Young Writers Society

A Voyage to Power
A Short Story
By: Soul of the Phantom

NOTE:
It’s been awhile since I have last written; I personally do not like this story, but decided that since I have nothing else to date, I would put this up anyway.

I apologize in advance for my imperfect grammar, and spelling.

Please read disclaimer in advance.

Thank you for your time.


Storms in the Quatra Sector were a very common occurrence; it didn't take the Emperor to figure something like that out.

But Super Storms were a different subject altogether.

The Krafer Sector just so happened to be in the driest part of the climate on Gaia, so sudden storms, and flash floods were almost a daily factor. But of course Super Storms were the Holy Grail for any Maelstrom. All of the raw power stirring in their depths, all of the virgin power elementals were just calling to be captured.

Qati'Elthor'Damon'Maelstrom felt his blood rise just by looking at the Super Storm which was beginning to unleash its fury on the cursed Gaia below. The time had come to act.

"Whip the power elemental dry of energy, boys! There's fish for the catchin'!" Damon's commanding tone easily rose over the awaking titan in front of the Voyage to Power airship.

Damon from his high vantage point from the command throne expected his child, his baby he raised after the death of its last Qati before Damon, Qati'Quilzath'Tarck'Maelstrom. It was a mighty vessel, it looked about like any of the naval ships humanity used before the Cursed Time, shaped like a spear tip which penetrated the air currents that buffeted its sides, made out of good old iron.

But what drove it towards the waiting Super Storm was not wind caught on sails, not anything that primitive. What powered the Voyage to Power was the mighty power elemental, a powerful creature trapped within the lead prison, which the Iron Men who created the prisons called them 'battergi'.

The Voyage to Power itself was a battergi collector ship, a craft which was commissioned by the Iron Men Zathor's themselves to brave the mighty storms that ripped apart Gaia, and to capture the great power elementals within the storms so that the Iron Men could sell them throughout the Air Kingdoms. Damon was proud to work for such a noble cause, but the money also paided extremely well also, which helped support Damon's noble cause.

But the Voyage to Power had not always been in good hands. The Qati before Damon, Tarck, had been selling unregistered battergi to the infamous Air Pirates, and was not sharing his handsome share of his money with the rest of the crew, who were only too happy to help Damon's ambition to rise as the next Qati of the ship.

At first Damon thought the Zathor's would arrest him. But surprising, Damon found out that the Iron Men hardly cared what happened on the ships, or who captained them, as long as the battergi kept flowing, Damon's mysterious masters were content with letting Damon keep command

The men ran across, and under the deck of the mighty airship. Throwing levers, flipping toggles, and tying down equipment and loose luggage in preparation of the coming ride. The power elemental started to emit a low rumble, which gently shaked the ship to-and-fro as it beginned to raise the speed of the air ships propellers.

When everything was ready for the coming confrontation with the Super Storm, the crew stood with mouth agape at the sheer size of the storm in front of them. Many of them had seen such storms before, but even if Damon was a veteran of such an encounter, the storms did not fail to impress.

The storm looked like a mighty ocean, black with hate and angry that anything would try and challenge it and take its kin that hid breath in its depths, which Damon could hear, and see as they take out their anger on Gaia below, pure bolts of energy and light dove out of its abyss colored clouds, striking the earth far below without remorse. Even Damon gaped at such displays of might, how could they, simple mortals take on the very avatar of the Storm Gods themselves!

But Damon reminded himself of everything the air ship had been through before hand. Thousands of storms, hundreds of captains and an revolt even! Such turmoil could not happen on a weak ship, and have it walk mighty out of such events with its head held high. The Voyage to Power and its crew would look upon a challenge, and give up! Damon would not allow such a dishonor to the air ship!

"Stop your mouth' globing lads! There are demons to trap, and gods to trick!" This time Damon had to use the sound horn from the command chair to get his voice over the rising storm. The combined cheer of the up lifted crew could not even be heard thanks to the Super Storm that threatened to throw the moral back down to Gaia. None of that would happen on 'ol Qati Damon's ship!

"No one or no thing has quieted the Voyage to Power, boys! Lets not goin' and start a' breaking of the tradition!" Another silent cheer from the crew, but this time they did not look morbidly into the coming storm, but went back to work.

Waltus walked up the deck to the throne of Damon; he looked like a old Storm Guard Riater. All scars on the face, and his leg replaced by a strange metal one that allowed Waltus the same maneuverability as any man, the leg even had its own battergi, a mighty thing for a object so small to contain a power elemental for itself!

Curvus, the Qatigor to Damon, had told him that Waltus's old leg was blasted off during one such voyage that they now faced. And if the story was correct, Waltus did not cry out once when his leg was blasted off, or afterwards. Iron Men had no soul said the 'ol sky dogs, and seeing Waltus now, without any fear while others trembled, it was easy to see why.

Waltus reached the top of the stairs and said in a claim, monotone voice. "The Voyage to Power's power elemental is almost at full strength, the rest is up to you, Damon. Do not disappoint, we have an appointment."

Waltus did not even have to yell into Damon’s ear, the man had his own built-in sound horn somewhere. But where it was stored, Damon did not know. Damon shivered at the idea of any man that held so much power to carry such an object for himself.

Damon tried to not be offended by the Iron Man's lack of using the proper Maelstrom term of 'Qati' to identify him as captain. He would have given any other man ten lashings just on principle, but Damon held his rage inside. Iron Men were above calling others there proper titles, and no one wanted to upset the might of the Steel Hold itself.

Damon turned down the power of his sound horn so the crew could not hear his reply. "Yes, sir! Your masters will be pleased with tonight’s bounty!"

"Yes. I think they well be very pleased."

Damon caught the glint of something in Waltus normally blank eyes. Was it glee? Damon could not tell, but before he could consider it in more detail, Waltus was already descending down the stairs, and then disappeared among the crew.

Damon shook his head and cracked his knuckles. Time to get on the job, no more of this a' doubting of his bosses subjects aboard his ship!

He sat down on the mighty abyss colored command throne, with its back rise five more feet above Damon’s six foot frame, and let his fingers spread across the long armrests and let his mind go.

Damon had seen the next coming moments by watching the ol', sadly departed Qati, Tarck. As soon as the Qati took control, lines in the throne would light up a eerie dark blue as the chair started to feed off the personal energy of the person in control, and then thousands of lines of steel ropes would extend from secret spots in the throne, and thrust themselves deep into special holes drilled into the Qati's head, which connected the Qati's spirit to become one with the ship, so that the man could control the Voyage to Power like a well fit glove over his hand.

As Damon became one with the airship, he lost all control of his body, but gained a feeling of his body being the airship all the long. He shook his body slowly to get the kinks out, with the ship moving at his will, shifting to and fro with the poor crew trying to find handholds. And then Damon shot forward, head on to face the opposing force ahead of it.

What a feeling! With pure power rushing through his veins, and his sheer size he felt like he could take on the puny Super Storm ahead of him! Nothing could stop him!

As if response to its challenger’s confidence, the storm let loose several of its power elemental children against the side of the ship, but not even a scratch was marred on the mighty vessel! The slightly singed metal stood resolute in defiance to the angry god facing it.

Damon let loose a howl of triumph, and the sound horn blared out, laughing in the face of the storm. And Damon could feel the crews silent cheer vibration through his body. The storm screamed back in rage, and loosed hundreds of more bolts of energy against the side of the vessel.

Damon swayed back and forth, dipped and dived, and did anything possible to avoid the overwhelming number of power elementals. He could feel the crew scream as they dive to his deck, and grab anything they could. Some were hit by the vengeful power elementals and reduced to black ash that was quickly blown away in the mighty winds of the storm. A few were even thrown from Damon's deck, down to Gaia below.

Not even Damon could withstand this much power being thrown against him, including his crew. He had to get the power elementals and bolt out of there as soon as possible, or he would soon be reduced into scrap metal.

He commanded the machines in his sides to retract, the task seemed simple to Damon, but even the screech of metal as the ancient sides of the ship retreated to reveal its insides could be heard by the crew over the evil storm. What lay breathe was one of the greatest wonders of all Maelstrom airships.

Thousands of ancient steel rods extended from within their cases, charmed by the Iron Men themselves so no power elementals could resist the attraction to them. The elementals would travel down the rods, and then they would follow the rods shortly into the airship before finding themselves in a lead container. Then the trap would be sprung.

The ancient spirits put into the battergi by the Iron Men would activate, closing themselves to the rest of the world, trapping the power elementals inside before they could escape their soon-to-be prisons. After that they could safely power the machines of men without killing anyone.

The iron rods finished deploying themselves, and before the unexpecting storm could turn its children away from the rods, its children dived head first at them, attracted without knowledge of their dooms. As the battergi were filled, men below desks would remove them, and put in new ones to replace them. Hundreds would be filled in seconds.

The storm cried in anguish, seeing the true cunning of its foes, it lashed out in pure spite at the airship for the loss of its kin, only helping filling the battergi within the Voyage to Power.

Damon, during this time was fleeting back and forth, showing its sides and undersides to the storm to make sure the Super Storm touched all of the rods in turn over and over again for a nice even fill as possible.

Soon Damon felt the last battergi fill up, and he quickly proceeded to close his sides, while turning around to run. The dangerous part began. When no battergi connected to the iron rods, the insides of the ship would take a fierce beating until the rods were retracted and the sides were closed.

Sensing the weakness of its challengers, the beaten Super Storm unleashed new vengeance against the airship. These power elementals destroyed many rods, scorched the inside of the ship, and killed many of the crew inside. It was a disaster.

Damon forced its sides close and applied all of his power to speed, and run with the hellish black monster at his back, thrusting forward to continue its revenge against the airship.

Finally after ten minutes of non-stop danger, the Super Storm slowed down, with quite a bit of its energy exhausted it could not continue chasing the racing Voyage to Power. And instead turn its remaining power upon the earth far below, smiting the cursed ground below into oblivion.

Damon made sure to fly several miles away from the storm, just incase it changed its mind and came back to destroy the helpless airship. The crew during this time picked themselves back up and continued with their assignments such as recording the dead, checking the amount damage done to the airship, and making notes about the size of the battergi's which they collected this time.

After they were a safe enough distance, Damon exited the command throne. The wires and cords retracted from his skull and the chair itself ceased to glow its eerie blue. Damon sat up wobbly, and tried to move, but his exhausted limbs could not bear his weight and he collapsed.

Thankfully Curvus was there waiting for him, and caught him mid-fall and steered Damon to a close-by chair that was made just for that purpose. This chair was hardly special looking, just a normal iron chair you could buy anywhere. But to Damon it felt like heaven, and he slumped into it, exhausted.

"By Cursed Gaia herself! That was the best damn flying I have seen since the 'ol bastard Tarck himself flew us against an Super Storm himself! You should see the battergi; we filled the whole load up to brim! That will fetch a mighty price from the Iron Men themselves!" Curvus exclaimed, obviously bursting with enthusiasm.

Damon gave his second in command a wearily smile. "Just a’ doing my job Qatigor."

"Indeed. Quite the performance, Damon." said a cold, emotionless voice. And Damon realized that Waltus had joined them, and was systematically scanning Damon with the eye of only one such as him.

"Thank you sir. Qatigor, I am turning command over to you for now, I need to rest. That took more out of me then any other flight before, I trust you can take us home?"

Before Curvus could reply, Waltus interrupted with a hint of impatience. "That will not be necessary, Damon."

Both Curvus and Damon looked surprised at the old Iron Man, as if he were crazy. But Waltus took no notice to their stares, and reached inside his thick rope and pulled out a odd square shaped piece of metal.

He pushed the top button down and said to it. "This is Waltus, the payment is ready for you, over."

Curvus and Damon stared at each other, both at a loss for words. Had the old man finally lost his marbles?

But before Damon could question Waltus, he heard an odd humming sound over the far away cries of the Super Storm, it sounded oddly familiar...

It grew louder and louder, until the whole crew stood still, moved around nervously at the loud humming, then something sped past the Voyage to Power, coming to rest above just a few feet above them. Then it hit him, he knew what it was.

Airship.

A second smaller vessel rushed along side the Voyage to Power, there was something large resting on its top, but it was moving too fast to tell. Then the whole ship shuddered, and Damon could hear the horrible sounds of screeching metal as the hull of the ship was rent asunder.

Damon could not believe what was happening. They were hit by a Lich Harpoon of all things! A military weapon used only by the Sky Fleet, and... Pirates. What struck him odd was that they were not falling; the Lich Harpoon was made to magically seek out the main battergi of any vessel, and allowed the shooter to suck it dry.

The crew just stood around, shocked at what was happening, and how quickly it was taking place. Damon could not blame them, he could barely think.

Suddenly the metal box, which Waltus was still holding, spoke as if it were living itself. A heavily accented, slightly aggorant voice said. "Roger that, we are preparing to board, over."

Waltus raised the metal box back to his mouth and said. "Affirmative. Proceed with caution, over"

The metal box erupted in laughter, and replied with. "We would like to see them try and fight back. Oh, and over."

Damon felt his shock fade away, and he raised himself a bit in his seat and demanded. "What the hell is going on, Waltus? As Qati of this vessel I demand explanations!"

"Shut up Damon." said Waltus in his all too familiar icy tone. "Things have been beyond your control since you became Qati of this vessel."

Damon was stunned at the comment; the Iron Man never used his title, never. Just what was going on?

Just as that thought ran through his mind, he heard a dreadful war cry, and he glanced around. His men had opened the on-board armory and armed themselves with swords, shields, and axes for the coming fight. But they were always first air dogs, not warriors.

The small vessel came close to side of the airship, and a bridge extended from the small airship and attached itself to the side of the Voyage to Power. Two ranks of oddly armored and armed soldiers marched unto Damon's vessel.

There are was not fully encased like Storm Guard, with their armor only covering their forearm's and hands with strange tick gloves with an extra piece of armor fused to the top of the hand, their upper torso, their whole back of the thighs and their Achilles hells that locked unto high riding boots. Underneath their armor it seemed they also wore some kind of thick brown leather.

Their heads were also helmed, but each helmet was a different design. Damon saw a wolf, a eagle or hawk, a screaming human head, and a cold emotionless human face. Who the hell were this people? Damon had never seen any warriors like these blood-colored armored soldiers.

Damon counted seven total, four in the front, and three in the back. They carried hugely long blades, with only a small hilt at the bottom with no hand guard at all.

The mere sight of seeing these imposing figures seem to have no psychological effect on Damon's crew, and with a chaotic shout they charged at the invaders without remorse.

The invading warriors seemed to have been expecting such an event, and in union the front row of soldiers crouched down on one knee, and extended your swords forward almost like pole arms, while the two in the back griped their weapons two-handed. Damon suddenly got a sick feeling in his stomach, His men were not career soldiers, they were not meant to kill, and they were bloody crew of an airship! They had numbers, but no skill, and Damon had the feeling these weren’t run-of-the-mill pirates.

Once the first of his crew reached the front row of invaders, all of the ol' air dog’s fates were sealed. Instead of impaling them, the enemy suddenly changed the potation of their bodies, their rose up quickly on both feet and using their momentum stabbed the nearest men through their chest, impaling not just the first man, but the one behind.

While they were retracting their blades, the men behind swung their blades over their heads like axes to strike down anyone the first row did not first get.

To Damon's horror this attack cycle repeated over and over again, until the crew realized they were no match for these fearsome, heartless warriors. And as the men retreated, the soldiers did not follow. An awkward silence accompanied this scene, until a voice from behind the red warriors spoke clearly, in a aggorantly triumphant tone.

"Kill the rest."

At once the red warriors switched their defense positions to something even Damon recognized when hunting fowl on the artificial hunting grounds on Maelstrom. A offensive, hunting position. The red warriors were surprisely fast as they descended upon the stunned crew.

The screams started again.

Men of all ages ran like dogs with their tails between their legs, trampling each other to get bellow decks, to escape crimson death. But wherever they ran, those demons followed.

Damon could not believe want was happened, he could do nothing! The flight exhausted him, so he could not fight, and die proudly beside his own men! What kind of captain was he?

As the fight moved below decks, the screams muffled. Then suddenly an embarrassed voice cleared his throat.

"That was quite sad really, I was looking for at least some sport. I can see why the Iron Men choice this ship to hand over."

From the small sky craft walked a tall man.

Oddly his clothes were nothing over the top, to fit his voice, or exotic to match his killing men. He was dressed simply in a similar dress as Damon in fact.

A wool undershirt to keep the wearer warm, with an heavy leather jacket to break the wind and help keep the rain off. Thick leather pants, probably even with a cotton under layer. His hair would be of the same style of Damon’s also, if Damon had any hair. It was short loose with the wind scattering it to Gaia and back, and was the color of pure icky black. A pair of goggles rest on his eyes, tinted black so Damon could not see the mans eyes.

The man smiled at Damon. "And I met that as an offence, Qati."

Damon was too tired to be angry at the bastard; currently it took all of his energy just to stay conscious.

Waltus shook his head in disappointment. "Always so aggorant Dalmus?"

At this time the man, who Damon could pick up, was named Dalmus, and was close enough so he would not have to yell to be heard. Curvus jumped in front of me, holding up his fists in challenge.

"Don’t you dare go near him, you bastard!" exclaimed Curvus, then he charged.

Damon didn’t now what would spur such a thought through Curvus, maybe it was that Dalmus did not seemed to be armed. Key word 'seemed'.

Damon caught out of the corner of my eye; Dalmus flicking his wrist a little, and seeing a sharp object suddenly appear in his hands. By the winds, who was this man?

"Curvus no-" but Damon was too late.

When Curvus was within punching distance, the man moved forward on one leg quite suddenly, and pushed off the other jumping forward at an 90 degree angle. Curvus's head suddenly exploded in gore, and a unsightly long blade could be seen out of the exit wound.

As Curvus fell to the ground dead, making a loud 'thump' sound as he landed. The man, Dalmus did not even stop his pace. He smiled as he responded to Waltus's question.

"There's a reason why."

He didn’t even stoop down to retrieve the danger from poor Curvus.

Waltus shook his head again, but this time with amusement.

"I hated that useless piece of flesh-meat." He spat under his breath.

"Well then, no hard feelings, eh?" the grin on Dalmus spread even further.

Waltus did not smile at the sick joke, he never did anyway.

"I trust the strikes elsewhere are happening as we speak?" Waltus asked.

"Already done, it took us awhile to catch up with this fine vessel, I applaud you Damon."

Damon struggled with words, fighting his weariness. "Go...to...the...cursed...earth...you...bastard."

Dalmus just laughed in my face, while Waltus just stood there, emotionless.

Soon enough, even Waltus got impatient, and cleared his throat to get Dalmus attention. Abruptly Dalmus ceased his cheery laugh and glanced over his shoulder at the Iron Man behind him.

"Yes, yes I have your priceless little object."

Waltus usually claim composure was suddenly broke, and a grin spread across his face as he held his hands out. His arms visibly shook in excitement. Dalmus let out a depressed sigh.

“Even with all of your knowledge, and ‘supposed’ patience, you are so single-minded!” Dalmus said with boredom, but yet he unbuttoned one of his numerous pockets, grabbed something, and held it out.

From what Damon could see, it looked remarkably liked the communicating machine Waltus used to contact Dalmus, to signal their attack. But much smaller and rounded edged. It was bright white, but apart from that, Damon could not gain any more details.

Waltus cried out in longing, and grabbed it from Dalmus’s outstretched hand. He brought so close to his eyes to examine it, Damon would think he was nearsighted. Dalmus started talking again.

“From my own studies, I would have to say its some sort of storage-“

Waltus let out a scream of rage, and lifted his head, a demonic visage plastered on his face.

“You dare, dare I say, handle such forbidden knowledge! To defile such beautiful technology, are you trying to purposefully anger our Ancestors?” Waltus spoke in a whispered, angry tone, as if he was hiding form someone.

Dalmus shook his head “I did not tamper with it if that’s what you are trying to get at, just some surface tests. It is the same condition I found it.”

Waltus seemed to claim done at Dalmus’s statement, glancing back at the small machine while tucking it into his robes sleeves.

During this Dalmus, glanced at me with uneasy eye, and presented me with a sly smile, and turned his head towards Waltus.

“So, will the council follow their side of bargain?” Dalmus asked happily.

Waltus glanced at me as well, but with the all-too-familiar cold indifference. And answered.

“Of course, we are not thieving third-rate backstabbers,”

In cue, Dalmus bent down into overextraged bow, sweeping an imaginary hat from his head out to his side. “I will consider that a complement.”

Waltus ignored him.

“I assume you have taken the other sixteen battergi collectors we agreed on, so take this one and take me back to Iron Hold.”

At that, I managed to blurt something.

“Sixteen…? You betrayed all of us? What did we do to anger the council?” I started weeping, but no tears came out. I was so tired…

Waltus just shook his head, and replied with a tone as if comforting a child.

“You did nothing good man, you have produced much more energy then this ship has in its whole history. You have never questioned our orders, and always treated your underlings with respect.”

Again Waltus shook his head.

“But your actions before your rule of this ship, forced our hand. We hand selected seventeen vessels for our agreement with Mr. Dalmus here, and we considered that you would do nicely. We could not trust you to be quite about this whole matter, if you ever found out. Your actions with overthrowing your old captain, demonstrated this. You are ambitious, but untrustworthy.”

He then turned his head to Dalmus and said, in his cool tone.

“Kill him.”

Damon was stunned, his brain just shut down.

Dalmus glanced at Damon and shrugged in apologetic way.

“Sorry ol’ chap, but business is business, I am sure you understand.”

He pulled out a dagger from behind him, and trusted it hilt-deep in Damon’s chest.




***



“…And so that’s the tale.” Finished Waltus as he finished his report to the shadowy figures above him, in their high seated thrones.

There was no sound for a great while, nothing at all. Waltus could feel the calculating glares of the Iron Council, but he stool resolute, no man, made of iron or otherwise, would cow him.

Finally a deep, dusty voice of someone who did not talk for a hundred years projected powerful through out the room.

“Display the device.”

Waltus reached into his sleeve, and set the small white device humbly on the steel pillar in front of him.

Suddenly hundreds of whispers broke the silence, some weeping, and shouting followed the presentation of the device. Waltus smiled at the feeling of being in the middle of such a display.

Waltus, spurred by the suddenly activity started talking wildly,

“From my own observations of the device, it is a-“

Another voice interrupted him, this time an emotionless mechanical like tone.

“We did not care for your ‘observations’, or worthless ‘opinions’. Leave us, underling.”

It was a command, not a request.

Waltus left the room in anger; he did all the footwork in organizing the deal with the Telyu Dalmus man, and had to see people die. Why was he treated as such?

Maybe it was not his decision to make, or his place to think such thoughts. But suddenly he hated himself.


***


Dalmus laughed as he looked at the picture, laughing at Waltus’s altitude as he stormed out of the Council Chambers. Waltus would never know what would happen next, until Dalmus contacted him.

The projection screen in front of Dalmus showed blackness as hands picked the device up and the occasional beam of light as people examined it.

Dalmus fingered the switch in his hand. According to his contacts it would trigger the old Ancestor explosive device he had discovered on his travels. The bomb was the device the greedy Iron men were now fingering.

When Dalmus approached Waltus with the deal, trading seventeen battergi collecting air vessels, he requested that only the council, and Waltus himself be aware of this operation, to one, keep down the chatter about it. He didn’t want his brother hearing of this.

And two, because once he killed the whole council, Dalmus would use his contacts to force Waltus into one of the opening roles of the Iron Council, and blackmail the shit out of him, saying the Waltus knew of the whole thing in advance, which was of course a lie, and so only Waltus would be aware of the whole thing.

Now his rebel force had the energy vessels needed to fuel his rebel forces, had a inside man on the council. All he needed was more time to exploit both until he was ready to face off against his brother, the Emperor of the Air Kingdom.

Dalmus smiled, he said under his breath.

“Sorry Waltus, but I am a first-class backstabber.”

He flipped the switch, and the projection screen in front of him turned a blindly white.

Soon he would kill his brother, and claim his rightful prize. All of humanity.



END