FWFW 3 - 80

“. . . can’t get this thing open. Careful with his back!” Morgan heard the voice, sort of like it was echoing down to him from the top of a well while he lay at the bottom. He blinked his eyes rapidly, and, looking through his magical helmet’s visor, he saw dirt and jagged little rocks—he was face-down. He tried to speak but barely managed to inhale enough to keep himself conscious. He thought he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, but he felt very little beyond that.

“Wait!” said a familiar voice. Who was it again? He strained his mind, trying to remember how he got into this situation, and then the voice spoke again, “Give the System a minute to send the Energy from Finneal. Considering the fool blew himself up, it might take a few minutes.” Finneal! Morgan suddenly remembered the crazed, shadow-formed Ghelli. How’d he come back, anyway? Some sort of artifact? A healing spell or potion he managed to quaff before he died? Morgan tried to grunt, tried to lift a hand to slide down his visor, but nothing in his body wanted to do what he asked.

“I see Energy motes gathering out there. Look!” another voice said. Was it Arthur?

“Yes, Finneal blew himself into a billion parts. Give it a minute. I’m sure the System will credit Morgan.” the clear, ringing woman’s voice said. Was that Tanna? Hadn’t Finneal shredded her? Maybe she’d had a potion or two. Morgan would have shrugged if he could move—would have dug out a healing potion of his own.

“Here it comes!” Arthur said, voice high with excitement. He’d probably never seen Energy gather from a vanquished foe. No, that couldn’t be right—he’d been at the Urghat battle. Suddenly Morgan felt heat and vibrant Energy surge into his pathways, and with it, his nerves suddenly roared to life, and he almost lost his grip on consciousness from the wave of agony that rolled through his body. He felt an uncomfortable, grinding twitch in his neck, and then warmth flooded into that part of his body, and much of the pain subsided.

“Ungh!” he grunted.

“He’s alive,” Arthur breathed.

“Yes, but that Energy wasn’t enough to fix him. He’s moving now, at least.” Tanna’s voice was closer now, and Morgan thought she was probably leaning over him. “Can you open your visor, Morgan? I have a healing draught here.” He felt hands gently turn him onto his side, and then he could see Tanna, still drenched in blood, her pale blue robes hanging in shreds as she knelt before him, holding a shimmering off-white potion that radiated with Energy.

“Ungh,” he grunted again, and with a monumental effort, he jerked a hand up to his visor and flicked it up with the two fingers that were listening to his mental commands. The world brightened, and sounds became harsher, and he squinted his eyes against the glare.

“Here.” She pressed the little vial to his lips, and Morgan, with only a tiny misgiving, drank the liquid. It was cool and dissolved to vapors on his tongue, flowing down his throat and into his lungs, seeping through the flesh of his mouth and throat, and as the wave of healing Energy flooded through him, Morgan finally inhaled a full breath.

“Jesus. Did I break my neck?” he asked, still reeling from the residual pain and the rush of healing Energy.

“And then some, Morgan!” Arthur said, leaning into his field of view. “You looked like a pretzel when we found you down here. I thought you were dead!”

Morgan shifted into a sitting position, groaning from the effort and the pain that still tingled in his hips. He felt the potion still working, pushing out through his body, and when it started to spread into his wings, he stifled an inarticulate cry of pain. As the potion slowly moved out into his feathered appendages, he felt them popping and clicking as the dozens of little bones that had broken straightened. He grimaced, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the process to run its course.

“The potion is potent, but it won’t be enough. Your wings are straightened, the breaks repaired, and the flesh healed, but you lost a lot of feathers,” Tanna said.

“Hang on,” Morgan said and pulled out one of the two “miracle elixirs” he’d looted so long ago. He figured it might be overkill, maybe his wings would recover with cheaper healing draughts or with just the passage of time, but he didn’t want to seem weak in front of Tanna and the airship crew. He popped the cork, breaking the orange wax seal, and chugged the little vial. This potion was hot and flooded him with warmth as the strangely vanilla-flavored liquid coursed down his throat and into his stomach.

The surging warmth flooded out to every part of him, and Morgan stood up with the surge of vibrant energy it provided him. He spread his wings and watched as the wave of warmth spread out through them. Black, perfect feathers populated the bare, scarred, fleshy parts. In just a minute, he was whole and feeling fantastic to boot. He spread his wings, gave them a flap, and smiled at Arthur. “Feeling better, Arthur. I take it Finneal is no more?”

“The madman destroyed himself in an attempt to take everyone with him. You saved us all, Morgan.” Tanna said.

Morgan looked at her for a long moment, taking in her bloody but uninjured appearance. He nodded to her and said, “You could have betrayed our agreement. You could have finished me and retaken Arthur and the others.”

“It doesn’t make me a good person if that’s what you’re getting at. I chose your side consciously, and I still think it’s the winning side in the long run. I’m throwing my lot in with you because I know you won’t treat me like a slave and make me do things that turn my stomach. Ap’Gravin has power now, but I think First Landing will soon eclipse the strength of even the grand, old cities. This is me being honest, Morgan.”

“Fair enough.” Morgan looked around at the gathered crowd for the first time. He saw skyship crew members and many of their former captives. They stood on opposite sides of a semi-circle around him, some talking in low voices, others watching him raptly. “You’re all, no doubt, wondering what comes next. First, tell me, did Captain Gella live?”

“He’s dead,” one of the airship crew said, a large Vodkin with a messy, too-tight uniform.

“You all have fifteen minutes to get your belongings and enough food for two weeks. Tanna, you’re in charge of ensuring they only take what they need and don’t damage the ship further. I know many of you have nothing to do with ap’Gravin, but I don’t know which ones of you might. That said, you all need to go. Time starts now. Get going!” Morgan drew Bloodfang in emphasis and watched as the crew scurried up the rocky slope toward the boarding ramp.

“I understand where you’re coming from, but I think, if you want to take this ship, you should keep a few of them. Five of the engineers and one helmsman should be enough to get you back to First Landing, then you can send them packing,” Tanna said. Morgan thought about it and nodded, and she turned to follow the crew as they scurried up the slope.

“You heard him! Move faster!” She yelled, her voice cold and brooking no dissent. Morgan heard some of the crew members turning to plead with her to stay, but she curtly refused them. Morgan knew he couldn’t fully trust her, but he felt he could manage to keep an eye on her and maybe a handful of the crew—he couldn’t say the same for the dozens of others. No, it was best they were on their way.

“Will they die out here?” Arthur asked.

“I doubt it—they’re all Energy users. They should be able to manage a trek through the wilderness, especially if they stick together.” Morgan turned to the other humans nearby and said, “Come on, let’s go make sure everyone’s out of their holding cells and collars. When Tanna’s done chasing most of the crew away, we’ll get this ship in the air.”

“Right. I’m glad you’re all right, Morgan. I’m glad you beat that madman. We’d be flying toward slavery right now if you hadn’t come,” a friendly voice said, and Morgan turned to see that Alec Green was there, holding out a hand.

“Shit,” Morgan said, shaking his friend’s hand. “I didn’t realize you were here. How many were captured, anyway?”

“Hundreds,” Arthur said. “We’re not exactly sure either. Let’s go, people; we’ve got friends that need releasing!” He clapped his hands, and the gathered humans finally snapped out of it and started moving quickly up the slope to board the ship.

Morgan nodded and said, “Meet you there.” Then he looked up toward the ship railing and cast Void Step. He appeared a few feet above the deck and glided down, striding toward the boarding ramp and listening to see what Tanna might be saying to the crew as they marched aboard.

“. . . not open for debate. Be glad he isn’t executing us all. How do you think Finneal would have responded if we’d done this to his hometown? Even Haku-dak would probably cut our heads off, but at least he wouldn’t torture us.“ Morgan heard a grumbled, deep-voiced curse, and then she said, “Enough, Reeja! You’ll not be staying. I need one helmsman, and that will be Teeg.”

Morgan stepped back to the side as the crew members started filing onto the ship. When they saw him lurking near the gangway, most of them flinched and hurried their steps. Tanna came out, and when she saw him, she nodded and cleared her throat.

“I’m glad the wings still work. That was a nasty explosion.”

“He was tricky. Not sure how he survived our first encounter.” Morgan glanced to the west, where he’d sparred with Finneal in the air.

“We had scouts out there. Probably one of them gave him a healing draught, and then he drained them dry. His shadow only grows like that after he’s made some kills. His affinities were a mixed bag of shadow and rage—a hybrid spirit Core. He’d clearly gone mad with it by the time he arrived here. I’m glad you were able to defeat him so handily. If not for his suicidal explosion, I think he’d hardly of been a challenge.”

“Maybe,” Morgan said, narrowing his eyes. “We still have a long way to go before I’m not feeling like binding you and locking you away, Tanna. Let’s get this crew moving, hmm?”

“Right,” she nodded and berated a nearby group of crew members that hadn’t hurried below to get their belongings. Morgan watched and waited as nearly a hundred crew personnel gathered their things and departed the ship, hiking over the stone ground toward the east. Tanna picked out a handful of “engineers” and the one helmswoman she’d had in mind, and they all waited on the deck, sitting against a railing, while the human captives were gathered from below decks and given their freedom.

Morgan had to nearly fight with a few former captives that wanted to string up the Skybreaker’s crew. They railed at him, cursing in fury as he forced them to stand back and watch their kidnappers hike away into the hills. One woman, a tall, blond-haired lady that Morgan was sure he’d seen around town a few times, said, “How can you let them go? They killed Thomas and Yolanda. I’m pretty sure they killed Maria, too!”

“They’re criminals, for sure,” Morgan said, speaking loudly so all the gathered humans could hear. “They deserve to be punished, and you can believe they’re in for a hell of a bad time hiking from here to civilization. They’ll have to answer to their employer, and that’s the person to who we really owe justice. Most of those people owe him a debt of one kind or another, and that’s why they’ve done this. Even Tanna, here, was operating under duress. Don’t get me wrong—she’s got a lot of amends to make. In any case, their captain is dead, and Finneal, the one personally responsible for the deaths, is dead. Me, though? I don’t have the stomach for mass executions. I’m not going to slaughter those people. We’re taking their ship, and I’m going to make sure this sort of thing never happens again. You can count on that.”

He’d said more than he usually would to such a crowd, and he cleared his throat, gazing over their faces, looking for dissent, disagreement, or questions. He could hear some muttering, could see some angry faces, but no one spoke up. He tried another angle, “Do you people trust me? Did you see me fighting, with everything I had, to help you? Do you believe I care about First Landing?”

“Yes!” one young woman shouted, and Morgan knew her—she was Greta, one of Alec’s cooks. Other affirmative sounds broke out, and then someone else called out, “Thank you, Morgan!”

“You’re welcome, but that’s not what I’m getting at!” he shouted, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. The crowd grew quiet again, and he said, “Just keep trusting me, okay? That’s all I ask. Give me a chance to seek justice against Lord ap’Gravin and to secure protection for First Landing. I’ll do it. Whether it takes words, or money, or blood, I’ll do it.”

The crowd cheered, and Morgan smiled, watching their faces and seeing their belief in him. His eyes fell on Tanna’s green eyes and her blood-smeared face, and he saw that she was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t place at first, but then it clicked, and he realized she was admiring him. She was impressed by him, and he could tell she was pleased, thinking she’d made the right decision.