Serial Saturday: "Clan of Outcasts" Season 3, Part 14 "All Hands On Deck"

Part 14 

"All Hands On Deck"

"All right!" Markus shouted, jumping out into the open. "Reinforcements!"

Beren Seramis began directing a jet of water at the flames he saw, while King Jaran himself zapped every metal weapon with a jolt of electricity, causing the rough and hardened criminals wielding them to drop them with a cry of surprise and sometimes agony, when a man couldn't let go fast enough.
Denahlia and Markus had to dodge out of the way as a redheaded woman appeared with her hands raised, and the ground shifted and crumbled to allow hard, twisting roots to burst free and wrap themselves around the crumbling buildings, reinforcing the walls and pushing the ruffians back toward the docks, where they couldn't do as much harm.

Those who escaped the physical retribution found themselves lost and disoriented in what appeared to be a maze of dark and hazy corridors, each looking exactly alike, and the ghosts of past victims lurking behind every corner. Meanwhile the people they chased found a brightly-lit trail of arrows leading them through the winding streets until a white-haired woman and a bearded man with curly red hair welcomed them with open arms and told them they were safe.

Denahlia dodged the sprays of water and the lightning strikes to come up beside the Prince.
"My liege," she said respectfully. "What are you doing here?"
Beren swept aside a charging thug with a wave, which he then froze into a wall of ice to block an angry mob of pirates charging down a side street. "Azelie noticed you'd gone dark, and, with the way you left all angry, we assumed something was up."

"Beren," Denahlia dispensed with titles as she struggled to call his attention away from fighting. "I appreciate the sentiment, but you really shouldn't be here--"
"And leave you to fend for yourself?" Beren chuckled. "Not a chance--you and your cousin there aren't even Gifted, right?"

Markus chose that moment to spring up with his hydraulic powered leg, flexing his prosthetic arm so that his arsenal clicked into place. By pointing his finger and flicking his thumb, he discharged small pulses of ultrasonic energy that caused the pirates and renegades to cringe and recoil, holding their heads in their hands. He paused to gloat over the stunned expressions on the faces of the two brothers. "Which one of you Gifted can do that?" he teased.

Denahlia gritted her teeth and studied the map on the display screen between her hands. If they didn't corral the ruffians currently looting the higher-end apartments on the other side of the Harbor, the melee could risk spreading up toward the City surrounding the White Castle--and with Edri's action-hungry soldiers on guard, the situation could turn from chaotic to bloodthirsty in a moment's notice.
"Markus!" She barked, "get over to the eastern end and bolster their defenses!"

The pirates were converging now. Denahlia could see them inching closer, taking hit after hit of water--and yet, somehow recognizing the bearded man who dealt it. The hulking, dark-skinned man registered as Goddry--Haggard's quartermaster--signaled to a couple thugs and pointed to Beren.

"Harlock," a voice beside her said. Kaidan appeared a moment later, his face flushed from exertion, as he struggled to get his second glove back on his hand. He nodded to her. "The pirates have given them a description of Harlock, and they know he's around here somewhere." He wagged his head. "Everyone Aurelle and I found were either hiding from the pirates or looking for the man they wanted."

Denahlia shuddered. She could never quite forget her first audience with Kaidan Clissander, the newly-appointed Regent. He had been so young and yet so cunning back then. The beard didn't do much to hide the keen glint in his eye... The casual cadence in his voice as he commissioned her to hunt down Javira's missing armor, by any means necessary... Not even bothering to wipe the blood of the bounty-hunter he'd just murdered off his gloves...
Denahlia hissed through her teeth and shook away the memory. "These people would hand over their own Prince?" she asked in disgust.
"Not if they don't recognize him," Kaidan said. "As far as I can tell, the description the pirates have given is of what he looked like six years ago, starved and beaten after being captured off the pleasure cruise boat they raided."

Denahlia leaped forward to stop a ruffian charging at them with a club whirling over his head. She activated the built-in armor in her sleeve, and a gleaming, holographic shield of light unfolded between them and the attacker, sending him flying back with the force of his own blow. She eyed Kaidan carefully. "Your Gift has to do with memories, right?"
Kaidan shrugged. "I can read them, sure--"

"Can you hide them?" Denahlia well recalled the way the twins had both worked together to warp the minds of the people they came into contact with--somewhere along the line, they'd lost their matching ability, but surely some of the habits remained, even though the Gift wasn't quite the same.

Kaidan shrugged, staring at her as if trying to see inside her own head. Denahlia knew she had enough implants to detect if he was reading her thoughts or not, but it was hard to maintain eye contact when he had that expression. "I might be able to cover certain thoughts with other thoughts," he suggested.
"Good enough," Denahlia replied. "Do that, and stick close to Beren. Anybody who gets within arm's length of him, I want you to scramble their mind so they forget to focus on him."
Kaidan frowned, a weariness creasing his brow. "That's going to take a lot of hand contact--"

Denahlia was not in the mood for weighing options. "It's the only way we can guarantee his safety! Everybody else is trying to defend the Harbor--but who's defending the defenders?"
Kaidan raised his eyebrows dubiously, but after a moment's consideration, he nodded. "I'll do my best, for the sake of The Realm."

Denahlia watched him make his way toward Beren's position, muttering at his back, "Whatever it takes to motivate you." She caught sight of the small redheaded pirate slinking around a corner, and she moved off in pursuit, activating any nearby cameras to track the swashbuckler as she did.

Nearer to the docks, Jaran did his best to blast away the rioters with targeted bursts of lightning. He wielded the white-hot bolts like bull-whips, sending them cracking over heads and under feet. Only a couple times, he'd accidentally caught an innocent bystander with an errant branch splitting off from the main bolt, but he'd worked out a hand technique to keep that from happening as often.
A screech split the air, and Jaran looked up to see a long red dragon streaming through the air, headed for the eastern coastline of the Harbor. Seeing the dragon reminded Jaran of the report he'd gotten, of a dragon sighting in the Harbor not too long ago. Was this the same dragon, or were there more of them? Where did these dragons come from, anyway?

An icy wind cut into the back of his knees, prompting Jaran to turn. Immediately after, the clouds overhead began to twist and whorl, coming together in a large funnel that threatened to touch down right over their heads. Jaran could feel it tugging the very breath from his lungs, pulling him into its spinning grasp. Jaran sent a bolt of lightning up toward the cloud, and a pair of hands caught the end of it, splintering the light into several smaller bolts and scattering it through several more tornado funnels scattering the debris and the skirmishers every which way. The bolt from Jaran's hand illuminated the figure overhead, and Ranger Tristan--his auburn hair swaying gently in spite of the full gales twisting around him--saluted his king.

As the noise of the winds died down, now that Tristan had caught the attention of nearly the entire Harbor, a wolf-howl rang out from the western side, answered by several more howls surrounding the area.

"WOLF!" somebody shouted, and the running and screaming renewed--but this time, the only ones running were those with ships in the harbor, each man to his own vessel. Those who had homes could run inside and bar the door, and the wolves left them alone. Every merchant and pirate and sailor, on the other hand, found snapping jaws and ominous snarls at every turn, save that which took them up their own gangplanks and safe on their own decks.
Velora entered the main square, howling orders to her pack, and when every wolf sat at the head of the docks, guarding the ones they had driven out from among the Realmish citizens, she threw back her head and howled again, signaling an end to the conflict.

Jaran came out of his secure position, extending his hand with a huge smile on his face. "Velora! It's good to see you!"
She shook his hand and nodded. "And not a moment too soon, by the look of things," she replied.
The door to Hayden's office cracked open, and he peeked out. "Is it safe to come out now?" he asked.
Velora nodded. "The Harbor is secure, sir."
Jaran's eyes scanned from one side to the other. "Where's Beren?" he asked.
Velora shrugged, as their friends were still coming into view.

Javira came up, with Aurelle leaning heavily on her shoulder. "She needs help!" cried the gardener. "A couple Gifted thugs saw through her illusions and started messing with her mind. Has anyone seen Kaidan yet?"

Velora shook her head, while Jaran wandered through the shadowy places, listening for a trickle of water or any other sign that his brother might be just out of sight. "Beren? Where are you? Can you hear me?"

The group briefly scattered as a man and a dragon landed in the middle of the space, kicking up a large cloud of dust as they did. Hadrian curled protectively around Markus, his face creased with worry. "Guys, we have a problem... I can't find Denahlia."

Velora snorted. "You're kidding," she scoffed, "all that specialized tech, and you can't find the only other person in the Realm with the same kind of tech?"
Markus glared at her, and even Hadrian let out a little growl in her direction. "I don't mean I am not capable of finding her... I mean the radar I use to pick up her signal is saying she is offline!"

"Off of line?" Jaran's worry only compounded, and he began pacing, wishing that Azelie was here to find their missing friends and his brother. If anyone knew where they could be, she would! "You mean, the connection you have between you is broken?"
"Is she dead?" Hayden wanted to know.

Markus shook his head. "If she was dead, I would know that. She's just... disconnected..." His eyes wandered to a spot on the docks, where there was a gap in the line of wolves. He glared. "And I know exactly who took her!"
"Who?" Javira asked, yielding support of Aurelle to Tristan and Velora.
Markus stood at the top of the dock and pointed. "The man who started it all by asking for Harlock."
"Harlock?" Jaran exploded. His face paled several shades, and a bolt of lightning hammered down at the dock where the Brigadier's Ransom once moored.

Markus stumbled back a few paces to be out of the line of fire, and in that moment, he felt the click of a secondary connection falling into place. The alert message scrolled across his line of vision: "Admin not found. Connecting to secondary Admin. Connected."

So, Denahlia hadn't entirely revoked his privileges. Markus smiled as his implanted comm reconnected with the intercom system at the White Castle. Whatever had triggered the "communications lockdown" was no longer a threat--which still begged the question, what had triggered it in the first place?
He gestured up toward the North. "Why don't you all head up to the Castle and see if you can't find answers from your prisoner up there?"

Aurelle blinked and raised her head groggily. "We tried," she sighed. "He gave us no answers... He had a device--"
"The tracker!" Jaran cried. "Lizeth has been working on it this whole time, I bet she's figured something out by now."

The Peacekeeper Captain came over to Markus to deliver his report. In his hand was a scrap of wood with that strange black bird silhouette printed on it. "Only the buildings with this mark were ransacked," he said. "We are still assessing the extent of the damage, and monitoring the process of repairs."
Aurelle saw the bird shape and her eyes widened. She opened her hand and a small flock of birds flew out. "Crows!" she cried. "Kaidan has been doing research... Something about a Crow Queen from a neighboring kingdom, back when Balwyn Seramis first ascended the throne."

"Crow Queen?" Jaran echoed. "I've never heard of any such thing. You think she might be behind all this?"
"Perhaps that's why the pirates grabbed my brother?" Javira inquired.

"I don't know what he found," Aurelle admitted. "But I think we could find more answers down there than we could by just waiting here and making assumptions."
Jaran glanced to Markus. "You have things handled here?"

Markus waved his hand. "I've got this; now that the place is not in crisis mode, I think we can recover." He glanced around and noticed that the wolves had disappeared, along with Velora and Tristan. "Perhaps Hayden can help me smooth things over with the merchants we displaced. Go ahead, and you can reach me on the intercom if you find anything. I'll do likewise if anything happens down here, your Majesty."

Jaran nodded. "Thank you for your assistance."
The King and his companions trudged up the road to the castle as the afternoon sun ducked behind a stray cloud.
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Everything was black, tilting, and smelly. He couldn't see, couldn't keep his balance, couldn't pull his arms out from behind his back. A thick band of canvas held the corners of his mouth apart, preventing him from closing his mouth all the way, or speaking. All he could do was lay there like a pile of useless cargo. Why? Did they want to carry him away for ransom? Did the others know that the attack on the Harbor was a ruse? Didn't Risyn warn him about just this situation?

"Bring 'im up!" Growled a voice, and he immediately pictured a short, muscular man with a heavy brow and a bald head--but where would he encounter such a man?

Hands grabbed him by the arm, in no way treating him with the respect due a Prince. The ones dragging him didn't much care if he was standing or not, so Beren left his legs slack and let them haul his full body weight, only picking his feet up when they ascended a short flight of stairs, up to a higher deck. He heard someone knock on a thick door, and the bald-man voice declare, "We've brought the prisoner for ya, Cap'n!"

Captain... The memories flooded thickly into his mind, from the long-buried past... The memory of beatings, of the blistering sun, of rotting fish guts and rough ropes cutting his hands...
Someone yanked the blindfold off, nearly pulling his head off with it.

A portly man with a big, bushy beard leaned over to stare at him with clear, twinkling eyes. The thick hand clapped him on the shoulder, bringing with it a host of memories: whipping, shouting, and cruelty.

"Harlock!" Captain Haggard gushed, as if greeting an old friend, and not a prisoner he'd just forcefully abducted. "Ye've come back to me at last!"

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