Quelya - Chapter 4: Awake in Chains

 When the assassin came to, she was lying on her side in the corner of a small cell in the dank hold of the ship, she was in chains, and the survivors of the Reizoko no Tsuma were huddled against the far wall, watching her warily.

    Turok was tending to Alina, helping her to sit up. It had been the commanding voice of his magic that woke the assassin, and she sat up at the same time. Everyone turned to watch her, a mixture of curiosity, anger, and fear in their expressions.

    It was Delamagne, one of the able seamen who was nursing a broken arm and a black eye who spoke up first, “what are you doing down here, shark?”

    The assassin chuckled, “yeah. You’re probably as confused as the sharks are.” She shifted in her seat and propped her meaty arms up on her knees. This was distasteful; but not unheard of. When the faceless men revealed themselves, it generally only added to the mystery and the legend; but she would have to survive for the story to be of any real benefit. She sighed. There was no helping it, really.

    “Alright,” she said. “Listen. This is going to freak you out; but I need you to be quiet about it. I know it’s frightening, but I give you my solemn word, I am not here to kill any of you.”

    “Your word is next to useless shark,” Turok spat the words as he turned from tending the injured to stare the assassin in the eye; but the words died in his throat as the assassin resumed her human form.

    She didn’t know what she expected. There were cries of “the Faceless” and “doomed!” A number of the survivors scrambled away from her, pressing themselves into the wall of their cell. The dragonborn only stared.

    Old Covey started screaming, begging to be let out, trying to push himself through the bars of their cell. The expression on the black-eyed girl was unreadable, but she moved quickly to Covey’s side and clamped a hand around his mouth. She wrestled him to the deck and put a finger to her lips. “That’s not helping,” she said.

    Then she looked at the others. “I imagine she wouldn’t reveal herself to us, if she meant any of us dead.” She sat beside Covey and smiled, though Dox noticed that the girl’s black predator’s eyes never wavered. “You are one of the Faceless, though, right?”

    Dox nodded, then added, “mostly.” With a shrug and a wave of her hand she said, “I’m an acolyte. This is all part of my apprenticeship.”

    Turok’s jaw was clenched. “You worship the Faceless God, though.” It was more of a question than a statement. At the mention of the shrouded figure of death, a number of the crew made the sign against the evil eye. There were more whimpers of fear and doom.

    “Of course I do,” Dox said. “I’ve stood in their presence.”

    That almost got Covey started again. He lunged for the bars, but Alina put a hand on his shoulder and held him in place. “Can we at least try to remain calm,” she said. “You know the Black God exists, you know they’re out there somewhere. You know his faceless move among us. None of this is new information. Being in the room with one is unsettling, sure; but whining about it is only going to get us killed.”

    “Not by me,” Dox added, trying to be helpful. It wasn’t very comforting.

    Turok shifted in his seat, mirroring the changeling, so that his hands were also resting on his knees. “Alright assassin,” he said, “I can see how your skills will be useful in getting out of here. If you raise a blade against any one of these people, though, I’ll have to turn my sword against you.”

    “You don’t have a sword.”

    “You know what I mean.” The dragonborn’s stern face shifted to anger, though he didn’t move. He only continued to stare at the assassin.

    “How the hell are we going to get out of here,” Alina asked.

    Mercifully, the sharks didn’t seem too concerned about their captives. They hadn’t seen a praedaren since they’d been locked up. The cell was built into the ship, in what everyone assumed was the aft end of the cargo hold. There was one door with a massive lock.

    No one had the tools to open the lock, and try as they might, not even Turok could break it down. The dragonborn roared in frustration.

    “I saw you breathe fire,” Dox said. Then made a face and a gesture that indicated fire might be useful right now.

    “I’ve exhausted it,” Turok said. He sat back down with his back against the door. “It’ll be sometime tomorrow before I can do it again.”

    Alina cursed. “Without weapons, we’re not going to stand much of a chance against them anyway,” she said. “I have my sword, but there’ll be even more of them when they get us wherever they’re going.”

    “They’re probably going to sell us as slaves,” one of the crewman said. Another added, “do you think we’re headed for Tortuga?”

    Before she could answer, Dox wrinkled her nose. There was a sudden change in smell, rotten eggs or burning ash. She was going to crack wise about someone passing gas when the room was engulfed in a flash of arcane fire. They all blinked against it, shielding their eyes, but the flash died down as immediately as it had come upon them.

    In its wake, there stood a six-foot tall tortoise, standing on its hind legs, wielding a glowing staff. “Oh,” he said. “Um… hello?”