Chapter 1

The Succubus was a ship of misfits. Those whom other captains would not touch were just the kind of crew the ship attracted, and those crewmen either fitted in or were never seen again.

An unusual crew required an unusual captain, and Raniv filled the role perfectly. He was a Dyal, one of a much maligned race of bat-winged humanoids who liked others to believe they were at least in part demons, but more often than not the truth preceded them. Raniv was typical for a Dyal of his gender, only the arrangement of his body's forward-facing bumps distinguishing him from a female. his hair was long, his heels were high, and his boots came up to within a finger's width of the hem of his short leather skirt.

Anyone planning to mock Raniv was in for quite a surprise. He was quick to take offence, and just as quick with a blade - insults and unwelcome insinuations were often stopped in an offender's throat by a barrier of polished steel.

Raniv liked to watch his crew at work from the highest vantage point possible, making the most of his powers of flight, but on this particular day his perch gave him the added opportunity to take in the enormity of his latest discovery. The rumour he had "harvested" at Fort G'Taran had proved to be true, for there was a mysterious wreck on a lifeless moonlet, some way off the usual trade-routes - a silvery disk-shaped craft as broad as his ship was long, its seemless hull rent open by the impact of crashing, and explosions from within.

The Dyal had given the orders to explore the wreck, and take whatever could be removed, but he did not leave the ship himself. Taking risks was what a crew was for, after all, and the star-sailors knew better than to try and cheat Raniv of some priceless treasure, for he would find out, and the thief would pay for his crimes in his own life's blood. The captain of the Succubus was unusually generous, anyway - generous with the spoils of their adventures, and more than generous with punishment for transgressors.

What manner of creature would construct such a craft?, the Dyal wondered. How does it function? How can it travel the stars without sails? Is that why it crashed - it wasn't built to fly between our worlds...?

Raniv would have been happy to remain up in the rigging, watching from on high like a hungry hawk, but someone managed to catch his eye, and enflame his displeasure. Three men - two plain, crude-featured Hu'Men and a scaly, serpent-headed Naagian - had been struggling to bring aboard what appeared to be a giant egg when one of them tripped, and the egg crashed to the deck. Raniv was upon the threesome before they could stop their burden rolling - in fact, it was his spiked-heeled foot that halted the mysterious object's progress across the deck.

"Forgive us, Captain", begged one of the Hu'Men, "but the accursed thing is so cold! Its surface is like ice, even in this heat!"

Raniv's slender hand stung the star-sailor's cheek as he slapped the clumsy crewman. "Then you should have worn gloves", snarled the Dyal. "This...whatever it is...better not be damaged, or all three of you will be compensating me for loss of profit!"

The three sailors quickly went to get gloves, and returned just before their captain's patience was exhausted. Quickly, yet carefully, they retrieved their burden and carried it down into the hold, where the strange device would be stowed away along with the rest of the loot. None of them, not even keen-eyed Captain Raniv, noticed the slow yet steady dripping water that now came from the egg, or heard the faint hiss of escaping invisible vapour...

The gathering of salvage carried on long into what was treated on board ship as "night", and exhausted crewmen exchanged their tasks for the freshly-vacated bunks of their rested ship-mates. One of the crew found no rest - the only member of the crew who had taken no part at all in the raiding of the strange wreck.

Ta'awen was a Mind-Seer, a particularly gifted member of the usually reclusive race known as the Aa'saani. She had been unfortunate enough to be captured and enslaved, before being won from her master in a game of chance by the Dyal captain, Raniv. Now, she served his needs, and although he was a better, and gentler master than her original captor, he could still be prone to bouts of blind rage if she failed him. Normally, she kept quiet, only ever speaking when she was expected to say something. She never volunteered a word, or dared speak out against her captivity. It was simply not her people's way.

Ta'awen could not sleep. There was something aboard ship that disturbed her, intruding into the range of her highly-attuned psychic senses. It was, at present, too weak and disorganised to give the Aa'saani girl something to track down, but its very presence was enough to put her on edge, and leave her fearing for her sanity, if not her life.

Finding no comfort in her small, cramped cabin, Ta'awen threw on a robe and ventured up on deck. The garment dwarfed her slender body, enclosing her reed-thin limbs in layers of cloth that to her felt heavy as lead, but she endured it without complaint, afraid that if the crew ever saw her dressed in the style her people were accustomed to, they would become engorged with lust and pounce upon her...

The Aa'saani shuddered, and shook her head, causing her long pale hair to spill forward over her shoulders and making her long, narrow drooping ears flick back and forth to either side. There it was again - the presence was touching her mind again, leaving a trail of soiled thoughts through her psyche and warping her feelings. She would have gone to see Raniv, and tell him of her fears, but without firm evidence of her concerns, he would surely ignore her, or at worst beat her for daring to disturb his rest.

I'll tell him in the morning, she decided. I just hope it won't be too late by then to do anything about this intruder - who, or whatever it might be...

Ta'awen walked across the deck to the central fin, where the ship's controls were housed, and sat down with her back against the lightning-cured timber. There, with the crew milling about around her, the Aa'saani found sanctuary of a sort, their unshepherded thoughts blotting out the distant darkness that the psychic girl feared might overwhelm and consume her.

Cold...

That was the first thought in who knew how long to cross the mind of the occupant of the strange, icy-surfaced egg. It had taken some time for her mind to properly process the sensation, and attach the correct word to it, and it took even longer for her to realise that something was not right.

This, she eventually understood, was not where she was supposed to be...

The first time she tried to move, the smooth, curved surface that seemed to enclose her parted, the dimly-lit interior of the egg giving way to a darker somewhere beyond. Her eyes - eyes that could see despite the blackness - were too weak to make anything out, and instead she had to rely on what the fading light from the egg made visible to her. There was wood, glittering metal, various points of coloured light...but little that made much sense to the woman's presently disorganised mind.

Was I sleeping...? was the first coherent thought, pieced together after some minutes, lying alone in the darkness. Was...was all that a dream? Did I just imagine that the moon came down from the sky and swallowed me up?

Freed from her chilly confinement, the woman found that her fragmented thoughts quickly fell back into place. Soon, she was able to put a name to the self that was the only thing to make any sense at the moment. Marishanna - I'm Marishanna. I am of the Salvandireen people, born in the forest city of Kadlaan - and exiled from that same city for my cruelty and "perversion". I outlived them all...

Recalling her past reminded Marishanna of those things that were important to her. To her outrage, many of those things were missing - her enchanted charm bracelet, the amulet that was the key to her secret sanctuary...her sword, the wickedly sharp magical blade known as Silver Death...

"Come to me, Silver Death", she hissed, and to her relief the sword appeared in her waiting hand. Fragments of rotted leather clung to the ever-gleaming, ever razor-keen blade, and Marishanna began to wonder, with some concern, about her current predicament. Where am I?, she wondered. And when...?

Eager to learn the answers to her questions, Marishanna tried to conjure up a sphere of magical light, but for some strange reason her summons yielded nothing. Is someone blocking my magic?, she pondered. They're not strong enough to blocking the magic in Silver Death, that I already know. Whatever's happening, the perpetrators will regret toying with me!

Once her limbs, previously limp and numb, were back under her own control, Marishanna slid from her "egg" and started to explore her surroundings. One prized possession she had retained were her boots - thigh-length black lacquered leather boots, with short flared cuffs and toes and heels covered with gold - and she drew some comfort from their presence, even though her first few steps atop her slender spiked heels were uneasy to say the least. I feel rather weak - and hungry, she had noticed. It's as though I've been asleep for a long time.

"But how long?", she murmured to herself. "Oh, someone will suffer greatly for fooling around with my life."

Gradually, Marishanna's eyes recovered, and she started to make out recognisable objects. Barrels, coils of rope, boxes stacked against walls...A ship, then, she thought. I'm in the hold by the look of it. But why don't I feel the sea moving beneath us? Even if we were in dock, the waves would be rocking us a little, or I would at least be able to hear the hull timbers creaking...

The Salvandireen woman listened carefully for any sounds around her, and almost straight away her exceptionally keen ears heard heavy footsteps, some distance away but coming closer. Two men in heavy boots, maybe carrying something between them - cargo for the hold...!

Marishanna ducked into the deepest shadows, and waited. A minute or so later, a door was kicked open, letting pale, amber-tinged light and two large scruffy men into the room. Carrying a squat dull metal cylinder with what appeared to be segmented metal tentacles dangling from one end, they shuffled across the cargo-hold, intending to deposit the object in the furthest corner. They were so totally wrapped up in their task that they did not see a small figure with long straight black hair, in a short black leather dress and long shiny boots, move quickly and silently from hiding and dart out into the passage.

Ta'awen had only just dropped off to sleep when the dark presence came upon her again. This time, it was stronger, more active - and moving below decks...

Her own well-being now secondary, the Mind-Seer hurried to find her captain. being beaten by him was infinitely preferable to being consumed by the dark soul now lose on the Succubus.

Her own magic still defying her will, Marishanna called upon the powers of Silver Death, and the sword's potent enchantments soon led her to a securely locked room, within which lay a number of objects that radiated a strong and familiar aura of magic. My property, I think, she snorted to herself, and stabbed the lock. The point of Silver Death passed through wood and metal as easily as it passed through air, and one twist of the blade gutted the lock and allowed the door to swing open unhindered.

Silver Death's power of magic detection lead its mistress directly to the round-ended metal cylinder containing the Salvandireen woman's other magical possessions, and the blade parted the metal easily, allowing a variety of jewellery to spill forth onto the floor. There was a short silver chain laden with tiny representations of horses, hunting cats, treasure chests and other objects, living and inanimate; another longer chain, on which hung a disc of black onyx, framed with gold and inlaid with silver in the form of a compass rose, as well as a number of pieces Marishanna did not recognise. Compensation, she thought angrily, taking her own things and stuffing the other items into the tops of her boots.

Marishanna quickly slipped the amulet's chain over her head, hiding the medallion inside her dress, and afstened the charm-bracelet around her gloved wrist. She had no time to test either, but was almost certain they would function, for their magic, like Silver Death, was part of them, an integral part of their construction, and that magic was far harder to block than the power she herself controlled with gestures and incantations.

Wizards have observed that magic doesn't work the same way in all places, she recalled. Other layers of reality, such as the realm of demons, have different magical properties, different "laws" of magic - so am I actually in a another reality?

That was a question to be answered another time, for at that moment, Marishanna's ears alerted her to distant, but fast-moving footsteps, and anxious voices. Someone knows I'm free?, she thought. So be it - let's get this over with...

 

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