Cennessa gripped the railing tight, resisting the urge to yell, her tummy feeling all tickly like. The wind whipped at her face and her eyes teared. The sky looked so grand! She could see the other ships, the air being the water between them.
She shifted her gaze down between her legs where the railing gave her a windowed look at the ocean below. Small dots covered it, the Alliance navy pacing them. She looked up again, seeing one of those flying machines that the Gnomes somehow made work. She had ridden in a few during training. She was happy to be standing right here, thank you very much. The Gnome waved. A grin split her features and she waved her arm off right there! As he left her behind, her smile faltered; he was Chosen, wasn’t he? She sure hoped so. The Legion aimed to take the piss out of them. She blinked. Miss Briar! She turned for the hatch that would lead her to the kitchens, or… what was it… galley? It seemed that sea-folk liked to rename common things just to confuse those that weren’t in the know. She chuckled, scrambling nimbly down a hatch. One deck and three ladders later and she was completely turned around and learning all sorts of new things. She had to hold off the urge to skip!
Bells rang. Briarpetal’s head came up from where she was working the last of her ledger entries. She peered around owlishly, her eyes refocusing in the dim light of the larger sleeping quarters.
“Irian”
Irianos had been dosing, and his head came up with a jerk. “Whaa?”
“Irian.” Came Briarpetal’s voice, now carrying a hint of alarm.
Coltan woke too, turning on his back with a groan. “What’s wrong?”, and then he yawned mightily.
“Cennessa isn’t back, and I just heard a bell. We must be getting near.”
Coltan sighed and rolled to his knees, then stood, grabbing a hammock in some lame attempt at steadying himself. “I’ll go fetch her. I want to scope things out. See if I can find out where they will stage us.” He stamped his feet, then stooped to pick up his helm, shrugging then tossing it back down on his bedroll. “When they’ll get that damned Mage to take that collar off.” He grumbled low in his throat. He paused in the doorway, turned and gave Briarpetal a mock salute. “Need anything.”
Briarpetal graced him with a soft smile. “No. My thanks to you, Coltan.”
He turned and was gone. Briarpetal stowed her book and moved to her husband. Soon there would be no time for this she thought, and tucked in by his side.
Jade looked up from her plate as Coltan moved by. “Would you like the last of this sandwich? It is quite fresh.”
“No thanks Jade. Going to see the lay of things and find Cennessa. She didn’t show, did she?”
“No. I imagine she is on deck. She was very excited, the young always are.” Jade halved her sandwich and set it aside. “I will save this for her. The young also forget that they need to stop and eat.” She nodded wisely, smiling up at Coltan as he turned away. “Let her know I have something for her!”
Coltan lifted a hand in acknowledgement, and found his way blocked by Galious, who laid a card down then moved to stand so that he could use the ladder.
“Going somewhere?”
“Finding the girl.” Coltan nodded his thanks, stepping over the low crate and onto the second rung of the ladder leading upwards.
“Find that Mage.” Galious rolled his shoulders, his tone clipped.
“I got you.” Coltan assured him. Moments later, the guards let him past and he was topside. He started along the railings, and when that didn’t reveal her, and the skies began to dim, he started asking. Finally one allowed he’d seen her, and pointed to a hatch. Coltan sighed and descended back into the belly of the ship.
Cennessa’s head came up from where she had been gawking at the engineers as the made numerous adjustments to who knew what all in a room chock full of dials and meters and pipes when she heard the bell. Catballs! She’d best be getting back. She turned, grabbing a greasy rag forgotten on a rail; it would just have to do. It was for the floor after all, she reasoned, and skedaddled back in the vague direction of the Caravan. Now did she need to go up, or down?
Coltan was walking faster now, eyes squinting as he moved from dim lamp, to dim lamp. Light knew why they didn’t make them brighter. He supposed most would know their way around. He came to a door, the handle turning, but the door not opening. He grunted as he collided slightly with the door, not able to stop himself completely.
“What the fel…”
With a sigh of frustration, he turned, then headed back down the way he had come, frowning as he looked up at the hatch, now closed. He mounted the ladder, found the hatch secured and hammered on it, calling out as he did so. Light help him if he’d gotten himself trapped down here as they readied the ship! He looked back down the steps, ducking his head and craning to see. Maybe through that storage room, there would be an open hatch, or another corridor. Damn ship was a rat’s maze. His boots rang on the wood as he strode quickly towards the area, reaching up and unhooking one of the dim lanterns. Let them replace it. They were less than useful anyway.
Cennessa was running now, upset at herself for loosing track of time. She sure hoped that Miss Mossclaw was still talking to Mister Buckingston and hadn’t noticed her missing. As it was, with only one rag, Mrs Briarpetal was sure to give her a tongue lashing, or worse, a look.
Coltan held the lantern high as he stepped into the hold. Good thing, too, as there weren’t any lanterns in here. The crates loomed, the ridges of rope binding them snaking everywhere. He grimaced. If there was ever a place for rats, this was it. He let out a curse under his breath, then began to move down the tight corridor formed by the cargo. As he made his way the gaps between the piles of cargo widened, and he relaxed. Soon he could just make out another ladder, a low light source lighting the top rungs. His steps quickened.
The light from his lantern was just touching the bottom rung, when suddenly he sensed motion behind him. Something passed by his face and he started backwards, thinking of rats. There was a sharp pain at his throat, and he was being drawn backwards and down, no time to yell, lantern falling to the boards, rolling away, light casting lurid shadows.
His hands came up to his throat, and then he threw his head back, dropping an arm and rifling an elbow to the rear. He was shoved forward and he collided hard with a cargo crate, ricocheting off and slamming into the one opposite. He rolled, and tried to come up, only to take a blow to his chest, knocking him back into wall, so far had he traveled down the gap between two cargo pods.
His arms windmilled as he struggled to pull himself upright against the wall, the various ropes and oddments defeating any attempts at speed. A light flared, blinding him, and he shielded his eyes, turning his body to present the least target, leading leg finally getting his footing, working to straighten.
He heard a roaring laugh, and fire streaked across his ribs, causing him to curl back down, one arm locking around himself. He blinked, vision clearing. Vaughn, like some wild nightmare slowly resolving out of the dark, the edges still not clean between one or the other, stood before him. Coltan bared his teeth and he pulled the Light to him. It was not the Light that came, and it felt as if he was being burned from the inside out. He fell to his hands and knees, puking his guts out.
Vaughn laughed again. Oh it was a happy day! It was the best day ever! The collars at his belt jingled with the motion of his laughter. Finally, Coltan fucking Fletcher, on his knees no less, just like he’d always imagined! He allowed his finger to run carefully along the edge of his small hand axe and find its way to his mouth to taste the blood on it. He couldn’t take the time he wanted, oh no, the Light always wanted to hurt him, and so the Legion had come, destroying that promise of joy. But. But! He’d be thrice damned if he’d let the Legion have him. Fletcher was his, and his alone to enjoy. He watched the man’s vomit splattered hand go to his throat as he pieced together what was happening. He savored it, as the shit rolled back against the wall, crouching to face him, as if there was any doubt as to what was about to happen.
Coltan’s eyes were blurred with pain, but not enough to miss the threat that the axe posed. He worked his other hand in desperation along the base of the wall, seeking anything. His hand grasped a board.
Vaughn lunged forward, lead foot stomping the floor dramatically as he yelled, the arc of his axe aiming for Fletcher’s torso once more. The bastard twisted and his axe bit wood. Vaughn was outraged! He lost all pretense of play, ripping the board, the axe still imbedded in it from Fletchers fingers, blood in the air between them where the sensitive pads were ravaged by the act. So enraged that he used his forehead to knock the board free, spitting and snarling as he closed in.
Fyfaesia grinned as she lay her cards down, savoring the look of disbelief upon Sunderwing’s face.
“You cheated!”
“With your cards!” Fyfaesia laughed.
“That’s all my gold!”
Fyfaesia leaned on the thin board and made a beckoning gesture with one hand while cupping the other. Sunderwing sighed and the last of his gold clinked in her palm.
“You’ll get more. Then we can play again.” She baited him.
Galious eyed the woman across the plank. She was pure evil, he was sure of it; and would never let him forget this. She had bragged about her skill in cards like she bragged about all else. How was he to know that finally she told the truth!? He rose in disgust.
“Yeah. Well. I think I’ll get ready for that.” He turned away and moved past the others to her door, feeling awkward as he knocked gently on the door. “Moss, I should pack up.” The two had been out briefly to allow Jade to shower them with food, so he figured all was clear. He tensed, gaze tilting with his head as he looked at the seam of the floor above to wall.
The door opened, and she invited him in. He rolled his shoulders to shed himself of tension and hid his hand before he entered.
Fyfaesia lit another cigarette with a frown. Memories of habits, as if born yesterday instead of from the mists of the past, came to her. The “scouts” had not returned. Her ears twitched. No one cared what she did. She would just… happen upon them. She stood, stretched, muttered something about trading for more tobacco, and moved up the ladder. Two cigarettes later and she was topside, eyeing what ladder to take back down. A soldier moved out of the shadow of one, and she let that decide her.
Cennessa kept going forward. By now she was sure that she’d gone a full three laps around this darn ship. She turned the latch on the door presented to her, it gave, but the door opened slowly, as if it were moving through something. Weird. She must be in an old part of the ship. She looked up. Dimmer in here too, a huge gap between two of the mage lamps. Good thing she had always been good at night hunts, or it would be trouble. She headed for the ladder in the center of the corridor.
Coltan lunged away, only to feel a hand of corded steel grab his shoulder, slamming him back into the wood, a punch like a bullet landing right where the line of fire still traced across his ribs. He felt a rib cave, and he lashed out blindly, his fist finding the edge of the man’s eye socket.
Vaughn’s head rocked back as Fletcher tapped him. He growled and moved his hand up from the shoulder to the back of his head, cupping the skull then using the torque of his body to slam Fletcher down to the floor.
Coltan screamed, nose broken, teeth shattered; choking on blood. The man was on top of him now and he couldn’t press up. He screamed again as fire lit up down his arm. He inhaled blood, choked, and began to drown.
Vaughn chopped away at the shoulder join. Slamming the cowards face down in between each whack forming a hellish rhythm. He panted heavily for a moment, shifting the axe to the other hand, reveling in the gurgling moans, the body jerking under him. He set to work again, eyes glazed in ecstasy.
Cennessa cursed again, ramming her shoulder once more at the hatch. It wouldn’t budge. Catballs. Stinking catballs. She was in trouble with Miss Mossclaw now for sure. She leapt down the ladder, landing lightly. Well, maybe through that hold. She’d better hurry, that was for sure.
Fyfasia almost missed the hatch entirely, but something drew her attention to it. She frowned, and stubbed out her cigarette after a deep drag. She didn’t like the air. She didn’t like the feel of her hair on the back of her neck and she bent down to heave it open. It lifted sluggishly, and her skin prickled. As her foot stepped upon the first rung, she drew her knife.
Vaughn finally turned the body over, rolling off of it to sit, back against the blood splattered wall breathing hard. He grunted and drug the armless torso up onto his lap, patting the chest companionably. He gripped the hair in his hands and twisted the face so he could see. He laughed: not so pretty now. He pulled his water flask, slightly dented, uncapped it and took a drink, pouring the rest over the ruined features, wiping the blood off. There. Now you could still tell it was Fletcher. He smiled, hoisting the torso higher until it lay in a nightmare inspired embrace. Just a moment, then he’d get to work on the legs. Shame Fletcher hadn’t lasted for that. Still, both arms! The man sighed contentedly and smacked his fleshy lips, tasting a trace of blood. Not bad for having to make due with a more primitive workplace.
Cennessa smiled, seeing light ahead. Finally, a sailor she could ask where the fel she was! Luck was on her side to have stumbled upon one! She turned the corner of the cargo and made it two steps down the aisle until her mind could even process what she was seeing, the smile morphing into a look of horror. The smell hit her, familiar from the many years of butchering kills on the spot. She didn’t gag until she recognized that what she thought was a carcass was a man, and that man was Mr. Coltan. She let forth a strangled shriek, her eyes locking onto that of the Magistrate’s.
Fyfaesia heard the shriek, and sped forward on soft feet towards the light, ready for a fight.
Vaughn’s eyes narrowed. Now where had he seen that face? The girl shrieked again and tripped over herself backing out of the aisle. Right. Stormshield. Now that was a problem. He pushed upon Fletcher’s body, dumping it out of his lap as he rose, hefting his axe.
There was a crump and suddenly everything shook. Vaughn grabbed the ropes behind him and swayed on his feet. Cennessa flipped to all fours and scrambled around the corner of the cargo as the light rolled back and forth, not seeing one of Coltan’s arms come rolling down the aisle as if following her. Fyfaesia was cannoned into some crates, knife knocked painfully loose of her grip and spinning away. It took her moments to recognize Cennessa, crawling on all fours past the now flickering light source towards her. She pushed off the crates and sped forward past Cennessa, practically skidding to a stop between the aisles, ready to face whatever the girl was fleeing. She took it all in. The arms, the body, the Man. She was a seasoned fighter, but she knew overwhelming evil when she saw it and she stepped into the shadows, appearing out of it at Cennessa’s side, grabbing her by the torso and dragging her down the hold, out to the corridor and flinging her up the ladder to the open hatch.
“Run!” She cried out, and then followed unashamedly.
That the next shudder of the airship swung the hatch closed, just missing her feet. She thanked Elune, kicking the pin through the securing rings, before spinning and dragging a sobbing Cennessa to her feet.
“We must leave. Now.” She slapped the girl, the cessation of sobbing and the look of shock on her features just what she intended. “Move!” she screamed and pushed her forward, daring just a quick glance to ensure that the hatch was not opening.
Further decks up, the damage was worse, the payloads being shot at the airships tearing through the hull, crushing men and cargo alike. The first volley jolted the area where the Caravanners were being held, Briarpetal crying out as the two were rudely awakened. Jade rose as the deck bucked, gathering her wife in her arms and digging her claws deep into the wood so as not to fall. She frowned as she saw the sandwich come apart in the air, before crashing down with the plates, slats, and barrels to the floor.
In the small cabin, Buck, Mossclaw, and Galious were pitched into one of the corners before they slid to the floor.
“Time to go!” Galious shouted, first to rise, gripping Moss by the arm and hauling her up.
Buck rose, both arms out to steady himself in the corner. “To the deck!” He called out, following them as they careened through the doorway.
Jade had waited until the floor settled, then worked steadying Irianos as he pushed his wife up the steps, Luci clinging to her arm. Next she moved to the opposite side of the ladder, dragging Luci onto it and urging her up. She saw the remaining three exit the room. Another massive shudder of the ship and she drug herself up, scooping her wife up and following Irianos as they struggled to make it to the deck.
Galious was just clearing the first hatch when a crate, loosened from its ropes came skittering across the slanted deck to smack into him at speed. He went limp, almost sliding back down to where Buck had Moss pinned to the ladder and the ship did its best to shake them off.
“Galious!”
He heard her voice as if from a long way off, and reflexively channeled healing onto himself. Shaking his head dazedly, he clambered the rest of the way out, locking one hand on the lip of the hatch, extending the other down the ladder.
“I’m here!” He felt her hand grasp his and he pulled, the length of her emerging to swing around on the deck, knocking into him along his side.
They both reached down and together hauled Buck up and out, the deck now tilting less. They scrabbled together on all fours to reach the last ladder, only to have the deck pitch suddenly downwards, sending them into it, various items doing their best to crush them as they clung to the rungs.
Vaughn sighed. Looking down at what was left of Fletcher. The Light might kill him now, but he’d die a happy man. He wedged himself between two of the exposed ribs of the hull and snagged a leg, pulling the corpse to him. Humming he set to work, continuing the dismemberment, occasionally whispering foul things as his arm rose and fell. If he didn’t die, he’d memorized the look of the two and would tie up loose ends before heading back to duty. He glared at the hull as a blast rocked his head so that he slammed up against it. He flung the limb from him and rolled the corpse to the other side. As the leg began to part, he started to giggle.
Not twenty minutes from when it had begun, the ship was groaning in its death throes, the angle steepening. Fyfaesia spied a man struggling with a Gryphon, caught in lines. She drug the girl with her as she battled her way past crates and cannons alike. Getting the man’s attention, she thrust Cennessa into his arms and pushed him to the Gryphon’s saddle.
“Take her! She’s just a girl!”
Fyfaesia bent and slashed with her off knife the cords entrapping the struggling mount while the man mounted, then did as asked, gripping Cennessa and hauling her bodily across his lap. It was hard to tell if the Gryphon rose as she cut through the last entanglement, or if the ship fell away from them. Either way, they were airborn. She gripped one of the cables, still lashed to the deck, and it was then she looked on with horror as she saw the pillar of fel energies cutting a hole in the very sky. She managed to stand, failing twice to summon her mount. It was then that she looked to nearness of the ocean and screamed her defiance, shifting into shadow at the last moment.
Irianos had shifted forms as soon as he had awoken, and his Curse did well by him, strong claws and corded limbs scaling the steepest cant of the deck under him, Briar clinging to him firmly. He finally ran out of ship, coming to rest on what would have been the windows of the commander’s galley. He looked through the now empty frames to see the broken bodies smashed upon railings and wrapped in wheels that spun without guidance or care of their gruesome burden. Briar had screamed to him, terror evident, that she couldn’t summon her mount. He eyed the pillar of green light that lit the sky for miles and figured that was why. The ship quieted now, falling straight down. Irianos loved his wife and was not ready to be parted from her, and so it was with great emotion that he maneuvered her, picking her up in his arms, straightening, and throwing her screaming from him over the side.
Jade gathered up her wife and rolled to the railing. Luci nodded and cast, her body bobbing upwards. Jade kissed her hand and threw her upwards, summoning the mists as she watched Luci drift swiftly away. It would take a master to calm the mind and ride the mists; she was merely Jade, but she would do her best. She cleared her mind, her body lifting and drifting away, dipping only now and again, as Jade fought to keep her focus. Her Grandmother would have been proud.
The trio was well battered now, having finally emerged on deck to be trapped under the main stairs from the deck to the rise. They clung, arms wrapped through the slats, the piles of wreckage shielding forming a protective barrier of sorts.
“I can’t summon a mount!” Buck bellowed to be heard over the groaning of the ship.
Galious’ eyes widened as he obviously tested it. “Fuck. Fuck!” He shifted his grip on the rail, his hand reaching around to grip Moss, as Buck did also.
Her free hand gripped his tunic, and she pulled him close, lips brushing his ear. “Fly. You must fly. Watch over us.”
He pulled back, fear stamped on his features. “You have to feint. Pop all your dr’s, both of you. I don’t know if I’ll have range!” Panic was in his words.
Buck shook his head, and wrapped his body around her. Galious looked at Buck in confusion, then his eyes dropped to the band around her neck.
“No. No. Wait. We can’t do this. You can’t do this!” Buck wrenched his arm loose and shoved him off the rail.
“Fly, you fool!”
The ship tipped once again and Galious took two tumbles before transforming, still rolling, feathers loosened as he beat hard to gain loft and distance from the plummeting vessel; his form’s cry sharp in the sudden silence as the ship went vertical and accelerated to the deeps. The winds from its passing caught him and sent him tumbling downwards, only righting just before hitting the sea, talons skimming the water as it was displaced, even as he rose. He banked, then hovered, sharp vision seeking them. Yet the Legion was not done yet, and fel fire dripped from a passing volley, splattering both wings. He cried out in agony, pushed from his form and channeling as he streaked through the air, it clung, and it burned, and he healed until he hit the water and knew no more.
Across the fleet of airships, feats of strength and heroism were repeated as every ship fell from the sky. The Legion prevailed, and The Caravan was scattered and broken upon the shore.
