“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 span 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!”
She kissed him on the lips again and stood up. She wiped the tears from her eyes and made her way out. A few months back, she would never have believed she would be crying over a man, especially a human! She could hardly believe it herself.
She emerged onto the deck and came across Bekka first. “He has to live — I owe him many years of being miserable for what he’s done to me.”
Bekka’s brow furrowed in confusion, then smoothed and she nodded her understanding.
“What’s going on here?” Rosh asked, seeing the mob approaching the Voidhawk. He tightened his grip on Willa’s hand and she understood. They took off at a run, angling ahead of the mob to make it up the dock and to the Voidhawk before the villagers could intercept them.
“Where’s Dexter?” Rosh asked, clearly upset. “I got to talk to him!”
“He’s below, recovering.”
Rosh grunted and pushed towards the stairway below deck. Jenna stepped in front of him, halting him. “He needs to rest; he’s no good to you right now.”
Rosh glared at her then gruffly said, “I don’t care what you two did to wear him out, there’s a bunch of people coming here and I got to tell him about it!”
Jenna glared back. “We know they’re coming,” she said. “We saw them already. Stand a post in case we have to repel them. Bekka’s already sitting the helm and getting ready.”
“Look,” Rosh said, “I never met that man at the festival before — I ain’t who he says I am but I bet he’s stirred up a nest of trouble.”
“Rosh,” Jenna said to him. “I don’t know what business you have or what you’ve done, but this is not about
