Novella, Chapter 7: I’m always outclassed, but never outnumbered

McKenzie reached down to the table in the middle of the seats, which was crowded with several sheets of paper with maps and lists (mostly in Danandra’s neat handwriting) and, at this point in the meeting, various empty bottles and glasses. He moved one of the pieces of rough Vyrinian paper towards the Archmage.

“And this,” he said, “is our target. The Obelisk. Evil-looking bastard, innit?”

Xixaxa looked at the paper. “That appears to be a long triangle made of two lines with a further wiggly line up it’s centre, and you have written ‘The Obelisk’ beneath it in, I think, an obscure dialect of ancient Paraverian? I believe only about a dozen people still understand it.”

“Okay, that’s not on me. I just write and sometimes pretty much anything can come out,” McKenzie explained.

“Remarkable. You must promise me, McKenzie, that at some future point, when we have some spare time that is not devoted to an urgent quest, you must let me study your powers,” Xixaxa said.

Leni gave forth a small laugh. “Good idea – someone should know how they work, because he clearly doesn’t.”

McKenzie decided to rise above that. “Of course, Xixxy. How long do you need?”

“Oh, not long. A decade or two should suffice,” she replied airily.

McKenzie blinked. “I’ll, um, put something in the diary.”

“Excellent,” Xixaxa replied, as if a possible 20 years of study was just not that big of a deal – and maybe it wasn’t, to her. McKenzie was, he supposed, also functionally immortal, but still thought in terms of a week being a long time. Whether this was a good or bad way to look at it remained to be seen, but fuck it, he’d carry on like that for a century or two and then review.

“Lady Violentia,” Xixaxa continued. “This masterful reproduction is based upon intelligence you provided. Tell us, please: what is the Obelisk, and how do we destroy it? I suspect a description may also be helpful, McKenzie’s minimalist artistic interpretation being somewhat lacking in detail.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Xixaxa, okay, I get it. I can’t draw,” McKenzie grumbled. Xixaxa allowed another smile, which was possibly even impish, a minor amount of visibility on her face.

“My apologies, McKenzie,” she said.

“The Obelisk,” Leni said, “is-” She stopped, and swallowed. “Sorry, this is still really difficult.”

“Take your time,” Xixaxa said.

“Fuck that, get a move on, some of us have shit to do,” McKenzie contradicted her.

Leni shot him an impatient look, but continued. “It is the source, or at least the focal point, of the troll’s influence. It is a triangular spike of obsidian, thirty feet tall, with engravings up each side,” she said.

“See?” McKenzie tapped his finger on the wiggly lines on his drawing. “Engravings.”

“How could I have failed to see that? I shall have myself fitted for spectacles at once,” the Archmage replied. McKenzie sighed.

“It is our holiest object – no-one except the High Priestess is permitted to touch it. It radiates magic, even someone unversed in the arts would sense it. It stands in the centre of the city of Trollheim, and is, at all times, surrounded by dozens, if not hundreds, of trolls. Sometimes this is because there is a ceremony, and sometimes they are just...waiting,” Leni continued.

“Waiting? What for, the cows to come home?” McKenzie snorted.

“No – waiting for pilgrims to the Obelisk,” Leni said.

“Your lot don’t strike me as a particularly religious bunch,” McKenzie scoffed.

“They’re not,” Leni said. “The pilgrims are not trolls, they are other races. Humans, elves, dwarves – anyone who gets too close to Trollheim. They become obsessed with the Obelisk, it draws them there, they have to get to it, have to. And then-”

“Yeah, I can guess,” McKenzie snorted darkly. “Like a fucking dinner bell.”

“If it is magical in nature, then McKenzie can destroy it,” the Archmage said.

“Ohhh that thing is so gonna be destroyed,” McKenzie promised intently. “I will fuck that thing right up.”

“Yeah,” Leni nodded. “I know. But only if we can get to Trollheim without being intercepted. Only if we can get to the centre of the city, past a good proportion of all the world’s trolls. And only,” Leni paused, “once we’re past all that, if you can remember that’s what you’re there to do.”

- o O o -

“Okay,” McKenzie said. “New plan – I go and start punching drows. Once I’m done with that I tie ‘em all up, dump them on the doorstep of whatever passes for police at the nearest port, and carry on as before only without any fucking drows this time.”

“And if you forget what you’re supposed to be doing halfway through?” Leni asked.

“Really? How hard is ‘punch drows’ to remember?” McKenzie scoffed.

“Why are we here, Wednesday?” Leni asked.

“So we can get to see the Obelisk, duh,” McKenzie replied. “It’s the most important thing. I wonder if they’ll let me touch it? I really want to touch it and-”

Leni slapped him in a perfunctory sort of way.

“Okay,” McKenzie said, after wincing. “New plan – we go and start punching drows. Once we’re done with that we tie ‘em all up, dump them on the doorstep etc etc what I said before, bish bash bosh, job done.”

“Even if that worked,” Leni said, “then I think it’s pretty obvious that we’re going to have a serious problem when we arrive at Trollheim and there are no drow aboard. They clearly have an arrangement with the trolls – they deliver a ship full of elves, probably in return for gold – a lot of it. When there’s nobody there to take payment, they’re going to be suspicious.”

McKenzie frowned and sniffed, then walked back across to the bed and yanked the curtains aside.

“Okay, Frowny-face,” McKenzie said, yanking her gag off. “Deal for you. This is an Assassin’s Guild Arrangement. We’re on our way to Trollheim to take out a target.”

Awks gasped from where she was sat surrounded by her open books, examining the bracelet on her wrist.

“You swear to help us with that by being 100% honest and not fucking us over, you can walk away from all this with a thousand gold imperials and total anonymity – and I know someone who can alter your appearance for good, rather than having to rely on some dumbass fucking brooch. You wanna be a light elf, be a light elf. Human? Easy – you can look like whatever you want, you can disappear and live the good life for however many centuries you lot live for and nobody will ever be able to find you. On top of that, the Assassin’s Guild will owe you a big favour. If you get into any shit, I will have your back. I will do the unbreakable magic handshake thing with you right now on this.”

McKenzie held out his hand. Frowny-face regarded it as if it was a dead fish.

“It will be a warm night in the darkest places of the furthest reaches of the lowest hell before I help you in the slightest way,” she told him, with a cold and hateful expression that she’d probably just gone and mentally retrieved from the very same place.

Interesting, McKenzie’s internal Danandra simulator told him.

“Then what would it take?” McKenzie asked her. “If you could just snap your fingers and you got it, whatever it was, what would it be?”

Frowny-face said nothing, and if she was thinking about the answer, her features didn’t betray it.

“Fine. Have a fucking ponder. Since this whole room is shielded so well you could throw a dance party for a herd of elephants and no fucker else would notice, I’ll leave that off,” McKenzie said, indicating the gag. “But if you start mouthing off at us, it goes back on.”

With that, he closed the curtains.

“What was all that in aid of?” Leni asked him quietly.

McKenzie shrugged. “Hunch, didn’t play out,” he said. “Right then – drow punching time. Maybe one of the other ones will be a bit more fucking helpful!” He directed this last towards the bed at a slightly higher volume.

“Wednesday, I’m not sure that-” Leni started.

“Well maybe you’re not but I’ve hit fuck it: violence time,” he said. “Reset me,” he pointed at his cheek.

Leni sighed, then obliged with a slap. “Mission?”

“Obelisk go splat,” McKenzie replied.

“Okay then,” Leni nodded, then paused. “Are you sure you don’t want to try a different, less confrontational approach?”

“How?” McKenzie said. “Whatever we do it’s gonna come back to ‘get the drows out of the way’, so let’s just go and get the fucking drows out of the way.”

“Very well, then,” Leni sighed. “Wait a sec, I’ll grab a sword. You want one?”

McKenzie shook his head.

Leni went to one of her travelling chests, which were large, heavy things bound with thick strips of iron. Kneeling down, she flipped one over without any apparent effort and tapped a few times on two of the metal strips. The ends of them sprang free with a faint snick, and Leni withdrew a pair of two-foot long swords. They were odd things – sharp, but flat – they looked two-dimensional. Their hilts were just rectangles of metal, the pommel just a slight widening at the end, and they had no cross-guards.

With a pained expression, and a muttered ‘such a lovely design, too’, she ripped two strips of expensive flower-printed silk from the bottom of her floaty dress and wrapped them around the flattened hilts.

None of this had escaped Awks’ notice. “Ingenious!”

“Cost enough to get ‘em made,” McKenzie said. “They have to fit precisely inside the bands, otherwise magic types can see there’s something hidden.”

“Lady Elleniralla, what is really going on here? Are you really a Guild assassin?” Awks asked.

“Me? No – but he is,” Leni indicated McKenzie. “Listen, Saliseralla. You’re wearing that bracelet now, so when I tell you that we’re on our way to Trollheim to deal with the troll problem once and for all, you know that there is a troll problem.”

Awks swallowed and nodded. “It became clear as soon as you put it on my wrist. How could I have not seen all these years?”

“We’re all dealing with something we should have seen years ago, me in particular. I have to do this – and I’m sorry, but I need your help to do it. You shouldn’t have to deal with this, it’s not fair, you’re just a girl – but it needs dealing with, and trust me when I say that we have the opportunity to put an end to their evil once and for all. Will you help us?”

Awks nodded decisively. “What do I do, Lady Elleniralla?”

“Loving the can-do attitude, Salis-, Sarial-, look, will Sally do?” McKenzie asked.

“I suppose it will have to suffice, Weds,” Awks – Sally – replied with a flash of asperity.

McKenzie shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“Lock the door behind us and don’t let anyone in, and don’t let the prisoner escape,” Leni said.

Awks nodded.

“Here, take this,” Leni offered her one of the swords.

“You keep that, Lady Elleniralla,” Awks replied, with a very slight smile. She crossed her arms over her chest with her fists closed, then uncrossed them, opening her hands as she did so. Blue, crackling power sparked into life, arcing between her palms. Her smile turned from slight to almost wicked. “I’ve got a few surprises in store for any cursed drow who tries to get in – or out,” she said, loud enough for Frowny-face to hear.

McKenzie felt the flash of power – it was still lost in the welter of magical signals from Awks’ varied collection of magical wearables, but it certainly wasn’t minor.

“Check out Sal with the badass hoodoo,” he said. “It’s a good look for you.”

Awks inclined her head in his direction.

“Right, let’s go storm the fucking bridge,” McKenzie said.

“Do you seriously expect to succeed?” Frowny-face asked from behind the curtains. “You’ll be cut to ribbons – you’re outnumbered, and outclassed.”

“Wanna bet? I’m always outclassed, but never outnumbered,” McKenzie snapped back.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Leni said, and sighed. Frowny-face gave vent to a delighted – and derisory – laugh.

McKenzie thought and frowned. “Fuck. You know what I meant, and remind me who’s tied up and helpless again? Not me. Also which part of ‘no mouthing off’ is hard to understand, you snippy resting-bitch-face cow?”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I was merely offering a tactical assessment of your chances. Which are zero, by the way, both for storming the bridge and dealing with ‘the troll problem’, however you expect to manage that,” Frowny-face replied.

“Magnificently and with style, that’s how,” McKenzie replied, approaching the bed again. He fixed Frowny-face with a glare. “Explosions, streets running with troll blood, screams and lamentations of my enemies and all that – use your imagination. I’m in two minds about whether to just raze the city to the ground or leave a huge smoking hole of magical radioactivity where it used to be, but I’ll work out the details on the fly. I will eliminate their whole fucking town. A thousand years from now archeologists will be thinking ‘holy fucking shit, what happened to these poor bastards?’ while they puzzle over the remains – and that’s assuming I fucking leave any.”

Frowny-face looked, for the first time, something other than merely pissed off. You might not necessarily call it scared, but she was definitely in the same neighbourhood.

“Can we just go and get started?” Leni asked, in a slightly martyred tone. “Please?”

“Yep – time to drow a line under this,” McKenzie agreed with a grin, turning away from the bed and instantly going from threatening to flippant.

“I hate you so much right now,” Leni told him seriously.

“Sue me,” McKenzie shrugged, and opened the door.

- o O o -

Pleasingly, the first drow they came across on their way to the bridge was the purser.

They passed some passengers first, who looked at them with open-mouthed surprise or made surprised comments to each other, but none of whom said anything to them about why Lady Elleniralla was stalking towards the bow holding a pair of swords, flanked by her bleak-faced bodyguard.

The route towards the bridge took them past the purser’s station. With an outraged expression, he stepped out to block their path.

“Lady Elleniralla! Weapons are forbidden, and may I remind you that even registered servants are not permitted in the areas reserved for paying passengers!” His voice got on McKenzie’s nerves even more than it had on day one.

“Huh,” McKenzie said. “Suppose I better take this off then.”

He removed the ‘registered servant’ chain from around his neck, wound it around his fist, then lamped the purser in the face. McKenzie felt a satisfying crunch of bone as the drow flew backwards and deckwards, blood spraying from his nose.

The passengers nearby all gasped in shock. McKenzie grinned. “You were saying?” he asked the drow’s prone form.

“Lady Elleniralla!” One of the elf passengers demanded. “What is the meaning of this!”

“This?” McKenzie asked the man, pointing to the unconscious purser. “Oh you’re gonna just fucking love this.”

“Shall I fetch the Captain, father?” A younger elf asked the first passenger.

“Nobody likes a fucking grass, junior,” McKenzie growled in response.

“This cannot go unreported!” Junior snipped back.

“I wouldn’t worry, I’ll fetch the Captain,” McKenzie said. “First, though.” He reached down toward’s the purser’s insignia.

“Wait!” Leni stopped him. “I’ll do it – you know what’ll happen if you touch it, and we might need it.”

“Oh yeah, good point,” McKenzie allowed.

Leni knelt down and removed the purser’s insignia. Two things happened as she did so – the purser was revealed as a black-clad drow, and Leni’s dress transformed into a bright, shiny uniform, although her face and hair remained the same.

Cue more gasps from the passengers.

“Welcome aboard Drow Cruise Lines Incorporated,” McKenzie said.

“I want an explanation!” The snooty elf passenger said indignantly.

“Yeah, don’t we all mate,” McKenzie shrugged, and turned to carry on his journey forward.

“You will tell me what is going on. Now!” Snooty snapped at McKenzie, stepping forward and putting a hand on his shoulder to turn him around.

McKenzie looked at Snooty, then looked at his hand, then back to Snooty.

“Five,” he said.

“What? Five what? What are you talking about?”

“Four,” McKenzie said.

“For what? You’re not making sense!”

“Three,” McKenzie growled.

Leni reached over and removed the elf’s hand from McKenzie’s shoulder, before anyone could find out what happened at the end of the countdown. “We’ll explain fully later, Lord Cassiranara,” she said. “Suffice it to say for now that the officers of this ship are all drow, and you are in danger. You should all return to your quarters immediately – we’ll let you know once it is safe.”

“What do you mean you’ll let us know when it is safe! You are not going anywhere until-” Snooty continued.

“Two one zero,” McKenzie said, and punched him in the face. He didn’t hit him as hard as he’d hit the purser, but he still dropped like a sack of spuds. His son gasped, as did everyone else except Leni.

“You guys gasp, like, a lot. Is it an elf thing or just a posh thing? You should probably work on that,” McKenzie pointed out. “I don’t suppose that was the same guy who made the ‘sharing your personal possessions with the help’ comment to you, was it Leni?”

“As a matter of fact, it was,” Leni smirked.

“Do you want to put the boot in while he’s down there?” McKenzie asked.

“It’d ruin my sandals,” Leni said, with a disappointed pout. “Which have become boots.”

She reached down and ripped another piece of fabric from her skirt, wrapped it around the drow inisgnia, and put it into her pocket: Leni was very particular about pockets on her dresses – in her opinion pretty and practical were not mutually exclusive. Immediately her appearance transformed back to normal.

“Looks like they don’t deal well with layers,” McKenzie nodded. “You lot – quarters, now, and someone tie up Mr. Arsypants. He’s probably going to be out for a while but we don’t want him loose.”

“I am not tying up my father!” Snooty junior protested.

“Fuck’s actual sake,” McKenzie shook his head. “Tie up the drow, you overbred pointy-eared fucking moron.”

With that, they continued, leaving a group of shocked passengers behind them.

“You do realise there’s going to be a panic, now?” Leni asked. “There are drow in other parts of the ship – tending to the core, possibly looking for our captive. If they realise the secret is out, they could cause trouble.”

“Probably will, don’t care,” McKenzie replied in a bored tone. “We’ll neutralise the bridge, stop the ship, then work our way aft deck by deck to mop up any stragglers.”

“And if they retake the bridge while we’re doing that?” Leni asked.

“Why is it always ‘what if this’ and ‘what if that’ with you, Leni?” McKenzie asked her snappishly, as they approached a door marked ‘Crew Only’ – there was a small slit through which someone could look, but it was as shut as the door itself. “Then I’ll retake it again, and again after that until I’ve run out of drows to hit, seriously this isn’t complicated.”

“Look, perhaps we should split up and-” Leni began. McKenzie just kicked the door.

It was a very strong door – made of thick wood, and iron-bound – but the designers of the Posh Elf Titanic had made the same mistake that was regularly perpetrated by those tasked with creating strong doors: they didn’t think about the hinges and the frames they’d be set in. The door flew spinning into the chamber beyond, surrounded by a debris cloud of what had, until a moment ago, been the wall. It destroyed a table and chairs, and then for an encore smashed through the slightly less solid door directly across from it.

“Hmm. Good door,” McKenzie allowed, hearing surprised swearing from beyond the newly opened doorway.

“Remember, Wednesday: minimal fatalities,” Leni reminded him. “These people aren’t our target.”

“Oi, I wrote those rules, Leni! Of course minimal fatalities – as long as they’re not dicks about it,” McKenzie protested.

“’As long as they’re not dicks about it’ isn’t the official Ethics Committee wording, if I remember rightly: which Nightwing wrote, not you,” Leni responded.

“Leni, you’re a guest, not an assassin, what are you doing even reading that?”

“I was having trouble sleeping, and that is not an interesting document,” Leni admitted.

“Charming. Also you’re the one carrying not one but two pointy slashy things. I’m just here to hit people,” McKenzie replied, advancing across the remains of the table, “could I do that without the helpful commentary?”

The plush and polish of the rest of the ship was not in evidence here, just plain wood, worn by years of use. Beyond the newly-created doorway was a long and narrow gangway lined with doors, some of which opened to allow surprised drow to swarm out: both disguised and undisguised.

“Hey drows,” McKenzie said, with a wave. “I’m here on official Assassin’s Guild business, but good news! You’re not Appointees, you’re just in the way – that means you get a chance to live. I’m currently accepting applications for surrender. There’s no pay and the conditions are probably really shit, but on the plus side you get to keep all your teeth. Any takers?”

There were not – just a lot of surprised faces.

“Get them!” Someone hissed from the rear, and the first drow pulled a pair of daggers from his belt and launched himself at McKenzie.

During his (so far admittedly brief) tenure as Chief Scary Assassin Bloke, Jadhara had tried to re-educate him and restore a bit of the hand-to-hand fighting skills she insisted he had once possessed, way back in the mists of time when he’d been a completely different person that the McKenzie of today had utterly forgotten. She’d started with guidance and demonstrations, but had fairly quickly resorted to literally beating his lessons into him. Not much of it had actually stuck, apart from the trick you did swinging your legs around to flip yourself upright. McKenzie was enough of a realist to admit that being dumped onto the ground wasn’t exactly an infrequent occurrence for him: he didn’t weigh any more than a normal guy, so if something big (no shortage of those) hit him with something heavy (no shortage of those either) then he didn’t have any choice about going flying. A quick way to get up was therefore a good thing to know, plus he thought it looked really cool and had therefore actually practiced a little on his own.

‘Not much’ wasn’t ‘nothing’, though, so McKenzie was able to knock a dagger aside with each forearm. Jadhara’s drills had sunk in enough that he automatically followed that up with a jab through the opening thus created, and that was the first drow out for the count. The next one came with a sword, shouldering his newly-unconscious companion out of the way to jab the thing two-handed into McKenzie’s stomach. McKenzie let him, grunting at the sharp pain, then grabbed his shoulders and headbutted him. Drow three demonstrated that he hadn’t been paying attention by trying exactly the same thing with exactly the same result.

That left another four in the corridor that McKenzie could see. He lunged forward, grabbed a doorframe in each hand, and used that leverage to throw himself forward, leading with his right foot.

With something solid to push against, McKenzie was unstoppable. All four drow were shoved roughly backwards and fell over each other. McKenzie despatched the appropriate number of kicks to the head to make sure they stayed fallen over, and then received a pair of arrows to the chest as a thank you. They had presumably been fired by the two drow standing in a brightly lit space at the end of the gangway holding discharged bows – bit of a coincidence if not.

“Go on, say it,” McKenzie told them.

“Aim for his head!” One told the other, as they reached for more arrows.

“Does that happen every time?” Leni asked, from where she was sheltering behind his back.

“Like fucking clock-fuck! Ow! Clockwork,” McKenzie replied, interrupted by two arrows hitting him in the forehead and cheek.

He ran forward as the drow tried to reload, but they didn’t manage it in time: McKenzie smacked their heads together and down they went.

The bright space was the bridge – a wide, spacious one with a map table, a chair for the captain and eight more drow, six of whom were still conscious, two of whom were wearing black robes.

They each unleashed a swarm of glowing red darts from their outspread fingers towards McKenzie. The darts, seemingly possessed of a life of their own, dodged and twisted as they came hissing towards him from a multitude of angles, making it impossible to block all of them.

McKenzie didn’t even try to block one. They slammed into him all at once, and McKenzie sparkled briefly and giggled involuntarily. “Hey, that tickles!”

Three drow rushed at him – everyone except the Captain, who was out of her chair but staying by it. Leni had entered the bridge behind McKenzie and took up position next to him.

McKenzie just snarled at them and barged headlong into the group, knocking one clear across the bridge to fetch up motionless against the window, and another into the Captain’s chair with similar results vis-a-vis consciousness.

The third one swept a sword in towards Leni’s neck. Leni neatly parried it, twisted her body in a graceful spin and delivered the drow a kick across the face. He went down too, his sword clattering to the deck next to him.

There was one drow mage to McKenzie’s right and one to his left – to give them credit they were quicker thinkers than Gangway Sword Guy Number 2 and each tried something different: the right-hand mage summoned a glowing rope which wrapped around McKenzie’s legs but instantly fizzled out, and the left-hand mage simply said ‘fuck this!’ and disappeared with an orange flash. Leni flicked up the fallen sword with one sandalled foot at the same time as tossing one of her own blades lightly into the air. She caught the drow blade, flung it end over end towards the remaining drow mage, and held her hand up for her other blade.

The pommel of the thrown sword smacked into the mage’s forehead and he hit the deck – Leni’s other sword did not: she caught it easily, and then performed a graceful bow, just, it seemed, for the hell of it.

McKenzie looked at her quizzically. Leni gave an adorable, perfectly executed shrug: “You’re not the only one who’s been taking lessons from Nightwing,” she explained with a winsome smile.

The Captain fixed McKenzie with an outraged expression. “How dare you force your way in here! Get out immediately!”

McKenzie looked around at the plethora of unconscious drow, and then back to the Captain with a puzzled expression. “That’s what you’re going with?” He asked her.

“Get off my bridge!” She insisted.

McKenzie smirked. “I’ve got a reply for that what’s worked pretty well in the past, but fuck it, there’s nobody here but us three so I’m not wasting it now. Get on the intercom and tell all your people to surrender – you are not stopping this ship from getting to Trollheim.”

Leni whacked him on the leg with the flat of one of her blades.

“You are stopping this ship from getting to Trollheim,” he corrected himself. “Probably, anyway, I’m a bit hazy on the details at this point. I just want to touch the big pointy thing, it’s so beautiful!”

Leni whacked him again, twice.

“Um...my assistant will now tell you what to do,” McKenzie said, as forcefully as he could manage.

The Captain laughed derisively. She was out of ‘uniform’ – or at least her true uniform was showing, black leather like the rest of the drow. Where Frowny-face had been, well, frowny, the Captain seemed to have a permanent derisory sneer plastered across her features.

“What even is an ‘intercom’?” Leni asked.

“Loudspeaker thingy,” McKenzie shrugged.

“You...want her to shout at people?” Leni asked, confused.

“No, I can do that myself,” McKenzie furrowed his brows. “Just tell her to do whatever it is we need her to do, Leni.”

“Reverse course,” Leni told the Captain. “This ship is going back to Vyrinios.”

“If you want this ship to change course, the wheel is right there, elf,” the Captain said, imbuing ‘elf’ with more venom that it should really be possible to fit into three letters. She stepped aside and indicated the wheel with a sarcastic bow.

Leni snorted, stepped over to the wheel and turned it. She wasn’t stupid, though: she stood to one side and used the tip of a sword to spin the wheel around.

There was no booby trap – but the ship’s course didn’t alter one iota, either.

The Captain made a dash for the door – McKenzie grabbed her by the upper arm on the way past. “The fuck’s that mean?” He demanded.

“You’re a fool,” she shot back with a smug look. “Did you really think we didn’t plan for such a possibility as this?”

“Airships can also be controlled direct from the core,” Leni said, getting it. “That mage probably teleported there. They have a backup plan.”

McKenzie sighed. “Fine. Leni – deal with Captain Smarmy here, would you? I’m off to repeat this performance in engineering, or magicneering, or whatever it’s called.” He squinted as he tried to remember the plans of the ship. “That’s aft and bottom deck, right?”

Leni took hold of the Captain, who immediately tried to stab her – but she hadn’t reckoned on Leni’s strength, which was still that of a ten foot troll, just packed into a five foot body. Leni twisted her to the deck with ease – the Captain gave vent to a cry of agony and called her a bitch.

“Aft and upper deck,” Leni corrected him. “But you shouldn’t go alo-”

“See you in a bit!” McKenzie said, and left at close to a run.

“McKenzie wait!” Leni shouted after him, but he had gone.

The Captain made a bid for freedom. Leni put a knee in her back and shoved her back down. The drow swore again in pain, then laughed. “A formidable warrior, that one. How long will he remember his allegiances, though, do you think? We know well how to manipulate the weak of mind, cousin. He will be back here in minutes, doing my bidding. Surrender now, and we may be merciful.”

“Fuck,” Leni said, and smacked the Captain’s head into the deck.