Dexter shook his head. “Ain’t no coming back, Rosh. There was a trap set for us here, why else would Kragor disappear like that.”
“Maybe he wanted the ship for his self,” Rosh offered, knowing there was no chance the dwarf would do such a thing.
Dexter’s look was all that needed to be said. Rosh shrugged and made his way back down the planking to try and pick up the beam. Dexter stayed up top and waited for the man to toss up a rope he had looped around it. The rope he had carried in his pack, and the sheer effort of lifting the heavy wooden beam he supplied once he climbed back up to the decking. Between Rosh and Dexter, they managed to hoist the beam back up and tie it off, then they began working on trying to repair it.
Rosh hurried off to the shed and returned later with a few handfuls of iron nails and a hammer. They used broken wood from the gangplank to secure the beam back in place as best they could, then Dexter climbed up and, tying the broken ends of the ropes together where possible, he ran the lines. Before long he ran out of rope and they had to use what Rosh had brought with him.
The main sail remained ripped, but the damage was not so severe that it could not be used. It would not allow the ship to make top speed, but it would assist the helm. The front sail, more a spinnaker than anything else, would aid them greatly considering the condition of the main sail.
“Rosh, climb aboard, it’s time,” Dexter said after retying a line for the third time.
Rosh studied the haphazardly repaired vessel and shook his head. With a sigh that turned into a chuckle he climbed aboard, muttering something about dying on a derelict. Dexter ignored him and instead settled into the pilot’s seat. He felt his consciousness merge with the ship and fought the strange sensation that overcame him. It had been a while since he had flown anything but the Voidhawk.
They lifted free of the damaged docks and, although a bit unsteady, Dexter managed to bring the tub into space safely. The area was largely clear of any debris or rocks, so he was able to get his bearings about him and come to terms with the sluggish response the boat had.
“Tactical only,” Dexter mumbled for Rosh’s benefit. “If we’re not finding the ‘Hawk, we’re spaced.”
Rosh grunted and hopped up to the top of the coach so he could man the mainsail as needed. Dexter brought the ship around to the topside of the asteroid and there the drifted a moment, searching the void around them.
“Where to?” Rosh asked, seeing nothing.
Dexter thought it over, still unfamiliar with the boat he piloted and distracted somewhat because of it. He shrugged at last and said, “Deeper in to the rocks. Kragor wouldn’t abandon us,” he reasoned. “So he must have been chased off. I’m for betting he ran into the rocks, hoping they’d be slowing down whatever was after him.”
Rosh grunted again and offered no further response. Dexter took it as an agreement, and started the boat into the asteroid field. Rosh loosened and retied the mainsail to catch the solar wind and push them in the direction Dexter had chosen.
Keshira strained against the ropes that surrounded her. Her hands had been tied, then her arms had been secured to her body. Her ankles and legs had been tied as well, further restricting her movement. Her clothing had been torn from her then, once the ropes were securely in place, so her captors could see what sort of price she might fetch them. They stared at her greedily, thinking both of the wealth she might bring and also of owning her for themselves.
She was put in a room by herself, as instructed by a human barking orders to the others. He had the look of an outlaw, scruffy beard and large hat included. Keshira’s talent at seeing magical auras allowed her to realize that he was a mage of some sort as well.
Keshira could still feel her bond with Dexter. He was alive and well, though distant. She wanted to be near him, but did not know what it was that he wanted. He could tell her, of course, but he did not know that. Even from a distance he could communicate with her through their bond, but he did not know how and had never asked her. For the first time in her short life, Keshira understood frustration.
She suspected that, with time, she could work herself free of the ropes holding her. By herself she knew she could not win their freedom. Against a handful of the pirates, she had no doubt she would win. Against the numbers that had already came at them she knew she was destined to fail again.
They overwhelmed her when they realized their weapons did little to her. The sheer weight of their bodies held Keshira down until they lashed ropes around her. She had bloodied many of them, and slain more than a few as well. Ultimately they proved resistance was futile. The fact that capturing her had cost them dearly meant nothing to her, for she remained captured.
Keshira considered freeing the others if she escaped. Doing so would amount to little good, considering the lot of them had not been able to win their freedom in the first battle. The hopelessness of her situation left her feeling empty and angry. If only her Captain would show some sign of caring for them. Instead he remained far away, still on the asteroid.
Keshira felt something then. Something deep inside of her. She felt a great sadness and grief that shocked her. It came not from within her but from her bond to her Captain. He was no closer, but she did feel his despair. She longed to comfort him and to be there for him, so that she might take away his pain. Wordlessly her lips moved, crying out silently with the emotions she felt from him.
Miserably, she lay naked and bound on the floor for many long minutes, until suddenly the feelings of grief gave way to a surge of hope and determination. It waxed and stayed strong, reassuring her with its strength. After too long for her to measure, an hour or more at the least, she suddenly felt the distance between them closing. She could feel her Captain getting closer.
Keshira smiled in the dark cell; her Captain was coming for her.
Jenna heard the approach of their captors down the hallway first. She waved at Bailynn, who lay deceptively quiet on the floor along the wall the door opened up against, then arranged herself in the middle of the room in a pose that made lewd and indecent pale in comparison. Both feigned unconsciousness.
The footsteps slowed to a stop outside of their room. Beady eyes peered through the barred window and chuckled at seeing Jenna arranged as she was. “Look,” the owner of the eyes grunted harshly. “She’ll be a good whore, laying like that!”
The first person moved aside so another could look, and his laughter joined in. Something heavy, no doubt a wooden beam, was dragged out of its rests where it barred the door and the door opened outwards. One of the figures stepped inside carrying a bowl with something that smelled far from nutritious. He revealed himself to be a half-orc, while his partner behind him was a full blooded orc.
He glanced at Bailynn and dismissed her, then bent over to rest the bowl on the floor. He drew back his foot to kick Jenna when Bailynn exploded into action with a ferocity that matched her earlier attempt, when bound, to reach Rosh on the Voidhawk.
The wisp of a girl flew across the room, looking every bit as fearsome as she had when she had come for Jenna. Catching the half-orc unawares, she crashed into him and clamped her teeth down on his throat, ripping and tearing the flesh and meat away. Her fingers speared into his shoulder and chest, parting the skin and seeking for his lifeblood.
The orc recoiled, stunned by the sudden and vicious attack. He tried to back up, the thought of calling for help only beginning to enter his mind. Jenna was up already though, lunging at him and driving her forearm into his throat, silencing him. He retched and tried to stumble away from her, but she pursued him, lashing out with kicks and punches that, while largely ineffective, kept him on the defensive.
The orc pulled up a cudgel that hung from his side, realizing he had a weapon. He raised it and swung at her, now confident with a weapon in his hand. Jenna ducked under the club and kicked him in the groin as hard as she could. The orc gasped for breath and tried to stumble backwards. His legs turned to jelly and instead he ended up falling on his back. The pirate curled into a fetal position; he was unable to otherwise deal with the pain that overwhelmed him.
Jenna grabbed up his club and beat him with it, breaking bones in his hands and arms and then face and skull. She looked up after a long moment, realizing she had lost herself in her wanton butchery, and looked around. Bailynn was watching her, a fearful expression on her face. The expression was out of place, considering the blood that was still wet around her lips and chin.
