Emily's senses went into overdrive and a shot of adrenaline rushed through her system. She watched the elf come, his movements sluggish, but knew better than to trust her perception that the world had suddenly decided to take a day off. He eyes were locked on hers, his teeth were bared in a snarl, and he drew his arm back in preparation to deliver a hit. She'd seen that he unconsciously favored his right side, there-for deducing that he was right-handed, and sidestepped the attack. She felt the rush of displaced air against her cheek as his armored fist whooshed by, and she caught his ankle with her toe as his momentum carried him past.
He stumbled a few steps forward before regaining his balance, then turned to her with a look of rage in his eyes. Emily could clearly see that he was used to being the dominant player, and being thrown off his game wasn't something he took well. Good. The angrier he was, the more mistakes he'd make. His lips drew back and his sharp teeth clenched, and he attempted another attack, this time un uppercut from below. She dodged it by nimbly jumped back, then charged her stone. The elf had only an instant to realize what was happening before he found himself flung backward across the room. He flew over tables and stunned patrons who ducked into their chairs before smashing back-first into the wall.
He groaned as he broke through the shock of what had just happened, and realized what she was. "She's a Stonekeeper!" he shouted. "Walrig, stun her!"
The elf soldier he'd addressed raised his trident-shaped polearm and activated it. Emily brought her staff between herself and the weapon just in time to block the attack. She felt the strain as Walrig maintained his attack, but quickly and easily overpowered it, then swung her staff and wrenched the polearm for Walrig's grasp. The elf was too busy watching his weapon fly away from him to prepare for Emily's counterattack, which sent him flying in the opposite direction. She levitated herself up, saturating her staff in energy, then, glaring venomous daggers at the lead elf soldier, swung it in a wide arc.
"No!"
The noise was deafening, and everyone in sight of The Drinking Hole turned to see its roof explode in a cloud of smoke and wood chips and three elf soldiers. "Emily!" Karen shrieked.
Welcome back, young master, the stone said. I was beginning to think you were going to ignore me for good.
"Captain," Leon said to Enzo, "we're going to need your help. And we don't have much time."
The airship captain shook himself out of his surprise. "Y-yes, of course. Our ship is at the docks."
Leon turned to the pink rabbit. "Miskit, get everyone into the transport."
"Everyone?" she asked, looked at the two elves the soldiers had dragged in. "What about them?"
Leon followed her gaze, and Trellis turned to meet his eyes. In that instant, Leon gained a new understanding that maybe not all elves were the evil, sadistic, power-hungry monsters they'd made themselves out to be. He nodded. "Yes, them too. Now hurry and get everyone outside." Miskit nodded and motioned everyone through the door and toward the transport.
"What happened in there?" Karen demanded.
"Miskit, where's Em?" Navin asked.
"If you're referring to the girl," Enzo answered as Navin pulled him inside, "she's doing fine."
"Hey, guys," Cogsley said slowly, "we've got trouble."
They all turned to see what looked like a metal robot. "What is that thing?" Karen gasped.
"A mechanized armor suit," Cogsley said. "Looks like the elves have brought their heavy artillery."
The armor suit brought its massive gun-arms to bear, aiming them in the direction of the transport. Through a slit in the chest, a pair of eyes could be seen. The eyes belonged to the driver, who was wearing a helmet with targeting lenses on each side. "This is E-Mek Five, approach-ing the target." He peered through his targeting reticle, lining up his cannons by moving his head. "I have the enemy in sight."
"Emily, are you okay?" Karen asked as she pulled her daughter into the transport.
"Everybody, get in!" Cogsley ordered. "We have to get moving now!"
Emily flopped into her mother's lap and Leon jumped in beside Navin. "Everyone's in!" the boy cried. "Step on it!"
"Hold on!" Cogsley stomped on the accelerator and they pealed away just as two shots from the armored suit smashed into the wall of The Drinking Hole, consuming it in a cloud of fire, smoke, glass and stone as panicked watchers fled the destruction in every direction. The transport sped down the street, cutting corners and weaving through alleys toward the docks.
"Our ship is at Dock 10!" Enzo said over the rush of wind. The checkpoint guard, another curse victim in the form of a wall-eyed fish, was waving to them from the door of a small square booth. "You have to show your papers at the gate."
"No time," Leon said. "Cogsley, floor it!" Cogsley did, and the engine roared.
"Are you crazy!?" Enzo demanded. "You'll get us all arrested!"
"Heads down!" Cogsley shouted, and slammed the pedal into the floorboard.
Seconds later, they roared past the guard, who watched in shocked dismay as the wooden red-and-white striped crossbar shattered into a hundred pieces. They raced down jetty to Dock Ten, where their ride was moored. "There she is," said Enzo proudly as the approached. "Luna Moth."
To the non-Alledians, it looked like the hulls of two boats attached to the fuselage of an old World War II bomber. Wings stuck straight out from the lower hull, and bulbous engines grew out of them about one-third on their length. A small smokestack poked out of the top behind a flagpole that had a ragged piece of red cloth whipping at its top. A large, midnight-blue rudder at the rear sported the vessel's emblem: A crescent moon encircling a pair of moth wings.
Cogsley looked like the thing he was looking at was the worst insult to engineering he'd ever beheld. "Are you serious? This thing? It's a piece of junk! And it's the smallest ship here!"
"Hey!" Enzo was indignant and more than a little offended. "Don't judge a ship by its sails! Luna Moth might be small, but she's fast and tougher than she looks. She's been through more than you have!"
"Ha! I've repaired junkier pieces than this with worn-our gears and leaky hydraulics. This thing doesn't even look airworthy!"
Enzo's face twisted with anger and he began rolling up his sleeves.
"Enough!" Leon's shout broke up the fight he knew was coming. "In case you've forgotten, we're being pursued. Escape now, settle differences later. Get everyone aboard." Cogsley and Enzo looked at him, then at each other, exchanging one last glare before leading everyone else up the boarding ramp.
No sooner had the all made it on deck than their transport suddenly went up in a plume of flames and smoke. At the entrance end of the jetty was the armor suit, its gun arms smoking. Cogsley, all thought of confrontation with Enzo gone, leaned into the pilothouse. "Get us out of here now!"
Enzo had been working to get them out of there the instant his hands grasped the wheel. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he flipped switches and pushed buttons, trying to prime the engines for startup, but it wasn't easy. In the middle fo the panel was a big red button marked "Emergency Start," but he'd only ever used it once before. Luna Moth was more than a hundred years old, constructed by his great-grandfather with spare parts and salvaged components from junk heaps. This little vessel had more miles on her than he cared to count, been through storms and crash-landings and swarms of angry seabirds. And each time had come out intact enough to be repaired.
But the time he'd used the emergency start had not been a good experience. Though sturdy, Luna Moth wasn't indestructible. The number or repairs and near-complete reconstructions she's gone through had weakened her frame, and the time he'd been forced to use the emergency start had nearly been too much for her. In short, the strain had almost torn Luna Moth apart at the seams. After that, he'd vowed never to use the emergency start unless he absolutely had to.
Judging from the sputtering engines and the walking tank turning toward his beloved airship, he decided this was one of those times. "Hold onto something!" he called out. "This might get a little bumpy!" He flipped open the glass bubble and mashed the big red button.
Instantly, the engines roared to life. The tiny airship shuddered and groaned. Enzo pushed the throttle forward, then gripped the wheel and turned it to starboard. The engines revved up, buzzing like hives of angry hornets, and a moment later the boarding ramp linking Luna Moth to the pier snapped.
The driver of the armor suit fired, and two missiles sped toward the little vessel. But as they approached it, they began to veer away in other directions. He stared in disbelief for a second, then resumed fire.
On the deck, Trellis was using his own stone's energy to redirect the missiles. He didn't particularly care where they went, so long as they went away from Luna Moth. The armor suit's driver kept firing as they fled farther away, but Trellis kept after the incoming fire with measured precision. Some of the redirected rounds narrowly missed other airships that were either coming in to dock or leaving. Others found targets in loading cranes and other dockyard equipment. Karen tackled Emily to the deck just as a chunk of metal dug itself into the side of the ship; had she not… Let's just say that Emily would have joined the Headless Horseman.
One of them detonated in the control box of a loading crane, and the entire arm came loose. Emily saw it and released an immense burst of energy, and Luna Moth sailed through the remaining vapor and dust unharmed. Back on the dock, she saw the suit's driver pop his hatch, lift himself out, then start waving his fist angrily as they moved out of range. She allowed herself a small smile of triumph.
Cogsley poked his head into the pilothouse. "Nice driving, Captain," he said.
Enzo looked at him as if he'd grown antennae. "You think that was skill? There was barely enough room to fly straight, much less maneuver! We're just lucky that guy had terrible aim!"
Out on the deck, Emily was panting hard. Her forehead was slick with sweat and her knees shook. She was beginning to realize that this whole super-duper magic necklace deal wasn't like the science fiction comics and fantasy movies. The power her stone used was drawn from the energy of her own body, her will to resist, her desire to live. And now she felt like an idiot for not thinking that this amazing ability didn't come without cost. What was that old saying? "With great power comes great responsibility." Well, with great responsibility also came great sacrifice. But could she make that sacrifice? She hadn't chosen this–or even had a chance to figure out what was going on before it was all dumped on her head. How could life be so cruel?
The sound of an opening door jerked her back to reality, and she looked over to see the other elf she'd seen with Trellis in the bar. An urgent look was on his face. "Come inside. Quickly." She did and he closed the door.
Karen looked at her daughter. "Emily, this is getting out of hand," she said. "We have to find a way home. If we stay here, we're likely to get seriously hurt, or worse!"
Emily sighed, a sad sound that didn't match the expression on her face. "I told you, Mom: If you go home, I can't go with you."
Karen's jaw dropped in utter disbelief. "What!? Why not? What's holding you back?"
Luger turned to look at the glowing, hovering stone on Emily's necklace. "It's the curse of the Stonekeeper," he said gravely. "The stone won't let you leave, will it?"
Emily shook her head, looking down at the large rosy gem with something like a mix of despair and hatred. "No, it won't."
"A curse?" Karen asked, very clearly alarmed.
Before he could answer, Trellis interrupted. "That's enough, Luger," he said. "Don't talk to them; they already know too much."
Karen looked at him in shock, then anger. "My daughter just saved your life, and this is how you repay her?"
Trellis turned to her. "She should have left us alone."
"Don't mind him," Luger said. "We're grateful for your daughter's assistance."
"Hear that?" Karen said to Trellis. "You should be more like your father." But Trellis just growled and stormed out, ignoring Luger's calls after him, and shut the door. Karen humphed. "I'm sorry you have to deal with that," she told Luger.
"You must understand," the elf said. "He's not my son."
Emily decided to leave them to whatever conversation they wanted to pursue and followed Trellis outside. She found him near the bow, the wind whipping his shredded cape. "Trellis," she said. The elf turned to face her. "You said when we first met that you wanted my help to defeat your father. Why turn against him?"
Trellis eyed her a moment before answering, "It was a mistake to involve you in this. Go back before it's too late."
Emily guessed he meant that she should go back home, but she couldn't if she'd wanted to. Everything she tried simply didn't work. True, she was desperate to get home and hope that all this was just the worst nightmare of her life, but she knew that if she didn't fulfill her great-grandfather's mission and restore the balance of power in Alledia, she'd never get there. As for her involvement in this whole mess, she'd been involved the minute that arachnopod had eaten her mother and brought her here.
It was pretty clear that she was here to see things through to whatever conclusion they came to.
Failure to carry out the king's orders, regardless of circumstance, was punishable by death. The elf king ruled his empire with an iron fist and had very little patience and less tolerance for those who failed him. Only a scant few had ever been spared the king's wrath–when he was in a good mood or plotting something even more terrible than the original punishment. Ralin and Walrig knew this, and so they were attempting to drown their fears with as much ale as they could consume.
"This might be our last night alive, Walrig, so drink up," Ralin said. His friend already had his mug upside down and was gulping the amber liquid, which foamed around his mouth. The waiter scuttled up, sweating nervously, and Ralin set his own empty mug on the tray. "We need another round, shorty," the elf told him. "And put it on the king's tab."
The waiter's sweat glands went into overdrive. Putting the elf king in debt for anything, even something as insignificant as a mug of ale, would attract his displeasure just as surely as failing his orders. Nevertheless, he hurried to do Ralin's bidding, taking the empty mugs behind the counter and returning a moment later with both of them filled to the brim. Ralin and Walrig snatched them up, the amber liquid splashing over their faces as they turned the mugs up.
Movement drew Ralin's attention to the doorway. "Well, look at what the cat dragged in!" The figure who'd entered was partially concealed by an armored mask and a hooded cloak, but Ralin still recognized him. He was also carrying a case. "What are you doing here, Gabilan?" he demanded.
Gabilan let silence hover between them for half a minute, then said simply in voice as cold as ice, "I'm here because you've failed." He dropped the case in his hand, and it hit the floor with a thump. He knelt down and unclipped the locks, then lifted the lid and pulled out some sort of contraption.
"The king sent you to finish me off?" Ralin asked.
"No," Gabilan told him. "He'll do that himself; I'm only here to collect information." He brought the device to bear, holding it like a weapon. "So tell me, who's helping the fugitives?"
Ralin snarled at him. "Shove off, Gabilan. Your toys don't scare me."
Gabilan looked at him with a warning expression. "Are you sure you want to go down this path?" he asked.
Ralin leaned forward, glaring defiantly. "If I help you find them, you'll get your bounty and we'll be executed for failing the king's orders." He shook his head. "Not a good deal for us. You're on your own here, pal."
Gablian's lips drew back into a feral grin. "You should know by now, Ralin," he said, "that I always have been." He pulled the trigger. The thing's offensive component shot out, its three grabbers opening as it flew toward Ralin and Walrig. Walrig only had enough time to flinch away before it latched onto Ralin's head. The elf let out an offended noise. "This, my friend, in a memory extractor," Gabilan said explanatorily. "It works by tapping into the memory centers of your brain and emptying them. I pull this trigger and I steal all your memories. The effect is near-complete memory loss, and will take years to recover from. During this period of recovery, you'll barely remember who you are.
"I would rather you have an intact mind when the king delivers your punishment, so I'm going to ask again nicely." He released the trigger, which snapped back into firing position. "Who is helping the fugitives?"
By now, Ralin had grabbed the thing on his face and was trying to wrench it off. But for all the sweat on his brow and the nervous tick of his cheek, he still remained defiant. "Like is said, Gabilan: Shove off!"
"Very well." Gabilan pulled the trigger. Energy crackled and Ralin screamed as his memories were forcibly removed from his head. It only lasted a few seconds, but that was all it took for Ralin's memory to be almost completely purged. "Now, let's see what you're hiding in that puny little brain of yours," Gabilan said to himself. There was a screen on the back end of the extractor. The image on it was grainy and greenish, but clear enough to see what Ralin had held until the end. "You." He looked at the waiter and tilted the screen toward him. "Who are these people?"
The waiter cautiously leaned forward to peer at the image. "Captain Enzo Greisen and his brother Rico, sir. They're the crew of the Luna Moth."
"Do you know where they might be headed?"
"I heard them say something about looking for Cielis, but it could have been regular chatter."
"Cielis?" That surprised Gabilan, and added a whole new level of difficulty to his hunt. "I thought it was destroyed."
The waiter was sweating again. "Most believe it was, sir," he said quickly. "But some, like Enzo and Rico, believe it's hidden in the clouds."
Gabilan's eyes were thoughtful. "Cielis was the city of the Stonekeepers, correct?" The waiter nodded. "Then the fugitive scum must be after reinforcements." He reached down and pulled a small pouch from his belt. "For your trouble," he said, tossing it to the waiter, who caught it was a startled yelp and a shaky "thank you." Then he turned and started to walk away.
"Whose side are you one, Gabilan?" Walrig demanded.
Gabilan stopped and tracks and turned his head, peering at Walrig from the corner of his eye. "Come again?"
"You are an elf, aren't you?" Walrig asked. "So why do you do such things to your own kind?"
"My kind?" Gabilan turned to face Walrig fully. "I'm the only one of my kind there is. Good luck with the king." He turned and walked out, leaving a terrified waiter and two elves behind.