013 (1/2)

Author Note: So, I heard you guys don’t read the blurbs right under the Chapter t.i.tle? Well...you are missing out. They are important because they tell histories and fill small gaps in the story about how things work. Also, a lot of them have information that creeps up in the main story.

Edited by- Luciferia

“…The Salresian a.s.sa.s.sins blacken their poisoned daggers, except the very edge so that it doesn’t reflect light. However they can’t cover the edge as it will make it blunt. Their main weapons, the Daharii Crossbows are made pitch black…Magic is not used so as not to leave a trace of Aurora…”

-The a.s.sa.s.sination Game, Surinar Ottho, 1578 A.C.

Chapter 13 : Surviving Curses

“Your picture looks nicer than you”, Faeve said while balling up the piece of yellowish paper in her hands.

“I wish it was the same painter that did me last time”. I answered while I loaded up my gear in a basket.

I stared at the green fishes poking their lifeless eyes at me. Staring contest with dead fishes. Yay… Rigel 1 , Sanity 0.

The gruff sailor scowled at me, his voice harsh. He then gestured at the fish barrel.

Fine.

I climbed in and sat inside it. The barrel was large enough to fit me. It still has half its s.p.a.ce empty?

Not for long though.

Smelly, slimy fish landed on me, covering every inch of the barrel. If not for the small, concealed breathing holes at the bottom, I would have been dead in minutes. In a barrel with dead fishes.

I stared up at the patchwork reddish sky from under the mult.i.tude of fish bodies. The gruff sailor closed the lid, nasty grin on his face. My last view consisted of tens of dead fishes staring at me and then…darkness.

Happy journey, Rigel.

~~~

When Urun heard that we wanted to leave immediately, she had stared at us as if we were crazy. She had told us to wait and had gone out, barking after someone. After a while, she had come back with yellowish sheets of paper in her hands.

She thrust those rumpled papers at me. I took them in my hands—s.h.i.+t!

Now, I had wanted posters in my name earlier. After I killed bishop Andalus, Talaviel’s Order had asked for my head and issued wanted posters to that effect.

When I had seen those posters arrive at Salrest…I wanted to reward whoever painted them. The painter obviously had no idea of how I looked, I mean what’s with the curled horns? Anyway, due to that the Order’s bounty hunters couldn’t find me out easily.

Some did though. They were smart. Too smart. And they ended up in the room.

But this painting was…quite good. No wonder, since the Merchant guild was involved. The reward was also substantial. I can’t pa.s.s the checkpoints on the road towards Mountain of Trees. I grimaced at the picture—it would be hard to flee with these posted at every city, town and guilds.

“There is only one way, Eri-larr”, Urun said while offering me a usui-filled pipe. “The seas to the west. From there you can go to Forril village at the edge of Ebraven’s border, and then, the Mountain of Trees”.

Faeve sat sharpening her daggers. She looked up at me, “The sea-way is a bit longer, but at least no one will hunt us”. She picked up her tools and packed them in a bag, “Get ready. We leave now”.

“Ei, Faeve-larr. You can’t go out right now. The guards will be roaming the docks too. Wait till evening falls and the fis.h.i.+ng Nampars come back”.

“Why?” I inquired, a sudden gust of wind carried in the gutter-stink.

“Because, Eri-larr, you will be going as cargo. No one checks a Nampar”, Urun gave an unsettling smile.

I do not like the sound of this.

“Stay here, Faeve, I am going out. I have things to do”, I said while I put on a drab looking jacket.

“Nay. I will go with you”, Faeve said as she sheathed her daggers.

I turned my face towards her while I called a girl over, “You won’t like where I am going”.

“I can’t risk you running away, humankin”.

“Don’t interrupt me then”, I walked towards the girl, “Turin, make me a different person. Someone people won’t look twice at”.

~~~

An hour or two later, I checked myself in the small mirror. Mirrors were pretty costly in this world, but…it was needed for these girls’ trade, so there were a few in Urun’s establishment. Matted brown hair fell over my face, coiled and untidy. Bits of dirt and grime stuck to my tanned skin, a huge black birthmark on one cheek.

Faeve too had received a makeover. She no longer looked the bisque-doll—smile lines and dust covered her untidy visage. She had a sick pallor, her hair being ruddy black. Her elf-ears were covered with a torn up straw hat.

We headed out towards the Spire.

The guard at the city gate stopped us, “Halt! Where are you going!”

I tripped and stumbled on purpose, while I muttered incomprehensibly under my breath. Faeve was holding me tight by my arm.

“Torr-guard, ma hussband ‘er drunk on Coolien. He c.u.mma hom eerieday drunk. Me goin’ ta forrest fa sum buchi leaves fer heem ta feed on”, Faeve spoke like a slum dweller from outside the city walls.

“Why are you inside the walls?” the guard bellowed coming down from his Serrad.

“Ma hussband be a stinkin’ ba.s.stard. He gunn off to spend all ma ‘earnins on Coolien and….and wh.o.r.es!”, she sounded angry. “Wh.o.r.es I teel you, torr! –

“Okay, okay. Enough, woman. Don’t go near the Spires. The monsters will eat you”, The guard looked at me hard.

“Ofcuss, torr. Na be c.u.min’ with me, ye fool”, Faeve tugged at my arms.

“Shhutup woman, tek ye hands uff me”, I tried to add some dramatic effect. Hey, I did want to be an actor once!

The guard came at me, shoved me by the chest, “Don’t speak like that to your wife, scoundrel. Lowest of the lowest”. He strode back, “Go…get that man some buchi leaves and take him home”.

Faeve pulled me along the dirt road leading to the forest. For some reason, she was digging in too hard.

“You…you…little scrumper. You almost got us caught!”, she started yelling as soon as we were near the Spire, long past the Guard post. Her nails left marks on my skin.

“Dun…b like ‘tat, wife”. I said while I cut off the limbs of a vestar. We were near the marshes, under which lay the room.

Faeve scowled at me, while she kept watch out for any onlookers. We had to carry our weapons in the pouch I had found at Icchvarrion’s mansion. My fingers dug on the pouch, Arin…

I dipped the bleeding limbs of the Vestar into the marsh water, shaking it. “Say, Faeve, anyone could cut your hair while sleeping, right? So anyone could become an Aivern”.

She kept staring at the Spire while she talked, “No. Everyone back at Olyelnore Ur’van knows the rules, they would properly challenge a Ur’van-ere to combat to cut her hair. Besides, this hair is our connection to the tree of life, it can’t be cut by one ineligible to become an Aivern”.

“You said ‘back at your home’, so what are you doing here? Sounds like only Elves are chosen to become one”.

She cast her eyes down, and stayed silent for a while, “Yes, only elves are chosen to become an Aivern. The daughters are not to leave the Forest…but I was…” her voice trailed off. She cleared her throat before continuing, “I was exiled”. She touched the scarf that covered her throat. I knew what she was touching. The pitch black choker underneath.

I shouldn’t pry, should I?

By now I had seen the Crezets’ shadows under the surface. Two Crezets rose up, water draining from their blackish scales. The training I had put these beasts through for the last year, combined with the sacrifice I had give to learn control the sacred beasts of Zain compelled them to listen to me.

“What are you planning?” Faeve asked, drawing her daggers.

I smiled at the Crezets feeding on the torn limb, “Why, an underwater adventure of course”.

Faeve sat on the Crezet gingerly. Her eyes skittered fitfully, her fingers fidgety on its back. I shot a smile at her while I sat on another, teaching her to grasp the scales correctly. The Crezets sunk into the water slowly, taking us with them. Dirty water filled with debris swirled around us, the sunlight grew dim with each pa.s.sing moment.

The Crezets swam into the whirlpool at the cave entrance, their powerful tails cutting apart the water. The whirlpool sucked us in, the current powerful enough to sweep in the heavy Crezets.

The beasts surfaced at the underground cavern. Faeve stood up, water dripping down her wet clothes. She had worn grayish clothes so it had grown transparent. Bits of kelp and moss stuck to our clothes.

I whistled at Faeve, my eyes traveling down her well defined curves, free of the compressing a.s.sa.s.sin attire. Her clothes stuck closely to the body, accentuating her features. She glared at me with her daggers out.

I walked towards the cave entrance with her closely behind me. Our shoes brushed against the rocky cavern floor, the sounds echoing like a ghost’s cry. Staleness hung in the air. Some of the crystals shone bright with the filtered sunlight through the shafts reaching to the surface.

“Eridan, what is this place?”, Faeve asked in a quiet voice, “It smells of death”.

I didn’t answer her. I reached the rock blocking the cavern door, and shoved with my shoulders. Faeve dropped on one knee and inspected the green Sulpurian ore sprinkled around the rock, and raised an eyebrow at me. Her wet hair stuck to her nape, glowing faintly in the diffused light of the cave.

The rock moved with a grating sound, pebbles breaking underneath. The room stood in its dark haze, scant light playing game of shadows inside it.

Rank air rushed out, carrying with it the odour of rotting meat and decay. A low whimper sounded from somewhere inside the cave, echoing strangely.

Faeve started screaming. I looked at her, she had fallen back on her a.s.s and stared at the room; aghast. Her eyes had gotten wide and she breathed raggedly. He hands were clutching at the small rocks underneath, clenching and opening—over and over.

“Wha….what is this? Why is— she screamed again as her eyes adjusted and she saw what was inside the door.

It was the woman knight I had brought here the other day. Her half eaten body lay near the door, meat and skin hung from her corpse. Dried blood covered the floor underneath her. She had in her hands the Executioner Sword I had left there, the tip sunk deeply into the carca.s.s of a monster, also half eaten.

I trod inside the chamber. Things skittered away in the dark at my footsteps. The knight had her arms stretched towards the door—She had wanted to flee.

Chunks of flesh and organs were missing from her body. Maybe she had crawled towards the door—before the beasts ate her or after... I s.h.i.+vered at the thought of monsters feeding on her while she lived; her screams unheard.

Faeve whimpered and sobbed behind me, her voice choking up. Why is an a.s.sa.s.sin crying?