She was dancing again.

Espera listened as Kheired-Din gave her up for dead, and screamed out his denial, "Dalia!" Then he felt a heavy boot in his side, and woke up.

When his eyes opened, Espera was greeted by a sneering face, twisted and deformed by the cruelties of chance.

When Edahgo saw that he was awake, he smiled down at the captive. "Good evening, lovebird. I'm tired of waking up in the middle of the night listening to your pathetic mewling. It's time to get your dainty little tongue clipped."

With that, the hulking brute unchained Espera, threw him over his shoulder, and began to carry him down to his chamber of horrors.

As he struggled, Espera's foot lashed out and caught the hunchback in the stomach. Edahgo grunted in surprise and squeezed the pilot hard until he stopped moving. "Just for that, I'm clipping one of your dainty little feet as well." Stomping down the stairs to his cabin, he lifted his captive just a bit, so that the man's head thumped against the ceiling with each step. "You're lucky you can pilot, little lovebird, or I'd do away with you this evening. Such a sorry excuse for a man. Always mooning over that dancing girl like a fool. She never even looked twice at you except to cut a notch in your neck, and still you kept after her, month after month. If the decision were up to me, I'd say that you were too stupid to live."

Closing his cabin door behind them, Edahgo threw his burden onto the wooden floor with a loud thud, then turned to his brazier and began heating up a brand.

Groaning, his captive managed to sit up, cradling his forehead in his hands. He could feel the hatred for the hunchback that had built up during his captivity burning deep in his heart. He watched the sneering, twisted man reach gleefully for another pair of brands… and then he heard her, echoing in his mind like the coo of a dove.

The time is now, my darling.

Before he could stop them, the words flew past his lips, "Not that a freak like you would know anything about love, hunchback. I hear your mother killed herself the first time she saw you. Not that I can blame-"

Edahgo spun around furiously, holding the burning hot iron in his hand. "Hold your tongue, little songbird. You'll have your chance to sing for me soon enough." With a sudden motion, he pressed the red hot tip to Espera's cheek.

The pilot smiled. There was no sizzle of flesh. Instead, tiny flames began to dance within Espera's eyes as he laughed. Edahgo squinted at him in confusion for a moment, then backed away in fear. "Wha-what?"

Espera stood up and began to slowly walk towards his tormentor. "You can't burn me, you fool. I am Fire." The fires in his eyes flared up, "I am Passion. I am the blood of kings. I. Am. Castillus!"

Edahgo stared in horror as the fire in the brazier reared up and formed itself into a serpent, then began slithering towards him, leaving a scorched trail in its wake. Espera leaned in close. "Make a sound, and my serpent will climb down your throat and burn you to ashes from the inside out."

His only reply was a tiny, strangled noise from deep within the hunchback's chest. Picking up a handful of burning coals from the brazier, Espera made his way up to the deck.

Within a few minutes, tiny, controlled flames licked at strategic places on the ship - the anchor rope, the lines lashing the sails to the masts, and the ship's wheel.

In the meantime, Espera was cautiously moving among the rowers below deck. Most of them slept as though dead, exhausted after their day's trials. However, one battered and bruised man with matted red hair peered at the pilot with hope in his eyes. "Hey, you!" he called softly, his voice thick with an Inish brogue, "Pilot, get me loose!"

Espera motioned for him to be quietly, but the man's benchmate woke up, looking around him blearily. Donovich. The captain's lapdog. Espera cursed under his breath.

"What do you do?" the Ussuran muttered sleepily. He spied Espera, and his eyes lit up in alarm, "Escape! KHEIRE-" His shout was cut short as the smaller man next to him leapt on him, wrapping the chains that bound them both around the would-be traitor's throat. A grim smile formed on the small man's lips as he choked the life out of him.

"Time ta go, Andres, me boy… sorry ye can't come with me."

Espera leaned over him, "Hush. You'll wake the others. We need to do this quietly." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a coal and fanned it with his magic until it was white-hot. The other man just stared.

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"Would you rather stay here?" snapped Espera.

"No, no. I'd sign on with Legion if it would get me out of here, or my name ain't Mike Fitzpatrick." He tried not to stare as blood began to run from his rescuer's nose, concentrating on the rapidly melting chains holding him in place. With a soft tearing sensation, the chains parted, then cooled immediately as Espera laid his hands on the molten ends. The Castillian absently wiped the blood from his nose.

"You stand watch, I'll start freeing the others..."

They emerged onto the moonlit deck, a small cluster of men led by the former pilot. Espera smiled as he saw small plumes of smoke rising from the corners of the ship. His sabotage efforts were already bearing fruit.

"What now, Castillian?" Fitzpatrick hissed behind him.

Espera grinned. "Now we find a lifeboat and leave this thrice-cursed vessel as quick as we can!" Then start looking for her, he added silently.

"You," he handed a knife to one of the free captives. "Drop over the side and cut the anchor loose. We don't want them following us once we're free." The man nodded, then clambered quietly over the nearby railing. After checking once more to make sure the deck was clear, Espera motioned for the others to follow him. They stole through the moonlit night, creeping silently towards the starboard side. Nothing moved onboard the Strange Skies; their escape plan had as of yet gone unnoticed. As they crossed the deck with the care of mice, Espera swore to keep it that way.

"They store the lifeboats just behind the wheelhouse," he whispered back to the men. "I think we can all fit-"

He voice cut short as he skidded to a halt. Standing on the deck in front of him was Kheired-Din.

The Crescent captain had his back turned to the captives staring out into the empty night with a look of wonder on his face. His monastic pistoleer, Dunti, sat quietly nearby, watching Din like a hawk. Espera gaped at the pair and quickly slid back behind a stack of crates. "Damnation," he cursed as the other men crouched behind him.

"What is it?" Fitzpatrick whispered. Espera shot him a look.

"Quiet, you fool! Kheired-Din is right there!" He turned back to the captain, his mind feverishly working out ways to slip past him. "We have to get around him somehow." We could wait until he left, he mused. but that would take too long. Attacking him's out of the question, but we can't just sit here. The more time we waste, the greater the chance we'll -

He stopped. Din hadn't moved. Not a muscle had twitched, not a hair, not a finger. The captain might as well have been a statue. Espera followed the Crescent's gaze, up above the waterline. Din was staring hard at a distant spot of empty air, his head slightly cocked as if listening to words that only he could hear.

He has the Prophet's voice in his head, Espera smiled. He can't see a thing.

"Now's our chance," he hissed. "Go! Get to the lifeboats now!"

"Are you crazy?" one of them muttered. "He'll see us!"

"He's in one of his trances! He'll never notice. Quickly now, before he comes out of it!"

Before anyone could reply, Espera darted out from their meager cover, straight towards the nearby lifeboat. He passed within an arm's length of the entranced captain - he could have reached out and touched him - but neither Kheired-Din nor Dunti moved. He hopped into the boat and immediately began cutting the ropes binding to the deck. He frantically gestured to the others with his free hand; emboldened by his actions, the remaining captives stealthily followed after him.

They had crossed about half the distance when a quiet hum sounded through the night air. Fitzpatrick stopped short as a crossbow bolt thudded to the deck in front of him. The shadow of a sniper could be seen among the rigging, reloading his weapon. The cry went up, loud and authoritative, ringing across the open sea.

"ESCAPE!!!"

"Mad Jack's Beard!" Fitzpatrick snarled. The Inishman didn't have time to contemplate an action before a second quarrel slammed into his side. He howled in pain and staggered towards the railing, feeling the missile burn every time he moved.

"Go!" he shouted at the remaining men. "Get out of here!" He reached out to the railing to steady himself, but his fingers slipped and he found himself overbalanced. He teetered precariously for several moments before losing his footing and tumbling over the side.

Espera watched the Inishman fall with horrified eyes. On the far side of the deck, he could see hatches opening and Corsairs boiling out. Things were starting to fall apart. "Come on!" he called to his fellow captives. As the rowers rushed towards the lifeboat, he saw Kheired-Din shake himself, as if coming out of a heavy sleep. His guts turned to ice as the Crescent pirate turned and focused on him.

"You… Infidel!" Din howled in fury. "I give you every luxury and this is how you repay my blessings?!" He raised his scimitar and began advancing slowly towards the escapees. "Dunti," he called back. "Kill them all!"

"I'm afraid not captain," the dark skinned monk replied. Espera's jaw dropped in disbelief as he watched Dunti slowly draw a pistol from his brace and level it at his captain. Din's lip curled in anger. "What did you say?!" he snarled at the pistoleer, not bothering to turn around.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," Dunti replied. "And no one will be allowed to stop it. Not even you." Before Din could reply, he fired the pistol point-blank into the Crescent's back. Din's eyes widened in anger and pain; dark crimson sprayed from his mouth and the scimitar fell from his fingertips as he dropped like a stone to the deck. His body twitched once, then lay still; blood spread out in a growing pool beneath him.

Espera continued to gape at the sight. Dunti favored him with a strange, knowing look.

"Room for one more, Señor Castillius?" he asked.

"…ah…ah… yes! By Theus, yes!" Espera stammered as his fellow escapees began climbing into the lifeboat. "You should hurry, however. I doubt the Corsairs will treat your betrayal lightly." Behind them, the angry crew surged forward, their cries of rage leaving no doubt about their intention. Dunti hopped into the boat without a word, then drew another pistol and pointed it at the mob. Espera held out his hand.

"No. Permit me." Tiny flames danced in his eyes. He stood up and gesturing at the approaching Corsairs.

The blood of kings defend me…

Flames leapt from his fingertips and spread out before them in a wide arc. A pair of Corsairs screamed as the fire engulfed their clothing; the rest halted their advance and began desperately trying to put the flames out before they spread to the entire ship. Espera nodded slowly and turn to his men.

"Cut the ropes, " he said quietly. "Our time here is done."

Epilogue
Kheired-Din's eyes snapped open as the smell of burning wood wafted through his nostrils. He sat up with a lurch, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. The hole in his chest had shrunk to a quarter of its former size, and vanished entirely as he staggered to his feet. His crew went on about their business around him, seemingly oblivious to his miraculous recovery. They had seen it before.

The ship was a mess. Scorch marks seared the deck and three Corsairs still struggle to put out a fire on the starboard end. The sails lay in tattered shreds and the wheel of the Strange Skies tilted awkwardly to one side. From the way the deck pitched beneath his, Kheired-Din knew that they were no longer moored. It was a disaster.

His second mate, Shala, walked softly up to him, her neck craned in a gesture of obedience.

"Where are they?" His words dripped venom.

"Gone," Shala knew better than to lie to her captain. "The Prophet's Word caught them about twenty five miles away, but they overpowered the crew and set them adrift. They have their own ship now and until we complete repairs, we can't hope to capture them."

"They will pay," Kheired-Din growled. "Their flesh will burn from their bones until the Prophet himself grows tired of their screams."

"Aye, captain," Shala's rage matched her master's. "As soon as we have completed repairs, we shall hunt them down and…"

"No," Din cut her off. "I burn for revenge, but we cannot afford such luxuries yet. The Prophet's mission must continue."

"But-"

"No! It must wait! This is a challenge, Shala: a challenge of our resolve. My heart screams at me to find the pilot and flay the flesh from his belly, but we cannot. Not until His word is done. Theus has seen fit to test us, and we will not be deterred from His work! Once the gateway is open, we shall have all eternity to seek our vengeance."

Shala bowed her head in assent. "As you command. I shall tell the crew." She turned to go, then called back. "I assume, then, that you have some means of completing our mission without a pilot?"

Kheired-Din looked at her stonily. "The Prophet will provide Shala. The Prophet always provides…"