Rolxoth stared at Dexter, or at least the captain felt as though he was being stared at. It was several shades beyond unsettling. “Do you really want to live the rest of your life running from my ships? You might outrun them here and there, but one day they would corner you and then you would face me again.”
As an example of just how unpleasant that could be, Rolxoth twisted so that he was pointing down the hall. Everyone looked and saw a shape floating down the hallway towards them. In moments they recognized it as Keshira. A few more moments and they realized that it was not Keshira, but rather a statue of her. A statue of her at the end of the battle at Ormitor’s house, with her robe hanging in tatters from her body and displaying, carved in stone, the sheer beauty of her form.
The statue floated in mid-air beside the faceless marshal, silent and breathtakingly horrible. They witnessed a flash of green erupt from the statue, then saw the stone color and soften, returning to the flesh it had once been.
“Captain!” Keshira said, seeing him and trying to move towards him. Rolxoth’s telekinesis kept her levitated and unable to effectively move, however.
“Do we have an accord, Captain?” he asked.
Dexter glanced at his crew, all of whom were staring at the futile struggle of Keshira. All save for Jenna, who was looking at Dexter. He locked gazes with her for a long moment, until at least she gave him a ghost of a smile and nodded. He turned back to Rolxoth and agreed. “Release her, set us free with our things, and grant us a healer. Then I shall do as you ask and return with news of this fleet.”
“You ask much,” Rolxoth said, yet his tone indicated humor rather than irritation.
The cell door swung open, squeaking on the rusty hinges as it did so. “It is done,” Rolxoth said, turning and walking past Keshira, who was now released and moving into the cell to be certain her Master was well.
Dexter held her off with a simple wave, then gestured for the others to follow Rolxoth. Rosh grunted, struggling to get to his feet, and earned the assistance of Bekka in doing so.
“Keshira, help him please,” Dexter said. She jumped to his bidding, letting Rosh slide his arm around her shoulders and support his weight on her.
Rosh, in constant pain, nevertheless took great pleasure in being so close to the effectively nude pleasure golem. His only true regret was that he could not spend time becoming more familiar with her. Instead she set a grueling pace for him to maintain with his one good leg as they trailed along behind the others.
Rolxoth led them to a staircase up and out of the dungeons. Keshira helped Rosh climb them with a patience that the large man did not share. By the time they reached the 20th and final stair, he was cursing more freely than usual.
From there Rolxoth led them through his offices. There were constables and city guardsman moving about or watching. They were of various races, some human, some lizardmen, a few dwarves, a Halfling, and even a single elf with an eye patch. They all turned to watch the crew of the Voidhawk, paying special attention to the topless elf and even more so to Keshira as she aided Rosh along the way.
“Fetch a healer,” Rolxoth’s disembodied voice growled. “And return their items to them.”
A dwarf moved to a locked cabinet and waited while a human unlocked the doors of it and opened them for him. He pulled out a chest and carried it over, then unlocked it after sitting it on the floor.
“Have you any clothes?” Dexter asked, knowing that Jenna and Keshira would draw more attention than any of them wanted. That and he needed Rosh less distracted than he presently was.
A cloak was provided for Keshira and an oversized tunic was given to Jenna. She slipped it on to stop the others from staring at her and immediately felt better for the lack of prying eyes gazing upon her. Reluctantly, Rosh rested upon a desk so that Keshira could conceal herself within the cloak given to her.
A few minutes later a priest entered through a double door that, when opened, revealed the city of Port Freedom on the other side. Dexter noted that they were nearly free while the priest glanced about and then saw where he was obviously needed. He hurried over and pulled a symbol of the Holy Path from beneath his robe.
The priest studied Rosh’s leg then began to chant. He moved the holy symbol over it, then let his fingers glide up and down his leg. Rosh’s eyes widened in surprise, then he grinned. The priest backed away and said, “Take care how you be using that leg, it still be weak and needing time.”
He looked around at the others and moved to Dexter next. Dexter let him study his wounds then fetch out his holy symbol to once again begin chanting and moving about.
Rosh hopped up carefully, slowly putting weight on his leg. He grinned as it bore his full weight. Dexter felt a soothing warmness spread through the pains in his back and, in its wake, leave behind relaxed muscles and bones.
The priest moved on and Dexter thanked him, wishing he had a few coins on him to repay the man with. He glanced at the chest and then knelt down to start going through it. He pulled out his sword, dagger, and pistol. He looked about, briefly, for his powder bag then remembered he had used it to dispatch Ormitor.
Jenna followed suit next, since the priest had finished healing her aches as well. She rearmed herself, then stood near Dexter. Rosh took the extra time needed to reacquire all of his weaponry before Bekka picked up the dagger left in the bottom of the chest.
“You’re fit, you have your belongings, your freedom alone awaits you,” Rolxoth said, twisting his head to orient on each of them one at a time. “Remember our pact, Captain.”
Dexter nodded. Having nothing useful to add he turned and led the way out of the building the sheriff used as the offices and dungeon of the city guard. They made their way through the large and often chaotic city toward the docks, with seldom a word spoken.
“Captain,” Bekka spoke up.
Dexter held up his hand, silencing her. “Save it,” he told her. “Take the helm and make her ready.”
She nodded, unhappy to have been silenced but obeying him regardless. In a few moments they were walking down the dock to the Voidhawk. They boarded the ship, an anxious Kragor following after Dexter and barking out questions that went unanswered.
“Get the ship ready!” He yelled out, then went down the stairs and ducked into the bridge.
Kragor hesitated a moment, glancing at everyone immediately going to work.
“Kragor! Get Jenna and get to the bridge!”
Grinning, Kragor saw that Jenna had heard the captain’s yell and was already making her way towards the staircase. He barely beat her to the first step, in fact, and he was standing next to it.
“We need to find out what, or who, has interests on Port Freedom,” Dexter said as soon as they entered the room. “Jenna, you’re in charge of the ship while Kragor and I head out.”
“Half a minute, boy-o,” Kragor sputtered. “What’s this about? Where’ve you been, gone nigh two days!”
Dexter frowned. Bekka walked in, surprised to see them all standing there, and then moved past them and went to the helm, settling into it with a faint smile and closing her eyes as she joined with the ship.
“We met the wizard and had a disagreement,” he said.
Jenna chuckled. Dexter ignored her in favor of the dwarf. “Ran afoul of the city guard, the deal was freedom for finding out about some mysterious fleet coming for Port Freedom.”
Kragor stroked his beard and nodded. “There’s more to this then?”
Dexter nodded. Kragor sighed. “Tell me on the way then.”
He nodded again. “Keep the ship ready, as soon as we have a plan we’ll be off.”
“Captain,” Jenna said, then glanced at Kragor. “May I have a word?”
“Can it wait?” Dexter asked, irritated at her timing.
“No, Sir, it can’t.”
“Alright, what’s on your mind?”
She glanced at Kragor again. Kragor threw his hands up in the air and turned and stomped out of the bridge. She looked back at
Dexter and then glanced at Bekka.
“Gods, woman, you’ll be the death of me,” Dexter grumbled. “To your room then; I need another pouch of fire powder.”
She led the way out of the bridge and down the companionway, ending near the stern at her room. Inside she fished out a pouch of fire powder and handed it to Dexter.
“Well?” he asked, clearly impatient.
“Elves,” she said.
“What about them? They after you?” he asked.
She shook her head and smiled ruefully. “Not this time. No, it’s elves that are after Port Freedom.”
“How do you… never mind,” Dexter said, deciding he did not have the time or the patience to want to understand. “Where might they be?”
Jenna shrugged. “There’s a lot of void out there, I’ve no idea where they might come from.”
Dexter nodded; it made sense that she would have no idea. After all, she was just his weapons mistress, not some high ranking elf that seemed to know more than she should have…
He shut the door behind him and turned back on her, closing on her until he was well inside of her personal space. Only a matter of inches separated them. “I need to know how you know this.”
Jenna looked at him, a hint of a coy smile at the corner of her mouth. She glanced away, the smile dissolving as she debated what he said.
“One day – soon, I think – I’ll be wanting your story in full,” Dexter told her, his voice firm. He softened it a little as she looked back at him, a strange look in her eyes. “For now I’ll settle with you letting me know how I can tell the sheriff this and have it ring true.”
She opened her mouth and closed it, words not coming to her. Dexter found himself strangely amused that, for once, he seemed to have her at a loss for words instead of him. Finally she nodded. “Alright, take me with you.”
Dexter stared at her for a moment, looking into her eyes and judging what he found within them. Slanted slightly due to her elven heritage, they nevertheless held no guile or treachery within them. Instead he saw an openness and honesty that left him trusting her more than he felt he should. He nodded, agreeing.
“Alright, let’s go,” he told her, stepping away and turning to open the door.
She grabbed up the supplies she needed and followed Dexter up the companionway towards the bridge. When she caught up to him he was just sticking his head in through the door to the bridge.
“Kragor, the ship’s yours while I’m away. If we’re not back after a day, she’s all yours,” Dexter said, turning about and brushing past Jenna then mounting the stairs to the deck.
Jenna heard Kragor bluster behind them, then mutter, “he keeps saying that, I’m for fearing one of these times he might be meaning it.”
A startled crew above watched Dexter and Jenna leave the ship, even Rosh’s offer to accompany them being turned down. With little else to keep them busy, Rosh, Keshira, and even Jodyne quickly fell to when Kragor yelled for them to get back to making the ship ready to leave.
The trek back through Port Freedom was hurried and without conversation or incident. Jenna easily kept up with the pace that Dexter set, though it left her little spare wind for questions. It was just as well, for her mind was busy with deciding what she would tell the sheriff of Port Freedom that would convince him.
Dexter burst into the offices used by the city guard without slowing. He looked at the surprised members of the watch that stared at him and the door that he had sent swinging into the wall, a few of them even reaching for weapons.
“Where’s Rolxoth?” Dexter demanded, looking around.
“Sheriff’s in his office,” one man said, gesturing towards a door in the wall.
Dexter glanced at the door and then her, giving her one last chance to back out. He shrugged when she nodded, then he started towards it. The man that had spoke to him before held up his hand, stalling him. He turned, the other mostly going back to their own business, and walked to the door.
“Sheriff, the skipper of that ship you been eyeing up is back to see you,” he said after he opened the door and leaned in.
Rolxoth grumbled something that they could not hear. The man backed away from the door and made room for Rolxoth to walk through it. He faced them, letting them stew for a moment wondering whether they really had his attention or not.
“You have news already?” he asked, his tone voicing his doubt and irritation at their interruption.
Dexter nodded. “Aye, I do.”
Rolxoth cocked his featureless head in what they deemed to be surprise. He backed up into his office and turned away from them. His voice, unchanged by his new orientation, bade them, “Come and tell me of it.”
Dexter and Jenna followed him in, then both nearly jumped when the door swung shut behind them. “Speak freely, this room is protected from prying eyes,” Rolxoth said.
“The elves come for Port Freedom,” Dexter said, ignoring the grim humor of how Rolxoth himself appeared to have no eyes.
Rolxoth chuckled. “That is one of many rumors I hear on the streets and taverns, you must do better.”
Jenna stepped forward, surprising an open-mouthed Dexter who was about to protest. Her hands went to her belt, untying it and tossing it to a startled Dexter. She proceeded to undo the ties on her breeches, then pushed them down and stepped out of them.
Dexter found himself staring at her from behind, admiring the curve and shape of both her legs and posterior. She glanced back at him, smiling weakly, and then turned so that they could both see her from the front.
“Captain, I need a sharp knife,” Jenna asked him.
Dexter pulled out one of the daggers from his belt and stepped closer, handing it to her. He had no idea what she was doing, but her strange performance had left him unable to do anything else. She clearly had something in mind. Rolxoth was likewise fascinated with the show.
Jenna took the blade of the dagger and used it to scrape away the sparse hair that covered her loins. Already fine, her blond hair fell to the sharp knife and drifted to the ground, revealing an intricate tattoo in her flesh behind it, that of a woven ring of vines surrounding something Dexter had trouble making out.
“You bear the mark of the house of Windchaser!” Rolxoth hissed, his deep voice rumbling in spite of his tone.
“Who’s that?” Dexter asked, concerned by the sheriff’s reaction.
“The royal house of the elven empire,” Rolxoth said. “You bring a spy amongst us, Captain.”
“I’m not a spy!” Jenna protested angrily.
Dexter thought back to when he had first met her, in a Federation prison cell. She had been put in there for being a spy as well. His eyes narrowed as he looked into hers. He saw hers widen and then narrow, moisture growing in them briefly before it was blinked away.
“Look closer,” Jenna demanded, pointing with a finger at the mark. Her finger traced the tattoo around the mark. “This marks a circle of protection, or a barrier. It is ensorcelled to prevent anyone from tracking me by my birthmark.”
Dexter realized that the strange mark in the middle, something resembling a crescent shaped sail over a beam, was in fact a birthmark and not a part of the tattoo. It was marred badly however, and only his dim recollection of hearing something about a symbol like that long ago allowed him to draw the conclusion.
“The further proof is the brand atop my birthmark,” she said, explaining the distortion that nearly prevented Dexter from identifying it. “I received it the day I was banished from elven lands at the hands of the Royal Inquisitioner! The tattoo came later, as did my adoption of the name Darkwind.”
Dexter blinked. It was the first time he had heard her surname. It had always been just Jenna until now. He nodded, accepting her story, and turned back to Rolxoth.
“Now do you believe it?” Dexter asked him.
Rolxoth chuckled softly. “Compelling evidence… what proof do you have? Merely being an estranged cousin to the royal family is not enough.”
J
enna shrugged, bending down and drawing her pants back up. Dexter found himself distracted by her movements, then forced himself to focus anew when she straightened and spoke again.
“Not so distant,” she said. “I was the third born in line of succession. I know of their long standing plans to occupy Port Freedom, though some wish it secretly and others publicly, so that they have another tool to use against the Federation.”
“If they come publicly, that means Tanagar has the ear of the emperor at last and has marshaled a fleet to carry the army in disguise. Few will be the elven vessel that carries them, yet they will land and instill themselves amongst you. You will have no idea when they are here until it is too late, then they will act.”
“Bah, we’ll know them for they are elves!” Rolxoth said, clearly growing angered.
Jenna shook her head. “Not for this. Some will be elves, sure, but some will be other races controlled by elves. Some work for money, some are compelled. Some will be magically disguised. They will infiltrate every part of Port Freedom, including the city watch. Perhaps they even know of a race of people able to assume the face of any man or woman they see in passing.”
Rolxoth faced her directly, all of his attention focused on her. He nodded at last. And asked, “You know of my kind?”
Jenna shrugged. “Rumors mostly. Stories told of demons coming in the night to do murder.”
He laughed, the sound of it sounding more sinister to Dexter than anything he had yet heard. “To bind a Malvoli to service is difficult indeed,” he said at length. “To purchase their service less so, but still so costly I doubt your people would be able to afford it.”
“Malvoli?” Dexter whispered, trying the strange word out.
“That is what I am, Captain Silvercloud. I come from another place, a place unthinkable by your people,” he acknowledged.
“Don’t doubt the intent or fervor of the elves,” Jenna said. “They’ve plans for this place; plans that do not involve a peaceful retirement for you or your men.”
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