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In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Thirty-Six: Antipathy

As he walks down the wooden steps, his eyes turn toward the strange lights that’re built into the ceiling, glowing with a modest, amber hue. He steps onto the landing and heads for the hall, eager to retreat to his cabin. Hearing the voices talking and giggling, he pauses as he looks into the lounge. Seated at the dining booth are Kirsta, Jarae, Mairlynn, and his sister, Salasha. The half breed Lahnyt, mixed between a Lahnyt and a human, sits with her newfound friends, sharing amusing stories from her past.

With her skin multiple shades of green, and with a pattern very similar to a watermelon, her somewhat glossy flesh is striking. She runs her green, clawed fingers through her platinum blond ponytail, which hangs over a shoulder. It’s pulled up, near the crown of her head, and held together with a pink ribbon. Her thumb brushes the tip of a long and pointy elf-like ear. She turns her golden-yellow eyes toward the man standing in the doorway.

“Hi, Naemen!” She chirps, greeting her twin brother.

“Hey! Care to join us, stud?” Mairlynn coos.

“No... It’s getting late; I’m going to lie down.” Salasha’s twin murmurs, shaking his head.

“Can I join you?!” The dainty Falmun chirps, sliding partway out of her seat.

“Don’t scare him, Mair.” Kirsta remarks.

“Yeah. We don’t want him to jump overboard.” Jarae smirks.

“Hey, I’m not that bad! He’d be lucky to have me in his bed!” An offended Mairlynn retorts.

“Then why isn’t he jumping at the chance?” Jarae teases her.

“Oh, he is... He just doesn’t know it yet.” Mairlynn coos, winking at Naemen, who still stands in the doorway. “I’ll see you in your dreams, stud.”

With that, he slowly backs away, unnerved by her sexual passes and even more eager to continue to his room than before. He heads for the cabin that he shares with his twin sister, impulsively glancing through an opened door. Irzain lay atop his cot. The vibrant blue and orange Lahnyt healer, Lutala, stands over him. Her hands rest on his head, her fingertips pressing into his temples and glowing with Halcyon magic. She attempts to repair the damage to his mind, never noticing the gaze of the newcomer. Continuing on, Naemen nears his room, only for Steingar to suddenly emerge from the door to his right.

Slipping his black vest over his white shirt, Steingar’s head is turned down. He never sees the half breed, bumping into him and knocking him back.

“Watch it, asshole!”

“Hey, sorry!” Steingar apologizes.

“Yeah! You’re gonna be!” Naemen growls.

“Are you still mad?!” The Helngar raises a brow.

“... YES! You didn’t fight fair on Bremen! I could’ve won! You shot me and left me to die on that worthless speck of dirt!”

“That wasn’t actually me who shot you, you know...”

“But it was you I was fighting!”

As the pair argue, the women emerge from the lounge. They watch from a distance, and footsteps echo throughout the stairwell. Valan soon joins them. He approaches slowly, as the two grow increasingly louder.

“I would’ve killed you had we kept fighting.” Steingar casually retorts, a little smile on his face.

“Maybe now, with all of that armor you have! I could’ve beat you on Bremen, though!”

“Bitch, bitch...” Steinar sighs, mocking him with hand motions, imitating his snout. “I’m not seeing any action.”

Naemen suddenly pushes Steingar, who stumbles back a step. The Helngar’s glowing, golden eyes narrow as he glares at the hybrid Lahnyt man.

“Do you want to, you son of a-?!”

“Woah! Let’s calm down, here!” Valan swiftly steps between them. “Now isn’t the time to be doing this.”

“You ruined everything! We were getting out!” Naemen roars, pointing to Steingar.

“Hey, you chased us!” Steingar retorts.

“It doesn’t matter who did what!” Salasha speaks up, standing beside her brother and across from Valan. “We’re all in this together, now.”

“Yeah. We need to let these grudges go, if only for now.” Valan adds.

“Listen to me, Naemen...” Salasha rests her clawed hands on his shoulder and bicep.

“Yeah, listen to her, Naemen.” Steingar teases him.

Naemen takes a step forward, but Valan shoves himself between the pair, a hand on either of their chests. With a silent glance, he shares a look with Steingar. Pursing his lips with dissatisfaction, Steingar grumbles and nods his head before backing down. He takes a step back, before walking around and away from Naemen and his sister.

“Look...” Valan turns to the hybrid man. “I know you don’t want to be here, trapped with all of us. I know how angry you must be, but this shit? It stops now. You can hop off at the next island, if that’s what you really want to do.”

“It can’t happen soon enough...” Naemen growls.

With the situation diffused, Valan watches as Naemen makes his way around him, his long, tapering tail disappearing into his room. A hand reaches out, resting on his bicep. Startled, Valan jumps, trembling slightly as Salasha touches him. Seeing and feeling his reaction, she slowly pulls her hand away. Standing in the background, Jarae grits her teeth and flexes her clawed fingers.

“Thanks for what you did for my brother.” She speaks softly.

“Yeah... Don’t mention it.”

Walking away from her, Salasha glances over her shoulder, her golden-yellow eyes turning down and focusing on his butt. As the women return to the lounge, the excitement now gone, only Jarae stands in the hallway. Salasha sees her angry gaze, raising a brow. She looks jealous, but why would the Jaliscan be jealous of such a simple touch? Salasha can tell, as everyone else can, that Jarae has feelings for Valan, but Salasha has never seen them interact as a couple. Are they, in fact, in some sort of relationship?

With a low growl, Jarae whirls around, her wild, pink hair swishing as she turns her back on Salasha. She disappears into the lounge, rejoining Kirsta and Mairlynn. Salasha turns back, looking at the opened doorway of the cabin, which was so graciously given to her and her brother by the crew of the Arona-Dahl. Stepping closer, she knocks on the doorframe and pokes her head inside.

“Hey...”

“Oh, hi.” Naemen sits up on his cot. “I was hoping you’d be Steingar. I’m getting eager to finish this...”

Salasha steps inside and sits at the far end of his cot. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as she rests her hands atop her legs, her fingers curling over her knees.

“Salasha? ... Are you alright?”

“What’s wrong with you?” She calmly asks, her eyes still closed.

“Huh?! What’re you talking about?!” He cocks his head.

“Clearly, something’s wrong with you. You wouldn’t be acting this way if there wasn’t.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me...”

“Yes, there is. We’re guests on this ship, and you’re acting like an asshole. I mean, you always kind of were, but this is going too far.”

“You think they’re going to keelhaul us or make us jump overboard?” He snickers.

“This is serious! We need to stay here!” She growls, opening her eyes and glaring at him.

“Look, if this is because you want to screw that human-”

“Naemen...”

“Then just do it, but stay out of my business.” He continues without missing a beat.

“That’s not it! Don’t make this about me! This is all your fault!”

“The hell it is! If you hadn’t-”

“No! Don’t even start! You always divert blame! You’re the one responsible for all of this, anyway! I wasn’t expecting to be here, but this is where we are! ... If you want to make this right, you can stop being so hostile. Just try it. Try it for one day! Okay?!”

His eyes scan her face, seeing the fear and discomfort; she wears it like a veil. His confident smirk fades, and for a moment he appears to genuinely worry about her fears, which is their standing amongst the crew. However, after only a brief moment, his visible concern transforms and his smug grin returns.

“... It’s that Valan guy, isn’t it?”

“Damnit Naemen!”

She bolts to her feet and storms toward the doorway, only to pause. After standing still for a moment, she turns her head, glancing over her shoulder and looking back at her brother.

“Yeah, I’d screw him; I’ll admit that.” She suddenly begins.

“Hah! I knew it!”

“But if you don’t knock it off, I might not be alive to bed him... And you might not be alive to avenge me...” She continues in a somber tone.

Naemen’s smug grin swiftly fades.

“Don’t think that you can take them all on, Naemen. You’re just one man. Calm down and think with a cool head for once in your life. I gave up everything because of you. The least you could do is make it up to me by listening for a change...”

With that, Salasha leaves the room and walks down the hall, returning to the lounge to rejoin her new friends. Her soft, feminine footfalls fade as he’s left sitting on his cot, all alone. Rising to his feet, Naemen quickly closes the cabin door. He presses his palm against the hardwood barrier, leaning against the door and turning his eyes toward his wounded bicep. Slipping a clawed finger beneath his tunic, he pushes it aside and looks upon the scar tissue. Only a few weeks earlier, he had the bounty of a lifetime, only to lose it all.

First, his friend, Nemlik, was killed. Shortly afterward, he was shot in the upper torso by the Jaliscan woman. Nearly being killed by the voluptuous female, who has an obvious obsession with Valan, was already an embarrassment. However, he never had the chance to prove himself to Steingar, and that’s quite possibly what bothers him the most about that day. The anger swells within him, growing like a forest fire. Though as he looks around the cabin of the bizarre ship, a craft that’s been his home for the past six days, he feels a tinge of guilt creeping into his heart. Salasha is right; no matter how much he’d like to deny it, this is all his fault.

He returns to his cot, opposite his sister’s, and lies flat on his back. He pulls up his arms, resting them behind his solitary pillow. Wincing from a tinge of pain, a result of nerve damage from his gunshot wound, he instead decides to roll over. Lying on his side, he stares at the empty cot, and where his twin sister will eventually sleep. It causes him to reflect, dwelling on all that he’d done to her in his earnest attempt to protect her. His eyes are heavy. All that Naemen wants to do now is rest...

“Are you sure that we really need to do this?!” Salasha whined.

A frustrated Naemen turned toward his sister. Standing in her humble home, on the modest island of Glaevik, it isn’t very far from Vaspania. It’d taken some time to reach her. He’d left Bremen only two days after his injury, once Sovik cleared him to move about. The first and only thing on his mind was finding his twin sister and leaving with her. He’d chartered a ride on a whaler, a ship that’d anchored near Bremen so her crew could sell some wares and enjoy a drink at the tavern. They were agreeable to him as a passenger, as their final destination was Vaspania.

“Yes, yes, yes, for the hundredth time, yes!”

“But this is my home! All of my stuff is here! My friends, and some really cute guys!” She complained.

“Look, Salasha, it doesn’t feel safe in the Isles anymore.” Naemen retorted.

“But... The mainland?! I mean-!”

“Will you just-! ... Listen to me, Salasha.” He spoke softly, resting his hands upon her shoulders. “After what happened to me, I did a lot of thinking. I don’t want to be a bounty hunter anymore. I’ve been too close to death and it scared me, but something scares me even worse than dying... Losing you...”

“Aww!”

“I’ve been seeing it for some time now, throughout my travels, but it’s growing exponentially; there’s something terribly wrong with this Kingdom, and I don’t trust it to look out for us. We’re not like most of the others... We’re Lahnyt, we’re a minority. Hell, we’re half breed Lahnyt! To most people, half breeds are the lowest of the low! I’m trying to protect you, so please, for the love of the Seraphs in Heaven, just do what I say. Please?! For once in your life, don’t fight me.”

Seeing the fear on his face, Salasha conceded. Nodding her head, she silently agreed to his terms; they had to leave that day, preferably before nightfall, and charter a ship back to Rintzelaer. It’s the only place where he could be certain of their safety. Moving fast, they collected a pack and began stuffing it full of her most important belongings. Most of them were nothing more than mementos from their childhood, sentimental things that reminded her of their long dead parents. After collecting her coin purse and wearing it around her neck, Salasha paused.

She looked through a window, her brow softened in sorrow. Naemen turned to her, fearing that he’d asked too much of his twin sister. It’s only for her own safety; he’s seen the writing on the wall and doesn’t want anything bad to happen to her because of who and what she is. Stepping closer and reaching out, he rested a hand upon her shoulder, giving her a comforting squeeze. Turning back, she flashed him a smile, but it was clearly forced.

“Naemen?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we take a walk? Like we used to when we were little?” She softly asked him.

“Oh... I don’t know if that’d be a good idea. We’re racing against the sun, as it is.”

“Pleeeaaasssee?!” She bent her knees, cutely lowering and pushing herself against him. “It doesn’t have to be long!”

“Well... Alright. But just a quick one!”

With a wide and genuine smile, she raced to a corner of her home and collected a light green cloak. Leaving her pack behind, as they only planned on being gone for a few minutes, Salasha locked her door with the simple key. Side by side, the twins marched along the streets. Salasha took in the sights of the island upon which she’d settled, but Naemen was perpetually distracted. He rarely spoke, even to respond to her, and he seemed many miles away. His only action besides moving his feet was tending to the elven-like braids he wore in his platinum blond hair, which hang before his long, pointy ears.

Passing by a series of humble shops, Naemen stared straight ahead. Salasha asked him a question, but he didn’t respond. She turned her head, looking toward her brother. She stopped in her tracks when she realized that he was no longer by her side. Where’d he go? Glancing back, she found him standing several feet behind her, frozen in place. Approaching her brother, she called out his name.

“Naemen? ... Hey, Naemen!” She waved a hand before his snout.

“I don’t believe it...” He choked out.

“You don’t believe what? Are you alright?”

“It’s them...”

“Hm?”

Salasha looked over her shoulder, seeing a small group standing on the street corner. A pale, human man with long, flowing hair and a long goatee, both a light brown, stood beside what appeared to be a golden-haired, pre-teen girl. After making a remark to her, he set a hand atop her head, ruffling her hair and annoying the girl. After fixing her golden locks, the girl pushed herself against the man’s side, looking up at him and speaking to him.

“Ooohh!” Salasha cooed.

“You see him?”

“Hell yeah, I do! He’s so handsome!”

“What the-?! No, he’s not!” Naemen growled at his sister.

“Well, you would say that. You don’t like men like I do.” Salasha giggled.

“He’s with the assholes who shot me!”

“So, he’s strong, too?” Salasha teased her brother.

Frustrated, Naemen grumbled incoherently to himself, further amusing Salasha. As the human turned toward them, Naemen moved fast, ducking into a nearby alley. He grabbed his sister’s dainty wrist, pulling her along.

“Hey!” She exclaimed.

“Shh! Don’t let them see us.”

“It’s just a guy and his kid. Are you even sure that’s them?”

Naemen didn’t answer her. Turning to face the building, the human man and the young girl greeted another human, a blond-haired, buxom woman who emerged from the shop. They spoke for a moment, but neither Naemen nor Salasha could hear what was being said.

“Aww, that must be his wife...” Salasha let out a disappointed sigh. “All the good-looking ones are taken.”

“Shut up.” Naemen growled.

“You shut up! I want a man, damnit! You know, it’s not easy finding boyfriends as a hybrid, let alone a husband... I’d actually like to have children someday!”

“Will you knock it off?!” He snapped at her.

“... If you were having sex on a regular basis, you wouldn’t be so grouchy all the time.”

Naemen rolled his eyes. From across the street, another person exited a shop, someone he also recognized. The voluptuous Jaliscan with wild, pink hair walked across the street, her ample breasts bouncing subtly in her blouse as she approached the humans.

“I guess she knows that guy and his family. A friend of theirs?” Salasha turned to her brother.

“That’s her...” He choked out.

“Who? The Jaliscan?”

“Yeah... That’s the one I told you about.”

“Wait... That’s who shot you?!” Salasha snickered.

“Be quiet! ... Let’s follow them.”

“But my stuff!”

“We’re just following them!” He retorted.

With an angry sigh, Salasha left the alley alongside her brother. Going unnoticed, the pair walked along the opposite side of the street, following the quartet as they made their way back toward Glaevik’s harbor. Pulling her hair back, the childlike woman revealed her pointed, elven ears.

“Oh! That girl’s a Falmun! I hope that means the blond woman isn’t his wife.” Salasha thought aloud.

Naemen sighed and shook his head. Doesn’t she think of anything else? As the group stopped before the final stretch of shops, the last of the stores before returning to the harbor, a familiar man emerged. The towering six-foot-seven Helngar with medium gray fur, a burnt orange front, and glowing, golden eyes stepped outside. He marched up to the long-haired man and his three female companions, also speaking to them for a moment. The group appeared disappointed by his words.

“There’s that bastard...” Naemen snarled, balling a fist as he watched from down the road.

“What’s going on, Naemen? You’re starting to worry me.”

Suddenly and without warning, Naemen stormed toward the group, no longer attempting to hide himself. His hand rested upon the handle of his dagger, the only weapon he still owned.

“Hey, where’re you going? ... Naemen!!!” Salasha cried out at the top of her lungs.

Hearing the shouting woman, both the Helngar and the Jaliscan turned their attention toward the man.

“He looks mad... Should we run?” Mairlynn asked the others.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t look like much.” Kirsta replied.

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous.” Valan added.

“Very true.” Jarae agreed.

“He seems familiar...” Steingar thought aloud.

“You son of a whore!” Naemen shouted.

“Well, hello to you, too!” Steingar chirped.

“I’m going to finish what we started!”

“... Do I know you?” Steingar asked him.

“Wha-?! ... You forgot?!?!” Naemen screamed.

Salasha dashed across the street, racing to catch up to her brother. The others watched her, noting her cloak as it fluttered behind her. She has a small frame and lacked any weapons.

“Look, mister, we’re in a bit of a hurry, so-”

“Don’t even think about getting off so easily, and don’t you dare shoot me again!” Naemen roared, cutting off Mairlynn.

“Rude!” Mairlynn remarked.

“Hey, that’s right! I shot you!” Jarae exclaimed.

“Really?! When?!” Steingar turned back.

“Remember? On Bremen, when we were getting Irzain back?” Jarae answered.

“Oh, that’s right!” Kirsta chimed in.

“Don’t act like you don’t remember me!!!” Naemen snarled, drawing his dagger. “We’re finishing this, right now, and I’m going to-”

“HEY!!!”

The entire group paused and turned back. They found themselves staring down six Crown soldiers. They’d been stationed there as town guards, and overheard the group as they made a routine patrol.

“Put that bread slicer away before I stuff it up your green a-... Wait... I know that guy!” A guard yelled, pointing his finger at Steingar.

“Steingar! You’re coming with us!” Another guard exclaimed, drawing his sword.

“GO!!!”

The crew ran for the harbor, leaving a dumbfounded Naemen behind. Unwilling to let them get away, he bolted, racing to catch them, as the guards also gave chase. Watching as her brother and the soldiers left her there, Salasha quickly sprinted to catch up to them. A competent and swift runner, Salasha soon passed the armor-laden guards, who huffed and puffed as they chased after the group. Soon, she reached her brother, waving to him with her fingertips before passing him as well.

“See you at the finish line!” She chirped.

“Wait! Salasha! This isn’t a game!”

Dashing over the rickety wooden boards that made up the old dock, the crew approached the Arona-Dahl. Stopping just before the gangplank, Kirsta called out to Irzain, who stood on the main deck and leaned against a mast.

“Get the weapons!” She demanded, pointing at Trellan’s cabin.

After their last close call, they’d made a plan; they’d never leave the ship completely unarmed again, and what weapons they left behind would be locked in Trellan’s cabin, where they could fetch them quickly should they need them. Hearing the footfalls as Salasha approached the group, Jarae and Steingar turned toward her. Steingar drew his Helngarian sabre, an impressive, thirty-six-inch-long, single-edged blade with a forward curve, a convex bulge at the front third of the sword and a concave form through the rest of the weapon. Jarae drew a pistol, the compact handgun given to her by Valan. She cocked the hammer and pointed the single-shot weapon at Salasha’s head.

“Woah! Don’t shoot! I’m not armed!” Salasha exclaimed, reaching her hands high into the air.

“What the hell are you doing, chasing us like that?!” Jarae snarled.

“I didn’t think you’d hurt me.” Salasha nervously replied.

“A foolish assumption.” Kirsta snickered as she pulled out a crossbow pistol.

“Don’t hurt my sister!” Naemen demanded as he finally caught up to the others.

“We’d rather not.” Kirsta remarked.

“What the hell do you want from us?!” Steingar asked.

“To finish this!”

“You can’t be serious...” Steingar shook his head in disbelief.

“I would’ve won that fight on Bremen!”

“Now isn’t the time!” Valan yelled.

“Stop them! Drop your weapons! You’re all under arrest!” The soldiers shouted as they ran across the dock.

Returning with their weapons, Irzain handed out nearly a dozen pistols to the crew. The ship, without anyone else on the main deck, suddenly began to unfurl its sails. The mechanical jaws opened, releasing the ropes that moored the ship to the dock.

“Surrender or die!” The soldiers yelled, bringing up matchlock arquebus rifles.

“Naemen!” Salasha turned to her brother, a look of dread on her face.

“We’ve got to go.” Kirsta said as she ushered Mairlynn toward the gangplank.

“Right. You two better come with us.” Valan turned to Naemen and Salasha.

“What?! No!” Jarae growled.

“Valan, what the hell!” Steingar snapped.

“They’ll be killed if they don’t come with us and you know it! Whatever your problem is, we can work it out later, but if you don’t get on this ship, you won’t ever live to settle it.” The human said sternly to Naemen.

“He’s right. Those soldiers aren’t in a ‘talking’ mood.” Kirsta agreed.

Briefly frozen in place, Salasha jumped as the soldiers began shooting at them. Naemen was quick to tackle her to the ground, falling at the feet of the crew. They knelt down and fired back, shooting over the frightened young woman and her twin brother. The Arona-Dahl, with wind in her sails, began to pull away from the dock. The crew scrambled across the gangplank while they still had the chance, shooting at the soldiers and keeping them from advancing. Trellan’s spirit commanded the ship, using the mechanized wheel and turning the vessel away from the dock.

Realizing the awful truth, and seeing the soldiers rushing at them once again, Naemen grabbed Salasha by the arm and pulled her along as he raced toward the gangplank. Just as it began to pull away from the dock, the half breed twins leapt across the two-foot gap, landing on the shaky wood and scurrying across it to safety. The crew fired another barrage from their small arms as their ship steered itself, leaving the harbor as fast as the wind could push it. The gangplank retracted itself, and the crew didn’t make any effort to control the craft. Naemen and Salasha were both perplexed and horrified as the strange ship seemed to be alive.

However, neither were in the position or state of mind to ask questions. Now trapped aboard the ship, and with the very people who nearly killed him, Naemen merely followed the others in silence, though he glared at Steingar the entire time.

“Do you think they’re going to get their ships ready?!” Mairlynn asked in a panic.

“Let’s hope not.” Jarae replied.

“We know they will. The question is, can we outrun them without fuel for the propulsor?” Kirsta retorted.

“It won’t matter if we don’t get clear. Look.”

Following Steingar’s pointed finger, the crew look upon a Sloop Of War, an impressive yet familiar vessel. Racing up the stairs and into the pilothouse, Steingar collected a telescope. Stepping outside and standing on the upper landing, he looked toward the ship, which came straight for them. He could see the ship’s Captain, barking orders at his crew as they prepared for battle.

“Oh no... It’s him.” He muttered.

“Him, who? What’s going on?!” Salasha asked.

“Captain Kristoff Mayweather... He must’ve been following us.” Steingar replied as he collapsed the telescope.

“Can we outrun him?” Jarae asked.

“No. Without the propulsor, this ship isn’t much faster than a Galleon. He’ll catch us soon enough...” Steingar answered.

“That ship must have a crew of sixty or more. We can’t fight sixty men!” Kirsta growled.

“You don’t need to...”

Turning back, Naemen and Salasha were horrified to see a tiny, translucent Vizhek standing atop what appeared to be an onyx plate. Mounted in the corner and inside of the pilothouse, the foot-tall image flickered subtly. Is he a ghost? Steingar and the others rushed inside.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Arona has another motor that I never told you about. You probably never even noticed it.” Trellan began.

“Uh, no, we didn’t!” Kirsta snapped at the image.

“Thanks for keeping more secrets!” Mairlynn sarcastically chirped.

“You’re welcome!”

“It isn’t steam powered, is it?” Jarae asked.

“No. I made the skiff first. It was just to test the spring-motor. When it worked, and I had Arona’s shell, I thought, ‘why not just make that, but bigger?’ Well, as it turns out, I couldn’t turn the spring by myself, and I didn’t have any room left to craft a device to help me. It seems that making a coil spring as big as a man makes it very hard to compress, so I was never able to use it. I originally made the steam propulsor as a backup. Go figure!”

“Where is it?!”

“Bottom deck, inside the skiff’s hold. You’ll find the crank mounted to the rafters, and the slot is on the portside wall. Good luck!”

Racing down the steps and through the watertight hatch, the crew and their two newcomers flew past Lutala and Roak, whom she was watching.

“Oh! The melons have grown hair! ... And legs!” He remarked.

Roak and Lutala followed the others, crowding into the bottom deck. Barging into the skiff’s hold, the rearmost wall comprised of the skiff itself, the crew searched for the crank. To their surprise, the crank was right where Trellan said it was, hanging on hooks screwed into the rafters. It spanned nearly half the width of the room.

“... How did we miss that?!” Steingar gasped.

“I don’t know; it kind of looks like the cables scattered throughout the ship.” Valan retorted.

“True.”

“Let’s get to work!” Kirsta exclaimed as she reached for the crank.

Pulling down the device and plugging it into the corresponding hole in the wall, Steingar and Valan tried to turn the crank, only to fail.

“By the Seraphs!”

“We’re going to need more hands!”

Irzain joined in, and as he stood beside the others, they all looked to Naemen. Grumbling to himself, he also helped them with the massive crank. They struggled and puffed for air as they turned the crank, a loud clicking, like clockwork, coming from inside of the wall. Kirsta and Jarae barely had enough room, but were able to help them. Slowly but surely, they turned the crank and wound the motor.

“You’re almost there! I can feel it!” Trellan said, his image appearing from an onyx plate in the hallway.

“Eee! Don’t do that!” Salasha yelped at the hologram standing behind her.

“Sorry.”

After a few more clicks, the spring was under full tension. Their muscles burned and the men and women at the crank wiped the sweat from their brows.

“Alright, hold on!” Trellan warned them.

Without giving them the time to prepare, Trellan’s spirit unleashed the power of the massive spring. Even with its power carefully regulated, the motor ticking loudly, like a clock, the ship lurched as violently as if they’d been using the steam engine. The Arona-Dahl moved faster and faster. The crew and their guests made their way up to the main deck, watching as the Sloop Of War, nearly within canon range, began to shrink in the distance. The crew jumped for joy, cheering and hugging each other. Salasha, who’d pushed herself closer to the crew, managed to get a hug from Mairlynn, Irzain and a brief one from Valan, before he realized who she was and pulled away.

“Sorry to be a downer, but that motor won’t last long.” Trellan’s hologram appeared one again.

“How long do we have?!” Kirsta asked.

“Maybe a half hour?” Trellan shrugged.

“Well, that’s better than nothing.” Steingar began, heading for the pilothouse. “But we’re going to need a source of Pitania infused coal, and fast.”

“What for?” Naemen asked, finally speaking up.

“For our propulsor.” Jarae replied.

“It makes steam and uses it to propel the ship.” Mairlynn explained in more detail.

“Well, if you want Pitania, I know where you can get it.” Naemen approached Steingar.

“Yeah, and I suppose you have a bridge to sell me?” The Helngar snickered.

“I’m serious. It’s an island called Mishgan. I’ve been there before. They mine Pitania there; it’s one of the few minor islands with so much of it. It’s not infused into coal, but we could trade for it or maybe steal some pure Pitania and infuse it ourselves.”

“Infusing Pitania into coal wouldn’t be that hard, and it doesn’t take much of it. I think we should consider it.” Lutala spoke up.

“Agreed.” Valan, Jarae and Mairlynn all nodded their heads.

“What do we really have to lose?” Irzain remarked.

“At least it’s something.” Kirsta sighed.

“... Fine. Show me where it is.” Steingar said, motioning to Naemen to follow him.

“Yes! Adventure time!” Roak childishly exclaimed, clapping his hands.

Naemen did as they asked, though not to help them. With Salasha aboard, it’s all he could do to get them away from the crew and the danger posed to them by the Crown’s soldiers. Perhaps on Mishgan, they could charter a ship? With their course set, Steingar stepped onto the upper landing of the steps leading to the pilothouse, once again peering through the telescope. The Sloop Of War, though still shrinking, was visible on the horizon.

“Well, you can say many things about young Captain Mayweather, but ‘docile’ isn’t it.” He remarked. “A man like him will chase us until the flesh rots from our bones. We’ll probably have to use that spring-motor a few more times, to make sure we’re far enough away.”

“Oh, good! My back is going to love that!” Valan quipped.

“I could always take care of that for you.” Mairlynn cooed.

“You’d massage my back for me?”

“No, but I bet a good orgasm or three might make you feel better.” She winked.

Salasha flushed at the childlike Falmun’s perversion, while the other women rolled their eyes, already thoroughly used to it.

“Oh. Never mind, then.” Valan patted Mairlynn’s head, ruffling her hair.

“Aww, come on! I’ll do you so good!” She whined.

“Quit while you’re ahead...” Jarae remarked, resting a clawed hand on Mairlynn’s shoulder and giving her a squeeze.

“Ugh, fine!” The Falmun grumbled.

As the crew dispersed, heading below deck, Naemen grabbed Steingar by his bicep. Looking toward each other, they both narrowed their eyes.

“This isn’t over...”

“Some other time, alright? I’m tired; I’ve exerted myself enough today.” Steingar said as he pulled his arm away.

Without enough room to accommodate everyone in privacy, Lutala and Irzain promptly rearranged the living quarters, assigning new rooms to most of the crew. Kirsta and Mairlynn would share a room, as would Lutala and Jarae, Irzain and Roak, Valan and Steingar, and the twins, Naemen and Salasha. Salasha was visibly grateful to the crew, thanking them profusely for their generosity. Naemen, however, wasn’t nearly as grateful. Walking toward their new room at the end of the hall, he glanced toward an opened door.

“My side, your side. My side, your side! MY SIDE, YOUR SIDE!” Roak exclaimed as he jumped to the left and to the right.

“Okay, okay!” Irzain exclaimed, slowly backing away from him.

“We have to get off this ship...” Naemen murmured to himself.

Awakening from his nap, Naemen slowly sits atop his cot. He’d fallen asleep pondering the events that brought him and his sister aboard the Arona-Dahl. For the past six days, he’s avoided the crew as much as he could, and the only thing he could fight on the ship was boredom. Only Salasha chose to interact with the others, becoming closer to the women of the ship. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he yawns, covering his gaping maw with a clawed hand.

“I’m still tired... Why am I still tired?” He asks himself.

“Land ho. Land ho! LAND HO!” Roak shouts from the hall, racing back and forth.

“Oh...” Naemen sighs with frustration.

Stomping up and down the hallway, the dark-skinned, dreadlocked human persists in awakening the entire crew. Glancing toward the porthole, he can see that it’s nearly twilight; he knows from the ship’s course that what he’s seeing is sunset.

“LAND HOOOO!!!”

“Alright, Roak. They’ve heard you.” Lutala speaks sweetly, silencing him. “Let’s go up, now.”

Rising from his cot, Naemen opens his cabin door. Lutala stops and glances back, a little smile forming around her long and blocky snout.

“I believe we’ve found your island.” She comments.

Racing past Roak and Lutala, he charges up the stairs and onto the main deck, where he finds the rest of the crew, as well as his sister. Standing between Kirsta and Jarae, she looks back and motions to her brother. He stands firm, his gaze focused on the familiar shape of Mishgan’s small mountain, the source of her vast Pitania veins. He approaches the others as Lutala and Roak emerge, standing near the men of the crew.

“So, this is it?” Irzain asks, turning toward Naemen.

“Yeah. The harbor is right over there.” Naemen points. “We should be moored within the hour.”

“A market?” Jarae asks.

“Mishgan has it all. A market bazaar, mines, smiths, a temple, a few thousand citizens, and some nice places to have a drink and kick up your feet. You couldn’t ask for more.” Naemen answers.

“Oh, good! It’ll be nice to stretch our legs.” Irzain chirps.

“I’d like to see what their apothecary has and resupply.” Lutala comments.

“And we could use a keg or two of extra gunpowder.” Valan adds.

“I’d settle for a soft bed.” Jarae interjects.

“Me too.” Mairlynn agrees.

“A well-done steak.” Kirsta sighs as she daydreams.

“I could really use a drink...” Steingar remarks.