Chapter 6 - Through the Darkness

Ryne gritted his teeth, calling upon the power of the blue moon, his legs becoming a blur beneath him as his hand grasped the large double-edged sword resting in the shoulder mounted sheath, blowing past the other two men who seemed to have joined the chase. The closest shadow warrior never saw it coming. As he was about to release another flurry of throwing blades, Ryne swung the blade in a horizontal swing, cleaving his torso from his legs, his surprised scream escalating as his body fell to the marble in two halves.

The remaining four skidded on their heels turning to see their fallen comrade, their expressions unreadable behind the black masks they wore, though their body language spoke volumes. Casualties were to be expected if one left the shadows. This was the ultimate price, the ultimate sacrifice. They would mourn their brother later. Right now, they had a job to do.

The leader made a series of hand gestures, two of their number widening their footing and pulling two short blades from behind their backs, squaring off with the young looking Silvite. The leader and the last warrior sped off toward the city gates.

Ryne held his blade vertically in front of him, his face contorted in anger and frustration. The advantage of surprise was lost, and his daughter was still being chased. There was no way he was going to be able to take down these two in time to catch up. He just had to hope that he'd distracted the other two long enough for her to escape, or that she and whoever it was that she was with could hold them off long enough for him to get there.

He let out a cry of rage, charging between the two of them, preparing for another horizontal swing.

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Markos cursed in his own tongue, hefting her over his shoulder and running to the helm of the small ship. He'd never sailed before in his life, which was why Selina had been the one who had captained the small vessel. She was the reason he'd bought it in the first place, though he'd never told her this. Now she was probably poisoned, being hunted, and he had no clue how to get this thing into the air. He'd have to guess, based on what he'd watched her do for almost three months now.

The ship only had one main mast and he ran to it now, hoisting the sail until it would go no further, stopping when it would go no further and tying it around a peg. It billowed in wind, doing no work at all. He cursed again, running to the open air captain's station and starting the engines, coming to life with a dull thrum. Thanking the moons, he pulled the throttle back, the ship pulling backwards slowly. He angled the ship north-east, pointed the ship skyward, caught the wind, and got the heck out of Nasrad.

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Stalde and Enyan felt a rush of wind as a white and blue blur moved around them, splitting the trailing warrior into two pieces. Stalde, long desensitized to this kind of violence, kept running while Enyan skidded to a halt, gaping in horror at the dying man at before him. As the life- giving blood spilled onto the ground Enyan, for the first time, wondered what he was doing here. He was no warrior, no great hero, had never even owned a letter opener, let alone a sword. He was going to get killed out here, never to see his class again, never o marry, have children. And suddenly, he was afraid.

Stalde reached back behind his back, where his twin revolvers were holstered. Taking careful aim he let loose a full volley of shots, peppering one of the shadow warriors body with shots, most of which merely dented the iron chest plate underneath his uniform, the last of two piercing his throat then his mask, leaving him twitching and bleeding on the ground.

Ryne didn't bother to see who'd taken out the second shadow warrior. He didn't particularly care at the moment. All he was worried about were the two blades that were working in tandem to both gut him and tear off his face. He leaned backward, rotating himself on his hand and taking out his opponents legs from under him. Before he fell he pulled his short blades close to his body, and then rolled.

Ryne jumped up immediately after tripping him, lost for a moment until he saw the warrior push himself to his feet, about ten feet away from where he'd landed, his hand dipping into his pouch for the last three poisoned blades he carried and whipping them at the enraged other. Ryne screamed and thrust his right hand out in front of him; the area bursting forth with a light so bright everyone within a hundred feet had to cover their eyes. When all could see again, the warrior was dead and the blades lay harmless on the ground not three centimeters from Ryne's boots.

Ryne bit his lip and ran for his ship, screaming for his crew as he passed by the cantinas. There were still two more out there, and he wasn't about to let them get away.

Stalde and Enyan stood gaped mouthed for a moment as they watched the white haired man as he ran desperately for the docks, the few crewmembers that had heard him leaving their drinks and their women to follow him faithfully. Enyan was the first to speak.

"What... was that?"

"That..." Stalde said slowly, regaining his composure and starting to run for the docks himself, motioning for Enyan to follow, "Was a Silvite who knows exactly what he's doing."

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The remaining two shadow warriors ran for their ship as fast as they could. They knew their companions were dead. There was no way they could have survived. It wasn't only that Ryne was widely considered to be the best fighter on all of Arcadia, his skills in both magic and the blade widely renowned, but more so he was a father fighting for his offspring. There was nothing fiercer in all the world.

The leader jumped in through the top hatch, skipping the ladder altogether, his only surviving warrior following. His fingers ran over the consoles in a flurry, the only sign of the running engine being the gentle vibration on the soles of his feet.

The ship's engine and hull design was the latest in Valuan technology. It ran totally silent, its form undetectable by sonar or radar. At night, it was almost impossible to detect, its black color blending seamlessly into the night. It had been built specifically for covert operations, though this mission had blown the covert part long ago.

The captain sailed it smoothly into open sky, scanning the horizon, searching for the ship that had left the harbor just moments before he had. He finally sighted it, heading full sail north-east, clipping along at a good pace. He didn't know weather to swear or make a victory toast. On the one hand, they were heading straight toward the black rift and Yafutoma, and he knew for a fact that a ship that small could not handle the pressure differences it would take to go over or under the rift. On the other hand, their craft might be faster full sail than the silent engines of the shadow warriors could handle, or they might correct coarse and go the most logical route to Crescent Isle and safety.

It was obvious that the girl was not captaining the vessel, or else that would have been her first instinct. With any luck, they'd hit her with one of their poisoned blades earlier, and she was already dying. He prayed to the moons that this was the case.

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Markos could feel the other ship behind him. He couldn't see it, but he could sense it. He knew they were going faster though. As long as the wind blew in their favor, they could reach safety in no time. He held the ship steady, steering with the wind, always keeping its path, letting it drag him through the ocean.

Selina lay unconscious behind him, and he could feel that she was dying as well. Not from the knife wound, for that had slit only flesh, the blood already congealing to seal back together. No, there was something else at work, something coursing through her blood, polluting her body. He wished he could care for her, wished he could kneel there and make sure everything was going to be alright. But that was a luxury he could not afford at the moment. The wind had changed as if the blue moon itself had now turned against them as well.

It was blowing them back to where they'd come from. And he'd been so close...

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Ryne took the helm of the Last Heir, every cell in his body pumping with the energy that his adrenaline was feeding him. He shouted orders to his crew, snapping at them in his time of desperation. He'd only made it here with half the crew he usually carried, but it would be enough. He prayed it would be enough anyway. The moons were particularly busy tonight.

Ryne thrust the engines into reverse, barely taking notice as a shadow ran swiftly down the dock, launching itself at the reversing ship, barely imaging to grab the guardrails and hurl itself onto the deck. It ran straight for the bridge door, disappearing inside then making its presence known in the cabin, gasping for breath against the door jamb.

"What am I missing?" he gasped.

"Someone's trying to kill Selina!" Ryne all but yelled at his first mate, punching the emergency thrusters into gear.

He'd never thought he'd use the extra power the emergency system would give him, as the Last Heir was a sailing ship. He'd consented to the new propulsion system years ago at the urge of his wife, who'd insisted that the winds were getting consistently unpredictable. He'd never found a use for it until now, and he blessed the intelligence of his wife.

He could see the glow of hover engines in the distance, and knew somehow knew it was his daughter. He could sense her. It was one of the perks of being the only two living Silvites. But there was something else there as well, visible only when it blocked the red glow of the first ship. It was the other two shadow warriors, it had to be. But how could it sail without making a sound, or emitting the telltale glow of burning moonstone?

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"Jonathon, what are we doing?" Enyan yelled, trying to keep up with the mid- age bounty hunter turned teacher.

"We're trying to catch up, that's what we're trying to do." He snapped back at him, hurdling the railings of his small ship and careening toward the bridge at a breakneck speed.

Enyan, far less athletic, flopped over the edge of the boat, stumbling his way after him.

"But we're going to get ourselves killed!" he implored, "Besides, what can we do? Her dad's practically got a small army after her!"

"I don't care," Stalde said, bringing the ship to trail after the Heir, "In my entire career I only lost one job, and I'm no planning on making it two. Not with the stakes we're playing with."

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The black ship was catching up easily to Markos' back skidding skiff. No matter how hard he prayed, the blue moon didn't seem to want to answer his pleas. He sighed at the volley of cannonballs flew toward his ship, taking his mast off entirely and ripping through the hover engines crippling them fatally. He sighed, knowing that his ship wasn't going to survive this. They only had one chance now.

He tossed Selina over his shoulder, abandoning the helm and running below deck where the life raft had been stored. Though he'd removed it when he'd bought the ship, replacing it with the small craft he already owned.

It was about fifteen feet in length, a streamlined triangular shape. The central shape was an elongated ovoid, thick triangular wings affixed to the side, an air scoop on either wing connecting to twin turbines. The cockpit was small and positioned in the middle, built for a maximum capacity of two people, its black canopy opaque to anyone on the outside.

He elbowed the lever on the wall down, the side hatch popping open with a rush of wind. He could see the black rift just outside, its swirling dark clouds promising sanctuary. He jumped up on one of the wings, kicking the canopy release and gently placed Selina's body in the rear seat, positioning her comfortably and strapping her in before jumping in as well, grasping the twin yokes on his sides.

He heard another round of cannonball fire outside the ship. He heard the impact, bracing his body between the outer edges of the narrow deck, though nothing had happened to the skiff at all. Their attackers were being fired upon! He uttered a quick prayer of thanks to the moons as his ship began to hover off of the wooden decking.

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"Take out their propulsion engines if you can." Ryne commanded his gunners through the talk-tube, "I want to take this ship alive if possible."

"But sir, we can't even see the vessel!" The head gunner, Harris protested, "We can only guess where they are when we see their cannons flash."

"I only said, 'if possible', Harris." Ryne quipped, ending the chat.

"Sir, what's the plan?" Jeyr asked, feeling quite useless.

"We're going to take this ship, Blue Rogues style." He answered, "Get hooks and rope, we're going to reel them in and board them. I want answers... and I swear to the moons if they've hurt Sela, I'm going to kill them slowly."

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"Sir, the main engines have been taken out!"

The leader of the shadow warrior strike team pounded his fist into the pilot's console, venting his frustrations on the instruments that would no longer work. He took a deep breath, calming himself, relaxing his fist. It was of no consequence. They could still finish this.

"We still have them in our sights, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Unleash the heat-seeker."

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Markos' thrust his fingers forward, the rear thrusters burning the back wall of the cargo bay as it shot out into open sky, looking like a giant black bird with its tail feathers on fire. They had escaped the dying ship, which was now beginning to sink into deep sky. However, they were now faced with the problem of being the most active heat source in the area.

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"Sir, we've crippled their engines, but they've just released a torpedo." Depp the radar operator reported. Ryne relented control of the helm to Robert, who took the wheel in his hands, steering toward the growing dark spot.

Ryne watched the two blips on the circular screen, breathing his relief as he saw the torpedo's vector would take it past the other light on the screen that represented Selina's escape craft. However, when it corrected coarse on its own, his jaw dropped in awe and horror.

"Take that thing out of the sky!" He yelled into the nearest talk-tube in desperation.

"We can't, Sir. We'd be shooting in the direction of the life-raft as well."

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Markos could sense the missile behind him, closing in them with its superior speed. He bit his lower lip twisting the ship into a barrel roll, then a dive, trying to shake it off his tail. The bomb stayed true, closing in on him as it followed every move he made. He pulled it into a high climb, leveled out, then shut off his engines hoping to buy himself more time. The trick worked... until he had to engage his thrusters once again. But now there was a comfortable amount of distance between them.

He raced for the Dark Rift with everything his ship could give, pushing it's speed to the limits as the missile gradually caught up to him.

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"What the heck are they doing, and how the heck are they doing that?" Depp implored of his captain, staring in wonder at the erratic movement of the escape vessel. Ryne shook his head, having no answers to give.

"The torpedo is still gaining on them." He stated matter-of-factly.

"And they're headed into the Dark Rift." Jeyr added, watching over his superior's shoulder. "Either way, they can't make it."

"Don't make quick assumptions, Kid." Ryne scolded, folding his arms over his chest and watching the radar stonily, "I think I know what they're trying to do."

"What's that?"

"They're going to go as close as they can to the rift then pull into a vertical climb, hopefully losing it in the winds."

"What kind of ship can pull that off?"

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Markos held his thumbs over the small buttons on the tips of his flight yokes, waiting for the last minute to use the only trick he had up his sleeves. The winds of the Dark Rift loomed in front of him, rushing forward to greet him at a speed most Arcadian ships couldn't hope to reach. He focused his eyes on one point, keeping there as it grew closer and closer, and he knew his ship would be torn to sheds if he didn't act quickly.

When the tip of his ship touched the point he was focused on, he hit the switches and killed the engines, black fire consuming his ship as it plunged into the Dark Rift, surrendering to the winds.

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Ryne tore his eyes away from the radar screen to watch the black rift consume his daughter's ship, watched as the torpedo followed in after them, exploding shortly afterward, its fires quelled by the sharp winds inside the monstrous black gale. He clenched his fists and shut his eyes, the back side of right hand glowing faintly as it searched for its only living partner. Finally he sighed and opened his eyes.

She was alive. Somehow, she'd made it through the Dark Rift.

"She's still alive." He said softly, sighing it out. Finally he fixed his eyes on the shapeless black form nearing his ship, hooked ropes being thrown at it, bringing it side to side with his vessel. Ryne's hand went to his shoulder harnessed blade, just to make sure it was still there.

"Alright men, let's show these guys who they're messing with."

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After he felt the explosion, Markos turned the thrusters back online, trying to get the ship under his control. He wrestled with the twin yokes, having only a vague sense of which way was up. Finally he managed to work it into a steady flight, only to find that he was flying sideways. He straightened his flight out gradually as the blood rushed to the right side of his face.

Just as he worked it into a horizontal position they burst out of the thick cloud into the blue tinted lands of Yafutoma at early morn. He sighed in relief and turned off his shields, then remembered Selina whose life was slowly bleeding away. Markos turned around, extending his hand over her blood clotted side, clearing his mind and reciting an incantation he'd known since a child. Gradually she came to, gasping for breath desperately, then started to regain her strength, though the cut in her side was still there.

"What happened?" she demanded, when her breathing finally slowed to normal. Her hand went instinctively to her side, finding it sticky with coagulated blood, "Where am I?"

Markos sighed, turning in his seat again, "You're in my ship, which right now is somewhere in the Yafutoman region." He explained, pointing at the large blue moon which hung above them.

"But why are we in Yafutoma? And where's the ship we set out on? And why can't I remember any of it?" she assaulted him, while in the process of cleaning and healing her wound. Markos sighed and began to explain about their flight from Nasrad, and the poisoned knife that had grazed her side. She had a million of questions when he came to their passing through the dark rift, which he was uncomfortable to answer. He skirted around them nimbly, answering vaguely, though satisfactorily.

"So... Where'd this ship come from?" She asked finally.

"It was in the cargo bay, where the life rafts would usually be." He answered smoothly.

"I've never seen this kind of ship before..." She said, running her fingers over the weapons console which she sat at, "Where did it come from?"

"From my homeland," He said slowly, "From Melosia."

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Ryne made his way down the ladder of the Valuan ship, where the two shadow warriors had already been captured by his men. He strode up to the leader with his hands clasped behind his long blue overcoat. He walked over to who he assumed was the leader, seeing the red piping on his uniform and tore the mask from his face, revealing a mop of brown hair set above deep brown eyes. His face would have been handsome, if not for the scars marring it from years of work. Ryne recognized him immediately.

He grabbed his from the front of his uniform, ripping him from the hold two of his crew had on him and slammed him against the bulkhead.

"Rafe, you son of a..." He didn't finish the sentence, just slammed him against the side of the ship again, "Why are you trying to kill my only daughter?!"

Rafe Falloy, one of the hero's of the last Silvite War, the man who'd piloted the moonship to the Silvite's stronghold and crash landed it successfully, wrapped his hands around Ryne's wrists, trying to pull himself up to gasp a breath. He didn't try to escape. He knew he was far outclassed, even with all the training he'd put himself through.

"It's nothing personal, Ryne." He gasped, trying to keep his esophagus from closing, "But your daughter has to die or... we all die."

Ryne slammed his body against the wall again, it cracking in protest, "Don't give me this 'End of the World' crap! This is my DAUGHTER we're talking about!"

"And I'm sorry it had to be her, I really am, but the facts are the facts. She bears the mark."

Ryne let out a yell of frustration, dropping him, "You don't think I know that!? She's my CHILD!"

"Which is exactly why you're being blinded by your love for her!"

Ryne leaned against the opposite wall, his eyes watering as he slid down into a sitting position, almost child-like.

"I already lost a mother, I'm NOT going to lose my daughter."