Second Wind - Chapter Three

	Okay, it's a new week and as promised, here is the next chapter of
Second Wind.

Interlude

  Kargg waited patiently as the Blood Axe slipped behind the elven patrol
ship, its bulk shielded from view by the Scro's powerful shamanistic magics.
The Man O'War's course remained unchanged, a sign that those pompous
sorcerers might actually be as good as they claimed. Much as Kargg hated
their smug attitudes, this incursion would be for nothing if the elves
suspected an attack.

  "Are your men ready, Lieutenant?"

  Kargg continued to stare out the viewport.

  "We've been ready for the past hour. Can't this thing move any faster?"

  Garrask shifted slightly.

  'You're favoring your right side,' thought Kargg. 'One kick would break
your knee. I could bury my knife in you belly before you'd even strike the
floor.'

  "I doubt you could fathom the intricacies of our craft, soldier," Garrask
sneered.

  Kargg bit back a retort and focused his anger on the elven vessel. Anger
gives strength, hatred gives purpose, he repeated to himself. His mind began
to clear, visions of gore burning away all other thought. A low rumble
escaped his throat.

  Garrask stepped away. He'd seen marines in this state before and any
humanoid with half a brain knew better than to press his luck.

  "Prepare to board in two minutes," the novitiate muttered to Kargg's
back. When he received no response Garrask turned, his robes swishing over
the metal plates, and left.

  Kargg watched the Man O'War draw ever closer, its crystalline wings
scattering sunlight in a dazzling rainbow. He imagined those wings crisping,
burning beneath orange-red flames. He painted the decks crimson with the
blood of slain elves. He clenched his fist, the dark leather of his gloves
creaking, as he tightened his grip on a phantom neck.

  "One minute," Kargg growled. He pounded his breastplate and his
detachment rose to their feet. Kargg raised his fist and, as one, fifty
soldiers fell into line.

  Muffled shouts resounded throughout the ship as the crew prepared the
grappling rams. Below him came the groans of "volunteers" as they
struggled to move the scythelike arms into position. Once they were
extended, the captain would trigger counterweights from the bridge and
anything unfortunate enough to be caught between the blades would be shorn
in half.

  Five hundred yards away and still the elves held to their course.

  "Thirty seconds. Brace for impact,"

  The ships' air envelopes had not yet merged. Once they did, however, the
illusion would be lost. The elves would have only a split second of reaction
time before the Blood Axe could lock its rams around them. The scro didn't
intend to let them use that chance.

  Kargg reached to a handhold to steady himself. Behind him he could
single out the breathing of each of his men, each one shallow and quickened
with the excitement of the impending battle.

  "Five...four...three..."

  The ship lurched forward as the combined power of the six bridge
shamans was channeled into the helmsman. The helmsman screamed as the raw
magics coursed through him. Abruptly the scream was cut off.

  The collision was spectacular; the now visible mantis ship plowed across
the Man O'War's spine, its ventral razors slicing deep into its hull. The
twin
rams encircled the wings' support struts, then drew tight as the Blood Axe's
captain released the counterweights. One strut snapped from the immense
pressure sending its wing spiraling off into the void.

  Kargg nodded to his second in command and together they swung the
boarding doors open exposing the deck to space. From the outside it looked
as if the mantis' jaws parted to slide back around to the either side of its
head.

  Two crewmen rolled the line ballista into place, trundling it forward on
its
tracks from the rear of the deck. No sooner was the weapon locked into
place than a dozen grappling lines fired out of the ship's mouth to the
trapped vessel below, steel bits digging into the crystal shell.

  Kargg snapped the rings from the boarding harness he wore around the
nearest line and leapt out as the first arrows began to fly. All around the
Blood Axe similar boarding parties were swinging onto the doomed ship.
Some of the elves' arrows found their marks; the scro they struck were dead
before they reached their destination. Still the marines continued to pour
out of the boarding decks.

  Kargg landed heavily and rolled to his feet, plucking arrows from the air
as quickly as they were fired toward him. Astonished, the elves faltered,
giving Kargg the opening he needed. His sword flashed out of its scabbard
burying its tip in the nearest elf's neck. Kargg stepped forward, driving
his
knee into his opponent's stomach, the spike on his joint plate piercing the
elf's midsection. Tossing him aside, the scro lieutenant grabbed another
arrow that threatened to lodge itself in his skull. In response, Kargg drew
his dagger and sent it home, tearing through flesh and muscle. Soon he
closed the distance between him and the most stubborn group of defenders.
The sounds of battle surrounded him, invigorating, even musical. It was a
symphony Kargg would savor later. For now Kargg concentrated on tearing his
opponents down, parrying their feeble blades, and sending each elven soul
screaming into the afterlife.

  A lucky blow found its way through Kargg's armor, slicing open his arm
and forcing him to drop his weapon. Bellowing with rage, he took hold of the
offending sword, twisting it out of its wielder's hands. The blade's
sharpness threatened to cut through his gloves but the thick leather held.
Kargg dropped low, sweeping the elf's legs out from under him. As he fell,
Kargg used his momentum to launch himself into a horizontal roll, the elf's
sword arcing high in the air, then plunging down into the sailor's chest.
Elven steel sank straight to the hilt, pinning Kargg's victim to the deck.

  Overhead bolts of lightning flashed as the defenders began to mount a
counterattack. The air turned acrid with the smell of burnt flesh.
Frantically,
the scro sorcerers sought to aid their troops with their own dark magics.
For all its fury however, the magical battle paled against the carnage
Kargg's marines wrought.

  Kargg had no time to revel in his kill. Already his armored boots were
deflecting the swords of two of the fallen elf's comrades. Their onslaught
was fierce and the scro was beginning to tire. Drawing two more daggers
from his belt, he lashed up at his attackers. The feint worked. As the elves
slowed their blades, he kicked out, shattering their kneecaps. They
collapsed in a heap, writhing in pain. Kargg regained his footing, knocking
away another sword thrust from the fallen elves.

  Brushing aside another pathetic slash, he reached down and hoisted one
of the elves up by his hair. When he tried once more to stab Kargg, the scro
quickly seized his wrist and twisted until bones crunched.

  "Murderer!" hissed the elf, sweat beading upon his brow. "Monster!" He
spat at Kargg.

  The lieutenant smiled, his massive canines jutting up from his lower jaw.
To his captive it was the last thing he saw before Kargg broke his neck.

  "Thank you for the compliment," Kargg whispered in flawless elven as he
let the corpse slide to the floor. Turning his attention to the second,
still
struggling elf, he pinned her sword to the deck with one foot. She turned
her hate-filled eyes up at him. Still smiling, Kargg dropped to one knee,
letting the full force of his weight drive his knee spike into her face.

  Kargg stood again and took a moment to assess the battle. His marines
had already secured the outer decks and from the sound of things most of
the ships interior had also been seized. Kargg retrieved his sword, wiped
off
most of the blood using a borrowed cloak, and sheathed the weapon.
Checking the rest of his armor, he discovered a few loosened plates, nothing
that couldn't be repaired. Pushing his way past two scro guarding the
entrance to the inner decks, Kargg went in search of the bridge.

  The marines who had taken control of the command room saluted as
Kargg appeared in the doorway. Unlike the rest of the ship, here the scro
had taken prisoners from the bridge crew. Kargg had given specific orders
that these elves were to be kept alive for his own personal ministrations.
Even so there were a few who barely qualified as still living.

  "Which is the captain of this sorry vessel?" asked Kargg.

  One of the captives was shoved roughly forward. He was bleeding from
the mouth and his eyes were beginning to swell shut. The scro had bound his
arms behind him so tightly his hands were beginning to turn purple. Still he
stood with an air of defiance, glowering at Kargg.

  "This is an act of war! The Fleet will repay this attack a thousand times
over!"

  "My dear captain, certainly one so versed in warcraft could recognize this
as more than an 'act of war'," Kargg replied smoothly. "This is a preemptive
surgical strike for one singular and, I can assure you, quite necessary
purpose,"

  "You will fail, like the vermin you are," the elf shot back.

  Kargg stepped forward and lifted his prisoner's chin.

  "No, I think not," he said after awhile, letting the elf's head fall back.
"I
think you will find we are nothing like the uneducated savages we once
were," He motioned to his men. The captives were forced to their knees.

  Kargg drew his sword.

  "You will find," he continued, "that it is your race that will drink from
the
cup of defeat. Failure will reside within your kind, not ours,"

  His arm drew back. The room had become deathly still.

  "And you will find," Kargg concluded, "that it is you who will be
exterminated, driven from the worlds that are rightfully ours, and finally
crushed into oblivion beneath our boots. Unfortunately, my dear captain, I
cannot allow you to see that day. You should know, the one thing the scro
are not very good at is taking prisoners,"

  Kargg brought his sword down, grinning wickedly as it separated the elf's
head from his body.

         *      *      *

  Kevved followed his guide as Shekkelleh squeezed through the doorway
of the crews' salon. Someone had scrawled 'The Watering Hole" across the
front of the door, and now that Kevved was inside he could see why. Except
for the stars gleaming through the windows on either side of the room, the
salon looked just like any of a dozen small taverns he had frequented with
his friends over the years. Kevved had a flash of homesickness.

  Shekkelleh wandered over to the bar and began to rummage around.
Besides the two of them, the only other inhabitants were a couple of drunken
sailors snoring away at a corner table.

  "Where's everyone else, Shekkelleh?" asked Kevved. "I though a tavern
on a ship would be crowded,"

  Shekkelleh set a couple flagons on the bar and looked at Kevved. He was
chewing on a handful of watercress he had found, giving him a thoughtful,
almost placid look.

  "We are early, honored brother. This ship has three packs, each serving
for eight hours. My pack's shift will end in another hour and since you have
seen the rest of the ship, we should get a head start in doing that which my
pack does after a long day's work,"

  "You mean everyone gets drunk?" Kevved asked incredulously.

  Shekkelleh waved his hands.

  "No, not at all. I apologize if I gave you that impression. Some of my
packmates do get drunk, like Nuarte and his friends," Shekkelleh wrinkled
his snout when he mentioned Nuarte. Apparently he didn't care for him that
much.

  "Others enjoy consuming their food here. Some talk. Some enjoy the
entertainment," He filled both flagons with a frothy amber-colored liquid.

  "I took it upon myself to provide a drink for you. I hope I have not
offended?"

  Kevved nearly burst out laughing. Shekkelleh had a peculiar obsession
with being polite. The look of earnest on his dragonlike features was
childlike in his wish to be as inoffensive as possible.

  Kevved took the proffered mug from the dracon and drank deeply. The
ale helped to wash away some of the sourness the spacesickness had left in
his mouth. He wiped the foam off his upper lip with the back of his hand.

  "Shekkelleh, I doubt you could offend even if you tried,"

  The dracon bowed low, his forelegs touching the ground.

  "You do me much honor, honored-brother Kevved Stytheson,"

  Shekkelleh pushed a few chairs out of the way and lowered himself to the
floor. Kevved took his seat opposite him.

  "This is good ale," said Kevved. "I've never tasted anything quite like
it,"

  "It is from Reorx, in the Krynn system. We passed through that sphere
nearly two months ago,"

  "I have no idea what you're talking about, Shekkelleh, but it is good
ale,"

  Shekkelleh looked troubled.

  "Has no one told you of wildspace yet, honored-brother?"

  Kevved shook his head. Shekkelleh's look became concerned.

  "Then I shall instruct you. With your permission of course,
honored-brother,"

  Kevved took another drink and leaned back in his chair.

  "You said we have an hour. Tell me about wildspace,"

  An hour and two more ales later, Kevved's head was swimming.
Shekkelleh had explained to him the nature of the crystal spheres
surrounding each solar system and of the volatile, gaseous phlogiston that
lay beyond. He listened to stories of creatures so large they made the
Leviathan look like a mosquito. He listened, incredulous, as the dracon
described the stars of different spheres; how in one shell they were merely
painted onto the inner surface of the sphere, and in another they were
gigantic gemstones set into the shell walls. He listened as Shekkelleh told
of the trackless, windless void between worlds and the ships that plied
their trade within it.

  "Wait a minute," Kevved interrupted. "If there's no wind in space, how
are we even moving?"

  "There are many ways to move a ship among the stars, Kevved. This ship
has a helm to power it.

  "All right, so what is a helm?" asked Kevved.

  "You saw one in the wreckboat Torosa brought you up in. Remember the
throne he sat in?"

  "Can you tell me how it worked, Shekkelleh?"

  The dracon spread his hands.

  "I do not know. Only spellslingers are able to work them. They sit in it,
the
ship moves. It is up to the rest of the crew to turn the ship; the helmsman
only provides the wind for us,"

  "You mentioned other ways to move a ship,"

  "Yes, although I understand them even less. The squid-faces use their
minds to power their vessels. The reigar have their esthetics to sail the
void, the neogi pull the life from other beings to move about. Then there
are the norkhnar," Shekkelleh chuckled.

  "Norkhnar? Who are they?"

  "The norkhnar are great floating spheres with one large eye and a ring of
tentacles, each with its own eye, on top. Where I come from there are
similar creatures we use as kickballs,"

  "Eye tyrants," Kevved breathed. "Do you mean they are out here too?"

  "They have nations. Small ones though, usually no more than ten or
twenty in a clan,"

  "Isn't that just a bit dangerous, so many of them together?"

  "It would be, if they weren't set on destroying each other. They hate
their
own more than any other race, simply because each nation looks so
different. So long as they fight their civil wars, the rest of us are safe,"

  Outside the salon a bell began to ring.

  "The next shift is starting," observed the dracon. "Now I may introduce
you to the rest of my packmates,"

  "Wait, I was just getting into the conversation!"

  "We shall have to continue at another time honored-brother. I apologize,
but there are other things you must learn,"

  "Such as?"

  "There is one particular packmate you should learn to deal with. He has
no honor, nor manners. And his language is so coarse as to burn your ears,"

  "That doesn't sound pleasant. Who is he?" Kevved asked.

  The door burst open, the crew from Shekkelleh's shift clamoring for the
bar. They were led by the lookout Kevved had seen from the wreckboat.

  Shekkelleh rolled his eyes in disgust as the lookout launched into a
series of lewd stories, each bawdier than the last. The dracon hooked a
thumb over his shoulder toward the furry creature.

  "That would be Nuarte,"


	You can find all the chapters I've written so far for Second Wind on
Static's website at:
 http://www.gwr.com/~eshum/rpg/sj/tales/SecondWind/SecondWind.html