These short stories introduce the world of Project Arroa.
The Swoop and her crew fled Kish’Ra at midnight with the good fortune of a strong wind in her sails. By dawn, tall sails on the horizon spoke of a hunter’s ship in pursuit.
“You assured me we’d have a day’s lead, maybe two,” I said.
The woman we had smuggled aboard the previous evening gripped the taffrail to steady herself as The Swoop cut through open water. Her gaze was intent on the distant sails.
“We’ve been unfortunate,” she replied.
I laughed hoarsely at the absurdity of it. “Unfortunate! Yes, I suppose that’s as good a summation as any”.
“Captain,” she said, turning to face me. “Do you recognise the heraldry that ship flies? A blue dragon in flight over a red sun?”
Her eyes must be like those of a hawk, I could make out no such detail at this range without a spyglass.
“I will confess ignorance of the many houses of Kish, my lady. Perhaps you will illuminate a poor smugger so he might die informed.”
“The vessel which chases us belongs to the emperor’s pet hunter, Gehennal of House Orizzt,” she said plainly.
“Ah,” I exhaled, followed by a long moment of silence. “You’re right, we have been rather unfortunate.”
She drummed her fingers against the leather satchel hanging by her waist. It was the only luggage she brought on board, which met my approval at first but now made me feel uneasy. I knew her craft and the punishment for exercising it unsanctioned.
“I need your strongest fighter. Come, we have no time to waste,” she said, heading for below deck.
I grabbed her arm as she passed “You intend to stain one of us?” I asked, incredulous. To be stained is what the Kish named illegal runecutting work. “You would mark us for death.”
“Captain,” she said, as if speaking to a simpleton, “a hunter is already at our heels. The man on that ship is runed to the point of godhood. I know this, because I cut most of those runes myself. When he catches up to us, and he will catch us, he will deconstruct your little ship and everyone on board until naught but splinters and blood remain floating in the water. You and your crew are already dead men.”
“We might buy ourselves an escape, with my help,” she continued. “It will be rough work, yet I can harden skin to be stronger than steel, and more, with the tools I possess.”
“I’m the strongest fighter,” I said. This was no lie. My lads were good brave sailors, but I’m the one who survived pirating only to retire into a smuggler’s life. I’ve been in more deadly scraps than the lot of them. “I won’t let you stain one of my crew, regardless. If we survive, they should not carry that burden.”
She looked me up and down, no doubt assessing my potential as a canvas. “Very well. If you value your hide, then you will allow me to stain it. Are we in agreement?”
“Yes,” I replied. I could feel her distaste for the derogatory ‘stain’ as it left her mouth.
She gave a curt nod and left me at the stern.
I started to follow, then turned for a trailing glance at the hunter’s sails. They seemed closer, though I could not yet make out the heraldry of Orizzt. For the first time since leaving the pirating life, I felt true fear. This was no hangman’s noose on the failure side of moving illegal cargo. Gehennal was a devil, a name used to frighten misbehaving children. After a lifetime of gambles, I knew when the dice were loaded against me.
I also could not shake the feeling this slight Kishari woman, ostensibly our cargo, had somehow taken command of my ship.