Quelya - Chapter 5: Turtle Ex Machina

 Most of the crew leapt to their feet, chains rattling. Alina seemed to pull her sword from the space between the bars, and Turok dropped into a low, unarmed fighting stance. Only Dox remained calm, barely moving from her seat against the wall. Delamagne cursed, and Covey pressed himself into a corner.

    The tortle looked around at them all, then relaxed, standing from his attack posture, though his staff continued to glow. “This doesn’t seem to be my ship,” he said. “And, you folks all seem to be in chains.”

    “Your powers of deduction are astounding,” Alina said. She allowed her blade to drop when the tortle relaxed, but held it at the ready.

    “Well, we’re in the hold of a ship, and you are quite a motley bunch. I suppose it would be ridiculous to ask you whether your incarceration was legal, or at least, just?”

    Dox laughed. Turok stepped as far as his leg irons would allow. “We’re the crew and passengers of the Reizoko no Tsuma,” he said. “We were attacked by praedaren pirates.”

    “I’m on Quelya,” the tortle started. “Fascinating.” With a jerk of his arm, he extinguished the magical light from his staff, and the room fell silent. Once their eyes adjusted again to the darkness, they saw that the tortle was holding a wand in his left hand. “Well,” he flicked his wand at the lock holding the first chain in place. “Bob said I was here for a reason.”

    He spoke the command words for the wand, “Irthos jhank turalisijth,” and the sound of the knock spell opening the lock was too loud to be natural. It echoed in the hold. Turok began pulling the chain through its posts, freeing those who were bound to him, while Oquee used his wand on the second chain.

    Everyone was still shackled, but at least they were free to move about. Dox jumped to her feet, and everyone except Oquee, Turok and Alina shifted away from her. “Can that open the bars too,” she asked.

    “It can,” Oquee said. “But I don’t have enough charges to loose the manacles. We’ll have to find a key.”

    “Or some lockpicks.”

    “Okay,” the tortle said, using his wand again before slipping it into a hidden space somewhere in his shell. Turning to Alina, he added, “you have enough magic to produce the sword, are there any other casters among you?”

    “I am a Cleric of Kuyutha,” Turok said. “Though the girl and I both were already running close to exhaustion at the end of the last battle.”

    “As am I,” Oquee said. “It seems we all have stories to share once we’re free.”

    “A dozen tired sailors and a tortle without weapons or magic,” Alina said, “alone at sea against a pirate crew on their pirate ship, with no hope of escape, and no chance of victory in a straight-up battle.”

    Turok might have smiled, but his dragon’s maw could just as easily have been snarling. “It will be a glorious end,” he said, “if there is someone alive to tell the tale.”

    “So what’s the plan then,” Oquee said. “I’ve never actually dealt with the praedaren before, but I can’t imagine we could escape on a dinghy.”

    “No,” Dox said, with a wicked grin on her human face. “It will have to be a rematch.”

    “We’ve no boat to escape on either,” Alina chuckled, but it was the sound of the unbelieving or the desperate. “We’re going to have to kill and capture the entire crew and then take their ship.”

    Delamagne and Covey were right at the forefront, though taking care to stay on the opposite side of the group from the assassin. “We can search the hold,” Del said. “If we’re lucky they’ll have kept our weapons for trade or barter.”

    Out of the cell, they combed through the hold, looking for belaying pins, knives, iron pots - anything they could use in the coming fight. Overhead, they could hear the praedaren crew having a heated discussion about something; but their voices were too muffled by the ocean and the creak of the ship to make anything out.

    “Aha,” Dox said quietly. When the others looked her way, she was holding a thin dagger, twirling the blade in her hands. In an impossibly fluid motion, she tossed the blade into the air and caught it in such a way that it disappeared somewhere on her person.

    “Gods preserve us,” Covey said, crossing himself against impending doom.

    “There’s only one god you need to pray to,” Dox said, smirking. “And there’s only one thing you need to ask him for.” From the same stash, she lifted a small sword in its scabbard and tossed it to him. He squealed in panic, but managed to catch it. A cry went up overhead, completely unrelated to the catch, but the praedaren cheers made Dox stifle a barking laugh.

    Looking sheepishly in her direction, he mumbled his thanks and strapped the sword to his waist.

    Turok found a crowbar, and gave it a few good swings. Delamagne was practicing swinging his chain around or catching an invisible enemy by the throat. A few of the others found bits of wood and metal.

    “It’s not enough,” Alina said. As if in answer, a door in the far wall swung open, and a distracted looking praedaren hauler looked at them dumbly. He was massive, larger even than the Blackfish, and he was hunkering down to fit through the doorway. His eyes went wide as understanding began to dawn on him.

    As the shark was taking a breath to cry out in alarm, Oquee slammed his staff down against the deck and cried out, “ssiffisv!” A wave of magic spread out from the point of impact, washing across the room and catching the big praedaren square in the face. His eyes went glassy, and rolled back in his head as his face fell slack and he began to fall forward.

    Alina and Del rushed forward and caught him by the arms. Somehow, he was even heavier than he looked, and Alina collapsed to one knee, but they managed to ease him to the deck without making too much noise.

    “Amazing,” Turok said. “I never actually thought a sleep spell was all that useful.”

    “It’s all a matter of application, friend.”