“That thing is still gaining!” Amelia’s voice reached Iris via the bone transduction spell, “Any other ideas?”

  Iris gave up on enhancing the engines of Starwitch and refocused her mind on remote-viewing, speaking her usual spell as she closed her eyes, to mentally reach the distant ship. Her mind flicked from one room to another as she searched for either the control center or the ship’s spell-core, bothered by the stench of the place.

  The walls were granite that practically thrummed with magic, because the entire structure was being used to absorb the natural magic that filled the universe, which was then directed into a gravity-manipulation spell. That was a terrifying prospect, because it indicated the monolith was capable of accelerating at such power basically indefinitely, without using fuel, a conclusion that left Iris more determined than ever to disable it.

  After seeing a few empty corridors, she looked on what could only have been a rotting corpse that mostly lacked skin, revealing a set of festering muscles, but unlike all of those she’d seen on battlefields, it was walking around, causing her to conclude she was looking at a zombie. The stench was far worse up close and she nearly puked! The poor creature groaned, because it was obviously in pain.

  She quickly moved on, searching the maze-like halls, all of which were basically identical.

  Trying a new tactic, she paid more attention to her magical senses, searching for the most powerful magical emanations, because there was no way the magic of the structure could be unified and controlled without a spell-core. It was far too large for a single witch or wizard to handle.

  After popping around the interior of the enemy ship seven more times, essentially playing hot and cold with magic, she homed in on the right room, utterly startled by what she saw, because the spell-core was huge! It was mounted in the floor and stood only four feet tall, with two heavy plates, though there was a lot of space between them. The most bizarre aspect of it, however, was the fact the lower plate housed twenty smaller spell cores, each about the size of the one in Starwitch, each linked by their screw-in bases, though they appeared to have been welded in place, after the fact. There was room for at least twenty more. Each of the small spell-cores appeared unique, with its own design, though they were all approximately the same dimensions. Considering the fact they’d been dealing with a pirate, Iris concluded the smaller cores had been looted from other ships, likely after they were destroyed.

  The air of the large, round room smelled incredibly fresh and clean, despite the fact it was full of zombies standing guard, who were moaning, as if in pain.

  “I’ve found the enemy’s spell-core.” Iris announced, “I’m going to unscrew it.”

  “Good idea.” Marta muttered back.

  Amelia chipped in, “Be careful, because there’s a lot of magic in those things!”

  Iris laid hold of the huge spell-core and powerful magic flowed back, using her remote-viewing spell as a conduit for an attack! She suddenly felt as if her every nerve-ending was on fire, in pain beyond anything she’d ever experienced before! The only saving grace was the fact she wasn’t actually present, or she would have burned alive!

  Iris screamed and slumped over, clearly unconscious, causing Marta to curse, before she reasoned it was her turn to try something.

  “Fine, then it’s time to get nasty! I didn’t pick this fight, but I’m-” she cursed, “well going to end it!” Marta growled.

  She laid both hands on the base of the spell-core, that she might direct her magic through the ship’s masts and began a slightly modified version of the chant she’d learned in Dugaria, which she’d hoped never to use again, speaking the words for ‘fire’, ‘burning’, ‘wide-area’ and ‘pirate’, with linking syllables to attach it to ‘fuel’, ‘limited’ and ‘ash’. With the spell complete, it drew magic from both Marta’s body and the spell-core, causing the ship to lose still more thrust.

  Sitting in her place of honor in the bridge of her ship, the Dead Queen looked out at her prey, quite pleased by the pyrotechnic display of flames gathering around the little ship’s three intact masts. She was eager to consume the witches inside, because one of them had some rather superior fire magic, which had always been difficult for the ancient witch. Just as pleasing was the fact she’d sensed powerful earth magic from the same witch, a rare double combination. Consuming the soul of the witch responsible would greatly enrich the Queen’s powers.

  The other had also been fairly unique, using rather strong remote-viewing magic to spy on the interior of Foundation Stone, the Queen’s ship. The little dog had sniffed around until she found the spell-core and tried to do something to it, but that had been a fool-hardy choice, because the Queen had long ago setup a protective spell to burn anyone alive if they touched it without being its owner and she’d sensed that spell going off, despite the fact the witch wasn’t aboard, which was fascinating. The Queen just hoped they’d survived their sabotage attempt, because she wanted to learn more, before she ate their soul.

  In life, the Queen’s hair had been lustrous, curly and red. Her eyes had been a friendly green, above narrow lips and a small nose. Her skin had been rather fair, like a typical redhead.

  In stark contrast, most of her hair had fallen out and the remainder was rather unhealthily dull. Her eyes were still green, but their former friendliness was gone, replaced by an intensity that openly displayed the madness that was typical of a witch that specialized in blood, bone and spirit magic, the three cornerstones of necromancy. Her pallid skin hung from her bones, not from the sagging of old age, but because most of it had detached, while some wretched infection had recently gotten into her muscles, consuming them until there wasn’t much to them, not that muscle mattered to an undead, because the soul’s memory of muscles moved the bones with magic and the real ones did little more than add extra strength, at least until they rotted off.

  She wore an old, black dress that would have been far too revealing for a living woman and was even worse for a walking corpse, because no one wanted to see so much of her. Atop her head was a pointed hat, the tip of which had fallen over in the years she’d been wearing it, leaving it hanging down the back, because it had lost all of its stiffness through decay and neglect.

  Sitting on the floor beside her was her constant companion, Bones, an enormous rottweiler with evil-looking, glowing red eyes. Other than that small hint of the supernatural, Bones looked relatively normal for a dog so massive, he could crush a man’s skull with ease.

  The bridge of Foundation Stone looked more like a throne room than the control center of a ship, with an obsidian throne inlaid with gold at the center, facing a huge window of enchanted glass that kept the sun from being uncomfortably bright, on top of making it as strong as steel. Dozens of zombies, plus a few skeletons, were seated around the throne she stood beside, each of them at a bank of controls set into granite consoles that had been carved from the mountain her ship had once been. Each had been a living pirate that displeased her, only to have their souls permanently bonded to their bones as punishment, with their minds fully intact, incidentally wiping away their ability to disobey. Most simply stared ahead and awaited an order, though one of them was writing, recording current events for the ship’s log.

  The strongest of the souls the Queen had consumed spoke reproachfully, though her voice was quieter than a whisper, Haven’t you killed enough witches? When will it be enough?

  “When I’m truly immortal, with my flesh intact.” The Queen waved a hand as she softly spoke the witch’s words for ‘spirit’ and ‘silence’, directing a small percentage of her power toward suppressing the outspoken soul.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  She watched the spell gathering power on the masts of the little ship, amused by the skill of her next meal, because their ship had been enveloped in flames and the spell was still growing. It was obvious the magic had been enhanced by their spell-core, though the massive size was beyond what that device could have achieved on its own, marking the fact the witch was directing the energy through her own body, which was far more impressive. Most fools that tried to grasp the sun would burn, but this one was so skilled with fire, she wasn’t burning and neither was her ship. In fact, the Queen was beginning to get a little nervous, giving her the kind of thrill she hadn’t felt in combat for more than two centuries.

  She wanted to see what else they could do, but being burned to ash was not among the Queen’s plans for the day.

  “A pity.” She muttered, then spoke the magic words for ‘blood’, ‘spasm’ and ‘unconscious’, focusing her mind entirely around the spell-core of the other ship, because her target had to be touching it, considering what she was doing.

  There was significant interference from what felt like some protective runes, but the Queen simply poured more magic into her spell, until she broke through, which was easy enough for her.

  Despite the lack of atmosphere and much muffling, Amelia heard a bloodcurdling scream from Marta flow up through her suit and was forced to conclude both of her sisters had been defeated!

  Amelia looked at the scrying crystals, disappointed to see Marta hadn’t been able to deploy her fire spell, which was breaking up and fading away, bits of it dropping off the masts like snow shaking off a moving vehicle.

  Amelia felt very alone, because she knew her puny magic was no match for their pursuer. Her mind ran like lightning as she considered options, then acted on a hunch, turning Starwitch to the side for a sharp turn, convinced there was no way that massive ship could turn so rapidly.

  She watched the rear view crystal, feeling pleased with herself for a few brief seconds, until she saw the monolith produce a massive blast of steam from one side, which spun it around, so it could continue to chase Starwitch! Amelia tried a few more sharp turns, but the mountain of granite stayed with her and continued to put on fresh acceleration, using both gravity manipulation and its engines!

  Hopelessness filled Amelia’s heart, because she was completely out-matched. Perhaps an opportunity to escape would present itself, but wasting all of their water to run wasn’t the answer. It would be better to save it for later.

  Amelia stopped turning the ship and slowly eased off on the throttle, hoping the monolith’s crew would notice and take them alive, rather than smashing them like a bug. As she’d hoped, the monolith slowed for a more sedate approach. With a little more maneuvering, a huge docking bay, which also contained the glass ship, was lined up to capture Starwitch. Above the open cavity was a huge slab of granite mounted on a number of metal tracks, which was obviously the door.

  Amelia used the gas thrusters to turn the ship around, that she might look with her own eyes, because she wanted to look for weaknesses. As expected, a little figure stood in the open docking bay, holding a wand, but they wore no pressure suit, which was strange.

  Above the bay was a large window giving a view of something akin to a throne room, which must have been the control center of the monolith, though it was hard to make out details, due to distance, aside from a figure in a dress seated on a black throne, which must have been the witch in charge.

  Amelia despaired at the sensation of how much magic was emanating from the other ship, still horrified by the fact it was capable of spatial translocation, which had been hypothetical, until Amelia had seen it with her own eyes. She felt numb with terror and uncertainty, because there was nothing she could do in the face of such power.

  When a shudder ran through the hull, Amelia was shaken back to her senses and concluded the Docking Witch had taken control. Noting how close they were, she realized she should have retracted the masts when she had the chance!

  She struggled for a moment with the combination of her gloves and the buckles of her seat, then got up and struggled for a time with the magnets in her boots, before she reached for the winch in the ceiling, just as the artificial gravity of the bigger ship kicked in. She worked the handle as fast as possible, but there was an awful, metallic crunching sound as the upper mast struck the ceiling of the docking bay and bent as the Docking Witch hauled Starwitch in, without the slightest concern.

  Amelia began to work on the winch for the left mast, but as it began to move, the Docking Witch intentionally swiveled the ship around, ramming the mast into the ceiling, producing more sounds of metal under strain as the second mast bent, while Amelia fell toward the opposite wall, landing in a heap! The witch repeated the process with the last of the intact masts, while Amelia clung to the handle of the winch, to avoid being thrown a second time!

  When the ship was oriented the right way for a landing, she stepped back to the controls and pushed the lever that would extend the landing gear, producing a distant whir. She’d wanted to preserve the masts, just in case, but the last of Amelia’s hope for the future vanished away, replaced by dark depression.

  Behind the ship, the outer door lowered, blocking Amelia from seeing the stars on the rear-view crystal. As the door settled in, the gap between it and the spot it slotted into vanished, the result of some serious runic magic.

  Amelia watched the needle of the external atmosphere gauge rise, knowing full well what that meant.

  When it reached normal, she took off her helmet and started removing her pressure suit on her way backwards through the ship, bothered by the disgusting stench of the monolith’s interior. After unsealing the door to crew quarters, she climbed out of the suit and carefully put it away.

  Concerned for her sisters, she headed to the spell-core, finding the two of them lying in a heap. They had a few bruises, but otherwise seemed okay, because they were starting to wake.

  Amelia sat down beside them and muttered, “They caught us and I don’t know what else to do.”

  “We fight.” Iris muttered and put a hand on the spell-core.

  Marta nodded and did the same, quickly joined by Amelia.

  As a woman with a mythril wand stepped through the open door of the entry bay and looked down the length of the interior, Amelia noted how much more foul the air smelled as a result, then noted the way the woman’s skin seemed to be slowly flaking off, as if she had some awful and likely lethal disease that was slowly leaving her without skin, though she was still moving around!

  As the sisters each concentrated on a silent spell of their own, using the energy of the spell-core, the invading witch growled in the witch’s tongue, rapidly rattling off words for ‘shock’, ‘stun’ and ‘ball’ at a pace that left the sisters playing catch-up! She hurled a small, blue ball of lightning, which exploded the moment it struck the floor, sending electricity through the entire ship, leaving the sisters stunned and senseless!

  More zombies stepped into the ship while the sisters trembled on the floor, due to overload of the nerves responsible for voluntary muscle movements. Needless to say, none of them could keep their hands on the spell-core, nor could they concentrate on magic.

  Each of them was picked up by no less than three of the zombie soldiers, who wore enough plate and chain armor that they were more pleasant to the eye than the Docking Witch that had stunned them.

  The undead witch commented as they began to recover from her spell, “Welcome to Foundation Stone, the flagship of the pirate fleet. The Dead Queen will see you shortly, though you won’t be seeing her, unless she decides to consume your souls.” The zombified witch’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone as she hissed, “If you want a quick death, try to look weak. If you want to live, try to be entertaining, but whatever you do, hold in your magic, because if she can sense your power, she’ll consume your souls, though I gather it may already be too late for that.”

  “Why should we listen to you?” Iris demanded and fought to free herself.

  The rotting witch spoke softly, “We’re victims of the Queen as much as you and I wouldn’t wish my awful fate on my worst enemy.”

  Amelia looked around at the zombie soldiers, who nodded to the zombie woman’s words. There had always been rumors of undead and necromancers, but Amelia had always imagined zombies as magically-animated mindless corpses, rather than dead bodies with souls bonded to them with magic. It was an awful fact to see up close and personal, because most of the soldiers were groaning, as if they were in pain from their bodies rotting away, a really awful and torturous existence.

  Amelia nodded and didn’t resist as she thought over the witch’s words. Marta, on the other hand, started another of her artillery spells, which got the zombie witch to hit her with another rapid-fire stun spell.

  “You have my sympathies, but I can’t disobey orders.” The zombie woman sighed.

  Iris closed her eyes and began her usual two-word spell to remote-view, but was cut off halfway through the first word by a punch to the gut, followed by another stun spell from the zombie witch!

  The soldier that punched her apologized, “Sorry.”

  “How cruel is this Dead Queen of yours?” Amelia whispered, “Does she like to see people cry?”

  The witch leaned very close and whispered into Amelia’s ear, “That makes her laugh. It might save you or it might doom you to a slower death. It’s hard to predict the Queen’s mood.”

  Amelia nodded as a plan formed in her mind. She was in no position to save her sisters, but she might save herself, a wretched and hopeless thought. She wasn’t sure what she might do with her life after that, but she wouldn’t be able to do a thing if she was dead.

  Despair gripped Amelia’s frame, but she took the zombie witch’s words to heart, seeing no reason to doubt them. To that end, Amelia brought the day her mother died to mind, focusing her heart on that awful and helpless scene, intentionally holding herself on the edge of that emotional precipice, ready to jump in at a moment’s notice.