“What if you’re not?” Willa asked. “What if…”
“I will have time enough,” he said, his voice shifting slightly to one of reassurance. “Time enough for me to do what must be done to keep you all safe.”
* * * *
Rosh was the only one with the angry expression on his face. Jenna and Xander both spoke elven, so the ancient dialect spoken by the elves of the Forbidden City, while awkward, was understandable. Dexter used Keshira as his translator again, and found he picked it up just as quickly as he had with Sara. Rosh alone stood about having no idea what the elves were saying to them. Their expressions were a story in and of themselves; however, and that was what further drove Rosh to the murderous glare he leveled upon anything in his path.
Some of the elves were hopeful, others sad. A few even seemed angry. They nearly overwhelmed the crew from the Voidhawk at first, until Keshira and Rosh pushed them back, creating some room. Then the real chaos began, with one elf after another shouting to be heard. Finally, with his aforementioned murderous glare firmly in place, Rosh pulled out something he had tucked beneath his shirt and held it high above his head in the air. It was a hollow disc made of starsilver, and within it hung a shield in front of a sword, crafted from the same strange metal as the hammer that Rosh had used to restore the life to the dying star and thus end the elder’s banishment. The elves fell silent quickly, then a whisper rushed through them, passing from one to another and leaving Rosh looking even more like he wanted to butcher the lot of them.
Dexter pointed at one of them, an elf who emerged from the crowd and looked little different from the others except for his more rigid stance. “What’s all this caterwauling about?” Dexter asked. “We’re here to do a job, point us to whatever keeps you trapped and we’ll be on our way.”
Jenna translated for him; as before he could understand them but not speak to them. “I am Sandis, who are you and why have you come?”
Dexter frowned. “Dexter Silvercloud, Captain of the Voidhawk, and the rest I got no need to repeat.”
The elf frowned upon translation. Dexter shrugged then listened while Jenna continued to speak to him. He turned to look at her, his eyes threatening to burn through the side of her skull, but she ignored him.
“You cannot release us,” the elf said at length, turning back to Dexter. “It is not as simple as you think. The magic was tainted, corrupted by our kin.”
“You might be surprised what Rosh can do with a big enough hammer,” Dexter muttered darkly. “Tell him to just show us the damn thing!”
Jenna told him and the elf shook his head sadly, but turned nevertheless and motioned for them to follow. Dexter shared with Rosh the gist of what the elf had been saying, and observed that his prediction of giving Rosh a bigger hammer was not far off the mark.
“I ain’t coming all this way for nothing,” Rosh growled. “Besides, ain’t this the only way back?”
Dexter nodded. “We got till sun up, by my reckoning.”
Sandis came to a stop and pointed at a small ziggurat like structure. Steps, each a foot and a half high, rose up until they formed a solid platform nearly twenty feet up. Upon it sat an hourglass not so different from the one Dexter had magically affixed to the prow of the Voidhawk, save that this one was very slowly spinning even as the sand fell from the top to the bottom.
Xander swore softly in awe and pushed his way forward for a better look at it. Rosh grabbed him by the shoulder and halted his progress, though the wizard seemed to take no notice.
“My thanks, if you don’t mind I’ll be having a walk up there now,” Dexter said, trying to edge around the elf to get up to it.
He held a hand out, halting the Voidhawk’s captain without touching him. “It spins slowly, so that every day is a new day for us, yet it is the same.”
“Horrible shame,” Dexter said casually, though he was tiring of the conversation.
“It was ages before we realized it,” he continued as though he had not heard the human. “We took to writing down the day’s events, and soon came to realize it was the same day over and again. We age a day every day here, then that day is taken from us and we live it anew as though it never happened. It has been more days than we can count, ages far greater than any of us have a right to see.”
Dexter halted as what the elf said sank in.
“Hurts are healed, cuts are made whole, bones are mended. Even the dead walk again,” he continued. “We are powerless to end it, and if we could still we would not.”
“Why?” Dexter asked, then ground his teeth in frustration when he had to wait for Jenna to translate the simple question for him.
“This world was taken from another time and another place,” the elf answered, his eyes shimmering with wetness. “The magic of this trap keeps it safe. Not like the doom upon us within this city, but if the magic ended, the world and everything upon it from that time would age in an instant. How long has it been? A hundred years? A millennium? Doomed as we are, we cannot condone the sacrifice of so much life.”
Dexter opened his mouth then closed it. He turned to look around at the other elves and saw that they were silent and, in many cases, unwilling to meet his gaze. A few did, and of those some showed the fire of life in their eyes. The lust to rejoin their kin and life aside from the doldrums of day after day of the tedium. The majority, he knew, seemed reluctant and in agreement with Sandis.
“If you could remember the thousand yesterdays behind you, would you still feel this way?” Xander asked, breaking the silence.
Dexter nodded, agreeing with the question even if it annoyed him that he hadn’t thought of it.
Sandis smiled sadly. “We are a long lived race. A hundred years to us is little more than one to you. Some may feel differently, but we are not like those that forced us to endure here. They tampered with the magic of our banishment even as we invoked it.”
Murmurs of assent came from the other elves, leaving Dexter gnawing his lip in thoughtful frustration.
“What’s going on?” Rosh grumbled, stepping closer to Dexter. “This don’t look none too good.”
“We’ve had easier jobs,” Dexter admitted. “They’re saying if we lift their curse, the world around us ages. It catches up for the time they spent trapped here. Instantly.”
Rosh shrugged. “So?”
Dexter smirked in spite of himself. “They won’t make that kind of sacrifice. Their lives aren’t worth it.”
Rosh scowled. “What about the ‘Hawk? Willa and the rest?”
Dexter shook his head, uncertain. It had been nagging at the back of his head as well. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
The Captain turned to Sandis and relayed the question, then waited as Xander repeated it for the elf.
“We have wizards who have studied the spell entrapping us,” Sandis said. “But every day they must begin anew. They have written their thoughts and progress, but even still they can only do so much ere the new day dawns and we are renewed,” he explained.
“He doesn’t know,” Dexter translated for Rosh’s benefit.
“Sir, I am a wizard. No match for the skill or learning of your people, but might I study it?” Xander dared.
Sandis stared at him, studying him, then he nodded. “Study it only,” he said.
Xander grinned and assured him he would, then hurried forward to have a look at it. Dexter watched him, his eyes narrowing a little as he remembered the many times that Xander had mentioned wanting to study something and how it would take him days, weeks, or longer to do so.
“Be quick about it,” Dexter called to him. “We’ve until the morning, less if what the elf says is true.”
Xander waved understanding and knelt down atop the ziggurat to study the hourglass. He reached into a pocket and pulled out some parchment, rifling through it until he found what he wanted, then continued to stare at the magical object while occasionally making notes.
“What’s he doing?”
Dexter shrugged, �
�Wasting his time, I reckon.”
Rosh grunted, looking less than pleased at the continuing developments.
“Every day they wake up like it was the day before,” Dexter told him. “People that died are breathing like nothing was wrong, cuts are healed, and they got no way of knowing what happened the day before.”
Rosh grunted again, this one unreadable by the Captain.
“It comes down to this,” Dexter said, his voice the same tone and level as before, but something more serioud about it. “Xander’s got ‘em ruffled, you make a hole and I’ll do what needs doing.”
“What about the others?” Jenna asked, turning to look at him sharply.
“I ‘spect this is the only chance they got,” Dexter said, glancing sharply at her. “Sail any other way you end up lost.”
“We can talk to them!” Jenna insisted. “Tell them this is the only way. Convince them that it’s worth it!”
“You really feeling that way? You feel it’s worth the dying of the rest of this world just to get them back and save our skins?”
Sandis kept glancing at them, then hurriedly returned his gaze up to Xander. Finally, his face one of preserved irritation, he called out to Xander, telling him he’d spent enough time up there.
“I…” Jenna began, then was distracted by the elf calling to Xander. She turned and saw Xander frown, then beg for a few more minutes.
“Come down, you have the rest of eternity to study it,” Sandis told him.
The color in Jenna’s cheeks paled to hear Sandis speak of the doom they now shared. Her eyes fell to Dexter and then to the ground, a look of sadness conveyed in their brief contact. “Do it,” she whispered.
“Rosh!” Dexter said, but without need. Already the large man had erupted into action. He sprang forward and caught Sandis unprepared.
Even still, the elven warrior reacted and tried to dodge. Rosh caught his arm and yanked him back with ease, wrapping his other arm tight to him in a powerful hug that crushed the air from Sandis’ lungs. The other elves, stunned at first, recovered before Dexter had taken three steps himself. They cried out in outrage and pushed forward, trying to grapple and pull Dexter back.
Keshira stood her ground easily, sending any elf that came within arm’s reach sprawling. She pulled her punches, stunning but not killing them. Jenna fell back quickly, drawing her blades but using them only to threaten, not to strike. Rosh used Sandis as a weapon, whipping the elf back and forth almost like a flail to drive the elves that sought to overbear him away.
“What are you doing!” Xander cried out, seeing Dexter running up the stairs of the ziggurat. “You can’t just destroy it, there’s too much power! Too much risk!”
An elf caught Dexter’s foot and yanked him to the stone steps of the many tiered dais. He grunted when his chin hit the rock and saw only stars for a moment. When he regained his senses he felt himself being dragged back towards the throng of angry elves. He struggled, kicking out, but another elf had latched onto his other foot and soon another grabbed higher on his leg to subdue him.
“Rosh! Destroy it!” Dexter screamed before he was yanked down the last of the steps and felt his head crack against stone, stunning him for a second time.
Dexter watched a blurry image of Rosh hoist Sandis overhead and throw the elf into the bodies pressed around him. Free for a moment, he turned and charged. The warrior bellowed like a bull as he burst through the perimeter of elves intent of stopping him. They clutched at him to no avail; Rosh was like a force of nature, wild and untamable. He sprang up the steps three at a time, drawing his sword as he did so and not stopping until he stood before the hourglass. Xander cried out, grabbing up his papers and scrambling away for fear of what Rosh’s actions might cause.
“Rosh, you’ll kill them all!” Xander warned him, a frantic edge in his voice.
Rosh hesitated, glancing at the wizard and then at the press of elves that seemed fearful of mounting the ziggurat. Keshira was weighed down by the throng of elves. Dexter was struggling weakly and Jenna was backed up against the first step, the elves held at bay by her swords though she showed no desire to use them.
Rosh glanced up, looking at the misty walls of silver that surrounded the town. A wall beyond which teemed a world full of life. He looked back at Xander in an unusual show of thoughtfulness and asked, “You sure?”
Xander hesitated, not long, but the warrior was trained to seize any advantage at a moment’s notice. It was enough even though the wizard began to shout for patience. Rosh readied his sword and took aim at the spinning hourglass.
Dexter couldn’t call out to his Arms Master, his mouth was jammed shut by the weight of a knee. He could see, through the crushing press of bodies, Rosh atop the ziggurat. His head was dashed against the ground again and he felt the world slipping away. The last thing he felt was a pulse of energy that washed over him like a soundless wave that seized every nerve in his body and electrified them for one terrible instant. The wave passed, and with it he fell into a blackness deeper than the darkest of shadows he could remember from the jungle floor.
* * * *
They’d fallen into a troubled silence in their underwater prison. The walls of rock were damp and the air grew thick with each breath. Sweat, indistinguishable from the humidity of the air, rolled off their flesh. Logan did what he could to maintain his modesty, though it was difficult at first as he sought to explore their limited surroundings. Now he sat near the water’s edge waiting for what would be.
Jodyne continued to study their rocky prison, tracing lines in the wall only she could see and occasionally tapping it with her knuckles. Bekka sat at the water’s edge, peering into it. Willa was watching Logan, studying him with newfound interest.
“Hsst!” Bekka said as she stood. “They come!”
The others rose as one, Logan with his back to the wall and his hands providing a minimal level of cover for himself. “Got any prayers for this?” Willa said under her breath.
“I’ve been using them,” Logan assured her somberly.
A three fingered hand emerged from the water, webbing connecting the fingers, and grabbed the slippery edge of the rock. Another joined it and the first of the frog-men began to emerge. Another joined it, even as the Voidhawk’s crew fell back defensively. The amphibious humanoids approached while more began to crawl out of the water.
Their faces, an amalgamation of frog and fish, was alien enough to leave Logan and the others uncertain of how to respond. The toothy grins on their faces seemed to bode ill. The menacing looks were confirmed when one pointed at Jodyne and two others moved forward on their frog-like legs in an awkward shuffle to reach for the dwarf.
Logan moved in front of the dwarf, holding his arms out in front of him. “Why have you captured us, we’ve done you no wrong.”
The frog-man that pointed at Jodyne croaked something and made a slashing motion with his hand.
“That’s not good,” Bekka intuited.
To Bekka’s point, the frog-men seized Logan’s outstretched hands, grabbing with grips of steel and seeking to toss him aside. Logan pulled back against them and gasped. Their grips were not only strong, but their palms and fingers felt like shark’s skin. A thousand tiny barbs promised him that his flesh would be shredded if he pulled too hard against them. Off balance and hesitating because of this realization, they thrust him to the side so another one of them could grab for Jodyne.
Jodyne was far from compliant. She sent the first of her adversaries reeling, clutching the end of its snout. Another rushed in to replace its stunned comrade, just as Bekka, Bailynn, and Willa rushed forward in Jodyne’s defense. The chaos of a grand melee ensued, four against four, with replacements bobbing in the water waiting for either a captured human to be delivered or for one of their own to fall and need assistance.
“There are too many,” Willa cried out even as she used the stump of her arm to club a frog-man on the back of the head.
Bailynn slipped on the wet floor, droppi
ng to a knee and a hand. A frog hopped towards her, hands reaching and mouth snapping open. She jumped, her reactions and strength seemingly none the worse for her change of profession. She thrust her hand out, jabbing it in the belly with her fingers spread into claws. The frog grunted with the impact and crashed on top of her. It scrambled to get away, scratching her across the cheek and belly in the process. She cradled her hand to her belly as she scrambled back to her feet. Logan saw her glance at him, her eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. She was no longer a slayer.
“Stay back,” Logan growled. It was far from divine guidance that had driven him to his decision, it was necessity. The idea had come to him while he prayed, but that was more a lack of focus than heavenly intervention. He’d used his curse to his benefit before, and felt shamed for it when he did so. Escaping the trap of the elves at Fort Prudence had required a partial transformation. Now this, with no weapons, required him to call upon it again.
Logan growled, the sound becoming more guttural as he let loose the walls that trapped the beast within. His fingers and hands cramped and contorted even as they lengthened and sported claws like talons. New hair on his arms burst forth, darker and thicker than his natural blond hairs. His back stiffened and he gasped in pain at the metamorphosis his body was undergoing.
One of the frog-men standing near him saw him and mistook his shuddering as weakness. It hopped towards him, its legs clumsy outside of the water. Logan caught it off guard, slashing across with his hand and leaving deep furrows in its neck. It stumbled backwards, the large bulbous eyes revealing shock at the mortal wound that it had sustained.
Logan turned before the frog-man had fallen. He grabbed the underwater attacker that was tugging on Willa’s good arm. Logan’s claws pierced the skin and made it croak in a mix of surprise and pain. He pulled it away and threw it into the rocky wall above the water with a twist of his torso. The frog-man fell into the water, adding to the bedlam.
More of them crawled out of the water, one dropping back in as it was toppled by another of the creatures that fled from Logan’s wrath. Others waited to take their place, however, and even Logan in his frantic state of mind on the verge of losing his battle with the beast within knew that they were doomed. Bekka was bleeding and cradling her leg. Willa was bruised and had tears of fright running down her face. Jodyne stood resolute, but she’d lost some hair was favoring her left arm from a battering it had taken against the rock wall. Bailynn, still a force to be reckoned with, had blood on her face that was not her own. Bailynn’s clothing was shredded in places and spotted with her own blood.
Voidhawk: The Elder Race Page 19
