Chapter Thirteen

They were lead down the hall. With knives to their throats, neither he nor Polly were in any position to fight back. Their captors, who had been careful not to reveal their identities, or for that matter their numbers, had lead them into a large room. He could see enough by the powered lights that had been set up to tell that the room had been some sort of drilling or parade area; possibly a briefing room. Behind them the floor had been broken and he could see three decks, steel floors rent by the crash, before it grew too dark to tell. For all intensive purposes it was a bottomless pit.
"I see you've elected to hear my offer, captain."
The word was spat with contempt, not just for him but for the very authority vested in it. Only one of his men would have the audacity to do something like this.
"I'll make it short, you know how I can't stand the usual dramatics. I am going to remake the empire with the technology of this ship, you will either help me or be disposed of."
"Why are you doing this?"

She wheeled around, facing the men gathered around. He could gauge their numbers better now, forty were armed, hundreds more weren't. These men had likely come from other bases that had been established in the ship, who knew just how far her influence stretched now.
"Why? Because with this amount of power means that we can finally challenge the self-declared Nobles. No more will we need to bow when one of those magic wielding twits passes by. We can at last make an empire of the hard working man. An empire where the coin of my purse is not taken to feed some lazy lout lying in his divan as he surveys the filth in our streets, filth we cannot afford to clean because our hard work fills his pockets. But with weapons like these, no manner of magic can stop us."
She held up her hands in a victorious pose. The men cheered, not for her but for her message.
"Sharrai, there is no place for treason in my ranks. Put the weapon down and report to base for court martial."
"Captain, let me." Polly whispered softly.
"So this is how you chose to die? For nobles who could care less if you live or die?"
She lifted the weapon to his head. A small L of black metal, with a circular opening in the front, reflected light on the rim of the barrel marked the gateway of his coming death.
"Fine, the new order has no need for loyalist scum."

He heard a click, then the weapon burst into flame. Sharrai flung the blazing weapon aside, brushing her hand against her side to smother the flames.
"Why you little.."
"Enough of this." Polly's exuberance seemed to have been muted by the stress of their capture. "Why do you hate us so much? What have we ever done to you?"
"Nothing! You've never done anything in your lives. While I work, and I sweat, and I bleed, you and your fat father and his fat friends sit about and gorge themselves at my expense. And if anyone ever speaks out against them they just wave their fingers and end his life. No more! I have the power to change that now, to make the world work without magic."
"I see. Then you believe you can do better than I can?"
She nodded. He glanced from his former lieutenant's raging gaze to the oddly calm stare of Polly. The contrast was striking. Sharrai was a cold blooded killer, the blood of dozens of powerful and intelligent individuals was now clearly on her hands and her words. The passion she had always shown for battle was more apparent now than ever, and yet it seemed silly in the face of Polly's calm. For one so naturally cheerful and excitable, she seemed almost dead in her shoes. Yet it was an active calm, he could almost feel her thinking, observing her surroundings, analyzing not just her adversary's physical abilities but her very mind. He had always known the dangers of facing an angered mage, but never before had he realized how truly dangerous they could be.

"I challenge you to single combat. Choose your weapon." She slipped a slim sword from her smooth flaxen vest. It was short enough that he could tell she had carried it with no magical aid, yet she had concealed it from the guards.
"I will defeat you with only this blade. No magic, no poisons, just a sword like any other."
"Too easy." Sharrai drew a second weapon, like the still smoldering one that lay on the floor but a few feet away. That now familiar crack issued from the deadly tool.
Polly didn't even try to dodge it, she took the hit and kept standing.
"I'm going to show you why the Nobles are in charge, and why loud mouthed lieutenants like you aren't. And it isn't magic."
Sharrai dropped the weapon and drew her own double-edged blade. The fiery traitor lept at her opponent, and the battle for supremacy was joined.