Bailynn looked at her and, for the first time, almost dared to believe. The light in her eyes faded quickly, but the fact that it had shown for a moment was promise enough for Jenna. The elf rose to her feet and took Bailynn’s hands in her own, pulling her up with her. The girl remained shorter than she was, and in spite of Jodyne’s hearty cooking she was still thin as a sail turned sideways.
Jenna pulled the girl to her, pressing her flesh against hers, and held her tight against her sharing her warmth and comfort. She cradled Bailynn’s head to her breast, both drawing strength from the act and trying to convey it to her.
“Come, we need to escape this place so we can rescue our friends, recover our ship, and find our Captain,” Jenna said after a moment.
Jenna let go of the girl and turned back to the door. Bailynn stared at her for a long moment, missing the warmth of her embrace. Fresh moisture filled her eyes but she wiped it away before it had a chance to fall. So faint it could not be seen in the dim light coming in through the small opening in the doorway, she smiled.
Bekka’s first thoughts upon waking was to recall exactly what had happened to her. She had been struggling to keep the Voidhawk moving and in the process of doing so, ignored her immediate area. The traumatic impact of the gauntleted fist to her cheek had put an end to all of that, however. She remembered, faintly, grabbing the ring that controlled Bailynn and trying to hide it before the darkness claimed her.
Rubbing her cheek, she looked around the room and saw Jodyne laying on the floor nearby. They were in a small room with no windows other than the small one in the doorway that was protected via some iron bars. Jodyne was unconscious and she noticed after a moment, nud; dwarven women had more hair than just their beards that they seemed to be proud of.
Bekka glanced down at herself. She was naked as well. Unlike Jodyne, she was quite happy to be devoid of hair on her body, thanks to both her natural magic and aided by her razor edged dagger. Of course the argument of follicular superiority was meaningless at the moment, and would also do little to help them out of their predicament.
Bekka crawled over to Jodyne and gently nudged her. When the woman did not respond she shook her again a little more roughly. This time she came around, groaning before sitting up and raising her hand to the back of her neck. She licked her lips, tasting the blood from a split in them, and let her eyes focus on the half-elf.
Her eyes widened upon seeing the woman with no clothing on. She looked down at herself and cursed in Dwarven, her hands going quickly to cover herself. Bekka smiled disarmingly at her and shrugged.
“It is only the two of us,” she said softly. “The slavers captured us.”
Jodyne surged to her feet, turning to the door and looking for a handle to grab to wrench on. She balled her hands into fists at her side and ground her teeth in frustration.
“Jodyne, be patient, we can’t let them know we are awake until we know what it is we wish to do.”
“We wish to be free,” Jodyne snapped. “I’ll not be slaving for any; death would be better!” She paused and glared at the confines of their cell. “Where are the others?”
Bekka pushed past her surprise at the fiery nature of the woman. She knew she could be stubborn and obstinate, a woman would have to be to love Kragor as she did, but she was surprised by the power of her emotions.
“I think they have been put in rooms much like these. That or…”
Jodyne nodded, allowing Bekka to let the unthinkable go unsaid. Every one of them would fight while they had the strength in their limbs to do so, and it was often easier to kill than it was to incapacitate.
“Do you have any magic to get us out?” Jodyne asked after pushing against the door and discovering it to be unyielding.
Bekka shook her head. “I have nothing that would help us. We must wait for our captors to arrive and take them by surprise.”
Jodyne scowled beneath her beard and crossed her arms. “This better work,” she grumbled, moving back and sitting down with her back to a wall. She crossed her legs self consciously and waited.
Bekka watched her for only a moment and then looked away. It was a dangerous game they tried, but as Jodyne had pointed out, death might be better than what the slavers had in mind for them.
She sat down as well and closed her eyes to meditate. She wondered if she could perhaps turn one of her spells into something that might aid them after all. Minor effects and protective magics were the extent of her abilities; she doubted that she had anything that would be of great effect. A distraction she might cause, but little more.
“Who be you?” Kragor asked, sitting up and reaching to rub the knot on his skull. His arm ached and throbbed from where a club had bruised him deeply near the shoulder.
“My name is Xander,” the human replied morosely. He, too, sat naked in the small room.
Kragor grunted and turned to study the door of their prison. It was solidly built, if simple, and he doubted it could be opened short of tools or by possession of strength greater than the two of them possessed. While displeased with his state of dress, he saw little point in letting it visibly upset him. He had greater concerns to deal with.
“What’s happening?” Kragor asked, turning back to him.
“You’ve been captured by slavers,” the man said sarcastically, “same as me.”
Kragor scowled. “Maybe you have, but I ain’t been captured yet.”
“Oh? Naked dwarf trapped in a cell… you’re right, that doesn’t sound like captured to me,” the man scoffed.
Kragor turned on him, fists clenched. “Shut yer mouth, I’m thinking!”
Xander recoiled a bit at the ferocity and volume of the dwarf’s voice. He shook his head after a minute and shrugged. “Think all you want, dwarf, there’s naught to be done.”
The dwarf ignored him and turned to once again study the door. He imagined some sort of a lever might work to lift it off its hinges, but they were short on levers.
“They found my tower and raided it, losing nearly a dozen men to my defenses before they broke in. I slew more, but they were too many. They stole my spell books and drained my magic from me, then tossed me in here,” Xander continued.
“You’re a wizard?” Kragor asked, not caring about his story but wondering if the man might be able to magic up some trick for them.
“I was,” Xander said, pulling a small amount of pride in to himself. “Xander vonHelric, wizard of the void.”
Kragor grunted, never having heard of the man before. “Can you wizard up some way out of here for us?”
“Oh, of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” Xander said in mock relief. “That’s what I needed, a furry dwarf to remind me of my skills!”
Kragor scowled and turned away, not liking the man’s tone.
“They drained my magic from me, dwarf!” Xander spat out contemptuously. “I must study and rest to recover, and without my spell books I am useless!”
“That was your tower?” Kragor asked, ignoring the caustic remarks from the powerless wizard.
“You can hear!” Xander said, the praise dripping sarcasm. “I constructed it with my magic, a mighty fortress able to house my conjurings.”
He sighed and looked at the floor, his anger fading to sadness. “It’s destroyed now, barely a shell of what it was. At least my final trap in my casting room has two of them prisoner still. My final victory: their death, as my sand sharks rend their flesh from their bones.”
Kragor spun around and stared at him. He walked over, stumpy legs crossing the distance in the small cell in three strides, and he grabbed the mage by both arms and yanked him forward so that their faces were only inches apart.
“You’ve got two men trapped in your tower?” he asked him, his tone deadly and even.