Voidhawk

by Halstead, Jason

  “Kill him, Captain, please… give him mercy and spare us,” Bekka said, turning to Aidan and pleading.

  “Captain, what is she on about? This wound is nothing,” Aidan said, addressing Dexter.

  “Rosh, get him off my ship,” Dexter said.

  Rosh looked at Dexter then turned to the man, reaching out to carry out his orders.

  “Now wait just a damned minute!” Aidan said.

  The man roared and staggered away from Rosh’s reaching grip before falling to his knees. His hair drenched with sweat and his skin flushed with fever, he let his head loll while his chest heaved.

  “Kaskins, are you-“ Aidan asked the man, taking a step forward.

  His head shot up, revealing the face of a madman. Kaskins, or the man who had been Kaskins, sprung forward, slamming into Aidan and knocking him to the decking. Before he could clamp his hungry jaws on Aidan another shot rang out, jerking him back from the army Captain.

  Kaskins twitched on the deck and his blood pumped steadily out of the gaping wound in the side of his neck. Jenna reloaded her pistol, silently reminding Dexter to do the same. No words needed to be spoken, Rosh picked up the body and tossed it overboard. The commander of the task force rose to his feet mute and shaken.

  A sound emerged from the fog shrouded ruins. It was an unholy moan, weaving in and out of the rocks, that sent a chill to the bone.

  “What have we done?” Aidan whispered in horror.

  Chapter 9: The Price of Betrayal

  “How long will it last?” Dexter asked, looking out at the swirling fog and the moaning and groaning mysteries within it.

  “The mists?” Jenna asked. “How are we to know?”

  “No,” Dexter said, turning to Xander. “Your spell… how long until it fades?”

  Xander stared into the mists, his eyes wide at the shadowy forms of the fallen soldiers that walked again. They circled around the Voidhawk, held at bay by the wizard’s protective circle. “Until I let it fade,” he said. “Or if any of it is disturbed.” He thought for a moment, “I suppose it could consume the diamond dustings, but that would take a very long time… hundreds or thousands of years.”

  “So you’re saying we’re safe then?” Rosh asked.

  “Well,” Xander said, “only so long as I keep it focused and channeling the magical energies.”

  “What’s that mean?” Dexter snapped, annoyed at the wizard’s tendency to over-complicate simple things.

  “Sleep,” Bekka answered. “As long as he’s awake, he can keep it working.”

  “Thank you,” Dexter said in exasperation. “Well then, let’s get to it! We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Dexter snapped off orders, giving everyone a task, Aidan and Xander were left free of duties, the former because Dexter did not want him getting in the way and the latter because he did not want to run any risk of the wizard being injured or tiring him out.

  As they turned to leave Rosh wandered close to Xander, making the wizard’s eyes widen as he tried to lean away from the larger man. “You ain’t feeling sleepy, are ya?”

  Xander shook his head. “Less so now,” he said.

  “Good, you let me know if you need a good waking up,” Rosh offered. He smiled, but to Xander it seemed threatening.

  The wizard nodded and managed a weak smile in return, then excused himself and hurried off to another part of the deck.

  Jenna worked with Bekka, helping her with the sails as the sorceress used her talent at sewing and her understanding of the magical fabric to mend it. Jenna had no such talents, but she could move the heavy fabric and provide whatever the bald half-elf needed.

  “Bekka?” Jenna asked her after several long minutes of silence. “You said you’ve seen this before, what is it?”

  Bekka shivered at the memory and took a deep breath before responding. “I lived in a small colony of exiles… people like me that were banished or unwelcome among the Elven Empire.”

  Jenna closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. She would not deny it, she knew such things happened. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “It was not you that did it, feel no shame.”

  Jenna shrugged. “Maybe, but the elves who did make you feel that way will never apologize, so I shall do it for them.”

  Bekka smiled her appreciation. “The Captain wears off on us all, I think.”

  Jenna smiled in return. “Yes, it’s irritating at times.”

  Bekka’s hands worked of their own accord, mending the sail while she returned to her story. “A ship crashed on the mean near where we lived. We search for survivors, figuring the Elven Navy had damaged a smuggler and anyone who had been an enemy of the elves was a friend to us. All we found was an urn.”

  “Those that opened it never returned, instead they unleashed a fog much like that one,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Anyone that was caught in it ended up like that man did, driven mad and lusting for flesh and blood.”

  “And those they bit turned too.”

  “Once we knew what was happening, we ran. The fog eventually disappeared, either returning whence it came or dispersing on the wind. That was when we met the living zombies.” Bekka stopped sewing and took a deep breath.

  “They could be stopped, but they were so many,” she whispered. “Friends and family, brothers and sisters…”

  “Their bodies lived, but their minds were gone.” She stopped and looked at Jenna, her eyes focusing as she blinked away the painful memories. “Kill them as you can, they will die and be no more. Already they are dead to the world.”

  “How did you get away from them? Did enough of your people escape to kill them all?” Jenna asked, caught up in the tale and the painful way she told it.

  Bekka shook her head. “I was young, less than a score of years old. Only a few of us got away, and they seemed to know where we were, attacking us again and again.”

  “Raving and violent, they possessed some knowledge of who they once were, or had the memories of the person that they once were, at least. Make no mistake there is no morality in them. No conscience and no mercy.”

  “Three of us escaped, but only by going where they would not expect us: to the wreckage of the ship that crashed. It was there that we found the urn. It was sealed again and we refused to have anything to do with it.”

  “Instead we found a small boat amongst the wreckage that we used to escape the moon. An older boy named Harlon defended us against the walking dead. Harlon had been hurt, gouged by their fingernails but not bitten. Without healing magic, the injuries were too much and he fell asleep and never woke again.” She looked out at the ruins. “The poison is in their mouths and their blood.”

  With a heavy sigh, she continued. “The other survivor and I were picked up outside of Elven space by a smuggler. He became the cook’s monkey and I… well, I’m here now. I’ve no idea what happened to him, that was a long time ago, it seems. Over a dozen years.”

  Jenna sat back and blew out the breath she had been holding. “Such… wow. I never knew. I’ve heard of outposts and colonies of those the elves thought unfit for their beautiful cities and ports, but I never really understood it until now.”

  “Did you ever find out who the ship belonged to?” Jenna asked a moment later.

  Bekka shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  Jenna nodded, “Yes, yes I think it does.”

  “Not really. There were no corpses from the crash. The ship had been abandoned.”

  Jenna’s eyes widened.

  Bekka reached over to her and laid her hand on Jenna’s. “It does my heart good to see the fire that burns in your heart and is kindled by the Captain.” She looked over the edge of the ship and into the mists. “You should go to him, while we still have time.”

  Jenna followed her gaze. The mists appeared to be thinning. While it should have been relieving to see that, instead it bothered her. It meant that the shadowy forms moving through the fog around their ship would soon be visible
.

  Jenna nodded. “I think you’re right,” she whispered.

  Bekka smiled. “You’ve come a long way, Jenna,” she told her. “I’m proud of you, and proud to call you a friend.”

  Jenna smiled and blinked back the wetness in her eyes. The half-elf was right: she had come a long way. She took a deep breath and stood, then leaned over to give Bekka a hug. Both woman smiling in surprised embarrassment, the first mate turned away to find the Captain.

  Bekka watched her leave and sniffed back the tears. Xander could only last so long, she knew, and it would take many hours to have the ship in a condition that gave it a chance against the wind spirits above them. Then there was the matter of being able to land again with a strut so damaged that it would not hold their weight. A tear ran down her cheek. She vowed that she would not end up like Kaskins or those of her youth. She reached down to touch the pistol she had tied to her side. It was cold and brutal, an alien weapon to her that she normally disdained. Now it gave her a measure of grim hope.

  * * * *

  The shifting had strained the aft port landing strut as well, though Dexter and Rosh, under Willa’s surprising tutelage, were able to shore it up safely enough. The bow strut was worse than ever, and not something Dexter had any idea how they would fix. Even Willa, who seemed to be somehow channeling Kragor’s knowledge and skill, was silent about it.

  “Captain!”

  Dexter glanced up at the sound of Logan’s voice calling to him. The man was largely quiet, but as far as he was concerned, he had proven his worth in gold that day by helping as he had and, more so, by helping Rosh escape a crushing end under the landing strut.

  “Aye?” Dexter asked.

  Logan looked up to the sky. The mists had been slowly parting, allowing them to stare into the ruins and see the bodies moving about them more clearly. Expressions and details were still difficult to make out, and now that the sun was setting darkness was shrouding what the mist could no longer hide.

  Dexter followed his gaze and saw what troubled the priest. With the setting of the sun the moon was due to emerge; the moon that had been waxing the past several nights.

  “I must go below,” Logan said, his voice somewhat labored.

  Dexter frowned, but nodded. He had to find out just what the ailment was that affected the priest, but he had no time to do so now. Now they faced a far greater problem. A wet growl from behind him reminded him just how great their problem was.

  “Cap,” Rosh said after Logan left. “You see how he kicked that stone into my side earlier?”

  Dexter glanced at Rosh, then returned his gaze to the ruins and the bodies that tried to find a way past the protective charms Xander had placed around them. He had not seen what Rosh had referred to, though.

  “That weren’t no light stone,” Rosh said. “It held up the ‘Hawk long enough for me to get out!”

  Dexter nodded again, “You saying you couldn’t have done that?”

  Rosh snorted. “Yeah, I’m saying that! Leastways not without breaking my foot and walking funny for a few weeks after.”

  Dexter looked over at Rosh again. “What else are you saying?”

  Rosh shrugged. “Just saying that ain’t right is all. If this were my boat, I wouldn’t want something that ain’t making sense on it.”

  Dexter’s eyes narrowed. “Good thing it’s not your boat then,” he told him. “If it was, you’d be holding up the ‘Hawk and having trouble drawing a full breath.”

  Rosh opened his mouth to retort, but found nothing to say. He clamped it shut a moment later then turned away to study the strut with Willa some more. Dexter looked away as well and went back to the where a rope ladder hung from the railing of his ship.

  “Problems?” Jenna said softly when she saw him come up over the edge.

  Dexter shook his head, dismissing it. They were in a tight spot, tempers were bound to flare. It did not make it right, but as long as there was no mutiny going on, they could still work together and find a solution. Speaking of working together…

  “Shouldn’t you be helping Bekka?”

  Jenna shook her head. “She’s able to do it fine on her own,” she said. “I need to show you something.”

  Dexter sighed softly and followed her as she led him down to the bridge. Once there she shut the door behind him and turned as if to point out a problem with the outer hull. He followed her gaze and stood close to her.

  “This is what I should be doing,” she said to him, then turned to the confused Captain and pressed her lips against his.

  Dexter’s eyes widened and he pulled away from her. “Are you mad, woman?” He hissed at her. “You know what kind of trouble we’re in here?”

  Jenna just stared at him. “Dex,” she said, her eyes sparkling with moisture. “I asked Bekka how she had seen this kind of thing before and she told me. The ‘Hawk’s in bad shape, she’ll take hours to make airworthy again.”

  “From what she told me about them that’s out side, getting away’s the only way to deal with them. The mist will leave eventually, but those touched by it are cursed and won’t stop coming for us until they’re put down or we join them.”

  Dexter listened intently. He was glad that Jenna had gotten the information out of Bekka, proud of her, even. On the other hand, her behavior was disturbing him.

  “Thirty some men, who knows how many of those Perryn, and who knows what else,” Jenna said. “There’s only ten of us, including Aidan, and he’s done nothing but stare into the mists for a while now.”

  “What are you saying?” he asked, suspecting her ulterior motive but wanting to know for sure.

  “I’m an elf,” Jenna said after a deep breath. “We live for hundreds of years; I’ve already lived over a century. I’m patient… I’ve been waiting for you for how long now?”

  “I’m afraid to wait any longer,” she said. “Dex… I don’t want to end up like that. I don’t want to see you like that… or any of them! If you came after me I don’t think I could do what I had to.”

  Dexter stared at her. “We got a lot of fight left in us yet,” he pointed out, feeling somewhat drained by her grim outlook. “Xander’s spell is keeping us safe too.”

  Jenna nodded. She smiled sadly, “He’s human, he can only go for so long without sleep and he’s had a rough week already between the brewing and today’s action.”

  “So what are you for then?” Dexter asked her bluntly. He was angry with her for stating things thusly and angry with himself for not being able to counter her arguments.

  “Love me, Dexter,” she whispered, a tear running down one cheek. “We may not have much time left, let’s take what we can and share it.”

  Dexter felt himself drawn to her and, for a brief moment, he wanted to give in to her. Her arguments were sound; his desire for her considerable. His reasons for abstaining seemed petty in light of their troubles. He leaned in and kissed her, sharing a moment in time that stood still for both of them, yet vanished in an instant of ache and longing.

  “We’re not done for yet,” he said to her, smiling.

  Jenna looked at him, frustration and longing on her face. “We who?” she asked him bluntly.

  He grinned. “All of us,” he said, and then he turned to head back up on to the deck.

  Jenna reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him up short. “Dex, I-“

  He turned to her and shook his head. “Jenna, stop worrying,” he told her. “If we was that done in, you think I’d be turning your offer down?”

  He gave her hand a squeeze and then let go, heading with quick and powerful strides out of the bridge and back up on the deck. Jenna watched him go, fresh tears running down her cheeks. She took a deep breath, recomposed herself, and then laughed softly. In spite of their situation, in spite of his apparent rejection, she was smiling. It made no sense at all, but by doing what he had done he had renewed her faith in him and her hope they might live. She shook her head, wiped her tears, and followed after him.

&n
bsp; * * * *

  On the deck Dexter looked around at the people working and nodded. Only Aidan was standing still, staring into the twilight ruins. Dexter made his way to him and stood silent beside him.

  “I used to be in the army,” Dexter said without preamble. “Well, navy really; the Federation Navy.”

  Aidan turned to look at him, roused from his thoughts. “Who is that?” he asked without really caring.

  Dexter pointed up towards the sky and the void beyond. “A nation of power-hungry humans that rule a part of the Void,” he explained. “Wasn’t even important enough to be a tool, though; barely a tooth on a gear.”

  “Course that wouldn’t stop them from turning their back’s on me at a moment’s notice if they could benefit from it,” he added with a dark chuckle. “The greater good, they’d have said to Kragor and Jodyne… only real family I had then.”

  Aidan nodded, understanding the concept and perhaps where Dexter was going with it.

  “See them down there? Rosh and Willa?” the Captain asked, nodding down towards the unlikely pair trying different things – to no avail.

  “Willa just joined us, I bought her from some slavers in Azmir,” he explained. “She was near dead with pain, sickness, and a rotting hand… not to mention what the guards done to her.”

  “I bought her, took her to a priest an’ got her healed. Lost her hand all the same, but look at her now, full of life.”

  “She is an unusual slave,” Aidan offered.