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In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Forty-Two: Clarity

“SAL!” Valan yells.

He whirls around, flying into a blind rage. Standing tall and without an ounce of fear, he walks away from the cowering Jarae. She reaches out for him, trying desperately to grab his ankles, but it’s too late. He takes aim and begins firing, the rounds of his adversaries whizzing by. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. He empties an entire ammunition bar in a matter of seconds before reloading. Nearly every round finds its mark, striking a soldier and killing four of them. The few who’ve seen the weapon already, having survived the encounter on Nirthen, turn tail and run.

The others watch in shock and awe as Valan swiftly reloads and begins again. Over and over he fires, giving his companions every chance to escape. Watching from the deck of the Arona-Dahl, the others look on in abject horror. Salman has just landed with a splash in the shimmering, crystalline water.

“Was that Sal?!” Irzain gasps.

“I think so.” A horrified Lutala chokes out.

“We need to do something!”

“He’s gone...” Mairlynn murmurs, her ruby eyes fixated on the glimmering waves.

“Just like that?! I mean, there must be something we can do!” Irzain insists.

“He was wearing half his body weight in metal! Have you seen him pop up yet?!” Mairlynn scoffs.

“Poor Salman, swallowed whole by the purity!” Roak whimpers.

As the others on the vessel panic, and Valan begins another suicidal assault against Mayweather’s men, Lutala races into action. She dashes for the railing, kicking off her shoes before climbing up and standing on the wooden beams. She grabs her humble robes and yanks, pulling the brown fabric away from her body and revealing her undergarments beneath. Skin tight and made of a unique fabric, uncommon in their lands, the Lahnyt’s blue shaded flesh accentuates the pure white of her top, which clings tightly to her large and perky breasts. Her orange panties are vibrant and in stark contrast to her hide, gripping firmly to her plump buttocks and tucked just beneath her long, tapering tail. Her panties tie together at the sides.

Without hesitation, she lifts her clawed hands above her head and dives overboard. Into the deep she goes, swimming as fast as she can. The others had only heard rumors, and the half breeds wouldn’t be able to prove them true, but her race has a unique ability. Swimming diagonally, toward the sandy bottom, her secondary eyelids, which are perfectly transparent, allow her to see beneath the waves. Standing on the bottom and struggling with his brother’s armor, Salman squirms about. He doesn’t have long; he’s already held his breath far longer than she ever thought possible for a human.

He looks toward the sunlight that beams down from above, his expression changing. Is he preparing to die?! She moves even faster, wriggling her body like an eel, powered by a burst of adrenaline. Her body casts a shadow over his form, startling him. He swiftly realizes who she is, however, and reaches out a hand to her. Somehow, he’s managed to rip off a single gauntlet. His fingers extend, the fleshy appendage beckoning to her. She reaches out in kind, kicking her feet and swaying her tail. Grabbing hold of him, she pulls herself down to his level.

Swinging her body around, she rests her bare feet on the sediment, standing before Salman. His face is pale and quickly turning a light shade of blue. Somehow, he hasn’t succumbed to the burning in his lungs and sucked in the water that surrounds him. Reaching out her hands, Lutala rests them against his cheeks and leans in. She presses her lips against his, giving him a kiss. A hand grabs his jaw and pulls, forcing it open. No sooner than he does this, he impulsively inhales. Lutala blows air into his lungs. Why would she surrender her air to him so willing?! To Salman’s surprise, however, she does it again.

He’d heard the rumors but now he knows for certain; the Lahnyt siphon air from the water. He sees no gills that would explain this, nor does he care to try. All he can do is rest his hands on her cheeks and hold the kiss, replenishing the precious oxygen that his body so desperately needs to survive. Lutala pulls herself closer, her tail swishing slowly through the water before gently wrapping around his waist. It locks them together. Her body inches even closer, and she presses herself against his armor. In a scene that would otherwise be quite passionate and even erotic, she begins unbuckling his armor, stripping him of the weight.

Piece by piece, she removes the metal plates, starting with his remaining gauntlet. Soon, Salman is helping her, working the buckles while holding the kiss, sharing in Lutala’s air supply. His pauldrons fall away, then his back and breastplate. Her hands caress his form, moving slowly down his legs. He feels her feminine form pressing firmly against his body, her two, large mounds smooshing into his chest and her slim belly against his. She unbuckles his greaves and pulls them away from his legs. They kick up a little cloud of greyish-brown dirt as they strike the ground beneath the water.

Soon, all that’s left are his plated boots, which are dug partially into the soil. Lutala continues. Realizing the difficulty he’ll have in swimming with waterlogged clothes, she grabs his belt and tears it away. She then uses her sharp claws, only about an inch in length but more than potent enough, to cut through and rip off his shirt and trousers. She manages this without ever allowing her lips to leave his. With an affirming look and a subtle nod, he holds his breath and she backs away. Working fast, they hurriedly remove his plated boots, each of them focusing on a single piece of footwear.

Pulling his feet from the boots, he kicks away the shredded remains of his trousers. He’s now suspended over the bottom, as naked as the day he was born. She grabs him and pulls them close together. Her tail coils around his waist once more and her hands grip his shoulders as she kisses him. He can feel his manhood slipping betwixt her legs, while her large breasts smoosh against his bare chest. They share another life-saving kiss, staring into each other’s eyes for what seems like an eternity. Finally, she gives him another look before turning her fiery eyes toward the surface. They don’t have long to escape, and they both know it.

Again, he subtly nods. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the inevitable. The pair separate, their bodies slowly drifting apart. With his hand in hers, the stripped Salman swims beside her, moving as fast as he can. His lungs begin to burn as he uses up his precious oxygen. The surface inches closer and closer. The lights glow brighter, the shimmering more apparent. Just when the pain in his lungs becomes almost unbearable, they break the surface.

“Ahh! Free! Oh, that feels so good!” He gasps for breath.

“We’re not safe yet, Sal.”

In the distance is the skiff, bobbing in the water as it races for the Arona-Dahl. Everyone else is aboard. Valan looks wracked with guilt, leaning into Jarae’s bosom as she holds him. Her arms are wrapped tightly around his body, softly petting his back and head. Salman and Lutala swim toward the skiff, shouting as loudly as they can. Hearing their cries, Jarae’s long, rabbitesque ears perk and shift. She straightens her back, points and yells. Salasha swiftly turns the skiff in their direction, racing toward the pair. Within moments they’re pulled aboard, drawn into the small boat by the remaining warriors.

Salman is so grateful to be alive that he doesn’t even think to hide his nakedness, and the others are so stunned to see him that they don’t seem to notice. Looking toward the ridge, Steingar watches as Captain Kristoff Mayweather leads his men away. He knows that they’re simply going to flee to their ship; they’ll soon give chase and continue to hunt them. They have time, but not much. No sooner than the skiff docks with the Arona-Dahl, Steingar gives the order. Every man helps turn the massive crank, winding the giant coil spring concealed within the ship’s wall.

With each click of the gears, they wind the clockwork and provide power to Arona’s first motor. They’ll need it when their already limited supply of Pitania infused coal runs out. With Trellan’s spirit permanently piloting the marvel of mechanical engineering, he guides her out of the cove by pure wind power. He’s used the mechanisms to unfurl the sails without anyone’s assistance. They begin their journey, already leaving the cove before any of them have made it onto the main deck.

“So, what’s the plan? We need one, right now!” Kirsta growls.

“I-I don’t know. We need to get the documents out of here!” Irzain replies.

“That won’t matter if Vashalak pressures Princess Lapira into marriage and seals our fate. We must stop that from happening.” Valan interjects.

“Agreed, but do we have a plan?!” Kirsta once again demands.

“...”

They all share a stare, none of them certain exactly what to do next.

“Well, we need fuel more than anything else right now. That’s priority number one. The fastest ship on the seas isn’t any good if she isn’t actually capable of moving fast.” Steingar remarks.

“I know a place, a small isle not too far from here...” Trellan’s holographic image speaks up, floating above the onyx plate.

“Good idea. Set a course.”

“I already did.” The Vizhek’s hologram smirks.

Standing in his room with Lutala by his side, Salman searches for more clothes. His hands shiver and the Lahnyt cocks her head.

“Are you alright, Sal? Are you cold?”

Slowly turning around, she’s stunned to find the human’s eyes welling with tears.

“I’m not cold... I’m afraid... I’ve never been so afraid.”

“Oh, Sal...”

Quickly approaching the human, she’s unable to resist the urge to comfort him. Wrapping her arms around him, the pair embrace, nearly imitating the position they’d found themselves in at the bottom of the cove. His entire body trembles as he begins to sob, his chin resting on the bare flesh of her shoulder. His arms give her slender waist a squeeze and her clawed hands caress his back. He turns his head, pressing his cheek against hers.

“Shh... It’s alright. You’re safe now, Sal. It’s over now.”

“No, it isn’t...”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw something, when I was at the bottom.”

“Saw what?” She asks, pulling back and looking into his eyes.

He sniffles and shrugs, turning his head down and taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Lutala follows his gaze, only to finally notice her considerable mammaries pressing into his chest; they bulge and push their way from her top, her blue flesh contrasting with his pale human skin. Is that what he’s staring at? Lutala suddenly feels a wash of nervousness and embarrassment. It’s only then that she realizes his manhood is resting so casually between her legs. She’d felt it, but it didn’t occur to her mind what she was feeling. Her cheeks flush, her blue skin turning darker and taking on an almost purple hue. She backs away from him.

“Erm, you should probably dress yourself...” She murmurs.

“I can’t seem to find my clothes... I only have a shirt in my drawer.” He remarks, glancing back at his nightstand.

“Well, I may have something to remedy that. Wait here.”

Stepping back and standing before him, Lutala smiles warmly. Her vibrantly colored hide, still wet, gleams in the daylight that beams through the porthole. She slowly turns toward the door and steps into the hallway, her bare feet pattering softly on the wooden floor. Moving through the hall, her heart races. She’s never felt like this before. The Lahnyt priestess reaches up a hand and rests it near the top of her ample breasts, as if that might somehow calm her racing heart. Entering her cabin, which she shares with Jarae, she opens a nightstand drawer and collects one of several robes, her spare garments.

Long, wide and cylindrical, the flowing, unisex garment is standard fair in the order of the Yashuvanites. Only as she holds a robe does she finally realize that she’s neglected to collect her original from the main deck of the ship. Dwelling on her own body for a moment, she wonders what Salman thought of her form. Was he pleased with her? She certainly hopes so. Her mind then briefly recalls the startlingly pleasant feeling of Salman’s flaccid manhood pressing against her groin and running between her toned legs as they embraced, both above and below the water.

Her body begins to burn, her desire for the human growing with every passing second. She feels her cheeks flushing, overcome by her own, natural desires; a heat burns in her chest and betwixt her legs. Her heart flutters as she recalls how he seemed to nuzzle her cheek as they held each other in his cabin. Was that a sign of affection or was it unintentional? Lutala finds herself hoping for the former. If given the chance, would he have kissed her snout, or even her lips? She would’ve liked that. Again, she rests a hand on her chest, just above her breasts. She takes long and careful breaths, trying desperately to calm her frazzled nerves.

“N-not now. Now isn’t the time... Focus on your mind, not your heart or body...” She speaks quietly to herself.

“So, are you going to be next?” A familiar voice calls out.

“Huh?!”

The startled Lutala swiftly whirls around, only to find Mairlynn standing in the doorway. Her spindly arms are crossed before her small bust as she leans against the doorframe, watching the Lahnyt with her ruby eyes.

“Are you going to have him next? I’m only asking because I’m fairly certain Kirsta’s claimed him; I know they’ve screwed already. I can tell. She was very eager to make sure I stayed away from him, too, like he was her property to claim.” The little Falmun remarks. “So? ... Are you?”

Lutala’s body trembles at the elf’s question. She speaks so casually in regard to sex, as if it doesn’t matter to her at all. The faithful and religious Lahnyt, however, considers it a sacred act. Again, she flushes, but this time it isn’t from a burgeoning arousal; she flushes from sheer embarrassment as the little elf flaunts her carnality.

“Kirsta seems like the territorial kind, but you don’t. You could have him if you wanted but something is holding you back. I bet you’d rather it be special, right? Hehehe!” She giggles. “Salman has that same kind of emotional attachment to it. You’re alike that way... Is that why you’re so close to him now?! Are you trying to worm your way into his heart before claiming your place in his bed?!” The Falmun cocks her head.

“Th-that’s not what I’m doing...” Lutala murmurs.

“Are you sure? Because that was a really long hug you two shared, and your tail looked veeery excited. I bet you liked feeling his meat against you, too.”

“You were watching us?!”

“That surprises you?” Mairlynn chuckles. “If you really want him, just ask him for it very sweetly... Or trick him! He’ll fall for whatever you try. Just be careful with him, Lutala. If Kirsta isn’t already claiming him, then you’ll need to take it slow. As you know, Sal is a very big boy, but when he’s ready, it grows even bigger.” The dainty elf winks.

Lutala’s face flushes, turning even darker; it almost burns. The Lahnyt priestess cannot find the words to respond. She’s horrified, offended, and yet intrigued by the prospect. She’s physically desired Salman since her first look at him, but the more time she spends with him, the more her desire morphs, becoming far more than the primitive urge to simply mate with him and enjoy his flesh. Mairlynn is so cold and callous that she feels yet another emotion taking hold of her. The priestess burns with rage. She remains silent, however. Lutala cannot find a single word worth speaking to the childlike Mairlynn. Suddenly, the elf’s expression changes from that of twisted amusement to one of melancholy. Does she feel remorse for upsetting her?

“Well, you look busy... I’ll leave you alone...” She murmurs as she backs into the hallway.

The elf turns and pauses, before looking toward the floor just beyond the cabin door. She bends over, picking up something that’s just out of Lutala’s view.

“Oh, and give these back to Sal for me. I’d do it myself, but I get the feeling he wouldn’t want to be alone with me... That, and I know I couldn’t resist the urge to touch him again.”

Turning back, Mairlynn tosses Salman’s spare pants at Lutala, which she swiftly catches in her arms. With that, the little elf departs. The Lahnyt hesitates for only a moment before making her way back toward Salman’s cabin, reaching his room just as Naemen, Salasha and Valan walk down the steps together. They must’ve been watching for Mayweather on the main deck. Now that they’re on the move, they can take the time to collect themselves. Salasha sees Lutala entering Salman’s cabin and dashes ahead of the men, eager to join her.

“Here... Th-these are for you, Sal.” Lutala presents him the robes, her eyes turned down and gazing upon his manhood. “And Mairlynn, uhm, g-gave me these to give to you...”

“Huh... I guess she wanted a souvenir.” He softly chuckles.

His fingers brush her blue flesh as he collects his black, flowing trousers. She trembles at his touch, startled by the effect of his warm flesh against hers. It’s getting worse with each passing second. He never seems to notice her fixated gaze, which is only broken when he slips his legs through the holes and pulls up his trousers. Lutala gulps at the sight of Salman’s masculinity flopping over the waistband before slithering into his trousers, leaving a noticeable bulge as it comes to rest.

“Oh, wow...” Salasha murmurs.

Lutala turns back, only to find the half breed watching from the doorway. Her eyes are fixated upon Salman’s groin, having seen him in his entirety, though he’s oblivious to that fact. He must have something else on his mind.

“Hi, Salasha. It’s good to see you.” He says with his trademark warmth.

“You too, Sal. We thought we’d lost you.” She replies, her green flesh flushing.

With a wave of his fingers, he draws her in. Her cheeks turn a rosy hue as Salman suddenly reaches out and hugs her. Her heart flutters, and the reddish-pink coloration is accentuated by her light and dark green flesh, patterned similar to a watermelon.

“You’re damn right we did!” Valan exclaims, barging in from the hallway.

Salman and Salasha pull way, turning their attention to the two men entering the room.

“I thought I was never going to see you again, brother! I thought I killed you! I never should’ve made you wear that armor!”

“That armor saved my life, and it saved Naemen’s too. Don’t worry about it, Val.”

The twin brothers embrace, maintaining a long and loving hug.

“I appreciate that, by the way. Have I said that yet?” Naemen chimes in, resting a clawed hand on Salman’s shoulder. “I mean it. No one has ever done something like that for me, not in my entire life...”

“It’s alright, Naemen. I just did what anyone would’ve done.”

“Pfft, bullshit, Mr. Humble. I owe you damn near everything.”

“Still, I’m sorry. I’ll do a better job of protecting you. I feel like I nearly got you killed.” Valan interjects.

“Alright, both of you shut up. I’m not dead.” Sal says with a little smile. “So, uh, where’s Kirsta?”

“Main deck.” Naemen answers.

“She’s in Trellan’s old cabin, checking the weapons and keeping watch for ships.” Salasha elaborates.

“Yeah. Steingar’s in the pilothouse.” Naemen adds.

“Oh... So, where’re we headed?”

The ship suddenly jolts, the power of the steam engine kicking in. Everyone takes a moment to maintain their balance. Salasha falls against Salman’s chest, resting in his arms as if she’d fallen down a set of steps. The Arona-Dahl moves faster and faster, just as Captain Mayweather’s Sloop Of War sails around the corner of the nameless island. Standing in the pilothouse and watching the pursuing vessel, Steingar smiles, his lips curling around his angular snout. The young Captain’s ship is already shrinking on the horizon. He cannot help but chuckles as the Sloop Of War maintains its futile pursuit of Arona; they’ll never catch them, so long as they have power.

“See you later, bitch.” Steingar speaks to himself, waving at the enemy ship.

“Classy.” Trellan remarks.

With the smoke billowing from the stack, the Arona-Dahl leaves a considerable wake behind her. Captain Mayweather doesn’t know where they’re headed, but neither do any of Arona’s crew. The young, human Captain watches in a rage as his targets slip away from him for a second time.

“Sir, I... I don’t see them anymore!” A soldier with a telescope exclaims from the Crow’s Nest.

“Don’t tell me we’ve lost them!” Mayweather growls.

“There isn’t even a wake left! There hasn’t been for some time!”

“That magical ship has outrun us again.” Another soldier murmurs.

“RRRRR...”

Mayweather fumes, his knuckles turning white as he squeezes the wooden railing of his ship.

“Do we have a heading, Captain? We can still follow them.”

“Wherever they’re going, it isn’t to Vaspania. They came here on a direct course, but Vaspania’s about forty degrees to portside. They could always change course once they’re clear of us and be gone before we know what’s going on... No, our best bet...” Mayweather let’s out a defeated sigh. “Our best bet is to return to the capital city and tell them what we’ve seen. We can’t keep this up, not with another fifteen men dead... We’ll have to tell the King what we’ve found and hope that’s enough...”

“That library, the Grand Athenaeum, that’s the place our Great King was looking for, right? He’ll have to be pleased when we tell him where it is!” A soldier chirps.

“Maybe. Who knows what goes on in Vashalak’s head... I recommend we remain prepared for anything.”

“So, shall I set a course for Vaspania, sir?”

“For now.”

Dashing down the stairs, Steingar heads for the watertight hatch.

“What’s going on? Do we have a heading?” Kirsta asks, emerging from Trellan’s cabin with an armful of loaded wheellock pistols.

“Get to the lounge!” He exclaims, never once looking back.

He dashes down the steps and through the hallway before brushing past Roak. The dreadlocked human whirls around, his hair swishing out and through the air. He promptly chases after the Helngar, as if they were playing a game.

“Everyone to the lounge!”

“Is everything alright?” Irzain asks, stepping out of his cabin.

“That’s what we need to discuss. Come on, everyone! We need a meeting!” Steingar shouts.

“Hurray! Meeting time, a time for meeting!” Roak rhythmically claps his hands.

The entirety of the crew emerge from the rooms, with many of them stepping out of Salman’s cabin. Walking beside Lutala, Salman buttons his only remaining shirt. Entering the lounge and taking seats around the table, Steingar stands at the far edge. With his muscular arms crossed, his glowing, golden eyes scan the group.

“So, I guess I’ll start...”

“That’d be nice.” Kirsta grumbles.

“We’ll be out of fuel sooner rather than later. Trellan says the boiler won’t have long before the pressure drops, and then all we have is that spring powered motor. After that, it’s just us and the wind. Trellan knows of an island a few days sail from here, which is where we’re headed, so with any luck at all, we’ll cut a day off of that with what power we have.”

“We can buy coal there?” Irzain asks.

“Yes. That’s the only reason for going.” Trellan’s hologram snickers from the corner of the room.

“It was just a question...” The Scribe murmurs.

“Well, that’s good news.” Jarae breathes a sigh of relief.

“That asshole Captain probably knows that, though, so we’ll have to move fast.”

“Is that why we’re having a meeting?” Lutala asks.

“Because I don’t have a plan beyond that. I haven’t a clue what comes next, and that’s not a good thing when the Crown is hunting you down.”

“Well, all we need to do is-”

“Don’t you dare say ‘wait until the full moon’...” Steingar swiftly interrupts Irzain.

The Scribe raises his hands and shakes his head.

“We need a lot more than that right now...”

“You don’t have any other suggestions?” Salasha turns to Irzain.

“Why are you asking me?!”

“This is your party. What’re we going to do?” Mairlynn asks him.

“Well, we need to stop Vashalak. We can’t let him con Princess Lapira into marriage or all this will be for nothing.” He replies.

“Agreed.” Valan and Salman nod their heads.

“He’s the worst thing to happen to the Empire since it’s founding.” Naemen adds.

“Right... And how’re we going to do that?!” Steingar asks.

“Erm... Uh...” Irzain scratches his bearded chin.

“Way to instill us with confidence.” Mairlynn murmurs.

“... I think I have a plan...”

The crew collectively turn toward Salman, their curiosity peaked.

“Really?!”

“Yeah, but it’s risky, especially considering my appearance. I don’t think there’s any other way, though. At least not a reasonable one. You’re going to have to trust my judgement.”

“I trust you, Sal.” Naemen chirps.

“Me too.” Salasha grins.

Valan’s expression swiftly changes, his concern for his brother far outweighing his interest in their quest. His fears only grow as Salman begins speaking, revealing his plan to the others. Steingar, Naemen and Kirsta are particularly intrigued by his proposal, while Jarae and Mairlynn both express their surprise at Salman’s cunning, and an aptitude for sneak-thievery. Valan’s heart sinks deeper and deeper as Salman continues, laying out a hazardous but rewarding scheme, and potentially their only hope for saving the Princess from Vashalak’s grasp.

It’s readily apparent to Valan that everyone is enthralled. Once Salman has finished speaking, the others quickly take a vote, unanimously agreeing to carry out the plan. Only Valan hesitates to raise his hand.

“I say ‘yes’.” Salasha nods.

“It’s clearly our best hope for a positive outcome.” Lutala adds.

“I’ve got nothing better to do.” Kirsta smirks.

“So, we’re all in agreement then?” Steingar asks the group, his gaze landing on Valan.

“Aren’t we?” Irzain raises a brow?

Steingar rests a clawed hand atop the table and leans closer to Valan, who has yet to speak or raise his hand.

“Well, buddy?”

“... Sal, are you absolutely sure about this? I mean, isn’t there any other way?!”

“If you know of one, go right ahead and share it.” Salman retorts.

“I just don’t like the risks involved. Not after what happened today... I’m not ready for it.”

“I’m not a fighter, Val. I know that now. I close my eyes and I can see that man’s agony after I shot him in the face, and then after that, when I... I’m not like you, brother. I don’t think I ever could be, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t help. Let me help, the only way that I know how.”

“Val.”

Resting a clawed hand on his forearm, Jarae gives the human a little squeeze. Turning toward her, she flashes him a warm and assuring smile. Though they aren’t together, he often feels as though they are; he takes great comfort in her presence, and she’s the only one who could ever sway his mind once it’s been set.

“We’re all in agreement; we’re doing this. I’d prefer it if you were backing us, though.” Steingar speaks quietly to Valan.

Jarae gives him a final squeeze, and Valan responds with a subtle nod.

“Fine... But I’d like to make it clear that I don’t like this plan. It endangers too many things that are dear to me...” He says, gazing at Jarae for a moment, before glancing toward his twin brother. “Just promise me we’ll do this clean.”

“I promise to do my part to the best of my ability... That’s all I can do, brother.”

“Then it’s settled!” Steingar slams a fist atop the table, shaking it. “First, we fetch the coal, and then we’ll head for Vaspania.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Irzain chirps. “Are you happy now?”

“I’m always happy, when we have a plan. See? Look at me standing here, being happy!” A smirking Steingar replies.

“You look like you need to lie down.” Kirsta chuckles.

“That’s because all the blood is rushing toward his groin.” Mairlynn murmurs, her ruby eyes glancing at the Helngar’s crotch.

“And why wouldn’t it? Who doesn’t like rescuing a Princess? It’s every boy’s fantasy!” Naemen chirps.

“Spoken like a true man-child.” Salasha giggles.

“What’s that make you, sister?”

With the plan decided upon and nothing to do but wait, the crew disperse. Valan heads for his workshop, while Irzain returns to his cabin. Roak follows Kirsta, who joins Steingar up to the main deck. While everyone continues on as if nothing had happened, Salman stands in the hallway. Lutala steps partially into her cabin, only to pause and turn back. Salman glances toward her, a strange look on his face. Jarae heads for the cabin she shares with Lutala, noting their odd stare.

“Are you alright, Sal?” Lutala finally asks.

“Could we speak? In private?”

Nodding her head, Lutala turns toward Jarae, who stops in her tracks. After a brief pantomime with her head and eyes, Jarae backs away. She turns around and instead walks toward the stairs, where she climbs down to the lower deck, heading for Valan’s workshop. With a wave of her clawed fingers, Lutala draws Salman into the privacy of her cabin. She closes the door and latches it behind him. He heads for her cot and quickly takes a seat on the edge, his blue-green eyes fixated upon the floor.

“What’s the matter, Sal?” She asks, sitting beside him.

“Lutala, I... ... What makes you so calm?”

“Hm?”

“Before, when you came for me... I saw you in the water above me. You looked so peaceful. You were like an angel.”

Lutala’s cheeks flush and her lips curl at the corners of her mouth. She struggles to subdue her grin.

“Why weren’t you afraid?”

“I can breathe the air within the water.”

“I mean for me... You had no fear, you looked so calm. You could’ve seen my corpse at the bottom, but you had this aura of peace about you. It radiates from your very being... How do you do that?”

“Well, it’s mostly my faith. It gives me strength to press on, even in the face of adversity. The rest of it is the strength I gather from my companions...”

Lutala is unable to hide her smile from him as she rests her hand over his, giving him a gentle squeeze. He looks down at her hand and begins to shake. She’s taken aback as he looks to her, staring into her eyes as the tears stream down his face.

“Sal, what’s wrong?” She asks as she wipes the tears from his face.

“I never thanked you for saving my life, Lutala. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I’m not offended by a lack of gratitude.” She flashes a warm smile.

“I owe you everything. Without you, my soul would be...” He hesitates, wiping away more of his tears as he sniffles. “I’m sorry. This is just hard to talk about.”

“Take your time.”

“I saw something when I was at the bottom, Lutala. Something awful... I saw my own death, and felt the doorways opening for me. The otherworld wasn’t better. My life flashed before my eyes and I was horrified. I was such a failure. A fool worthy of serving in the King’s court.”

“I have a hard time believing that.” She replies.

“It’s true, though... I never truly believed in the Seraphs. Their stories are just too... Mortal. When I heard you speak, it touched me. It was like you’d opened a thick curtain and let the light in, but then I saw the fate of my soul. Just when I was about to swallow the depths of the sea, you came overhead, and you had such peace. I want that, Lutala. I don’t want to fear for my soul, and I don’t want to live my life in the darkness.”

The pain in his eyes touches her heart, and Lutala can feel a tear running down her own cheek.

“Please, Lutala. I owe you my life, and you don’t owe me anything, but I’m asking you... No, I’m begging you... Train me. Teach me how to walk your path.”

Lutala is flabbergasted. She’s never had someone ask her for this before. In fact, to her recollection, she’d never seen anyone who wasn’t born into her faith ever taking it seriously.

“A-are you s-sure that’s what you want?” She finally stammers.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I read through some of your Book of Yashuva, and the words were so beautiful, but I need guidance. I need a teacher.”

“I’m not doubting you, I just... I want to make sure you mean what you say. You should know that I don’t hear this often, and by ‘often’ I mean ‘never’.”

“I’m sincere, Lutala. I need this. I felt something coming for me, and it wasn’t good. I’ve been in the dark for far too long.”

“Please understand my concern. This isn’t a faith for the faint of heart. There are rules; you must abide by a code of conduct.”

“I understand. I feel it’ll be well worth it.”

“It is... Whenever you’re ready, come to me. We can start today or a week from now; I’ll never turn you away, Sal.” She speaks, resting a hand on his cheek. “Never...”

Salman weeps once more, though his tears have become joyous. He leans in and embraces Lutala, thanking her again and again. Her tail swishes through the air, moving beyond her control. She hopes he doesn’t notice, or feel her heart that beats nearly through her chest. Did he just nuzzle her cheek?!

“I’m going to collect the robe, and then I’ll be right back.” He says as he pulls away.

“You’d rather wear that?!”

“Isn’t it some kind of rule?”

“No. Many just wear them as a display of our piety, though I also find them exceedingly comfortable.”

“Well, I’d better change, then.”

“Not sure how others will take that, seeing a Lord, a noble of your wealth and stature, wearing the robes of my order.” She giggles.

“That doesn’t concern me.” He says with a smile, rising from her cot. “I’ll be right back.”

After several hours of continuous power, moving at full speed, the steam engine finally runs dry. Trellan automatically switches to the spring powered motor, continuing to grow the distance between the Arona-Dahl and her pursuers for as long as he can. Soon, though, the spring winds down, also running out of power. After a second winding, the crew are too exhausted for a third. They’ve given themselves a considerable head start. Hopefully, that’ll be enough to save them from the tenacious Captain Mayweather. As the day finally comes to a close, the crew prepares to sleep in their cabins.

After their fight, Salman no longer wanted Mairlynn beside him; he didn’t wish to share a room anymore. She moved back in with Kirsta, her original roommate, after Naemen and Salasha joined the crew and the space became more limited. Kirsta doesn’t fear the Falmun whom she threatened, welcoming her back as if nothing had happened. The dainty elf’s eagerness to make advances on the other men of the crew eased the buxom warrior’s mind. Lying down on her cot, her hide blanket drawn over her unclothed form, Kirsta closes her eyes.

As she feels the blanket against her flesh, the cool hide on her bare breasts, she recalls her night with Salman. His skin felt so wonderful against hers. His soft lips kissed her just right, and the firmness and size of his manhood was beyond belief. Suddenly, her sapphire eyes bulge and she sits up in bed. The human clutches the hide blanket tightly to her chest and turns her eyes toward her groin. She’d neglected to use or even bring Silphium with her to the Grand Athenaeum; why would she pack something she rarely uses? It’s been a full day since she had sex with Salman and felt his voluminous seed flowing into her. Her heart races and she feels herself trembling.

“Oh no...”

“Hmm?” A groggy Mairlynn rolls over, lying on a cot at the far end of the room. “Are you alright, Kirsta?”

“Huh? ... Oh, uhm, yeah... I’m fine.”

Lying back down, she draws the hide blanket over her form once more. Rolling over, she lay on her side, facing toward Mairlynn, who rolls over and faces her back toward the human. As the dainty Falmun returns to sleep, the blond-haired warrior slowly reaches a hand down, her slender fingers caressing her toned belly.

“I should be fine... Once isn’t always enough.” She whispers to herself. “Once shouldn’t be enough...”