Voidhawk: The Elder Race

by Jason Halstead

  “Rope’s not much good if there’s no one to hold it,” Jodyne grumbled, staring up at it from her even more distant vantage point.

  “Logan, can you lift me up? I can reach it with a boost,” Bailynn said.

  Logan nodded and moved to stand next to a wall. He cupped his hands and waited while Bailynn put a foot in them then grabbed onto his shoulders. She nodded and he grunted as he tried to lift her up. The lithe girl sprang from his palms once he’d lifted her as high as he could, reaching and easily catching the edge of it under her arm. She gasped as her side slapped against the slick rock wall. Bekka realized she was holding her breath and forced it out while she watched Bailynn get her other arm over the top then swing a leg over, allowing her to crawl out of the shaft.

  She returned a moment later, her head popping over the side as she stared down it. “Throw me your clothes,” she said.

  “Our clothes?” Willa gasped.

  “I’ll make a rope and lower it down,” Bailynn explained.

  Jodyne frowned at the prospect, standing with her arms crossed. Bekka saw her expression and looked away quickly, fighting the urge to laugh in spite of their situation. She quickly untied her breeches and let them fall, then handed them to Logan. The priest seemed to be unable to look anywhere but up at the top of the shaft and even still, his skin was shaded red enough to make Bekka think his time spent on the Voidhawk’s deck had burned his skin instead of tanned it.

  Willa followed suit, though she seemed shy about it at first, then angry. She stood there next to Bekka, arms covering herself at first, then slowly letting them drop. Bekka glanced at her and offered her a smile, but it did little to melt the challenging glare Willa wore.

  “We’ve no weapons or armor, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of,” Bekka offered. “There’s no need to be angry.”

  Willa pursed her lips and looked away, then down at the rocky ground beneath their feet. “Spent all my life wearing or not wearing clothes, as others seen fit. Finally seemed like I wouldn’t be on display for no one, not less I let them.”

  Bekka understood, or at least she thought she did. “You’re a beautiful woman, Willa,” Bekka reassured her. “There’s not a person here who’d ever think to do you wrong.”

  Willa stared at her a moment then let her shoulders droop, relaxing visibly. Her gaze lowered, then rose quickly, color coming to her cheeks. Bekka smiled understandingly and said nothing. Another time, in another place, she might have welcomed the attention and the thrill knowing she’d flustered the girl. “Let’s worry about getting out of here first, then we can worry about finding clothes to keep undeserving eyes away.”

  Willa nodded and smiled, then turned her attention to Bailynn. The woman, forever trapped in the body of a teenaged woman, stood at the lip and tossed down the makeshift rope. Three pairs of pants and two shirts tied together gave them length enough to reach the floor. Bailynn backed away enough to brace herself while Jodyne, still stubbornly refusing to disrobe, grabbed on and began to climb.

  With a few slips against the slick rock, Jodyne nevertheless managed to reach the lip and scramble over it. A moment later Bailynn called for Bekka to come next. She clutched her shirt in her mouth and grabbed the clothing, then began the climb. Something about the way her bottom burned as she went up made her certain that Logan or Willa was watching her. She figured it was Willa, if it was anyone. The bundle of clothing hid her smile as she crested the difficult climb.

  Bekka stood, holding their light source overhead while Logan came next. He, Jodyne, and Bailynn then had Willa grab on to the rope and wrap it around her wrist while they pulled her up. Bekka watched her, catching her gaze and offering her a supportive smile. Then she rushed over to help her over the edge while the others clung to the rope.

  While Bailynn worked to untie the knots she’d made, Bekka turned to look at their new prison. The cavern floor stretched away from them into the darkness. Occasional sparkles of reflected light came back at them, but the light of her glowing shirt would only penetrate so far into the darkness. No walls nor ceiling greeted them, though a sliver of a crack in the floor behind showed the fissure that had formed to allow them to escape their cell.

  “Big,” Jodyne whispered, staring up and around into the darkness. “Can ye feel it?”

  “Feel what?” Bailynn asked.

  Bekka closed her eyes and concentrated. She knew what Jodyne meant. The walls and ceiling were distant, around them was only air that seemed to grow more oppressive and heavy the longer she focused on it. With a ragged breath she opened her eyes and reassured herself that her friends were still with her.

  “You okay?” Willa asked, coming up beside her.

  Bekka smiled and nodded. “I… yes, I am, thank you,” she said, though she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt. “I guess I don’t like being alone in dark places.”

  Willa gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “I done that, it ain’t easy. You got nothing to worry about long as you’re with us.”

  Bekka smiled again. Bailynn stepped in front of her and handed her pants to her, then offered Willa her clothes. “Might be a stretched out some,” she warned.

  Willa and Bekka dressed, as did Bailynn. Bekka still held her shirt in her hand, providing light for them to see by. She glanced at Logan and saw that while he was still nude, he seemed to have relaxed some now that the others were covered. Bekka hid her smirk easily; she could imagine the troubles he might be having between his vows and his wants as a man.

  “Is celibacy required of your order?” Bekka asked quietly after she had walked over to Logan.

  “Celi…what? No… no, it’s not,” he said.

  “Then why do you fret so?”

  “We have different beliefs, but you’re my crewmate and friend, much as the others,” he said after a moment. “More, you are my flock. I don’t need you to believe as I do for me to feel responsible for you.”

  Bekka stared at him, warmed by his response even as his claim bothered her. She smiled, knowing he meant no harm – quite the opposite, in fact. “So it’s a matter of not using the bathroom where you get your water from?”

  He made a particular disgusted face. “No! It’s not like that at all! I just mean…”

  Bekka held up her hand, a smile twisting her lips and betraying her humor. “I understand,” she explained, “I was just trying to make you smile.”

  “How can you find humor at a time such as this?” Logan seemed genuinely interested, not irritated.

  “What else is there to find that would do us any good?” She asked with a shrug. “We may be lost underground, but is it really so different from sailing through the void?”

  “Aye, you’ve got charts and the peace of mind to know where you’re at in the void,” Logan said.

  Bekka shrugged, conceding his point. “Often that’s true, but there have been times…”

  “You two going to prattle on all day or can we be finding a way out of here?” Jodyne said, walking up to them.

  Bekka watched Logan jump a little, startled, and saw him look to her for a reaction. She kept her lips from betraying her amusement at the cook’s increasing irritation. Logan must have seen the twinkle in her eyes for she saw him smile even as he turned away.

  “A moment yet, Jodyne,” Bekka said respectfully. “Logan, it has been some time, do you feel the pull of the moon at all?”

  Logan stopped and turned slowly. She saw his gaze was distant, as though in thought. He smiled broader and shook his head. “No… no, it’s not there. It’s as if days have passed. Normally when the moon waxes full I can feel it by day as well, an anxiety if you will. But there’s nothing now.”

  Bekka nodded, satisfied even it surprised and confused her. “Good. Now, Mistress Cook, let us be on our way!”

  Jodyne glared at Bekka and harrumphed, then started off across the stone floor that had been worn smooth by countless generations of water running over it. Bekka looked to Willa and Bailynn and found them both standing ready. She fol
lowed after, holding the shirt as high as she could without tiring her arm out.

  Jodyne led them less than a hundred feet until she came up short, her gasp audible to the rest of them. She hurried forward after a moment of surprise, then called to the others to join her. Bekka and the rest shared the dwarf’s surprise, for what stood before them was an ancient but fully preserved and intact void ship.

  Foreign runes near the prow named the vessel, but the closest Bekka could come to a translation of them was ‘Setting Sun’. She was amazed to realize they were in the same ancient elvish she and Jenna had worked to translate back in Dasnari.

  “Is this…” Bekka trailed off, turning around and staring into the dark.

  “What?” Logan asked.

  “The elven fleet,” Bekka answered, snapping out of her trance. “Is this it?”

  “One ship?” Willa asked doubtfully.

  “No, you said it was big down here, there’s more, right?” Bailynn asked hopefully.

  “Come on!” Bekka said with an almost girlish excitement. She hurried forward, walking away from the ship and in a matter of seconds her glowing shirt chased the shadows away to reveal another vessel.

  “How did they get down here?” Logan asked after they had confirmed a third and a fourth ship. “And how do we get them out?”

  “We’ve not seen the size of this shipyard yet,” Jodyne said, her foul mood abated by the discovery. “Might take us a hunnerd years to get them out one at a time.”

  “Their helms must be drained, it’s been ages they’ve sat,” Bekka mused aloud. “They’re might be something aboard we can use though.”

  It took them a few minutes of circling the latest ship they’d discovered until they located a rope ladder that hung from it. Like the ships, the rope showed no sign of aging. “How is this possible?” Bekka wondered aloud.

  “You be the wizard, you tell us,” Jodyne snapped.

  “I’m more of a witch,” Bekka stammered weakly. “I don’t have the talent for true wizardry. It’s a different skill, not one based on learning and research.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Logan interrupted, ending Bekka’s need to feel defensive. “Let’s get up there and see what there is to be seen.”

  Logan led the way, climbing up the rope ladder and seeming to have finally put the concern of his own lack of modesty aside. Once on the deck he motioned for the others to follow, then waited while they all assembled on the main deck of the ancient elven void ship. “Shall we split up?”

  “No,” Bekka answered instantly, suddenly afraid of being stranded alone again.

  Without protest, they set forth, exploring the ship from bow to stern. It was a mid-sized ship, something used for short cargo runs perhaps. It was fully stocked, including some random personal effects left behind by the crew. Chief among these of interest to the crew were some items of clothing and even a few knives. By the time they finished exploring their third ship, Logan and Bekka had not only fresh clothes to wear, but they’d all replaced their soiled and torn apparel. They were armed as best they could, in anticipation of another run in with the frog-creatures from before.

  They found lamps, the sort that relied upon the ancient magic of the elders instead of oil. Bekka released her cantrip and discarded her old shirt, relying instead upon the lanterns they carried. The minutes turned into hours and still they combed from one ship to another with no sign of interruption. They’d feasted on the stored rations that were magically preserved aboard the ships; buoying their spirits and making even Willa begin to make positive comments about finding their way out and rejoining the Voidhawk.

  As the hours passed Bekka began to grow weary. Her legs were sore from the walking and climbing and her shoulders ached from carrying the lamp and the dagger. A simple glance at the others told her they felt similarly. Logan, Jodyne, and Bailynn bore up far better than she or Willa did, but the signs of weariness were visible. They lost count of the ships they searched, and even she would admit they were getting careless in their methods. The shipyard was almost ghostly. What had once been a welcome sight was now becoming macabre. All the empty ships and signs of life recently abandoned made them wonder what had truly taken place to the elders that seemed to have just left the ships only a day or so behind.

  Bored with the redundancy of scouting yet another ship, she delayed to be the last up yet another rope ladder. She wandered around, walking towards the bow of the ship and expecting to see the stern of another one ahead of it. No ship appeared, so she walked a further. Something nagged at her to go back, but she couldn’t bring herself to call for aid or return. She stopped, the wet and heavy air in the cavern pressing against her. She glanced around, wondering if the elves had just left, or perhaps they had all been killed with some great magic. Perhaps their ghosts really were watching them.

  She turned, intent on finding her friends quickly before the darkness closed in on her. The ship was just behind her and she could see the lights from her friends moving on the deck. Her breath quickened, she was nearly alone again! She took a step, anxious to go back, then stopped. Something inside of her made her turn again. Something was different this time. Her intuition was part of what made her a sorceress; that subconscious pull that demanded she pay heed to it when logic and reason might lead in another direction. It had never been wrong, not even when it urged her to blackmail Dexter into paying for her freedom from the Federation jail and inviting her to join his crew.

  Bekka took a deep breath to center herself, then turned to look behind her again. She raised her lamp, straining to pierce the darkness, and nearly gave up when she glance upwards. There, above her, was the first sign of the cavern’s ceiling! It sloped down ahead of her, plunging into darkness again and filling her with excitement. Was this the end? A way out of the cavern? A tunnel to the surface, perhaps?

  Bekka hurried forward, her fear of separation displaced by the exhilaration of seeing open air again. The water on the stone beneath her feet deepened from being merely slick moisture to a standing puddle. Aside from some splashing on her pants, she paid it no heed. A half dozen steps later, her eyes on the descending ceiling, she found herself suddenly weightless. She yelped as her foot went off the edge of the stone and she was pulled into the water by gravity. Coughing and sputtering out the cold water she had sucked in, she managed to find the edge of the sudden drop off and cling to it desperately. She scrambled out of the frigid water, thankful that her lamp hadn’t fallen into the deeper water, and sat there shivering. Looking around she felt her mouth drop as she saw the ceiling that continued to slope gently down above and ahead of her come to an end. Ahead it disappeared into a mound of fallen rocks and rubble. The way out lay ahead, she was certain, yet it had been buried under a cave in.

  Chapter 8 – The Legacy

  The climb down the cliff was much easier. Rough steps had been hewn into the rock face over the ages, for whatever reason Dexter was afraid to guess. His fears were realized when they reached the small lake at the base of the cliff; it had been turned into what looked like a shrine. A raised stage with various idols and symbols adorned it and a few buildings were built against the cliff walls.

  A young man, barely more than a boy, wearing a simple brown kilt was tending to the stage. He was pouring a colored liquid from an ornate looking decanter into a bowl when he glanced up at a noise made by a boot scuffing the rocky steps. He dropped the decanter just as quickly as his jaw fell open. Within a few heartbeats of when the container landed on the ground and rolled to its side, he turned and ran, shouting as he did in a monosyllabic cry rather than a warning.

  “You get that a lot, do you?” Jenna asked Dexter wryly from behind him.

  Dexter ignored her, instead focusing on a heavyset dark skinned native man who emerged from the hut nearest the stage. He was dressed in a robe, but bore a large ornamental sword across his back as well. He stared at the boy, who was beyond Dexter’s earshot, but quickly tilted his head to gaze up at them. He stared for a long moment
, eye’s narrowing as he adopted a doubtful and suspicious look. A moment later, no quicker than a sail snapping to as the ship tacked against the solar wind, his eyes widened.

  He rushed forward to the foot of the stairs, beating Dexter and the others there by less than a minute. He grinned and nodded graciously, his jowls flapping with each enthusiastic nod. His eyes swept over Dexter then Jenna and the rest, but they fell upon Rosh at the last. As soon as Rosh, who was at the rear of the marching order, stepped off the final step the black man rushed to him and fell to his knees, skidding the final few inches on the ground.

  “This again?” Dexter groaned under his breath.

  “My…. My Lord!” The fat man said in an accented language used by humans throughout the void. His breathing was labored from the burst of activity. “We’ve waited generations for your return! We keep the demons of the jungle at bay, as you showed us. I am high priest Mawa, at your service!”

  “Who do you think he is?” Dexter snapped, his irritation at Rosh once again earning top honors by sheer dumb luck getting the best of him.

  The priest turned to stare at him in open mouthed surprise. A smile spread across his lips, preceding a vigorous nod that sent his cheeks jiggling. “Yes, yes, of course… a test! We must always be tested; vigilance must be eternal to keep the serpent and the wolf away!”

  Dexter fought back the groan that tried to escape his lips. The last time Rosh had dealt with the natives they’d seen him all but crushed by a snake. Then, later, Rosh had managed to land himself in a wrestling match with a wolf, which the natives were convinced was a jungle demon. That had been over 12,000 years ago, thanks to the magic that made the passage of time no more than a blink of an eye to the Voidhawk’s crew and the banished elves they’d come to rescue.

  12,000 years, it seemed, wasn’t nearly long enough.

  “Lord Rosh,” he said, turning to stare at Rosh. “The Undying, the Eternal, the Protector, the-“

  “That’s enough,” Dexter said, waving him off in thinly veiled disgust.