of his first mate. Even next to him it was hard to make out her features, but there was no mistaking the feel and sounds she made.

  “Oh Dex!” She cried, clinging to him and kissing him repeatedly. “Thank you!” She finally managed to say, then said it a few more times for good measure.

  “I’ll be sure to do nothing the next time we’re in bed if you’re to be this appreciative,” he muttered between the interruptions caused by her lips.

  “I stand as Guardian of the Elders until someone is sent to rouse them from their slumber. You have passed the first challenge and have been found suitable. Do you accept this task?”

  “What’s he talking about?” Dexter asked the elven woman atop him.

  “I don’t know,” Jenna admitted. “The elders must be the elves I told you about. If they’re asleep then this is our chance to wake them up!”

  “Why would we be wanting to do that?” Dexter asked bluntly.

  Jenna stared at him, surprised. She glanced away and then back to him before responding. “Dex… they were powerful and different. They could change things… change the elves.”

  “Or make them that much worse,” he pointed out.

  She nodded, biting her lip in a show of grudging acceptance of the possibility he had submitted. “Okay, maybe, but what if…”

  “Yeah, what if,” he echoed. He turned to address the whiteness around them. “There a reward in this for waking them up?”

  “Dexter!” Jenna gasped, admonishing him.

  He squeezed her side gently and winked at her, but otherwise said nothing. After a few moments of no response, he sighed. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to ask,” he said.

  Jenna shook her head. “Greedy,” she said.

  He shrugged again but smiled. “Got a ship full of hungry mouths to feed.”

  She rolled her eyes without sharing his mirth.

  “Alright, yes, I’ll take your task,” Dexter said.

  “Do you accept this task?”

  “What the…” Dexter said, confused. “I just said I’d-“

  Jenna pushed her fingers to his lips gently. “Dex, hush,” she said. “We’re both needed for this, I think, since it questioned both of us.”

  “Oh… but…”

  “You’re still the Captain… Sir,” she said with a smile.

  Dexter scowled at her but said nothing. “Yes, I accept this task. We accept the task.”

  “Restore the star and bring warmth to the elders. That alone can rouse them.”

  “How in the void are we to do that?” Dexter asked incredulously. “Can’t just be striking some flint and steel to it, now can we?”

  “Great power must be used to undo the damage that has been done.”<
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  “That’s it?” Dexter asked, incredulous. No more was forthcoming. Instead he found both himself and Jenna suddenly overwhelmed by the brightness again. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep his eyes open. It was everything, blinding him through the eyelids and hands that he tried to shield his eyes with. He reached out for Jenna but grabbed only air. Then he was falling, his hands striking a solid measurable ground but not serving to arrest his fall before the air was driven from his lungs.

  “Dexter!” He heard Jenna cry out. He heard other things as well, though his vision still swam with phantom shadows of white light. A clash of steel against steel, a grunt, someone swearing, a scream, and then it all started over again. He pulled himself away from it, sliding on the ground until his back hit something cool and hard. The door, he realized, it had to be the door.

  “The Captain and Jenna are back!”

  Dexter turned his head, trying to find who’d spoken. It sounded like Bekka, but everything was still so white and washed out, he could not be certain. A curse and a roar identified Rosh for him, nearby but obviously busy. Another wail of pain from the same direction identified whatever or whoever Rosh was fighting. Dexter reached around to orient himself better and struggled to stand.

  Someone grabbed him, a warm but small hand he knew to be Jenna’s. She squeezed his arm and clung to him, preventing him from rising. She tried to speak but her words were drowned out by a noise that sounded like nothing so much as a strong wind. A moment later a wave of heat washed over him, causing him to pull Jenna to him while he tried to shield her from whatever flames were soon to come. They never arrived; instead things cooled down quickly and he found himself able to see shapes again, though they were blurred and only close up.

  “Could use a little help here Cap’n,” Rosh yelled out, then cursed again at the sound of steel striking steel.

  Dexter struggled to rise again, this time pulling Jenna with him. He looked around, gaping as he tried to force the soft edges and shapes into focus. Blinking furiously seemed to help. As his vision began to swim into focus he stared in shock at the scene before him. The brilliant light from the diamond was gone, though enough ambient light remained to show a scene delivered from a slaughterhouse.

  Rosh was bleeding from dozens of cuts and scrapes, some serious enough to have maimed or killed a lesser man. Instead he stood at the center of the top of the stairs, daring any to come against him. The metal staircase and landing beneath him were washed in blood and gore, the remains of those who’d come against him. Keshira stood nearby, her own clothing torn by her opponents who found a way past her defenses, but not past her enchanted skin. The blood of her opponents dripped from her hands, feeding the crimson puddle at her feet.

  Below, in the garden, elves scrambled to reclaim the fallen or to hide from the crew of the Voidhawk. The rushing heat Dexter had heard was no doubt another of Xander’s spells, for some flames still flickered below on the bodies of fallen elves. Others who had been caught by his elemental magic were charred or blackened.

  Of his crew they all sported wounds of some sort, though none crippling. Deprived of reinforcements momentarily by Xander’s magic, the elves faltered and left Rosh and Keshira standing uncontested. Rosh backed away, breathing heavily, and dropped to a knee. Logan rushed over to help, but the large warrior waved him away.

  “Get down, fool priest!” Rosh snapped at him, “Damn elves got pistols too!”

  Logan dropped into a crouch as well, mindful of making himself a target, and hurriedly checked some of Rosh’s more serious looking injuries. Dexter saw Rosh scowl but the large man did not move to stop him. Rosh glanced up and saw Dexter watching him and for a moment he held his gaze challengingly, but it quickly passed. Dexter nodded and Rosh looked away, an expression of relief on his face.

  “Bekka, Xander, Jenna,” Dexter said quickly, having surveyed the scene and now understanding what they faced. “We got to get that black star burning again. Any ideas?”

  “What? Why?” Rosh sputtered.

  “You mind the guys with the pointy sticks,” Dexter chastised.

  Rosh grumbled something but turned away to watch the elves.

  Those Dexter had called upon looked to one another quickly, but none offered any suggestions. Dexter frowned. “Well, how does a star get started in the first place?”

  “A question for the Gods,” Xander piped up. “No one knows, no one has seen one born. A great act of magic, perhaps.”

  Dexter spat on the ground in disgust. “Why’m I paying you, wizard?”

  “Scapegoat,” Xander retorted. “Without me, who else are you to blame?”

  The Captain grunted then turned to see the elves gathering for another charge. This time his eyes widened, they had a strange new weapon that promised devastation. They were pistols, only they possessed the length of a great sword. A wooden grip extended back to the shoulder, allowing them to be braced, and the barrel was nearly three times as long. What’s worse was the flat blade that extended from under the barrel, nearly long enough to be a short sword in itself. The elves had solved the problems of being defenseless while reloading – they had combined spear and pistol into a single weapon.

  “Captain! The beam of energy that connects this place to the star – perhaps we should look there?” Bekka piped up suddenly.

  “Aye, good idea,” he said, thankful for any excuse they could find to be gone when the elves were ready to charge again. “How do we get there?”

  “It’s on the bottom,” Jenna said. “Through them.”

  “Good, I was fearing this might be a bit easy on us,” he said sarcastically. “Keshira, can you clear us a path?”

  “Too late!” Rosh said, seeing the gathered elves begin to charge. He pushed Logan away, saying, “Save your prayers, ain’t a one of us getting out of this alive.”

  “Xander, you got anything left?” Dexter snapped, peering down the stairs at the elves.

  The wizard pulled the sleeves of his robes up and stepped up, grim faced. He began a quick chant and then, with a theatric flourish with his hands, he pursed his lips and blew. A powerful gust of wind raced down the stairs and stymied the elves for a moment, then the foreplay was over and the main force of Xander’s spell hit. A concentrated bolt of air burst through the front rank of elves mid-way up the stairs. As it hit the second rank it burst, expanding with such force that it sent some elves stumbling and others at the epicenter flying in gory pieces.

  Xander stumbled backwards, stunned by the sheer force he’d put into the magic. The elves cowered for a moment, overwhelmed by the magical assault, then they recovered and began to rise up to finish their charge.

  “The hell with this,” Rosh muttered as the elves began to again renew their interest in butchering them. Pointedly ignoring those behind him he nodded to himself. Rosh rose up with his sword brandished and took three powerful running steps to the top edge of the staircase. The elves raise their weapons to fire at him. At the last moment before he would have been shot and speared into oblivion he did what no one expected, he jumped.

  “Rosh!” Willa screamed while the rest of Voidhawk’s crew stared in open-mouthed amazement.

  The move took the elves by surprise as well. Their weapons rose and fired, but they all fired beneath him as he crashed into their second and third ranks. Like trees toppled by a tornado the elves and Rosh fell. He rose up, sword sweeping about in a circle to gain him some room. Blood and flesh flew from each swing, though the sheer numbers surrounding him pressed against him.

  “Keshira! Go!” Dexter screamed, rushing forward himself after Rosh had completed the partial collapse of the leading rank of elves. Jenna was at his side and the rest of the Voidhawk’s crew came after.

  Bailynn leapt like an animal, fighting with a ferocity much the same. She pounced from one surprised elf to another, leaving tears in their flesh. Reminded of their remaining foes, the elves nearest the stairs turned to face them. Many fell under the zealous but outnumbered attackers, but t
he sheer numbers served to slow the progress of the Voidhawk’s crew. In close the elongated elven pistols crossed their owners up and served as a hindrance, though the sharp edged bayonets served time and again as painful reminders to take them seriously.

  Dexter witnessed Keshira, bleeding from a dozen wounds that did little to slow her, toss aside a crushed elf. Briefly he glimpsed another elf lunge forward towards Rosh’s back. The fog of war around him pulled his attention elsewhere, parrying a slash made by an elf and returning it. When next he could spare a glance he saw Rosh checking a swing that would have hewed into Keshira’s neck as he spun around to deal with the elf that Keshira had just killed with her bare hands.

  Only Keshira’s magical hide served to prevent mortal wounds from being delivered to her. Her defenses were minimal; she knew she was resistant to the mundane weapons the elves possessed and thus she focused on being an offensive threat. Dexter and the others flooded behind her, rushing forward to flank the impossibly triumphant Rosh and push past, driving a wedge into the ranks of the elves.

  “Rosh! Are you hurt?” Dexter gasped for breath after the short but furious fighting they had endured.

  “I ain’t dead yet,” Rosh growled, holding his arm across his belly in a way that failed to hide the red stain beneath it.

  “You sure, that looks none too good.”

  Rosh grunted, slamming the crosspiece of his sword into the face of an elf and dropping him toothless and bleeding to the ground. “Just a scratch.”

  “Good. You try that again and I’ll kill you myself,” Dexter spat, then motioned him forward after Keshira, who continued to push through the scattering elves.

  Jenna and Bailynn danced along opposite sides of the loose phalanx, moving with speed and skill that their enemies had trouble matching. Xander threw vials of powders and liquids that exploded brilliantly, scattering more of the elves. Jodyne scooped up fallen weapons where she could, hurling them into their foes whether it was their chest or backs. Willa scrambled to keep up, fighting with a short sword as best she could with her limited training. Bekka and Logan fought as well, in spite of their preferred role as healers. For both healing was only possible if they could live long enough to have a chance to do it.