Voidhawk

by Halstead, Jason

  Dexter looked back at the tables and smiled. “I’ve got me an idea.”

  * * * *

  Jenna awoke to find herself confined in a cell with Bailynn, naked. Bailynn sat against a wall, cradling her knees to her chest while tears ran down her cheeks.

  Jenna forced herself up, fighting the urge to groan at her many bruises. Her head swam with the effort and abuse it had taken along the way. She made her way to Bailynn and sat along the wall beside her. She was silent for a long moment before she spoke.

  “I see no bruises or injuries upon you, did you fight at all?” Jenna asked roughly.

  Bailynn shook her head, refusing to look up.

  “I see,” Jenna said, sighing. “The elves created you to be a killing machine and all you did was cry and be taken captive. You spilled none of their blood, you are hardly worth the title slayer.”

  Bailynn look up, briefly, and whispered, “good!”

  “Yes, that’s just great,” the elf said sarcastically. “We needed a heartless murderer to fight them off, and you turn from that to being worthless.”

  Jenna stood up, ignoring the pain in one hip, and stalked away to peer out the windows of the room that served as their cell. She studied it closely, then continued to look at the room in search of a way out. She noticed the smell in the room, of unwashed bodies and the stale leftover odors that happen from too many people kept in an enclosed area too long. Her fears were confirmed, they were in the hold of slavers.

  “Why do you hate me?”

  Jenna’s head snapped around so she could stare at Bailynn. It was the first sign of true freedom and intelligence the girl had displayed. She stared at her for a long moment, her eyes boring into the human.

  “Because you remind me of how cruel my people can be,” she said finally and openly. “They justify it as a necessary evil, but it remains an evil.”

  “I have nightmares,” Bailynn said. “I remember things they did… to me. Lessons they taught, and things they made me do.”

  Jenna showed no outward sign, but inside she felt an icy hand twist her heart with every one of the girl’s sentences. She wanted her to stop, and nearly ordered her to do so, but somehow she felt as though she deserved to hear her plight. As if, in hearing it and in feeling her pain, she could somehow atone for the wrongs that had been done to Bailynn.

  “They cannot be undone,” Jenna said, wondering if there was any advice to give the tortured girl. “You have only your future before you; your past is done and finished. It is yours to make of it what you will.”

  “I tried to please them,” she continued, staring at Jenna through eyes that were blurry with tears. “I kept telling myself if I did one more thing, one more job, if I just let it happen one more time it would all end. They would let me go and make me better.”

  “But it never happened,” Jenna finished for her, turning back to stare out the small bars on the door so that the girl would not see her face.

  Unseen, Bailynn shook her head in agreement that it had never happened. “I could not deny them, and soon I wanted to die. I gave in to it and tried to let myself go. I tried to push myself so I would be killed. They stopped that too. I was a prisoner. I am a prisoner still.”

  “And soon you’ll have a new Master,” Jenna said softly, thinking that surely Bekka had been stripped as thoroughly as they had been and the controlling ring would be found and eventually put to use.

  “Bekka has it still,” Bailynn said dully.

  “What? How?” Jenna asked, confused not at Bailynn knowing who possessed it so much as how Bekka could still be in possession of it.

  Bailynn shrugged; she did not know.

  Jenna smiled faintly. “That clever girl,” she muttered. “She must have hidden it. You say she still has it? Not something she left stuck in a box or a sack somewhere?”

  Bailynn shook her head, “She is touching it, that much I know.”

  Jenna chuckled. “She hid it well then.”

  The elf turned to the waif and walked to stand in front of her. She stared down at her a minute and then sank down to her knees in front of her. “Bailynn, I need you to help me. If we are to escape and live, then we need to work together, okay?”

  Bailynn looked at her, her expression one of pure helplessness. “Why? Let them come. Let them kill me. I seek death, it will release me.”

  Jenna felt the urge to slap her or to grab and shake her. Anything to bring some sense to her and rouse her from her unending depression. Instead she just sat there and stared at her.

  “You’re just like them,” Bailynn whispered. Fresh tears spilled from her eyes.

  Jenna nearly stumbled backwards at the accusation. She felt as though she had been slapped across the face. “What? How can you say that?”

  “You want to use me. You want me to help you so you can escape,” Bailynn accused.

  Jenna shook her head. The pain in her head cleared as the impact of the girl’s words slammed into her, leaving a fresh pain in their wake. She reached out to the floor to steady herself and stared at Bailynn. Her own eyes glistened with moisture.

  “Bailynn- I… I’m sorry,” Jenna said, blinking away the water. “I don’t want to use you so I can escape. I want us both to escape. I want us to work together. We share the risk and share the reward. That is what I want.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?”

  Jenna shook her head, confused.

  “You’ll do anything you can to get away. Anything you can to run from them. Anything you can to prove you’re not like them,” Bailynn said, repositioning herself so that she was on her knees now and looking straight into Jenna’s eyes.

  “You’ll justify anything, even behaving like them, so you can say you’re not one of them,” Bailynn said.

  Jenna’s mouth opened but she had no words to utter. She stared at the ruined girl and her words ate away at her. Bailynn was right. She acted like an elf, even vowing her independence, but she still acted like them. She claimed her ends were different, but her means were the same. She shook her head to deny it reflexively, but found she had no voice to confirm her denial.

  “Hit me,” Bailynn whispered, her voice almost seductive. “Lash out and beat me. Prove me wrong. Use your strength over me.”

  Jenna shook her head again and this time had the words. “No,” she said, repeating it twice more before continuing. “I’ll not harm you. I’ll never hurt you,” she said.

  “Pain is all I know,” she said so softly it took Jenna’s elven ears to hear her.

  “No more,” Jenna vowed. “I cannot undo what was done to you, but that is behind you. You have only your past and your future. We cannot change what was, but we can change what will be. I will help you – all of us – will help you.”

  Bailynn looked at her and, for the first time, almost dared to believe. The light in her eyes faded quickly, but the fact that it had shown for a moment was promise enough for Jenna. The elf rose to her feet and took Bailynn’s hands in her own, pulling her up with her. The girl remained shorter than she was, and in spite of Jodyne’s hearty cooking she was still thin as a sail turned sideways.

  Jenna pulled the girl to her, pressing her flesh against hers, and held her tight against her sharing her warmth and comfort. She cradled Bailynn’s head to her breast, both drawing strength from the act and trying to convey it to her.

  “Come, we need to escape this place so we can rescue our friends, recover our ship, and find our Captain,” Jenna said after a moment.

  Jenna let go of the girl and turned back to the door. Bailynn stared at her for a long moment, missing the warmth of her embrace. Fresh moisture filled her eyes but she wiped it away before it had a chance to fall. So faint it could not be seen in the dim light coming in through the small opening in the doorway, she smiled.

  * * * *

  Bekka’s first thoughts upon waking was to recall exactly what had happened to her. She had been struggling to keep the Voidhawk moving and in the process of doing so, ignored
her immediate area. The traumatic impact of the gauntleted fist to her cheek had put an end to all of that, however. She remembered, faintly, grabbing the ring that controlled Bailynn and trying to hide it before the darkness claimed her.

  Rubbing her cheek, she looked around the room and saw Jodyne laying on the floor nearby. They were in a small room with no windows other than the small one in the doorway that was protected via some iron bars. Jodyne was unconscious and she noticed after a moment, nud; dwarven women had more hair than just their beards that they seemed to be proud of.

  Bekka glanced down at herself. She was naked as well. Unlike Jodyne, she was quite happy to be devoid of hair on her body, thanks to both her natural magic and aided by her razor edged dagger. Of course the argument of follicular superiority was meaningless at the moment, and would also do little to help them out of their predicament.

  Bekka crawled over to Jodyne and gently nudged her. When the woman did not respond she shook her again a little more roughly. This time she came around, groaning before sitting up and raising her hand to the back of her neck. She licked her lips, tasting the blood from a split in them, and let her eyes focus on the half-elf.

  Her eyes widened upon seeing the woman with no clothing on. She looked down at herself and cursed in Dwarven, her hands going quickly to cover herself. Bekka smiled disarmingly at her and shrugged.

  “It is only the two of us,” she said softly. “The slavers captured us.”

  Jodyne surged to her feet, turning to the door and looking for a handle to grab to wrench on. She balled her hands into fists at her side and ground her teeth in frustration.

  “Jodyne, be patient, we can’t let them know we are awake until we know what it is we wish to do.”

  “We wish to be free,” Jodyne snapped. “I’ll not be slaving for any; death would be better!” She paused and glared at the confines of their cell. “Where are the others?”

  Bekka pushed past her surprise at the fiery nature of the woman. She knew she could be stubborn and obstinate, a woman would have to be to love Kragor as she did, but she was surprised by the power of her emotions.

  “I think they have been put in rooms much like these. That or…”

  Jodyne nodded, allowing Bekka to let the unthinkable go unsaid. Every one of them would fight while they had the strength in their limbs to do so, and it was often easier to kill than it was to incapacitate.

  “Do you have any magic to get us out?” Jodyne asked after pushing against the door and discovering it to be unyielding.

  Bekka shook her head. “I have nothing that would help us. We must wait for our captors to arrive and take them by surprise.”

  Jodyne scowled beneath her beard and crossed her arms. “This better work,” she grumbled, moving back and sitting down with her back to a wall. She crossed her legs self consciously and waited.

  Bekka watched her for only a moment and then looked away. It was a dangerous game they tried, but as Jodyne had pointed out, death might be better than what the slavers had in mind for them.

  She sat down as well and closed her eyes to meditate. She wondered if she could perhaps turn one of her spells into something that might aid them after all. Minor effects and protective magics were the extent of her abilities; she doubted that she had anything that would be of great effect. A distraction she might cause, but little more.

  * * * *

  “Who be you?” Kragor asked, sitting up and reaching to rub the knot on his skull. His arm ached and throbbed from where a club had bruised him deeply near the shoulder.

  “My name is Xander,” the human replied morosely. He, too, sat naked in the small room.

  Kragor grunted and turned to study the door of their prison. It was solidly built, if simple, and he doubted it could be opened short of tools or by possession of strength greater than the two of them possessed. While displeased with his state of dress, he saw little point in letting it visibly upset him. He had greater concerns to deal with.

  “What’s happening?” Kragor asked, turning back to him.

  “You’ve been captured by slavers,” the man said sarcastically, “same as me.”

  Kragor scowled. “Maybe you have, but I ain’t been captured yet.”

  “Oh? Naked dwarf trapped in a cell… you’re right, that doesn’t sound like captured to me,” the man scoffed.

  Kragor turned on him, fists clenched. “Shut yer mouth, I’m thinking!”

  Xander recoiled a bit at the ferocity and volume of the dwarf’s voice. He shook his head after a minute and shrugged. “Think all you want, dwarf, there’s naught to be done.”

  The dwarf ignored him and turned to once again study the door. He imagined some sort of a lever might work to lift it off its hinges, but they were short on levers.

  “They found my tower and raided it, losing nearly a dozen men to my defenses before they broke in. I slew more, but they were too many. They stole my spell books and drained my magic from me, then tossed me in here,” Xander continued.

  “You’re a wizard?” Kragor asked, not caring about his story but wondering if the man might be able to magic up some trick for them.

  “I was,” Xander said, pulling a small amount of pride in to himself. “Xander vonHelric, wizard of the void.”

  Kragor grunted, never having heard of the man before. “Can you wizard up some way out of here for us?”

  “Oh, of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” Xander said in mock relief. “That’s what I needed, a furry dwarf to remind me of my skills!”

  Kragor scowled and turned away, not liking the man’s tone.

  “They drained my magic from me, dwarf!” Xander spat out contemptuously. “I must study and rest to recover, and without my spell books I am useless!”

  “That was your tower?” Kragor asked, ignoring the caustic remarks from the powerless wizard.

  “You can hear!” Xander said, the praise dripping sarcasm. “I constructed it with my magic, a mighty fortress able to house my conjurings.”

  He sighed and looked at the floor, his anger fading to sadness. “It’s destroyed now, barely a shell of what it was. At least my final trap in my casting room has two of them prisoner still. My final victory: their death, as my sand sharks rend their flesh from their bones.”

  Kragor spun around and stared at him. He walked over, stumpy legs crossing the distance in the small cell in three strides, and he grabbed the mage by both arms and yanked him forward so that their faces were only inches apart.

  “You’ve got two men trapped in your tower?” he asked him, his tone deadly and even.

  Eyes wide, Xander nodded. “Yes,” he stammered.

  “Them be my friends,” Kragor told him. “Them went in to see if they could help any survivors. Let them go!”

  “Let go of me!” Xander snapped, trying to pull Kragor’s hands off of his arms ineffectually. “More likely they sought to pillage the remains!”

  “I’m not telling you again,” Kragor hissed, hands pinching mercilessly into the wizard’s soft arms.

  Xander grimaced in pain and debated whether or not he should listen to the dwarf. If nothing else, it would make him leave him alone. Besides, if they were the dwarf’s friends and not some of the slavers, they may not deserve the grisly fate he had in store for them. Of course, if they were slavers what difference did it make?

  * * * *

  “You sure this is gonna work?” Rosh asked as he made ready to toss the inverted table where Dexter had explained that he wanted it.

  “The tables have a marble top on them,” Dexter grunted, straining under the heavy weight as he held up his end of the six foot long table. “Those things can’t come through the marble we be on, I’m thinking they can’t come through this.”

  Rosh shrugged, not willing to admit that Dexter’s logic was sound. He counted to three and together they launched the table away from the dais and onto the sand. It hit unevenly but settled down almost immediately, sending a small cloud of dust into the air. The creature
s in the sand roiled and writhed beneath the surface, moving towards it and lashing out at it, but being turned away every time. After a few moments they stopped, and instead moved around it as though they knew that Rosh and Dexter would soon be upon it.

  “I’ll be damned,” Rosh muttered.

  “Already are, I ‘spect,” Dexter replied, moving over to the other table and getting ready to lift it.

  Rosh grinned and moved to the opposite end. They flipped it over and lifted it up, then Rosh stepped off the dais and onto the first table which was laying upside down on the sand. The sand burst forth as the creatures within it showed their agitation. They lashed out at it again, some even rising out of the sand far enough to bite into the table legs and tear them away. Rosh bent his knees to keep his balance and moved backwards slowly, letting Dexter catch up.

  Dexter’s grip was slipping on the table and he wondered again at the strength of Rosh. He considered himself a strong man, but Rosh seemed to lift it up as though it was effortless. He focused on the man at the other end of the table, ignoring the snapping creatures that they could now see glimpses of.

  The sand sharks resembled a cross between a snake and a fish, although they also possessed small legs and feet. Their mouths were what was most threatening, since they were filled with vicious looking teeth. Teeth that, they had discovered, could cut through metal. Those same teeth also tore apart the stout wooden legs of the table with ease.

  Rosh reached the end of the first table and signaled Dexter to let go. Hunkering down, he tilted Dexter’s end up in the air slowly, then twisted and shuffled his feet to turn in place. Straining to hold the weight of the entire table by himself, braced against his hips while his arms held onto the sides, he thrust his hips forward and tried to aid in tossing the table with his hands at the same time.