Runnin'

“Come to think of it,” Langley said as they stood on the deck of the Ark, “that ship is really a historical artifact.”

The crew was crowded behind her, watching the scene unfold and eyeing her bloodstained shirt with barely restrained curiosity. Jeff was edging from foot to foot and glancing at the Black Pebble periodically.

“Not many that old still sailing,” her brother continued, “especially not such a unique vessel as this one – largest void room ever put on a mobile object.”

“It’d be a shame to see it go.”

“Like the end of an era.”

Jeff’s head kept bobbing between the two, like a puppet on strings.

“Sabreur?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you can stand to not see such an explosion?”

He paused dramatically.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll live. Besides, I got to catch things on fire and field test my voidbomb prototype. It’s been a good day.”

Jeff couldn’t’ contain himself any longer.

“So you aren’t going to blow holes in my ship?” he asked.

“I’m not and I’m sure I’ll regret it later,” Langley said, “But that was a nice shot back there and you really haven’t given us a reason to be malicious, other than your irritating personality and fondness for rum, which I find detestable. Just don’t call me missy.”

“Gentlemen!” Sabreur called, “Please allow Starling to return to his ship and then make ready to cast off.”

“You can get it to dock by yourself, right?” Langley asked.

He considered and then nodded. Rolled his eyes up in the direction of his ears and Langley grinned. If not, something would turn up. He was a half-elf. It usually did.

“One last condition,” she said, “Don’t go raiding any Stormrider ports or ships, right?”

“Will do, missy.”

And he tipped his hat at her and hopped off over the edge of the Ark to the shallow water below. A few seconds later Crystal followed.

“Starling!” she cried, floundering through the surf towards him, “I have to say bye!”

He stopped. She stopped. They stared at each other.

“It would never have worked between us,” she said.

“I know.”

And he patted her on the head and she responded by leaping and hugging him around the neck, nearly pulling him face-first into the water. But he kept his balance, gingerly disentangled the necromancer, and broke into a jog towards his ship. The Ark crew was already letting down a ladder for Crystal to climb back up.

“We can go now,” she said to the twins as she climbed onboard.

“Right,” Langley replied, “Hoist the sails! Sparrow, you have wheel! Let’s sail clear of this mess!”

“And the treasure?” Sabreur whispered softly as she passed.

She shrugged.

“Hang the treasure. Besides, we have this island charted. If we ever need a favor from Starling we’ll just help ourselves.”

Chuckling, Sabreur followed her to the helm. He paused once to raise his hand in farewell at the figure on the deck of the Black Pebble, standing at the wheel with hat raised. He felt oddly relieved to have not blown up the Black Pebble. If nothing else, it was a way to get rid of Jeff Starling before Langley throttled him. Yes, that had to be the reason. He shoved his hands in his pockets and whistling, walked to the helm to help Langley set their course out of here.

Cansin was lounging in one of the many ornate sofas scattered across Mihos’s manor in the underworld. The place was bright and open with soaring arches and as many windows as could be crammed on one wall. There was no stone in the structure, just wood of varying shades and aromas inlaid in delicate patterns. What little wall space there was held tapestries and paintings. Mihos believed in color and light and his manor made Cansin suspect that the avatar’s origins were in some tropical climate. As soon as he heard the clatter and sound of Mihos returning from wherever he’d been Cansin started searching for a good stopping point in his book. When the noise escalated to shouting, swearing, and finally the sound of brief and entertaining violence he put the bookmark in and set it down to seek out the source of the commotion. He found Mihos in the grand entryway with a handful of the shades surrounding a rather battered and upset soul. Cansin sniffed the air. It was a newly arrived one, no less.

“Mihos,” he said, stepping forwards. The shades moved aside to let him pass, bowing respectfully. The soul on the ground just glared up at him in half-fear, half-hatred.

“Cansin,” Mihos replied, “Of course you’d be here. Who let you in?”

“I let myself in, as always.”

“You have your own realm to govern.”

“It’s boring over there. You other avatars get all the fun. So what’s this one?”

He aimed a kick at the soul on the ground.

“Pirate captain by name of Bartoa. Guilty of treachery and a multitude of other things that attracted our attention. I was going to give him to the pit-hounds for a few centuries and see if he was regretting his actions in life by then.”

Cansin chuckled. He was a young man in appearance with short sandy-brown hair. Far shorter than Mihos and far more normal in appearance. He could be any teenager from Alannis, if not for the fact that he was an avatar of the underworld. The youngest of the lot, but still an avatar.

“Oh, do let me be the one to throw him in. I’ve been terribly bored with no souls to deal with lately.”

Mihos grunted.

“Fine by me. He’s all yours. Just don’t take him out of my realm. I’ll know.”

“Excellent.”

Bartoa attempted to run at that point. He didn’t even make it two feet before Cansin gestured, hand out with fingers spread like a claw, and the soul was suspended in mid-air, unable to so much as move.

“You’ll love it here,” Cansin said, walking off with Bartoa in tow behind him, “Ever heard of a fate worse than death? Well, since you’re already dead and can’t die again, I suppose that this is it. Nothing to say..? Ah, I see. Mihos got rid of your tongue – you must have annoyed him. Most new souls do.”

And he was gone. Mihos glanced at the shades that surrounded him. Pale imitations of creatures that existed to carry out his will and little else. They came and went and acted as one entity.

“Go fetch the souls who were wronged by Bartoa in life,” he instructed them, “and bring them to my audience chamber. I would have a word with them.”

The shades faded away, vanishing like the shadows they were and Mihos turned and walked through his manor to the throne room. There were a great deal of people that had died because of Bartoa, whether by treachery or plain cruelty and greed. Many of them resided in his realm, as well as in his fellow avatar’s domains. He’d have to notify Indulgence and Deceit about this next. This was the part he loved about being an avatar. Seeing those that could not relinquish their past lives avenged and finding peace. Knowing that although the living world was desperately lacking in justice that everyone had to die and then, well, there was him to contend with. Mihos chuckled darkly. Yes, he’d find ways to keep Bartoa’s soul busy for many, many years to come.

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