They fought through the garden and left the elves behind them as they rushed across the bridge. The elves pursued, but only as scouts and skirmishers. Dexter frowned, in between gasps for breath and when not trying to soothe the stitch in his side. He wondered why the elves didn’t harass them further.
“Knew we were too pretty to die,” Dexter quipped once they had all reached the far side.
Rosh was doubled over, gasping for breath
“That ain’t all the elves,” Rosh said, but his words were cut short by a brief but violent coughing fit.
Dexter’s eyes widened when he saw the glistening trail of blood the led down from Rosh’s side. “That scratch you got?”
Rosh ignored him and straightened with a grimace. The hand holding his sword was pressed against his belly and the other reached for a skin of water. “Them’s got three warships, the rest is holding tight at the port,” he wheezed. The skin made it to his mouth finally and he drank deeply from it. His eyes widened a few swallows in and he looked down, the water forgotten. “Ah hell,” he muttered.
Dexter and the others, now paying attention to the warrior, followed his gaze. Water tinged with blood seeped from the thin gash in his belly and onto his stained and cut tunic.
“Rosh!” Willa gasped, rushing to him and nearly knocking the large man from his feet when she threw her arm around him. “Oh Gods… what have you done?”
“Logan!” Dexter snapped, but the priest was already moving forward.
Logan moved the warrior’s hand aside and gently poked at the wound. Blood continued to flow steadily from it, though it was a trickle and not a flood. Rosh grimaced but said nothing, nor did the large man look to the silently crying woman who clung to him. The priest moved enough to examine the wound at his side, then shook his head and stood up.
“Ran you through?” he asked.
Rosh nodded to the priest, just once and briefly, but enough to admit it.
Dexter cursed. “You damn fool!” He spat. He opened his mouth to say more but then just shook his head and looked away. Finally he looked back and asked, “Is there anything…”
Logan frowned. “The wound is mortal,” he said softly. “You’re lucky, after a fashion, there’s no serious blood loss. Your belly’s been speared, there’s no magic I have to fix a wound like this.”
“How long?” Rosh asked, accepting the news more stoically than Dexter thought possible.
“Hours, a day, maybe more,” Logan said. “I’m truly sorry.”
Rosh grunted. “Hurts less than I thought it would.”
Willa broke loose with a gasping sob and hugged him tightly. Rosh looked at the others, blushing with embarrassment, then he took her chin in his hand and gently and lifted it up to look at him. “Men like me, we don’t grow old. I lived longer than I had any right to…”
Dexter clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s not over yet.”
Rosh nodded, then gave Willa an encouraging squeeze. “Yeah, I ain’t dead yet. No sense in wasting time, I always wanted to die rich.”
“That’s the spirit!” Dexter said. “Let’s move… Jenna, let’s go. Logan, keep an eye on Rosh. Keshira, take the lead.”
They started out again, moving as quickly as they dared through the city. Occasionally Rosh would wince and after two flights of stairs down, and a few small skirmishes with elven scouts, his winces were turning into stumbles and missteps. Sweat had long since broken out on his brow and the blood that soaked his tunic showed no signs of drying. It was not until he collapsed, near the flight that would take them to the port level of the elven city that they were forced to pause.
“Leave me here,” Rosh growled, his skin feverish with exertion, injury, and anger. “I’ll have me a mound of elf heads to mark my grave!”
“Captain, if I may?” Xander said, stepping forward.
Dexter glanced around, then nodded.
“Rosh, I have something… it’s amazing really, a byproduct of some materials I was studying a while back. It-“
“Priest, any chance I’m gonna die before he’s done?” Rosh grumbled.
Xander’s lips clamped shut and he flushed red. His eyes flashed angrily. Rosh grinned, his cheeks and gums pale and bloodless. “Shut your trap, didn’t it?” Rosh said.
“He’s right, we got no time for wasting,” Dexter pointed out.
“Fine. It’s a powder. It gives vitality,” Xander said stiffly. “It’s an illusion, but you will be without pain until the end. When your body is used up, you will drop. From the moment before until the moment after you will know no difference.”
“Don’t seem so bad,” Rosh mused, pulling away a bloody hand from his stomach.
“It will kill you more surely than the hole in your belly,” Xander explained. “If you were perfectly well and inhaled this powder it would burn through your body and leave you used up and lifeless in 24 hours.”
“24 hours?” Rosh pondered, then shrugged. “I’ll take that.”
“24 hours if you were well!” Xander pointed out. “As you are now, surely less. But you will feel no pain.”
“Rosh! No… what if there’s some way. Something that can heal you?” Willa asked. She had stopped sobbing with their movement, but now her face was as pale as his.
“Willa, there ain’t nothing to be done!” Rosh snapped. He glanced at the others then turned so that his back to them and held her in his hands. “What’s done is done. I don’t ‘spect any of us is getting out of here. Too many damn elves. Any chance you got ain’t helped by me slowing you up. I ain’t done much good in my life… Here’s my chance. Won’t make up for me being a no good son of a bitch, but it’s about the best way someone like me can go out.”
Before Willa could do much more than tremble in his hands he turned back to Xander. In a voice that was even more surly and gruff than usual he demanded, “Gimme that powder.”
Xander nodded and reached into one of the many pouches sewn into his robes. He pulled out a small silk bag and held it to Rosh. “Take a pinch and hold it to your nose, then inhale forcefully.”
Rosh did as the wizard bid, reaching in and taking out a large pinch of the powder. Xander’s eyes widened at the amount collected between the large man’s equally large fingers, but Rosh took no notice of it. He held it to his nose and hesitated only a moment. A strangled sob from behind him caused him to close his eyes. A heartbeat later his fingers opened and he inhaled, sucking the strange violet powder into his nostrils.
Xander grabbed the bag, then stepped away even as he tucked it safely into his pocket. Rosh twitched, then his eyes bulged. His lips parted in a silent scream while his hands rose as if he was going to claw at his nose.
He shuddered and closed them, relaxing and swaying so much that he nearly fell. He stopped a moment later, after Willa and Logan both rushed to steady him. Rosh’s head lifted from where it had fallen against his chest to show the grin on his face.
Willa gasped when she saw him, then covered her mouth her hand. His eyes burned with the chemicals he’d inhaled. It was almost as if they would glow in the dark, they were so bloodshot and active. He looked down and poked at the wounds in his side and stomach. Both still seeped blood, but he showed no signs of pain.
“24 hours?” He asked.
“Or less,” Xander cautioned.
He shrugged. “Feel like I could take on all three of them pointy eared warships,” he said with a smile.
“Later,” Dexter said, reining him in. “Mind if we start with what we’re after?”
Rosh laughed and set off. Willa lagged behind, staring at her dying lover and then the others. It was only after a glance from Dexter that she remembered to move with them and head down the stairs.
As soon as Rosh and Keshira cleared the last step there was a thunderous roar from their right, towards the docks. Keshira, being on the right, took the brunt of the barrage but Rosh was spun about as well, spraying fresh blood. Keshira turned without a word and ran towards the assembled elves. They
outnumbered her twelve to one, but only for a moment. Rosh turned to follow her, acting slower from his amazement at the lack of pain the fresh wounds caused him.
“Wait!” Dexter cried out, grabbing Rosh’s wrist as he started to take his first step. Dexter’s hand slipped free; the warrior’s skin was covered in blood and sweat. “Keshira can hold her own for now. We got other things that need doing!”
Rosh stopped and glared at the elves, then he nodded. “Go,” he said, then turned to spit out some blood and a tooth that had been shattered by the bullet that grazed his cheek.
Willa, trembling, hurried past him. Rosh started to reach for her but stopped. He nodded, eyes narrowing, then saw Dexter looking at him. “Best thing for all of us,” Rosh said, then hurried forward to join Jenna at the front of the small group.
Dexter stared at Keshira, using their bond to tell her to hold if she could and follow them if she could not. He turned and followed, catching up with an equally concerned Bekka. He pulled her with him and they hurried after the others.
The elves hadn’t found time to search the lower levels of the ancient city, thus they made good time with the unnatural vigor filling Rosh’s veins. Xander even cried out in surprise when he looked up and saw the black sun above them, as well as the beam of energy that connected them to it. Somehow they had inverted again and were now looking up instead of down.
“There!” Jenna said, pointing to an elaborate tower wrought of the starsilver that lay ahead of them. Several of the statues surrounded it, standing a silent guard to intruders.
“Go!” Dexter said, anxious to get there quickly and prevent the loss of any more of his crew.
Rosh slowed as they approached the statues. He stared at a couple of them carefully, then was overcome by a brief coughing fit that sprayed his hand, the statue he faced, and the ground beneath him with fresh blood. He straightened and looked at it, then glanced to the others. He shrugged it away and stepped between and beyond the statues. The others followed closely, letting him lead the way into the open archway of the tower.
Spiral stairs ran up the inside wall of it, leading to the domed ceiling far above. The beam of energy pierced the middle of the tower, flowing into a shimmering gemstone not unlike the diamond they had encountered above. The refraction of the beam sent shards of light throughout the room, dancing and shifting as though a thousand fairies carried multi-colored torches about them. In front of the column of magic lay an altar. It was too small for a human to lay upon, yet larger than a lectern or podium. It was fashioned of the same metal and supported by a solid column that melded into the floor beneath it.
“Now what?” Rosh asked. “Ain’t nothing here! I could be killing elves…”
“Great sacrifice,” Jenna whispered, staring at it and trying to put things together.
“You’re damn right it is!” Rosh scowled and started to turn back towards the archway of the tower.
“No, great power,” Dexter reminded her. “The guardian told us a great power was needed.”
“Why would you think sacrifice?” Bekka asked, though her eyes went to Rosh as he turned back from the open doorway.
Jenna shrugged. “Seems like something they would do.”
“Hope you two don’t have no kids,” Rosh quipped to Dexter, then coughed when he tried to laugh at his own joke.
“Perhaps both,” Bekka said thoughtfully, ignoring the macabre humor. “What magic do we have?”
“Magic?” Xander asked, confused. “I am nearly spent, I have little to spare.”
“Not spells, what items. Dexter’s sword is magical, Keshira is magical. Bailynn’s ring. What else is there?”
“I have some minor items,” Xander confessed. “Nothing as great as any of those items though.”
“Something elven,” Jenna said, inspired by Bekka’s line of thinking. “It must be something of elven craft.”
“What’s this about?” Dexter asked. “You two are thick as thieves, talking about something that don’t make no sense.”
“Great power,” Xander interrupted, offering his own speculation. “Pardon me Captain, but this is where I earn my keep. A star needs great power to burn. It is powerful magic that can bring such energy and warmth and life to the void. To bring it back it must be given power. Recharged, like a wand or a ring or some such thing. Reloaded, if you will, like you do with your pistols.”
“Reloaded?” Dexter mused, finally having some terms he could easily understand and work with. “How we supposed to do that?”
“I’ve been hanging around humans too much,” Jenna muttered, turning and moving to a wall that had flowing elven script engraved into it. Bekka let out a squeak of surprise and hurried over to join her.
“What’re they up to now?” Dexter mumbled.
“Promise me something,” Rosh rumbled to him, his breathing louder than his words with the congestion in his lungs. “Tell ‘em it’s my last wish, see if you can’t get them both in your bed at the same time.”
“Rosh!” Dexter snapped, shaking his head. “Maybe you’re not long for this world, but you’ll keep a civil tongue!”
Rosh just laughed wetly. “Yeah, like you ain’t thinking about it now.”
Dexter’s glare made the man turn away. Only Logan would meet Rosh’s gaze; even Willa was unwilling to look at him now.
“Yes… elven make…”
“Sacrificed upon the alter,” Bekka said moments later as she studied a different portion of the script. Jenna and Bekka turned to look at one another, then turned back.
“Captain, your sword I think, it’s of elven make and with elven magic,” Bekka explained. “We need to destroy it and unleash the magic in it.”
“Just how you going to do that?” Dexter asked doubtfully. “Handy thing about this blade, haven’t had to work out any nicks or dents since I had it and it keeps a mighty keen edge.”
Rosh grunted. Now the center of attention, he turned and walked to the altar. Behind it rested a powerful smithing hammer, crafted with a shaft the same as the starsilver that made up much of the base. The head of it was something else altogether. Something that seemed similar to the starsilver, but duller and somehow denser.
“With this,” Rosh said, hefting it and testing the balance and weight of it. “Reckon this’ll take the edge off it.”
“Destroying magical items is a dangerous thing,” Xander warned. “The magic, once unleashed, can be quite powerful.”
“Ain’t the best way, but I ain’t got much time left,” Rosh muttered, talking to himself but easily loud enough to be heard in the relatively small chamber. He looked away from the hammer and set it on the altar before looking at Dexter and winking. “I’ll take the short straw… you just remember what I said.”
The Captain, in spite of his irritation at the lewd suggestion Rosh was referring to, could not help but be impressed with the one-time bandit’s resilience so close to the end.
“You sick bastard…” Jenna said, shaking her head. “Fine – everybody else turn away. Go on, do it!”
They looked to one another, confused. Dexter stared at her in shock, but she just gave him a nod of reassurance. He looked at Bekka and saw she was surprised and confused as well. Nobody turned, too at a loss to do so. With a roll of her eyes of irritation, Jenna turned to Bekka, grabbed her face in her hands, and leaned in until their lips touched. Bekka’s eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise, allowing Jenna to turn the temperature level of the kiss up a few more notches.
The silence in the room was so great it was as though the spectators had turned to statues as well. Many heartbeats later, with the softly echoing exhalation of breath as both women’s lips parted, everyone suddenly found themselves looking around uncomfortably, as though pretending something else could have interested them more than the out-of-place eroticism of the moment. Rosh whistled, but it was cut short by a fit of coughing. He grinned in spite of the blood staining his lips and nodded appreciatively while he hacked his way through it.
“Should have taken a sword in the belly years ago,” Rosh muttered when he had regained control of himself. “Now gimme that sword.”
“Wait,” Jenna said, walking towards him.
Dexter’s eyes bulged and he opened his mouth to speak. He didn’t know what Jenna was planning next but he was damned if he was going to let Rosh have a chance to…
“’Lynn, I think he should use this,” Jenna said before Dexter could put words to his protest. She held aloft Bailynn’s control ring.
Bailynn stared at it, jaw hanging agape. She trembled a little and started to dip her head submissively.
“No!” Jenna said, then repeated herself less forcefully. “Here, you take this,” she said quickly, rushing over to the woman trapped in the body of a teenage girl. “This must be your decision, not mine or anybody else’s.”
“But… I’m linked to it,” she said, staring at the circlet of metal in her hand. “What if… what if destroying it… destroys me?”
“It could,” Xander offered thoughtfully. “Though it’s hard to know without studying it and you carefully. The magic might be woven so tightly into you that pulling it from you would kill you.”
“We don’t have that kind of time,” Dexter grumbled.
“No, it would take weeks, or more,” Xander agreed.
“I… I don’t know,” Bailynn whispered. She clutched it in her hand and squeezed tightly, then looked around as though any of the others could offer her help. Her eyes fell on Dexter ultimately and she walked over to stand before him, then dropped to her knees. “Help me Captain,” she pleaded so softly only he, Jenna, and Bekka could hear her. “Tell me what I should do.”
Dexter reached down and easily picked the waifish girl up. She stood and stared at him, tears leaving clean streaks on her dirty face. For someone who wore the blood and gore of fallen elves less than an hour past she looked far too innocent.
“Freedom has a price, Bailynn,” Dexter told her firmly. “You work for me and do what I tell you, but that don’t give me the right to make this choice for you.”
Voidhawk: The Elder Race Page 10
