“How do the dirthuggers manage it,” Jenna asked, her own elven features tinged with green.
Dexter shook 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.
The Voidhawk cleared a thousand feet before the first of the airships launched. A second and third soon followed, and then two more joined them. They raced up towards the Voidhawk, although to Dexter and the others they seemed pathetic and slow. They leveled off more than halfway to the ground and waited for the small ships to approach.
When they did, a man operating a heavy ballista on the bow of the small skiff called across to them, “This is Lord Falson’s territory, land your vessel and lay down your arms!”
Dexter chuckled and shook his head. “This is the Voidhawk, and I’m her Captain, Dexter Silvercloud. We’re under contract with your Lord Falson. We’ll land, but only to speak with General Havamyr.”
Dexter waved the metal scroll case that contained the contract meaningfully. The spokesman conversed briefly with the man in the covered helm of the flying boat and then turned back to regard Dexter. “Follow us down,” he said, trying to sound menacing.
Dexter nodded and called out for the crew to set the Voidhawk down, following the skiff that served as a harbor pilot. The final trip was easy since the wind had died down. The crew had plenty of experience taking off and landing, it was flying through clouds and high winds they were unaccustomed to.
Dexter was the first one off the ship, meeting the self-proclaimed speaker for the armies on the ground. Dexter presented him with the scroll case silently, not bothering to speak with the man.
The soldier skimmed through the concord and then rolled it up and slipped it back into the case. He handed it back to Dexter without a word, but the Captain did notice that he seemed upset by the terms of the document.
“Follow me, Captain,” he said, his voice clipped.
Dexter smiled and followed, taking Rosh and Keshira with him, but leaving Jenna behind with the rest of the crew to tie down the ship and stand guard.
Many of the soldiers had their own servants. They served as pages, messengers, cooks, cleaners, squires, and even whores. Some dressed plainly while others were not dressed at all. Rosh stared open eyed into a tent they passed where a soldier was busying himself with bedding a woman. Dexter cleared his throat to regain his attention and, when that did not work, he smacked the large man on the arm.
Rosh just grinned and continued to look around him.
“I could get used a place like this, Dex,” he said.
Dexter sighed and continued to follow the soldier through the camp. Slavery was not confined to just the palaces of the nobles.
“A day will come when the slaves will rise up and overthrow their masters,” Dexter said in a low voice for Rosh’s benefit.
“I ain’t saying you’re wrong,” Rosh responded, smiling and watching a shapely slave walk away from him with a bucket in her hands and only a scrap of a loin cloth hanging from her waist. “Just saying this might not be so bad a job after all.”
Dexter bit back his reply and kept walking.
They entered a large tent without preamble. A man wearing worn and stained clothing that had been fine before he started his campaign was finishing up some stew and looking at some maps on a table. He glanced up at them and put down his bowl, taking a long drink of water from a skin.
“General Havamyr,” their guide said, “this is the Captain of the airship.”
He smiled and rubbed his hands together. “That is a fine ship you have there, Captain…”
“General, Lord Falson sends his greetings and bids you to read this,” Dexter said, stepping forward and presenting the scroll case to the general.
The smile faded from General Havamyr’s face. He took it and removed the scroll, unrolling it and scanning its contents. The smile returned slowly. Finished, he rolled it up and put it back in the case, returning it to Dexter.
“Well, I can say I’m disappointed I can’t commandeer the Voidhawk for my army,” he admitted honestly. “But I can also say I’m pleased to have you on my side regardless.”
Dexter returned his smile. “We’re happy to offer assistance, General. The sooner we can help you, the sooner we can be on our way.”
The general nodded and looked down at his maps again. “Tell me what help you can offer, Captain Silvercloud.”
Dexter glanced at Rosh and then down at the map. He studied it briefly, then began to speak on what the Voidhawk could do to help them out, from spying to high altitude bombing runs. It was even possible for them to transport a few dozen troops or more at a time behind enemy lines. They stayed late into the night, discussing strategies and tactics.
The very next day the Voidhawk flew out on her first mission. Simple reconnaissance, she flew high over head and mapped out the enemy positions. Several enemy airships took the sky to thwart them, but none could come high enough to be a threat. They returned that afternoon, laughing at their own invulnerability and their growing ease with handling the gusts of wind and other weather conditions that developed.
The following day Xander glanced at the dark clouds that rolled in on them. He abandoned his post and hurried to the bridge. Jenna snapped at him on his way past to return to his post, but he ignored her and hurried past. Cursing and promising him punishment his ancestors would feel, she hurried to the ropes he had been manning and readied herself to do his job.
“Captain, they’re using magic against us!” Xander said when he burst through the doors.
Dexter glanced at him and then out the windows at the darkening sky, but he saw nothing to worry him. “What magic? How do you know?”
“I’m a wizard!” He snapped, then took a breath and calmed down. “You wanted me for my talents, don’t turn them aside when they may be most useful.”
Dexter held up his hands. “Stand steady there, I’m just asking questions. Now tell me about it, all I’m seeing is some rain clouds.”
He nodded. “Yes, a weather summoning spell of some sort. They came upon us too quickly to be natural. A little rain may not hurt, but what of lightning? Or gusts of wind… perhaps even a twister?”
“A twister?” Dexter asked, confused.
“Yes,” Xander realized the confused look on Dexter’s face meant he did not understand. “On worlds with complex weather systems, the collision of hot and cold air can cause wind to gust heavily. We’ve seen minor
