Voidhawk

by Halstead, Jason

  “Four gold,” the other one piped up, drawing a look from the first one. “Since you’ll be depriving our world of the work that she’d be doing.”

  “It cost me-“ Dexter began, then stopped, realizing he was about to get in a fight. He took a couple of deep breaths then reached into his pouch. He extracted the gold coins, no doubt certain that more than half of it was graft, and tossed them to the guard. He dropped three of them and had to scramble to pick them up before they rolled off the dock.

  “You done harassing my cook?” he asked the other one while the first was still scrambling.

  “Aye, I think we’re finished up here,” he said, watching his fellow instead of the suspected smugglers as he should have been. When he looked back he found Dexter standing in front of him, so close that he jumped in surprise.

  “If I were smuggling,” Dexter told him in low even tones. “I’d have you fools up here distracted with something like loading food. Then, with that happening, I’d be hoisting up the goods over the other side of my ship with some lines.”

  The greedy guard came to his feet then, the four coins held in his fist. He saw his partner’s predicament and hurried to the rescue. “Hey you, stand back now! It’s against the law to threaten the Port Watch!

  Dexter stepped back and glanced meaningfully at the far side of his ship, where two lines hung over the rail. In truth they were tied off to cleats on the ground. The ship stood no chance of floating off of a dry dock, like it might a port in the void or a wet dock. Tradition still bound that a ship was to be tied off when docked

  The eyes of both guards followed his. They looked back quickly and said, “We’re finished here, but you’re still marked as suspicious!”

  As the scribe backed away, his expression blank, the two guards hurried off. They could hear them talking between themselves in low voices, anxious to check out the smuggling potential he had identified.

  The look on Rosh’s face made Bekka giggle. Far from being a man comfortable with big words, his expression spoke volumes for them. Dexter even had to laugh a little, and Jodyne’s expression softened.

  Dexter flipped the boy a copper and grabbed up a bag in each hand before walking up the gangplank. Bekka and Jodyne followed suit while the boy scampered off with the now unloaded cart.

  “Dex, where you want I should put her?” Rosh asked, coming up behind them.

  “Crew quarters,” Dexter told him.

  Rosh nodded and headed for the aft stairway. Dexter sighed. He was up another crewmate, even if she might not be able to do as much as the others. He shook his head and turned to help Jodyne carry her stuff down to the kitchen.

  * * * *

  Slightly after dusk Dexter looked up from the charts he was musing over on the bridge when he heard a noise. The vision of Kragor was there, sitting on the vacant helm and waving at him. The noise, Dexter was relieved to discover, had not come from the insane hallucination he was suffering from, but rather from someone coming up the companionway.

  Jenna and Xander stepped through the doorway a moment later. Dexter glanced over to see Kragor now watching them, a suspicious look in his eyes. Jenna followed Dexter’s gaze with her own.

  “How was shopping?” Dexter asked, realizing he was going mad if only he could see the dwarf. He did his best to hide his agitation.

  “Good,” they both said, then laughed in unison. It grated on Dexter’s nerves, hearing them laughing together so. For a moment he even felt a flash of anger and jealousy.

  “I can get the elements I need to enchant your holds,” Xander said. “But not without cost.”

  Dexter nodded. “How much?”

  The number he responded with nearly sent Dexter to the floor with shock. He shook his head and sighed. “Looks like we’ll be staying as we are.”

  “Dex, wait,” Jenna said, coming around the table to him. “We told the shopkeeper as much and he said we might be able to work out a deal. He was quite interested in the Voidhawk, I guess they don’t get too many of us ‘voidsailors’.”

  “What kind of deal?” Dexter asked, suspicious.

  “He took us to meet the merchant that owned the business. He was an Azmar!” Xander said excitedly. “Such a fascinating race, unlike many giant kin with their sophistication and intelligence.”

  Jenna waved him silent and turned back to her Captain. “He said he would be willing to trade for it in exchange for some service.”

  “Service?” Dexter said. “That don’t sound too bad. Depends on the service though, I suppose. He say any more?”

  She nodded. “Lord Falson, that’s the Azmar, would like us to go north to where he is trying to expand his lands. His army needs some decent support, and his regular airships cannot go high enough nor are they big enough to offer it.”

  “Airships and armies?” Dexter asked, baffled by the way things were unfolding.

  “Yes!” Xander cried out. “They have airships here. Nothing as large, powerful, or complex as the Voidhawk… or anything that can travel in the void really. Still, they are capable of low altitude flight.”

  “And he wants us to fight for him?” Dexter asked.

  “Not really fight, survey. Scout and perhaps drop some barrels of oil or something.”

  Dexter looked at his first mate, convinced he may not be the only one going mad. “You think this is a good idea?” he asked her.

  “Think about it Dex,” she said in a quiet voice. “We are bigger, faster, and can go much higher than anything they’ll send against us. We stay out of harm’s way, drop a few barrels, report their movements, then we pick up the spell components and we’re done!”

  “Just like that,” Dexter said.

  “Sure, just like that!”

  Dexter shook his head. “Jenna, you know war is never easy. Things never go right, and they never end when you want them to.”

  Jenna shrugged. “Maybe, but Dex, this is a chance of a lifetime! It would take us five years of hauling cargo to save up enough for this otherwise!”

  Dexter looked at the wizard, studying him. “Xander, what’s your take?”

  Xander looked a little surprised that Dexter was actually willing to listen to him. He opened his mouth to respond then closed it, realizing he needed to be certain of what he was saying and also realizing that he had to be right, otherwise he might never have the chance again.

  “Captain, I-“

  “Cap, that priest’s here!” Rosh said as he burst down the stairs and rushed into the room. He pulled up short when he saw the other two, then shrugged and continued in.

  “He brought along some friends too.”

  Dexter sighed. “The other new crewmate,” Dexter said, realizing he had forgotten about him.

  Xander stood in the bridge as the others filed out. He shut his mouth and stared after them, denied his chance to speak his mind yet again. Scowling, he stormed out after them, leaving an unseen and unheard laughing dwarf behind.

  * * * *

  “I never caught your name, Father…”

  The priest smiled at Dexter and reached out to shake his hand. “Father Dooligan,” he offered.

  He turned to the man that accompanied them. He wore a holy symbol much like the priest did, save that both it and the chain it hung on appeared to be pure silver. Silver bracelets adorned his wrists as well, and from the looks of things he found them offensive. His skin was raw on his wrists and, by the way his feet kept moving and rubbing against one another, Dexter suspected he had silver anklets as well.

  “This is Logan, the man we spoke of.”

  Dexter nodded. “I’m Dexter Silvercloud, Captain of the Voidhawk here,” he said to him. “The life of a sailor is no simple life. We run mostly cargo from one place to another, picking up work where we may. Sometimes it’s a bit more exciting, you understand, and there’s always the threat of pirates.”

  “We can use the help, and all the more if you’ve any skill in healing… magical or otherwise,” he continued. “But I’ll not have a
man or woman on my ship that’s not here because they want to be. If your wanting to join and you’ll take my orders, you may board.”

  He looked to the priest, who smiled and nodded. Dexter thought he could see some moisture in Father Dooligan’s eyes. The young man turned back to Dexter and met his gaze. Dexter was surprised by the look he saw barely contained in them. His gaze was intense and overpowering, as though something great and powerful was hiding within.

  He nodded. “I’m your man, Captain Silvercloud.”

  Dexter nodded and stepped aside so the young man could enter. He took his measure as he passed by him, noting that he stood roughly as tall as him, but seemed a bit thinner in the shoulders and chest. He carried no weapons that Dexter could see, but he supposed that men of faith felt they had all the weapon they needed in their God. Dexter fought the urge to scoff at the notion.

  “Rosh, show him to his room,” Dexter asked.

  Rosh gestured for Logan to follow him but he had only taken a step before the priest spoke up. “Remember, Captain, you mentioned the hold? I advise you to heed your own advice.”

  Dexter looked at the priest and then at Logan, then he turned to Rosh and nodded. Rosh turned again and led the newest crewmember below deck. When they were out of sight the priest spoke again.

  “How is the girl doing?”

  “She’s sleeping still,” Dexter said. “But we think she’ll be okay.”

  “Losing a hand will be hard on her,” he said. “Sometimes healing the spirit is harder than healing the body. Keep that in mind, my young friend.”

  Dexter chuckled, he hardly felt young. The priest had more than a dozen years on him, but still, the things Dexter had already done and seen had aged him much, especially of late.

  “Father… may I have a word with you?” Dexter asked, not sure he agreed with what he was doing.

  “Of course,” Father Dooligan was quick to respond.

  Dexter gestured for him to come up the plank and on to the ship, then he led him below, pausing at his cabin and taking a moment to peak into the bridge. Not seeing the specter of his former first mate, he opened his cabin and led the priest inside, offering him a seat at the table.

  “Father Dooligan,” he began, uncertain as to how to address the priest.

  “Father is fine, Captain,” he said with a warm smile.

  Dexter chuckled. “Fair enough.”

  He took a deep breath and said, “You deal with faith. The hopes of eternal life in service of Acaros. People are born, people die.”

  The priest nodded. “That sums it up I suppose. There is, of course, more to it than that.”

  Dexter nodded and held up his hand. “Aye, there is. It’s neither here nor there though. What I’m for wondering is what about them that don’t pass on?”

  The priest looked at him funny. “Those that don’t pass on? You mean, they live forever? There’s no such thing. Or do you speak of unholy abominations – the living dead?”

  “No, no, no,” Dexter said. “I mean them that die, but… well, they’re still here,” he said, trying to explain it.

  “Ah, denied entrance to the afterlife,” Father Dooligan reasoned, nodding. “Captain, I know not who you pray to, but you are a good man and I have no doubts such a thing would never-“

  Dexter sighed. “This isn’t about me,” he said, slightly exasperated. “We lost my first mate a little while back and… well, there’ve been some strange things going on. People thinking they thought they saw him.”

  Dexter altered the story just enough so that the priest would not suspect Dexter was actually the only one who had seen him.

  Father Dooligan leaned forward, interested. “I’ve heard of such things,” he confessed. “Often they are of someone who was died unjustly and remains to seek revenge.”

  “Have you seen this apparition?”

  Dexter hesitated, then nodded. “I thought I was going mad,” he admitted.

  Father Dooligan shook his head. “Was he well liked and was he a good person?”

  “Aye, he was… ” Dexter trailed off, unable to speak for a moment. He just nodded and finally said, “he was a good man.”

  “You’re not daft, my son,” the priest said softly. “And while I’ve not heard of it before, I can only guess that this friend of yours stays out of love for your crew. How did he die?”

  “Some type of creature found a way into our steerage and Kragor stumbled across him. It struck him down, paralyzing him and making him black out. He never awoke,” Dexter said raggedly. He looked up and shook his head. “He fought… he was a dwarf, after all.”

  Father Dooligan nodded and smiled. “I know.”

  Dexter opened his mouth to say more then stopped. “You know?” he asked, confused. “But I’d never spoken of that before. Did you hear it from someone else?”

  The priest nodded his head towards Dexter, but to the side. His eyes looked there as well. When Dexter turned his head to look he saw Kragor sitting on the head of his bed, carving a block of wood and sending ghostly shavings to the floor. They disappeared before they reached that decking.

  “You can see him?” Dexter asked, turning back to the priest.

  He nodded and smiled. “I can. He is letting me, otherwise I doubt I would be able to.”

  “This friend of yours is a benign spirit. Only the wrathful and vengeful ones have the strength to affect the world of the living. Your friend stays on to see that you do well, I suspect. Or perhaps there is more he would tell you, yet he cannot as he has no voice.”

  Dexter turned to Kragor and caught the dwarf’s eye. They shared a look and Dexter had to blink back tears. He was not crazy! Making no noise. Kragor sniffed and bent his head to go back to carving his block of wood.

  “Captain, I must take my leave,” the priest said, noticing the special moment between the two. “It does my heart good to see this though… it makes me feel better about your new deckhand and his fate.”

  Dexter rose with him. “We’ll take good care of him, Father,” Dexter promised. “As good as can be given out there, at least.”

  “My thanks, my friend.” They shook again and Dexter escorted him back up to the deck and off of the ship. He paused up there and sighed, happy to not be insane.

  “Everything alright, Captain?” Rosh asked as he wandered by carrying a length of sail that Bekka was planning on mending.

  Dexter stared at the priest then to Rosh and asked, “Rosh, see that man over there?”

  Rosh turned and nodded. “Yeah, the priest… right?”

  Dexter smiled. “Aye,” he said, then turned and walked away, whistling a tune softly. Rosh watched him go, head cocked to the side. Finally he shrugged and continued on his way.

  Chapter 8: Dancing with Demons

  The Voidhawk bucked against the breeze, making everyone on board anxious to grab on to something to keep their balance. A normal day’s sailing had a few minor bumps and shifts, but it took place in the Void, where the ship carried its own pocket of air with it. Today it sailed through the gusty clouds of Azmea’s atmosphere, seeking the forward army of Lord Falson’s forces.

  Dexter agreed to a deal with the Azmarian lord. He was to help secure a nearby region, a peninsula of land that was run by another Azmarian lord. In return for the assistance of the Voidhawk, he would be given the necessary magical materials Xander needed to enchant his ship so his holds could carry more than they should be able to. Dexter did not understand the magic, he only knew that he had heard of ships being modified thusly. With an increased carrying capacity he reasoned that profits would be far easier to come by.

  Bucking their way through the wind made him grit his teeth and wonder at the soundness of his decision, however. He expected a couple of months for their current job and, after only a couple of hours, three of his crew had thrown up and his own stomach was anxious to join them.

  “How do the dirthuggers manage it,” Jenna asked, her own elven features tinged with green.

  Dexter s
hook his head. He had no idea. The natives of Azmea had their own airships, but they were smaller vessels that were flimsy in comparison to the Voidhawk. They were far slower and could not climb nearly as high. Even worse though, Azmea had oceans and he could only imagine how the sailors upon those oceangoing ships felt as they were buffeted by both wind and waves.

  Dexter’s new deckhands were serving passably well, at least. Neither was the least bit familiar with sailing aboard a ship, be it water or air bound. Logan, the son of Father Dooligan, was mostly quiet. He followed orders and learned quickly, but seemed to be tormented much of the time. He would often be found scratching at the anklets and bracelets he wore, as well as the holy symbol about his neck. Logan spent his nights locked in the cargo hold, as much by his own request as that of his father.

  The unknown magical ailment he suffered from was only part of the peculiarities for the newcomers to the crew. Willa’s brush with death seemed to have restored in her a zeal for life. What surprised Dexter most was the way in which she seemed to understand how things worked on the ship. From the flow of the wind to the way the masts, sails, and other rigging worked. Dexter had never expected much from her, but it seemed as though she might have natural talent enough to be more than just a body running the lines.

  He was also surprised to see how well she cleaned up. Gaunt from malnutrition, some water and a comb had her pale blond hair looking presentable, if not lustrous. Free of the clouds of pain and misery, her brown eyes were soft, curious, and faintly filled with hope. In simple but clean clothes, she looked like a human again, instead of a creature forced to wallow in filth.

  The journey north took many hours. Everyone save Keshira was exhausted by the time the sun dipped low in the west and the winds died down on them. Far below they could see a teeming mass of an armed camp, with a section set aside near the rear of the camp where the smaller airships of the Azmarians sat. Several people hurried towards the ships.