The great temple-manse was mostly hollow. In its depths a pool of lava seethed, overheating the air and illuminating the interior with a lurid red glow. The entryway high above led onto a wide ledge only a few dozen feet below the roof of the great space. Stairways at either side led down to a catwalk ledge on a lower level that extended all the way around the interior, meeting with the ledge on its opposite side.
It was at this lower level that Fengel and his crew were caged. At regular places the walk widened out from the wall to support more of the strange stone idols he'd seen throughout the city. From the four widest spaces extended a rope bridge with wooden slats. These connected to the large structure at the center of the pyramid, a spiraling tower of stone rising up from the molten depths below.
Wide stairs were carved into the tower. They circled upward from where the rope-bridges were anchored, to a wide platform at the top. There, on an altar carved like a pair of stone hands, sat the Governor's Lantern.
Strangely, Fengel felt a little underwhelmed by the gem. The Lantern was a luminescent orb maybe a little larger than his fist. From where it was ensconced up above it shone with a shifting, opalescent brilliance, like a tiny multicolored star. It was pretty, that much was certain. But after all the fuss and fury, it didn't seem to live up to its reputation. He felt no waves of madness, nor any immaterial sense of power. He still wanted it, very, very badly. But that felt like nothing more than simple greed, and the desire to tweak his wife a little further. He certainly felt no sense of devotion toward the thing, unlike the Draykin who had genuflected on the platform before it. The guards and their chieftain had returned outside a short time ago, just as a great racket rose up. Fengel was curious about that. The noise sounded like pistol shots.
Fengel shrugged and turned away. He moved to where Sarah Lome was watching over Maxim. The aetherite had not reawakened after their imprisonment. That was worrying. His magic would be undoubtedly helpful. More than that though, he was a crew member.
"How is he?" asked Fengel.
Lome looked up at him. She shrugged, her broad, placid face giving nothing away. "Can't say, Captain. He took a good hard knock during that ambush. Ain't bleeding anymore. Pulse feels strong."
Fengel frowned. He leaned down to look his navigator over. The aetherite was pallid and his skin waxy with perspiration. His dark hair lay in a tangled cloud beneath his head. Minor cuts and bruises covered him, but nothing serious. Fengel reached out to feel his brow. It wasn't aflame, there was no fever. "Maybe I can beg some medicine from our captors." They still didn't know what the Draykin proposed to do with them. The cage was obviously a general-use item, not intended specifically for pirates.
Lome gave him a flat look. "Captain. Maybe someone else should handle any negotiating?"
Fengel raised an eyebrow at her. "Gunny Lome. While our initial diplomatic endeavors did not turn out as best could be hoped, I strongly feel that I've the beginnings of a rapport with their chieftain. Shaman. Whatever."
Sarah Lome blinked. She opened her mouth to reply.
"Let me go, you cockless eunuchs! I've eaten snake and lizard before, don't think that I won't do the same to you. Unhand me!"
The voice was shrill and high pitched. It came from another human captive supported between ten Draykin guards. The chieftain walked behind them, glowering. It was missing its headdress.
The captive was a woman, that much was obvious. But Fengel knew who it was before she was hauled close enough to their cage to see. Only one person could hit those high, ear-shattering notes with her voice alone. Only one person possessed such a library of the basest and vilest insults known to man, ogre, and dragon alike. Only one person set his teeth on edge whenever she walked into the room.
His wife.
The Draykin hauled their captive kicking, screaming, and biting up to the cage. One of their number opened it. Fengel caught glances from his Men, wanting to know if this was their chance, if they should try to free themselves. He didn't respond to them, one way or the other, only glared in irritation and frustration at their newest companion.
Natasha was thrown into the cage. She landed hard on the wooden slats, bouncing back to her feet to throw herself at the opening. The Draykin slammed the cage door shut in the pirate princess's face. She fell back with a curse and one of the guards made a strange croaking sound, what must have been a laugh. Fengel knew how he felt.
The Draykin chieftain returned to his platform at the center of the temple. The guards moved to stand before the doorways, two of them close enough to watch the prisoners. Natasha yelled at them for awhile before pausing to catch her breath. She seemed to wilt. Her hands gripped the wooden bars of the door high up to support her weight. But her knuckles were white. She took a deep breath, stood, and turned to face her fellow captives.