Voidhawk

by Halstead, Jason

  “I’m happy here,” Willa said, slipping her arm around his chest affectionately.

  Rosh laughed. “I didn’t mean that,” he said. “Sure, you put a powerful smile on my face!”

  “So what about Jasper Highsail?”

  Rosh sighed. He looked around a little, then stared up at the stars again. “Jasper Highsail’s a no good son of a bitch. He’s a pirate captain that’s got a legend for being a two faced double crossing…”

  “Quite a reputation, it can’t all be true,” she said when he faltered and ran out of adjectives.

  Rosh sighed. “It’s worse, he’s… he’s never let anything get in the way of him being number one.”

  “It must be tough, having that sort of a reputation to deal with,” Willa said, sensing there was a lot more to it than this. “You know this man, don’t you?”

  Rosh nodded. “He’s my father.”

  * * * *

  “Go!” Logan called, standing beside Keshira and raising his mace to block the swing from one of the macabre statues that had suddenly animated as they passed through the entrance hall of the tower. Bailynn stood on the other side, her teeth bared and looking every bit as savage as the statues that came to life.

  Dexter, sword in hand, hesitated as they held back the two animated gargoyles.

  “If you love her, you must help her – dying here will do neither of you any good,” Bekka said to him.

  Dexter nodded but still waited a moment. He knew what he had to do, but it still pained him.

  “You’re not abandoning them,” Bekka hissed at him. “They are buying you time!”

  “They might need help,” Dexter said. “Stick around and see that they get it.”

  Bekka’s eyes widened and she looked ready to protest. A hiss of pain from Logan distracted her. Dexter bounded up the stairs, seeing that Logan had only a fresh bruise upon his arm. Bekka summoned her magic to aid the priest and the pleasure golem.

  Dexter crossed through another room and came upon a closed double door. He stopped to study the magical rune upon it. With a shrug he backed up several steps and clenched his teeth with resolve. A running start preceded a feet-first leap at the door. With a flash of light and the smell of ozone the doors flew open.

  Dexter fared only slightly better than the door, his legs in spasms and his teeth grinding against the pain. The shock that coursed through his body was over as soon as it begun, but it left his muscles constricted and his lungs unable to draw a breath. His gaze fell on Jenna sitting upon a throne showing no sign of awareness of his presence. Dexter moaned, forcing air into his chest. He made another garbled noise as he tried to curse.

  Finally, when Jenna’s eyes flickered across him, he forced himself able to act. His legs cramped, refusing to obey, but his arms were his to control again and his pulled himself across the floor in her direction. The muscles taut in his neck and throat, he nevertheless forced words out in a hiss.

  “Jenna, come away from there,” he said. As Lorren had predicted, she showed no sign of recognition or of even paying attention to him.

  “I’ve not released you from service,” he continued. “Lord of Deepingdale or not, you’re my first mate! The Voidhawk needs you!”

  At the base of four stone steps that led up to a dais upon which the throne sat, he searched around in frustration. Her continued ambivalence left a hollowness in his stomach and a growing heat of rage in the back of his head. He saw the bed nearby, causing his eyes to narrow suspiciously.

  “Alright,” he said, looking back at her again. “I need you. I made a mistake – it won’t happen again.”

  “The mistake wasn’t what happened in the hold, I mean,” Dexter added quickly. “I mean acting funny and losing track of what’s important.”

  “I figure if Kragor and Jodyne could be together on the ‘Hawk, and if Rosh and Willa are being friendly…well, there’s no good reason why the Captain can’t have his first mate as his only mate.”

  Still Jenna showed no outward signs of paying attention to him. Gritting his teeth voluntarily instead of involuntarily now, Dexter made his way to his knees and then drove a foot that was half-numb and half in agony into the ground. He rose up and stood unsteadily for a long moment, then took his first step on the stairs.

  “I’d be thankful if you’d show me some sign, that door put a serious hurt on me,” Dexter admitted. When still no sign was forthcoming he sighed and took another halting step.

  Focusing now on being ambulatory, he made his way up the remaining steps. The numbness in his legs was fading and it was being replaced with the agony of fried nerves and singed flesh. Finally Dexter stood swaying slightly before the throne. He looked down at her and realized his hand was resting upon the hilt of his sword.

  “Jenna,” he said her name again, drawing some strength from it. “I hear tell that this happens every so often. There’s nothing right about it,” he added.

  “Maybe you can hear me, maybe you can’t. There’s something going on here that’s not you and not me. In fact, I got an idea what it is, and I won’t stand by it.” Dexter had leaned closer as talked, hoping his words might lull her into distraction.

  The Captain of the Voidhawk lunged forward, losing his balance and falling as he did so. His finger closed around the amulet that hung from Jenna’s neck and pulled it – and her – to the ground with him.

  Jenna screamed as though burned and tried to pull away from him. Dexter’s fingers, exhausted from the electrical discharge, nearly slipped free of the amulet. Her lips began to move, and a few breaths later words were issued from them. Dexter felt the hair stand up on his arms as he instinctively knew she was casting a spell. His Jenna, who knew no magic, was casting a spell on him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as his hand came across and smashed into her jaw. He had little leverage to throw the punch, but it served its purpose and ruined her spell.

  Off balance, Jenna was able to pull back from him. Dexter’s fingers barely hung on to the amulet now, and he was stretched out in a bad position in order to do so. He looked up and saw her mouthing more arcane words. He tried to yank her forward by the amulet, but instead he felt a numbing cold streak down his arm from where her hand latched onto his forearm. Try as he might to ignore it, she was able to yank away from him and he fell forward onto his other arm.

  Gasping in agony, Dexter put a block on his nerves and felt only the driving need to get that amulet. His vision tinged with red and black spots, he lunged towards her. He slammed clumsily into the elf, who was also off balance, and propelled the two of them down the steps of the dais. Dexter wrenched the necklace away from her, ripping it over her head and bringing some hair with it. Jenna made no noise until it was removed, and then she let loose a blood curdling scream that set Dexter’s spine to tingling.

  She leapt on him, trying to reclaim it. He tucked it against his belly and struggled to get away from her – or to get her away from him. A few elbows into the side dislodged her, but she was coming back for him quickly. He dodged to the side, bouncing off a statue as he did so, and was surprised to find her so easily being duped. Yet again her behavior was inconsistent with who she was.

  Dexter struggled up the stairs before she could recover, making his way towards the weathered old man lying in the bed. The man’s eyes were open and he stared hatefully towards Dexter, yet he seemed incapable of rising up. Dexter looked down at him and drew his sword with his right hand while the amulet was still clutched tightly in his left. He heard Jenna coming behind him and he knew his time was short.

  “She’s not your puppet!” Dexter spat at the man, then threw the amulet on his chest. Less than a heartbeat later he felt the burning tug of steel as it entered his lower back.

  Dexter looked down in shock, seeing the red coated blade of Jenna’s rapier emerging from his belly. He looked up at the old man and saw a hateful glee burning in his gaze. “She belongs to no man!” Dexter said, and drove his magical blade through both the amulet and the former
Lord’s chest, pinning him to the bed.

  Jenna and the old man screamed in unison. Dexter slid to his knees and used the edge of the bed to keep himself up from falling over. At least Jenna had let go of the sword that impaled him. A moment later Jenna gasped.

  * * * *

  A long moment of silence followed Rosh’s statement. Willa looked at him, uncertain of what to say. Rosh turned to meet her gaze and shrugged again. “My ma told me when I was a twelve.”

  “I left home a couple years later. Had to find him and tell him who I was. Then…well…” Rosh trailed off into silence again.

  “My mother was a slave,” Willa said. “She tried to care for me as a baby, I’m told, but she took ill. There’s no money to be had in healing a slave.”

  Willa hid her bitterness well, but some still shone through. “Some of the others that owned us all tried to take care of me, but they had trouble enough getting by. I was forced to find my own way begging, stealing, and learning various skills.”

  She looked at Rosh and smiled sadly, “I never knew who my father was.”

  Rosh grunted. “Sometimes that’s the best.”

  She nodded, hugging him with her arm consolingly. “I pretend I ain’t got a dad,” he said. “Truth is I don’t – he don’t want nothing to do with me. He didn’t even offer me a spot on his crew when I found him; just told me I was a worthless bastard and to get out of his sight.”

  Willa cringed, imagining how that must have crushed the boy version of the man she now clung to. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Rosh chuckled. “Don’t be. He was right. Took me a few years to figure it out though.”

  “Rosh! You’re not worthless! I can’t imagine anyone-“

  Rosh put a finger to her lips to silence her. He chuckled. “You’re damn right I ain’t! Just took some time for me to figure it out. I got being a sumbitch in my blood,” he explained. “I know I can be good at it too – Dexter tell you where he found me?”

  Willa shook her head. “I was working for pirates, not doing nothing but following in his footsteps.”

  “How’d you end up on the Voidhawk?”

  “Dexter talked to me,” he said. “Made me realize there might be more to it. Made me think killing and stealing ain’t the only way to make some gold.”

  Rosh chuckled. “The Captain don’t know none of this, mind you.”

  Willa nodded and smiled, then kissed him. “He’ll never hear it from me.”

  Rosh nodded, then smiled. “There it is,” he said.

  “What?”

  “That itch – it’s back.”

  Willa, startled at the topic change, looked around. It was a pretty enough town, but it seemed to have lost some of its appeal. Where once she had found no flaws, now she saw patches of grass that were not perfectly colored. Other imperfections were evident as well: shingles that were not placed quite right on roofs, potholes in the roads, shutters and doors that were not a perfect fit, and other such anomalies.

  “What happened?” Willa asked, confused.

  Rosh shrugged. “Best get back to the ‘Hawk – Dex’ll be wondering about us.”

  “Rosh!” Willa said, remembering the festival through the fog of alcohol that had blurred the evening. “Jenna! She’s the new Lord here!”

  Rosh cursed, then apologized. Willa smiled, amazed to have such an effect on the big man. “You’re right, let’s get back quick. Something ain’t right about this place. The Captain won’t stand for that, least not if he’s half as smart as I am.”

  Willa laughed and rolled off of the big man. She reached for her clothes and blushed when her exposed position provoked a sharp intake of breath from Rosh and then a wolf whistle from him.

  * * * *

  “Dex!” Jenna cried out, rushing to his side and holding him steady as he kneeled next to the bed.

  Dexter looked up at her, a painful smile on his face. “You owe me again,” he said.

  Jenna’s lips quivered and she nodded. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes and she buried her face in his neck. “I don’t care how long I live,” she whispered to him, “I’ll never repay you – you’ll have to keep me by your side the whole time.”

  Dexter glanced down at the steel impaling him. “Deal,” he whispered.

  “I heard everything you said,” she said. “I forgive you.”

  “If you heard me, why’d you go and stab me?”

  “I wasn’t in control,” she said. “I…oh Dex – I’m so sorry! That amulet took over. I thought you had left me and I just gave in to it. I didn’t care anymore.”

  “Your part of my crew,” he said, gasping as he shifted slightly and fresh tremors of pain wracked him. “I don’t abandon my crew.”

  Jenna smiled around her tears. “Just part of the crew?”

  “Well-“

  “Captain! Jenna!” Logan and Bekka said as they poked their head in through the broken doors. Keshira was there as well, and she pushed through them to hurry to Dexter’s side.

  “Captain, you are hurt – how can I fix you?” Keshira asked him, concern and worry evident on her face.

  “There’s no fixing this,” Dexter said, glancing down again. “You can carry me to the ‘Hawk though.” He grimaced as he shifted, feeling the blade sawing inside of him. Blood stained his shirt and he felt lightheaded as well.

  “I need to see it one more time,” he gasped.

  Jenna nodded to Keshira, unable to speak. Logan hurried forward and knelt down beside him. “Cut his shirt off,” he ordered, interposing himself between Keshira and Dexter.

  Dexter swam in and out of consciousness, his head rolling as he fought to stay awake a little longer. He knew that sleep meant death, and he was not going without a fight.

  “Do it!” Logan yelled, surprising the others into action. Bekka stood nearby and she lunged forward to grab his shirt and slip a small knife she had into it, cutting it free and pulling it away from him.

  Blood coated Dexter’s stomach and back. The wound looked clean, around the blade, but overall it was an obscene picture. Dexter shook his head and hissed in pain. The movement caused more blood to leak out as well.

  “Dexter, we have to remove the blade – you’ll have to fight to stay awake while I try to mend your wounds,” Logan said.

  “You can heal him?” Jenna asked, hope stilling the tremors in her voice.

  Logan nodded, though his face did not show the look of confidence she had hoped to see. “It is a terrible wound, but I might be able to save him if he does not lose too much blood.”

  “Do it,” Dexter growled, barely following the conversation.

  Logan nodded. “Jenna, when I nod again, pull the blade free. Keshira hold him still, and Bekka, do what you can to stop the blood from escaping him.”

  Logan bowed his head and forced his breathing calm while he summoned up the priestly magic he would need. He began to chant, invoking the powers of his distant God, and nodded when he was ready.

  Dexter gasped and stiffened when Jenna pulled the blade free in a single clean jerk. Keshira held him still easily, though he writhed in agony. Bekka pushed against the slit in his back to stem the flow of the dark red blood. Logan’s fingers were quickly coated in blood as well as he channeled his energies into Dexter’s belly, seeking out and repairing the severed tissues as best he could.

  The priest focused and concentrated for nearly a dozen minutes before at last he gasped and slumped over. Dexter had passed out a few minutes before, unable to hold himself awake anymore. Jenna had been talking to him and cradling his head while Keshira held him still. All in all, it made for too many people in a small area, but that was the last thing on anyone’s mind.

  “Is he going to live?” Jenna asked, trembling as she held him. He seemed so frail and cold against her, she feared she had lost him.

  Logan held her gaze at her for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted, sounding weary. The man was exhausted; he looked as though he had aged ten years in a spa
n of as many minutes. “I am far from my God. My power wanes with the great distance to him. I was able to help, but he is weak and if he is not careful, he could tear the tissues within him.”

  “Keshira, carry him back gently,” Jenna bade her. The pleasure golem did not even nod, she simply picked up the Captain and cradled him carefully in her arms.

  Bekka aided Logan to his feet, then he and Bailynn led the way out of the throne room and back down the tower. Jenna kept glancing back and Logan slowly felt his strength returning. They passed through the staircase and the foyer. The gargoyles lay dead, torn apart by Keshira and bludgeoned by Logan.

  The hole Keshira had made was down a side passage, but now that the tower’s master was dead, the entrance was open before them. They passed through it and found they could see the townsfolk assembling in the town. “We should hurry, I expect they’ll be angry,” Logan advised.

  They made as much haste as they dared with the wounded captain, reaching the Voidhawk before Constable Lorren brought the assembled villagers to meet them. Keshira placed the captain in his bunk then left Jenna alone with him.

  “You can’t die,” she told him when they were alone. “We all owe you too much, how can you hope to collect on it if you’re not here?”

  She leaned in close to him and pressed her lips to his alarmingly cool flesh. “To the void with the rest of them,” she whispered. “Just hold on for the things I can give you. Those stolen minutes in the hold were nothing, I promise you that!”