Farron jammed the key into the massive cell door and hauled it open. They were all labelled with a number that matched up to a door, thankfully. The figure in the cell let out a low groan as he slowly woke up.

  "On your feet One-Tooth, they didn't exactly welcome me in here," he said. His gruff words belied his concerned tone as he shook the orc fully awake.

  "Who... Captain, is that you? You came back for me?" he asked, revealing his eponymous missing tusk in the process. Like most orcs, his eyes were small, rounded, and close-set. His skin was a dark and smoky red, reminiscent of a garnet. He had on only a pair of simple prisoner's shorts, although he wasn't one for a lot of clothing in the best of times.

  "You didn't think I'd let you abandon ship so easily, did you?" he smiled. "Are you injured? Can you fight and run?" he asked more seriously.

  "A bit, but nothing serious. My core's empty, though. The cell drains it if you're in here for too long."

  Farron hauled his captive friend to his feet, steadying him for a moment as he stretched. He was skinny for an orc, but that wasn't saying much. One-Tooth was the Grymjaw's Elementalist, in charge of maintaining the air elemental engine and various other magical support tasks. Even still, he was more than a match for most Warriors in close combat, so he handed him one of the two swords he'd taken from the guards.

  He was limping slightly as he followed Farron out of the cell. "You want a mana or a healing potion?" Farron asked.

  One-Tooth didn't think long. "Mana restorative. Can you carry me?"

  Farron opened the pocket space in one of his rings — it was small, but so were potions — and tossed a mana potion his way. He was a strong man, but One-Tooth wasn't exactly light. Thankfully, making heavy things go fast with his magic was his main role on the ship.

  "Don't get used to it," Farron sighed as the orc chugged the potion and climbed onto his back like some kind of overgrown child. Farron put the empty bottle back into his ring — no point leaving evidence behind. As his Elementalist situated himself, Farron took a moment to close his eyes and concentrate. He'd been on the third step for more than a year, but he still needed to focus on this. He found the tiny channel in his mind, centred his thoughts on it, and...

  Come here.

  The groove thrummed happily in response, and he could feel the phantom sensation of mist spraying against his hull as he stabbed through the waves. He still wasn't entirely used to the bleed-through.

  "I don't exactly enjoy this, you know," One-tooth said. "If my clan could see me now... as if they need more of a reason to hate me."

  "Well, let's agree to keep this between us," Farron huffed as began walking up the stairs and out of the basement. It wasn't strenuous for him, but he'd be slowed down if he had to run, which seemed inevitable considering how much attention they'd draw once outside. "How's the mana looking? That potion was expensive, and we'll really need a speed buff."

  "Oh, don't act like you paid for it," One-Tooth laughed. "Just get me up into the open air and I'll be able to summon some spirits."

  Wordlessly, they climbed out of the high-security area, into the lobby, and then out onto the street. The daring jailbreak had been surprisingly easy, but he supposed that was to be expected considering all the planning and preparation work that had gone into the operation. Even just getting the Grymjaw close enough to the port so that he could swim the rest of the way had been an ordeal.

  One-Tooth sighed contentedly. "You don't understand how good it feels to connect with the wind again. It was so dead down there..."

  Farron didn't — he wasn't a mage, and Elementalists used their mana differently from most mages anyway — but they could catch up once they were safe. "Just get that tailwind up and we—"

  "Incoming!" One-tooth shouted. "Above and behind!"

  Before Farron could even react, he felt the street buckle under him as something slammed into the ground like a meteor. The impact left a furrow of broken cobbles, ripping up the stone road for a dozen metres before the projectile stopped.

  "Hello," it said, standing up from the small crater it had made. It was a figure, but he couldn't tell much of anything beyond that. It was man-sized, but Farron couldn't tell much more. It was as if he was looking at it through a cheap pane of glass, the ones that were so cloudy you could only see shadows through them. "You have something of mine," it spoke. Much like its appearance, the words distant and muted, but still legible. It could have been a man or a woman, and could have had any accent and tone of voice, yet he couldn't seem to figure it out.

  "Inquisitor," he spat, tamping down his nerves. This was not good. In fact, it was one of the worst-case scenarios for this mission. Short of the Emperor himself showing up, this was as bad as it gets. Well, there could have been two of them...

  "Farron Keelgrave," the figure spoke, "captain of the Grymjaw and its crew. Although, they do not appear to be present." Even while only being able to see a vague outline of the figure, Farron could tell they were smiling.

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  "It would seem so," Farron said, measuring his tone. In the back of his mind, he could feel the connection slowly growing stronger. Too slowly. "I'm not entirely without my crew, though."

  In response, One-tooth unleashed the spell he'd been building. With a screeching howl, a sudden torrent of air slammed into the Inquisitor, picked them up off their feet and slammed them through one of the nearby buildings. It collapsed with a thunderous boom and sent a billowing cloud of dust into the air.

  One-tooth called out for him to run, but Farron was already sprinting towards the docks. Without needing to be subtle, he could move fast enough that he wasn't worried about anyone in the city other than the Inquisitor. Even a second step would see only a passing blur, as Farron's legs slammed into the ground and propelled him forward as the eddies and currents of the wind guided him. One-Tooth was on the third step too, but they both knew they weren't enough to stand up to the Inquisitor. Having a building dropped on one was nothing but a delaying tactic, and not a very effective one at that.

  "I can't do much more," the orc said, his voice sounding clear in Farron's ears despite the rushing wind. "There are only a few lesser air spirits here. How's Misty?"

  "You can ask the damn thing yourself, we're almost at the docks," he said as he leapt directly onto the roof of a house before jumping further down the street. Wind Elementals didn't like being chained in the best of times, and without One-tooth's skills, it had been a real bitch.

  He'd hoped to get maybe a minute from dropping a building on the Inquisitor, but that had turned out to be far too optimistic. In his defence, he'd never fought or even seen one before, and it was difficult to tell which of the stories about them were true and which were propaganda.

  That was why neither of them expected the figure to return, leap through the air after them, and once more slam onto the roof behind them. "Now now, Captain. If you wish to run, how about I help you? We have time to play," it mocked. As soon as Farron turned to run, the figure flashed forward and slammed into their backs with the force of a landslide, sending them flying through the air.

  "Ah fuck!" Farron and One-tooth shouted in unison as their bodies windmilled through the air. Through some miracle, they'd managed to stay mostly together, the winds guiding them closer as they shot through the air like an arrow. It had a similar effect to what they'd just done to the Inquisitor, only much more powerful. They were at least fifty metres in the air, and still rapidly gaining altitude.

  "The docks! Aim us there!" Farron shouted, looking down at the distant ground and the figure of the Inquisitor. They were standing motionless on a roof, tracking the pair as they trailed through the air. They suddenly flashed forward, running so fast they almost appeared to teleport as they followed underneath the airborne duo. Farron and One-tooth would probably survive impact with the ground, but they wouldn't be in fighting shape. The Elementalist had been burning through the scant amount of mana the potion had given him, and if he arrested their momentum completely he'd just be in even worse shape than when he started — no mana to give them a fighting chance against the Inquisitor.

  One-tooth coughed out a wordless reply, the wind ripping the blood out of his mouth as he tried to speak. Of course, he'd absorbed most of the hit from the Inquisitor...

  Farron wasn't too worried about the health of his closest friend. Powerful as it had been, it was just a punch, and there weren't any open wounds on his naked back. Trying to keep him alive?

  Some of his internals might have been damaged, but at a certain point, Constitution became strong enough that most internal organs were more of a strong recommendation than an absolute necessity. The blow would have turned most men into a spray of viscera, but the fact that One-tooth hadn't instantly died meant he had at least a couple minutes of consciousness, more than enough to end this.

  The rushing winds hugged them tighter, and Farron fanned out his arms and legs to help the wind guide him. One-tooth was making some disturbing noises, but he was still able to focus on channelling his wind magic and keeping them aloft. The Inquisitor was either unable or unwilling to launch any ranged attacks, simply following along on the ground as the duo continued flying through the air.

  It was dark, although neither side was affected much by the lack of proper light. The weak street lights were more than enough for Farron to see by, and the Inquisitor didn't seem to have any problems tracking them through the air. The sea itself was a different story — nothing was lit up out there, not at this late hour.

  The groove in his mind was more than enough to guide him towards his target, though. The sense had grown stronger and stronger as he moved further to the sea, his ship sailing directly for him at the same time.

  By his estimation, they'd been airborne for around thirty seconds and would land in the same amount of time. It wasn't easy to relax and keep an accurate count after being punched into the air by one of the strongest individuals in all of Cathar, but he managed. The whole situation was so obscenely dangerous that he'd wrapped back around to not being concerned. Either he'd make it out, or he'd get caught by the Inquisitor and die instantly. Either way, there was no point worrying.

  It didn't take them long to reach the docks, and their momentum continued carrying them over the ocean. He'd seen One-tooth flying around plenty of times, but the sheer speed they had now was nothing close to the norm. The Inquisitor had stopped on the edge of one of the docks that stretched out into the bay like fingers, seemingly unwilling to enter the water. He seriously doubted it was because his foe was unable to — even if he didn't have a Swimming passive like Farron and One-tooth, his raw stats were obviously enough to catch them. Plus, Inquisitors had the full wealth of the Empire behind them, especially in the form of magical items and dungeon artefacts, so it seemed likely that they had a magical solution to water travel.

  As it turned out, the figure had a different reason to stop. In the darkness of the night, a massive ritual circle array suddenly flared to life. The whole point of a ritual array was for long-term and group casting, so he was confused by what was going on. Inquisitors were physically powerful, sure, and if the stories were to be believed they were all master mages as well, but even still there should have been no good reason to use such a large array. It was at least a dozen metres of electric blue lines and runes, rapidly brightening as truly insane amounts of mana were poured into it.

  Farron could feel the power, even from such a distance. One-tooth must have also noticed it, as he let out another pained grunt. Whatever that circle was for, it had to be stopped, and it had to be stopped fast. Luckily for him, he'd flown close enough to the Grymjaw to give more precise commands.

  He smiled.