Prologue
As night fell upon the coastal city nesting on the rocky pillars, so did the black storm-clad wings above as they embraced it like an otherworldly bird to its eggs. Swift gale galloped through the winding streets like an invisible cavalcade, uprooting everything in its path. Blinding lightnings churned the turbulent clouds with every breath, followed by deafening thunders as pillars of light pierced the veil of darkness to illuminate the sharp silhouette of the port city of Tuihevyn. Most of its inhabitants are used to this nightly ritual, huddling inside the relative safety and warmth of their abodes buried in walls of wood and stone, leaving the exposed streets to the forces of nature.
Strolling across one of the numerous bridges connecting the rocky towers was a lone figure, its shape obscured by a wide brim hat adorned with crimson feathers, and the black parasol carried by its gloved hands. Unconcerned by the terrible storm around it, the figure continued its steady, almost leisurely pace, its dress of black and red wavering gently with each step. As if shielded by some unseen forces, the piercing wind ravaged neither the lithe humanoid nor its elegant, instead escorting it towards the end of the bridge, and the end of the stony road.
Raindrops stopped dancing on the thick surface of the parasol as the silhouette moved under the reaching roof of a building, signaling the gloved hands to retract and lower the umbrella. As gravity took hold of it, all the droplets lingering on the black fabric flowed onto the ground like tiny streams, leaving the parasol almost untouched by the raging storm outside. Another tip of the plumaged hat persuaded the water accumulating on the black dress to follow suit, restoring the drenched figure to a presentable state.
The lone wanderer looked up from beneath the hat, revealing a sapphire-like eye encrusted in a smooth, youthful face, the other eye concealed by an eye patch decorated with an everlasting black flower. The round, rodent-like ears shivered slightly from the dripping water, while the now-freed hand moved onto the brass plaque adorning the opulent door before her. With only the flashes of lightning illuminating the surroundings, her sensitive fingers served as better eyes than her own could. She parted her lips and let the alabaster fog escape her warm body as she began reading the sign – the Conservatory of Tuihevyn.
Perfect.
Her hand slipped off the plague and landed on the handle, and with a gentle push, the large doors slid open with nary a noise, hinting at the immaculate maintenance befitting of such a venue. The tail protruding from beneath the hem coiled forward, delivering a lacquered box to her hand as she strolled into the entryway. With only rows of dim, pale lights decorating the walls, she could barely make out the shapes of the carved walls, humanoid and beastly figures supporting framed paintings that no doubt would entertain visitors during the buzzling daytime.
Once the door closed behind her, she could feel the air around her growing stiffer. The almost inaudible sound of air seeping in and out of the room informed her of the odd, mechanical flow of air before she felt the warmed, dry air caressing her form, cleansing her of the remaining rainfall as the air grew steadily colder. Having grown up in one of the underground cities in the highland, she was familiar with cold and hot breeze flowing through tunnels, but the steady, mechanical nature of this compartment unsettled her in an indescribable way. Nonetheless, she was experienced enough to maintain her aloof appearance, until the room reached a chilly temperature and stabilized.
Then, she spotted movement in front of her, drawing her attention to the round door frame at the other end of the entryway. With the clanking sounds of well-oiled metal grinding against each other, the door dilated as its five petals pulled away to reveal a starry spiral, widening until it opened completely into a circular doorway for her to walk further into the opulent building.
Beyond the strange door, the space around her opened up significantly. Flashes of lightning shone through the large glass panels above, illuminating the surroundings for her as the petals sealed the door behind her once again. Here, a large dome covered what could only be described as an indoor garden, but with all its greenery replaced by pieces of art and shelves of books – the air was too cold for most plants to thrive anyway. Curving chairs and round tables occupied the space beneath the windowed dome, providing comfortable seats for visitors to submerge themselves among the curated pieces of storied art and literature. A sniff of the faint, lingering aroma told her that some form of food was served here, perhaps light snacks that would not sully the display here.
In the middle of the building nested a smaller, circular building, its bricked walls adorned with vines of brass and bronze instead of leaves and liana. Her fingers wiped her freckled cheeks, and she saw the pipes were significantly colder than this already chilly place, with condensation lingering on its surface. This unnatural coldness, uninterrupted by the warmth of blood, caused her hair to stand more than anything she had faced today.
Standing proudly before the building in front of her was a statue, its shadow looming over her with every flashes outside, drawing her attention to it as she approached its pedestal carefully. It was a large statue, featuring a tailless humanoid riding a rearing horse, elevating the figure to the point that it strained her neck to look up. With only sporadic pale bolts to illuminate the statue, she could only tell that the rider had the body of marble, clad in a fine dress of black onyx and polished gold. The curvaceous figure suggested the figure was a female, a queen with a dark crown adorning her flowing hair of carnation pink. Rising towards the heaven by her side was a long, peculiar polearm, its tip drawing a smooth curve to the side like a severed crescent.
Beneath the feminine figure was a muscular, vigorous horse, its toned physique carrying the rider effortlessly. Its eyes were made of some kind of encrusted gem, its dark surface illuminating in a subtle red glow with every lightning, while its skin was shaped by a layer of translucent, pale-green alabaster. Beneath its hooves stood a well-polished pedestal, with bold strokes carved into the hard rock to signify… something. It was not the script of her mother tongue, and the dim light forced her to kneel and rest her hand on the carving to read the strange text, syllable by syllable.
“Morivo… haitëploks nët?” She knew of the foreign script, but only a smidgen of its meaning. A particularly loud thunder interrupted her thought, and her tail stood in alert as her fingertips fell onto the next line. “Ilimëbaot tenzölzy… ycöke ydröynöt ie…”
“Do not fear the reaper,” a sudden voice invaded her unsettled mind, causing her to gasp as she turned quickly to the phantom that escaped her senses. Her breathing quickly steadied as her hands held onto the folded parasol at the front, and the lacquered box to her back. The figure, on the other hand, remained calm as she slowly walked forward, the silvery lamp in her hand illuminating her cloaked form with cold light, “for her radiance is the everlasting light at the end, the eternal sunrise enthroned at the mountaintop.”
“Perhaps not the most elegant translation, but it’s a prayer very close to my heart,” the figure smiled as she lowered the cloak, revealing her own hair of pink gold and skin of pastel pink. “Welcome to my conservatory. I believe you have a delivery for me.”
“Your… oh. Ms. Mei, I presume?” The tailed girl quickly regained her composure as she relaxed her hands and rose from her knees. She took off her hat – as custom dictated – and greeted the pink-haired lady with a polite bow, the round ears emerging from the blond hair twitching slightly before her scarlet eyes.
“That I am. And you must be–”
“You may call me s’ahocäpiyi kulmöpyskiköi, the starver of strife-swallow’s hunger,” the visitor answered proudly, her tail lifting the lacquered box for her hands to present it, “and I’m here to deliver what is promised to you.”
“What a fancy title,” the cloaked lady let out a small giggle as she approached her. Her hands reached out to take and examine the box. The coldness seeping from beneath the insulating cloak gave the courier a small comfort, showing that she was not dull to the warmth of blood, instead ill-suited to spot one touched by the deathly chill in her freezing abode. The pale fingers tapped the lock gently, while the crimson eyes glanced at the mostly dried black dress. “I see they failed to hinder you much.”
“Just some miscreants hired from the lower docks,” the rodent girl wiped the droplets off her dress casually upon noticing her gaze, “they bored me. I would say I feel almost insulted.”
“Not enough to feed a strife-swallow like you, I see,” with a nod, the pink-haired lady concealed the delivery beneath her cloak, showing briefly the fine dress beneath the modest cover. “Please take a seat. I will return with your payment very soon.”
The tailed girl nodded as she sat on a chair nearby, her tail snaking through the hole at the back as she shivered slightly at the cold touch of the chair. She glanced at Mei as she walked towards the building within a building, standing before another door of petals. A quiet whisper of a passcode was enough to wake it up, and a gush of frozen air concealed her figure as the door dilated. She could tell that both the strange mechanism of the door, and the pipe-hugged walls were made to keep air and warmth from leaking through, perhaps to preserve whatever was stored inside from the passage of time.
It did not take long until the petals once again parted way for Mei. Without the cover of her cloak, the tailed girl could see the tall, curvy figure of the tailless one emanating cold air from beneath the seashell-tinted skin. She carried on one hand a hefty bag, and on the other hand a lacquered box, its taller dimension and lack of complex locks suggesting it to be different from the one delivered to her. With careful steps she stopped before the table and rested them both on the table. The clinking of coins within the bag was enough to cause the rodent ears to shake slightly.
“Here is the payment as agreed upon,” Mei’s finger gestured to the bag, before pushing it before the strife-swallow. With an affirmative nod, the gloved fingers moved to open the bag and snaked into it, swiftly counting the coins within. Just as she was about to close the purse with a satisfied smile, though, her attention was drawn to the box as it was opened. First, it was a small puff of cold air, a portion of the frozen world beyond the door. Then, as the relatively warm air around them dissolved the icy mist, her nose picked up a pleasant aroma, causing her to sniff instinctively. It was a delightful mixture of fine earthly green and warm caramel, all blended together with a delicate hint of strong sweetness kept at bay by the dulling freeze.
“And here is my personal gratitude,” the pink-haired lady chuckled as she saw the sparkles hidden beneath the ultramarine eye. With a well-practiced tuck, the source of the scent emerged from the icy container and revealed itself as a glass bowl filled with several olivine-tinted balls of snow-like gourmet, adorned with streaks of dark gold and a lone leaf at the top.
“… may I?”
“I insist,” the blue eyes lingered on the red eyes for a brief moment, before lowering onto the dessert. The gloved hand quietly reached for the warmth to the side and took hold of a silvery spoon. Its warmth allowed her to dig into the frozen food with ease, digging a spoonful off the dessert and unloading it onto her tongue, which quickly retracted into her mouth to let her feel the numbing coldness spreading within her skull. The ears twitched happily as her senses was submerged in the mellow bitterness which quickly melted away into a flavorful earthly richness of smooth, sweet fruit and salty caramel.
“I’m glad you like it,” Mei snickered and barely managed to draw her attention from the quickly disappearing dessert. She lifted her finger and guided the gaze to behind her own back, where she saw the waggling tail betraying her raw emotions. Upon realization, the blonde could no longer maintain her professional façade as the pale cheek turned to the same color as Mei’s hair.
“Ahem… it has been a while since I’ve had cold dessert, and it’s quite hot outside…” the girl tensed her lower body to pin her tail against the cold floor, and the stiffened hand quickly delivered the last few spoonsful of the delicious snack into her mouth. “What I mean to say is… thank you for your treat.”
“It’s the least I can do as a host. Not to mention reliable hands can be hard to find these days,” the lady set aside the now-empty box and leaned on the table, her garnet eyes glancing at the happy guest.
“Now, may I interest you with another proposal?”
I
With the last embers of the golden sunset retracting behind the mountains in the distance, a veil of darkness loomed over the coastal city of Tuihevyn once again. Chilly wind descended from the snow-capped massif once again, heralding the coming of the nightly rain. Yet, unlike the usual thunderstorm, the port town was instead graced by a moonlit night with only a light dust of powdery drizzle. Troops of umbrellas emerged from beneath the roofs to jump on the uncharacteristically calm weather, while motes of torches and lamps dribbling between the winding streets of the city of rocky towers.
Drawn by a pair of galloping horses, a lacquered carriage rushed through one of the streets. For every whip of the well-dressed coachman, the saddled beasts of burden neighed and brayed against passer-bys to make way for their master, with the dulled silver lamps dangling from the roof of the cart further signifying their lofty status.
However, not all would heed their call.
After making another narrow turn, the young coachman was forced to tuck on the reins, commanding the horses to hold their hooves. The inertia of the gilded carriage dissipated in the shivering air, finally stopping just a few paces before a small group of people standing in wait. These burly men looked like an average troop of workers, supported by the impromptu barricade of logs and assortment of tools behind them. Further beyond, some of the stone slabs paving the street were dug out, revealing the mixture of dirt and cobbles beneath.
“Move out of the way!” The driver called out to the men, but to no avail.
“Sorry mate, no can do. Road work ahead!” The foreman responded with his coarse voice, pointing his mallet to the unpaved hole behind the barricade.
“Damn it, can’t you do that another time? We’re in a hurry!” He looked ahead before leaning to the side of the cart, trying to look to the back. It would be a hassle to turn in such a narrow place.
“C’mon, ye know we don’t get no decent weather like this often,” some of the other workers took a step forward to the sides of the carriage, the flickering lights of their torches reflecting off the golden insignia on the jet black door. The window above it was shuttered, its own lamp within casting a feminine shadow outward. “Jus’ come about ‘n go thru th’ lower docks instead!”
“We’re on offi –”
“Let me handle this,” the frustrated cry of the coachman was interrupted by the soft voice from within the carriage. It was enough to turn his annoyance into obeisance. With one final glance at the men, the coachman leaped onto the floor and opened the decorated door, revealing the opulent interior within. While it was not a large cart, it was more than enough to house the diminutive, almost child-like body of a salamoim, with enough space for the several lacquered boxes secured by leather straps.
“As you wish, ma’am,” the driver offered a small bow to the passenger, before moving aside and leaping onto a horse. Meanwhile, the passenger made her exit as her heels landed on the stony floor, letting out a clear click as she turned. Compared to the towering men clad in plain, sturdy clothes and armed with mallets and sheathed knives, she was dressed like a fine lady befitting of the luxurious wagon. Most of her angled legs were covered by a lacy dress of black and red, and a pair of onyx leather gloves wrapped around the hands carrying a folded parasol. She already lithe silhouette was further refined by a small cape around her shoulder, and a belt of corset made of black cloth with golden trims. A flowing well-groomed hair of gold wavered beneath the wide brim hat adorned with crimson plumage, while the sapphire eye not covered by a flowery eye patch looked up to the foreman without an ounce of fear or concern.
“G’evenin’, wee lass,” the bearded foreman looked down on the lady and laughed, “I dunno if ye ‘ear wha’ yer driver said, but the road ahead be closed.”
“Is that so?” she asked as she cast her gaze ahead, looking at the half-unmade road and the barricades ahead, and the untidy sign reaffirming his words. Humming casually while her tail snaked behind her, she appeared unperturbed even when she felt their gaze upon the turquoise ornament dangling before her chest. “I guess it can’t be helped. Lower docks, you say?”
“Aye, sorry fer th’ trouble,” the foreman looked at the men to his sides, “ye don’t see a fine wee lass like ye travellin’ around this part of th’ town. Which clan are ye from? Maybe our boss can send an apology yer way.”
“Oh, you don’t have to. After all, we’re all just doing our job, aren’t we?” she smiled and the round rodent ears twitched gently as she turned her back on them, her tail tucked forward as the heeled boots moved towards the carriage. “But if you must know, I’m planning to have dinner with the Curator of the Conservatory. It’s a lovely night for it, don’t you think so?”
“Aye, it be a lovely night,” the man nodded, and his subordinates moved another step closer in response, “‘tis a ghastly spot ye be stuck in. ‘ere, let us ‘elp ye out, wee lass.”
“Now go!” with his gruff call, the man closest to the lady steeled his mind and reached for his knife. Its tip fixated on the small patch of pale skin behind her back as he lunged forward, to the exclusion of the sleek sound of leather glove sliding across fine cloth. Just as the cold steel was about to touch her porcelain skin, his narrowed vision was obscured by a slender shade. Before he could react, his wrist felt the warm snare of smooth, fine leather. Despite his height above her, all it took was a simple pull from her hand and tail for the parasol to divert the strike aside. The clear click of her boots pierced through the gasp, and the dress blossomed around her whirl. Lifted beneath the crimson lace, her shin swiped his uprooted leg aside, and his build betrayed him as he was thrown onto the cold slab floor.
“Oh, that would be wonderful~” the smile on her face deepened into a grin, and they could see their torchlight reflecting off her azure eye in a violet glow. She took half a step forward, her heel pinning the downed man to the ground before he could escape, all the while the slithering tail confiscated his weapon. “I was starting to worry there won’t be an hors d’oeuvre.”
“Ah, so the wee lass be a spitfire instead,” the foreman quickly hid his surprise before his men, and his hands clutched the mallet while the others cautiously drew closer to the rat-like girl. He betted an eye aside swiftly, before joining their ranks towards her, “let’s teach ‘er some manners!”
“Oh, it’s you that should be corrected,” a groan marked her move as she leaped forward, her small frame pushed down by gravity, away from the wide swing of a mallet. Even with his tense muscle, he could not turn the heavy hammer back towards his target before the smiling girl emerged beneath him. His will to fight was quickly shattered by a powerful punch, forcing a wave of pain to emanate across his body and sapping his strength. Her sole slid sideways, pulling her away just enough for him to fall on the ground wincing.
The rest of the gang hesitated for a second, but they soon steeled their resolves, and she could hear the pleasant baritone of blades unsheathing around her. In response, her tail passed the stolen dagger to her hand, her short stature giving it a semblance of a proper weapon. Giving her no more time to recoup, a man charged forward and swung his curved sword down towards her, his other hand closed to himself to avoid the same fate as his fallen comrade. The snicker beneath the wide-brimmed hat disagreed, and the cold touch of her dagger twisted the trajectory away. Even as he tried to swift his body backward, it was no match for her agility. She lunged into his chest and let his exposed neck tasted the silky, chilly fabric of her parasol. With their momentum joined, his center of gravity continued to retreat beyond his intent, and the leathery hook tripped him over onto the ground.
“Sloppy footwork!” she scorned as the hard tip of her umbrella wedged against the slab floor, weaving the stolen momentum upward into the moonlit night. With the boost of another step, her soaring body pulled the parasol out while her body turned backwards. Her dress briefly occupied the vision of another bandit before the sharp heels dug into his chest, his body cushioning her landing before she twisted those blades against him.
“Go wit’ th’ plan!” the pained foreman forced himself to stand up, his nervous glare drifting between the lady in black and the startled horse suppressed by the coachman. He dropped the cumbersome mallet and picked up a club from the side while several other men cautiously close in.
“They must’ve paid you scoundrels well for you to risk your life like that,” she mused as the hard skeleton of the parasol slapped away another cut from a dagger. The sole of her boot clapped against the stony floor, winding her torso as the tip of her knife drew a crimson line across the face of the attacker, turning his grunt into a scream. It was only then her thrilled mind realized something. She briefly retracted the smug grin on her face, and she dashed forward to the diminishing gap between the foreman and the pinned horse. The dark arc drawn by her blunt arm missed the long stave, but it was enough to turn it away from the wincing rider.
“Milady!” he warned as his foot slid out of the stirrup. The tailed girl lifted her head just as he stomped against the hitch on the shaft, and she saw the other end of the rod veering towards them. With her body trapped between the two, she could only grit her shark-like teeth and slammed her knife against the blow. She felt the difference in strength between the two, and her strained limb held on just long enough for the horse to be freed from the cart. With a loud crack and bray, the man in form-fitting clothes trotted his horse forward, through the dodging gang and then the barricade.
“Now you’re just being nasty,” she groaned and wrapped her fingers around the handle of her parasol. A firm twist and pull detached it from the shaft in a drawing motion, freeing the gleaming blade sheathed beneath the dark canopy. No longer forced to shield others, she shifted aside to let the next blow land on the unoccupied shaft of the carriage. Her tail coiled around the disguised sheath and pulled it away in a whip-like motion.
“Jus’ ‘and o’er th’ booty, wee lass. Ye ‘ave nowhere t’ run,” the foreman wiped the sweat off his brow, his club laid horizontal like a blockade against her. Instead, she held her dress sword above her head, its sharp edge gleaming in moonlight and its tapered tip pointing at its enemies in defiance.
“Oh, no I’m not running anywhere,” her thumb tapped against the button before it landed between the parting end of the handle, its metallic petals blooming into a mechanical flower in front of the hilt. “After all…”
“We’re all just doing our job, aren’t we?”
Without a word, the swordswoman lunged forward. The foreman quickly broke out of the shock and twisted the stave forward, down against the petite girl’s crooked legs. However, they sprang out of the way just in time to dodge the blow, and before he could raise his makeshift weapon, her blade drew a silvery arc through his wrist, tinging it with a splash of crimson. The cutting motion continued as her body spun to slam her ascending boot against his face. All her momentum was converted into pain as the disarmed man recoiled, pulling himself from her while her tail cushioned her fall, letting her land on her soles once again.
Yet, the victory in her mind was short-lived, as the amethyst eye glanced aside and spotted something familiar. A young man, wet behind his ears, with his shivering hands pointing a barrel in her general direction. It was enough for her to draw the scarlet blade away from her prey towards him. Her heeled boots rushed towards her new target, and her off hand grabbed onto her necklace against her chest. With a hushed yell, a flash of sea-green leaked out between her fingers. Her teeth dug into the crimsoned lips as she strained her muscle against the sudden push that threw her against the shocked man.
But then, her pupil narrowed into a pinhole as the barrel reached upward into the sky. Her hand plunged the blade forward, straight into his abdomen, but it was not enough to stop his finger from squeezing the trigger. With a loud thud, an artificial star ignited within the barrel and ascended into the drizzly heaven, its blinding heat forcing the rodent girl to recoil instinctively as her stained sleeve covered her eyes and cheek. The flare rose beyond the reach of even the highest tower, before exploding into a fiery flower as its crack echoed across the streets. Smoke and fire lingered in the cold air as all eyes turned upward to witness its unspoken message, with the mauve eye joining at last.
Her bewilderment was cut short as well, with her senses returning just in time for her to sidestep away from an incoming cutlass. Before she could raise her marooned sword, though, the same wooden pole she tainted just moments ago landed squarely against her stomach, slamming her light body against the wall. It was enough to force a yell out of her lithe body, and the few frantic wide swings of her blade failed to touch any of her bloodied enemies. She knew the staff was too sturdy to be cut. At the corner of her eye, she could see beyond the closing in bandits that one of them, a timid young man, forced the carriage door open and dived into its cargo. Her cargo.
A strange feeling began to surge within her, an emotion that she had not experienced for a long time. She could feel fire coursing through her veins. A more bestial voice echoed inside her, lifting her spirit and telling her to right what they wronged her. Then, as if to answer the instinctual prayer, her large round ears picked up something from the distance, long before the men could close in on her. “Out of my way!” the loud smack of a whip drew their attention, and they quickly pulled back as the horse leaped across the barricade and cut through the small crowd. It took only a moment for the horse to race across the street, but it was enough.
Her five limbs moved on their own. Her boots stomped against the hard, stained floor, and her blade aim straight and true against its closest target. Her eyes could almost see through the rose-tinted skin, into the carmine blots that her tainted edges pierce through. Her soles twisted and turned her body, pulling the gleaming sword out and draining the color within. Her body only gave them a breath’s worth of respite before lunging forward once more, intercepting the next target climbing above the barricade. With a smooth motion the warmed steel dug into the burning flesh, spilling nowhere near enough blood.
With a press of her fingertip, the two primordial elements intertwined with each other, their intent spiraling through her blade as her muscles braced for what was to come. The transformed elements forced their way through the punctured skin and into her target. With an exquisite scream, the weak skin and flesh gave way to the erupting breath of mist, turning a good chunk of the body into a torrent of crimson blossoms scattering as far as her widened eye could see. Her ears cared not of what the others cried, just their hurried footsteps as they tripped on each other fleeing for their life.
How disappointing, her voice said.
Her legs strode towards her tilted cart as her blade drew a red crescent across the foggy air, and a red line across the floor and wall. Her ears picked up the panicked neighs from the horse still trapped in front of the carriage, offering the comforting reminder of it not going anywhere anytime soon. Then, her lips curved upward as the rascal showed itself through the door frame.
“Boss! Whar be th’ – AH!” the bandit tripped over, dropping one of the lacquered boxes onto the ground as the orchid-colored eye locked onto the pallid face. Her mind could taste the tingling iron on her tongue, and the metallic fragrance in her nose. Her legs propelled her closer, until her skin felt a chilly caress across her chin, staining the one untainted patch of her skin.
“Off wit’ ye! Villain! Foul monster!” a chuckle escaped her parched throat, for those words were as weak as the dagger flapping between them.
Even though he is not wrong.
“Indeed~ you see, monsters don’t bleed,” her unarmed hand rose to the mark left on her skin and tugged. The itch was palpable as the stray crimson stain mixed with her transparent fluid. The screaming face grew almost as pale as hers, the clouded eyes staring at the risen blade.
“Humans, on the other hand…” her sharpened teeth buried themselves into her lips, just like her blade into her prey. Her ears heard the loud thud of the heavy body slamming against the door, sliding down as her fingers let go of the hilt, leaving behind a large cherry smear on the door.
The only sound left was the gasp of her breath, and the slowly rising echoes of clapping horseshoes.
She let out a cough, freeing a mist of liquid through her lips. She turned her head and looked at the rider as he slowed down before the carnage. “We… got to go, ma’am. They’ve blocked the roads ahead and behind,” his words sank into her mind, digging up the thoughts interrupted.
“I know,” she grabbed her lodged sword and pulled it out of the fleshy scabbard, adding another stroke on the stony canvas. The cobalt eye glanced at the smoking gun quenched by the sweats of war as she wiped the gore off her warmed steel. She knew it would not be the last time she had to do so before sheathing it. “They’re more coordinated than I thought.”
“What now?” the worried man looked behind him, and then left and right.
“Carve our way through, of course,” she savored the iron wine one more time, “It’s a lovely night for it, don’t you think so?”
Intermission
Pale moonlight poured through the window into the warm room, spilling across the crowded wooden table and the lectern before it. Arms of metal held the bleached pages open, revealing the lines of text with flowering calligraphy, adorned by intricate pictures of legendary figures, and patterns of gold winding along the margins. With every line read, a gloved hand moved over the table and slid a loaded pistol into the belt alongside the others. Then, it picked up another unloaded gun and held it in the clutches of a mounted clamp. With the turn of a metal hook, the clamp held onto the gun, freeing the single hand to reach for the leather sacks hanging by the edge of the table.
“… and then, to hold what it stole, the benefactor-trickster god assumed the form of a rodent, carrying the blazing fire until all its hair became embers…” she read the still-unfamiliar script, divining the meanings of the ancient writing through a concoction of memorized words, pictures, and imaginations as they filled them gap like molten wax into a mold. It was a pleasant pastime for her mind, as her experience no longer required its supervision to pour the dangerous powder into the barrel, or to ram it until it became a solid block of ash.
“… to preserve the divine flame, the benefactor god put it in a hollow reed. And the imperishable fire burned multiple holes through it, and thus was born the music of creation…” the hand stopped just before it reached another bag, one filled with translucent, carnelian spheres. Her ears had picked up something, and she turned her head to face the doorway with her eyepatch. She could hear the echoes of footsteps seeping through the corridor, unimpeded by the eerie silence of this usually storm-clad city. Soon enough, the source of the footsteps arrived behind the door and, with a knock, opened the door to reveal the familiar face of her first mate.
“Captain,” the young man greeted his captain with a polite nod as he closed the door behind him. Carrying a bulky wooden chest, he took a step towards the table before his eyes registered the myriad of weapons concealing most of its surface. He turned his gaze left and right and, without finding another surface, opted to rest the box on the wooden floor.
“Ahoy!” The captain glanced briefly at the box before she beamed brightly at him. Her hand casually rolled the round gemstone into the barrel of the mounted pistol, fitting like a hand in glove as she squeezed it into the packed gunpowder. “That doesn’t look like our booty~ are our guest late?”
“‘fraid not, captain,” his response intrigued her while her hand turned, twisting the hook at the end of her arm to release the clamp. After the now-loaded gun joined the fully filled belt, she paused her preparation to focus on what he had to say. “Out scout spotted some signals from the squads waiting at the upper levels. The courier isn’t planning to hand our target over.”
“Fighting it out, eh? That’s fine with me too. Hopefully we can get a bigger booty afterwards,” she raised her hand towards the book stand, unclipping the pages so that she could turn to the next page. While the calligraphy remained elegant, the picture accompanying it was considerably more gruesome, with a tailed figure chained to a cliff, the slit abdomen marked with regal ink. “How many escorts are there?”
“One,” the answer made her pause and turn her head towards him, only for him to reaffirm the report from the doomed highwaymen. Part of her was glad that she kept her less expendable, veteran crew close. “Charting the flares’ positions, they at lease managed to chase them towards here as planned.”
“Guess I should’ve expected the Conservatory to hire someone above your average goons,” she shrugged it off after pondering for a moment, “you ready to join me for some actual work?”
“As always, captain,” he responded with a smile to match hers.
“Speaking of which, our employer asked me to deliver this to you,” he lowered himself to the box by his side and unlocked it. As he removed the wooden cover, she could see the treasure cushioned within. It appeared to be a gauntlet of steel and brass, but the multiple pipes and vials of colorful liquids embedded on it showed it was something more than an ornate glove. The first mate slid his hands beneath it and presented it to her, giving her a better look of this undoubtedly expensive gift. “They, um, think you might need it.”
“It’s because of this, isn’t it?” The captain chuckled as she lifted her other arm. The metal hook of a hand glittered under the silvery moonlight, its curvature reflecting her distorted grin. “I say we teach them some manners after we got paid. I’ll show them how far I can shove this hook up their—”
“I doubt the port would be pleased,” his strait-laced answer to her joke let to her pouting at his smile.
“Fine, I’ll give it a try. I just hope it isn’t coming out from the booty,” with his help, the redhead captain sank the hooked hand into the gauntlet, until her hook anchored itself deep within the prosthesis. With it locked in place, she casually moved her arm, feeling the additional weight to her metallic hand.
“I think this color’s… open?” Her voice resonated within the brass tubes, commanding the liquid in the glass tubes to dance. With the clicking sound of metal dislodged, the clutched fist of the gauntlet relaxed into an open palm.
“This is going to be confusing,” she mused and raised her arm, turning it left and right to let her appreciate its lavish appearance. “But I might as well give it a good ol’ field test.”
“What’s your order, captain?” Her word signaled him to ask.
“Tell the seamen to get ready. Get the strongest topmen to go ashore with the chains,” she rubbed her chins as a plan unfolded inside her mind. “Arm the boarders and station them at bridgehead. I’ll join them in a moment.”
“Aye aye, ma’am,” the first mate nodded, already knowing what the good captain had in mind. He glanced at the lectern with mild interest, but ultimately did not comment on it as he took his leave. Once he left, the captain returned to her table, although she figured she would not have enough time to prepare for more, especially with the new toy at hand. She reached for the loaded belt on the table, the metallic knuckles pressing against the table until the cold fingers locked in place once more, holding the belt tightly for her to don it around her waist. If nothing else, it was nice to fasten the buckle without needing extra help.
“Where was I? Ah…” she talked to herself as her attention returned to the treasure of a book. She would have to finish it another day before she had to return it. The captain stood up from her seat and walked towards her cloth hanger. As she retrieved her hearty coat and trusty cutlass, the eyes of red and gold continued to be drawn towards the dimly lit book.
“The trickster god said to the huddling people, ‘rejoice, for I have brought you the awe-inspiring fires of gods, the limitless power of pure creation itself!’” The captain read the line in a dramatic fashion, befitting of the legend as her leather glove rested on one of the guns wrapped around her waist. Then, with a sudden twist, she drew the firearm in a fluid motion, turning towards the window and aiming the barrel towards the starry night outside the window. At a distance, she could see the sparkling lights adorning the stiff cliffs of the city. It was not the first time she docked here, but she did not remember having a clear view of its night unhindered by the frequent thunderstorms. She liked the fair weather.
“And so, armed with the fire from which all arts spring, man fashioned for themselves all kinds of weapon,” the captain practiced her quickdraw a few more times, before returning the pistol to the belt one final time. As she unclipped the book, she read out the last line of the book, unsure of what it meant to the people who wrote it in the long-lost past. “Together, they brought forth a terrible springtime, during which only mushrooms of smoke grew. As thus it has ever been: everything began with fire, and everything will end with fire.”
“What a bummer,” she remarked as she closed the book and return it to her bookshelf. Locking it for what was to come, the captain hummed playfully as she strolled out of her quarters, and into the darkness of night.
To be continued…